CHAPTER 154
Side Story 3: Until I Met You
The Crown Prince’s Palace of the Helterd Empire
In the crown prince’s bedroom, long past the time for sleep within the imperial palace.
Moonlight slipped through the curtains and draped over the bed.
The white moonlight, resting at the head of the bed, softly illuminated the face of the sleeping nine-year-old crown prince.
For someone so young, his face was astonishingly beautiful and captivating.
His skin was smooth and radiant, like porcelain. Dark bangs, glossy and well-kept, partially covered his broad forehead. Beneath his thick and noble brows, his eyelids were gently closed.
Thick, lush eyelashes cast a shadow over his rounded cheeks, the only feature that still hinted at his youth. His straight, high nose and full, alluring red lips were already perfectly formed.
Each feature, taken individually, was stunning, but together, they formed a flawless harmony of proportion and elegance.
He lay still, facing the ceiling, his breath not disturbing the air, his posture elegant beyond measure.
Suddenly,
Flash.
The sleeping crown prince opened his eyes.
Beneath the raised lashes, red pupils gleamed. His eyes were sharp and vivid, betraying no trace of sleep. Though the color of hot fire, they were as cool and calm as ice.
The crown prince quietly reached up with his arm, sliding his hand under his pillow.
His hand, which had burrowed beneath the soft pillow, gripped the cold, hard hilt of a sword.
Swish.
The door to the bedroom silently opened. Two assassins, their faces hidden by hoods, slipped through the gap in the door.
Their agile and precise movements signaled that they were no ordinary assassins. Without making a sound, they approached the bed in the blink of an eye.
Exchanging brief glances, the two assassins drew daggers from their belts. Without a moment’s hesitation, they thrust the daggers downward.
The first dagger aimed for the face beneath the blanket pulled up to the crown of the head, the second for the heart beating under the blanket.
The veins on the backs of their hands bulged as they exerted force, stabbing and driving the daggers.
But the hands that mercilessly stabbed the crown prince soon slackened.
The feeling transmitted through their hands told them they hadn’t stabbed a person. Hastily pulling back the blanket, they found no crown prince—only large, long pillows piled up.
Realizing something had gone wrong, the two assassins’ gazes met, filled with alarm.
The assassination plan had gone awry. Someone must have already hidden the crown prince in a safe place.
As the assassins prepared to flee without hesitation,
“Urgh…!”
There was no time for their screams to escape the room.
A red line appeared horizontally across the neck of the first assassin, and in an instant, blood gushed out.
The assassins were a seasoned group, having been through countless battles.
The eyes of the second assassin, unable to believe what they were seeing, turned to the opposite side where their comrade had stood.
More accurately, they stared at the small figure of the nine-year-old crown prince who had appeared behind their fallen comrade.
The crown prince’s sword dripped dark red blood.
The crown prince, who had been looking down at the fallen assassin, slowly raised his gaze.
The veteran assassin of 20 years, locking eyes with the prince’s red ones, felt cold sweat trickling down his spine.
The red eyes emanated not just a simple killing intent. The deep, blood-red pupils, devoid of any emotion, conveyed one thing.
Death.
No matter how much he resisted, struggled, or even later begged for forgiveness, it was useless.
The assassin instinctively knew that this moment would be his last.
In less than five seconds, countless thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning.
Wasn’t this the crown prince who could barely mount a horse due to dizziness…?
The crown prince was rumored to be so frail, unlike his father, Luca, who had died fighting beasts.
The prince rarely appeared at the training grounds, and during drills, he would stagger under the weight of his sword and shield, drawing ridicule from the soldiers.
He was said to be so fearful of everything that he never left the crown prince’s palace and spent his entire days in his bedroom.
When the assassin infiltrated the palace to carry out the assassination, the prince he saw was truly pathetic.
Dressed in loose clothing that didn’t fit him, with his head and back hunched, he walked timidly, as if afraid of anyone approaching.
He would flinch and shrink away, unable to make proper eye contact with people.
It was almost embarrassing to kill such an inept prince.
The citizens of the empire, upon hearing the rumors about the prince, worried about the future of the Helterd Empire.
But now, the assassin understood.
As the crown prince leaped from the opposite side of the bed, the assassin realized the truth.
The nine-year-old prince, who had straightened his once-slumped back and shoulders, was no less formidable than a seasoned young knight who had grown up on the battlefield.
His piercing red gaze alone was enough to overwhelm any opponent.
The prince, without giving his enemy the chance to swing their weapon, swiftly pierced the assassin’s heart.
This prince, the true ruler of Helterd, had merely hidden his fangs and claws.
As he collapsed onto the bed, the empire’s greatest assassin wore a bitter smile.
Even so, wasn’t it better to die by the sword of someone who would soon rule this world, rather than by the hand of a feeble prince?
The crown prince’s bedroom remained as silent as ever, as if nothing had happened.
Maxwell, the crown prince, looked down at the bodies on the bed, his breathing steady.
Slowly, he reached out and smeared the blood from their bodies onto his hands.
He began to rub the blood over his face, neck, and body.
If they had entered through the door, there were only two possibilities.
Either they had killed all four night guards stationed at the bedroom door, or they were in league with them.
Maxwell, now covered in blood from head to toe, crawled under the bed.
Curling his body tightly, he buried his head between his folded knees.
The stench of decaying blood made him gag.
He squeezed his eyes shut and began to chant.
To stay sane, to keep from falling apart…
Words that had become a nightly prayer.
"I, Maxwell de Fonte August…"
Feel no fear.
No pain, no sorrow—nothing.
No one can make me afraid. No one can hurt me. No one can make me sad.
No one can shake me.
No one can affect me.
I will never allow it.
**Side Story 3: Until I Met You**
*April 2, 2024*
Crown Prince's Palace in the Helterde Empire.
Inside the prince's bedroom, long past the time for sleep within the imperial palace.
Moonlight seeped through the curtains and cast its glow on the bed.
The pale moonlight gently illuminated the face of the sleeping nine-year-old crown prince.
His beauty was startling, even for a child.
His porcelain-like skin was smooth and luminous. His glossy black bangs half-covered a high, elegant forehead. Beneath thick, noble eyebrows, his eyelids were delicately closed.
Thick eyelashes cast shadows on his round cheeks, the only part of his face that still betrayed his youth. His straight, high nose and full, alluring red lips were already perfectly formed.
Each feature was striking on its own, and together, they created a flawless harmony of proportion and beauty.
His breathing was steady, and his posture, lying straight on his back facing the ceiling, was the epitome of elegance.
Suddenly,
Flash.
The sleeping prince opened his eyes.
Red irises were revealed beneath his lifted lashes. Despite having just awoken, his gaze was sharp and clear, with the intensity of burning flames, yet as cold and calm as ice.
The prince quietly reached up, sliding his hand beneath the pillow.
His hand, burrowed under the soft pillow, gripped the hard metal hilt of a sword.
Srrrk.
The door to the bedroom opened soundlessly. Two assassins, their faces concealed by hoods, slipped through the narrow opening.
Their nimble and precise movements indicated they were no ordinary assassins. They approached the bed in an instant, without making a sound.
Exchanging brief glances, the two assassins drew the daggers from their waists. Without hesitation, they thrust the daggers downward.
The first dagger was aimed at the head covered by the blanket, and the second at the heart beating beneath the covers.
The veins in their hands bulged as they exerted force on the daggers, pressing them down with all their might.
However, the hands wielding the daggers that ruthlessly pierced the prince soon slackened.
The feel transmitted through their hands told them they hadn’t struck a person. In a panic, they threw back the blanket, only to find the prince gone, replaced by large, stacked pillows.
Realizing something had gone wrong, the two assassins exchanged unsettled glances.
Their assassination plan had been foiled. Someone had already hidden the prince away in a safe place.
As the assassins prepared to flee without delay,
“Urgh...!”
There was no time for the scream to escape.
A red line appeared across the neck of the first assassin, and blood spurted from the cut in an instant.
They belonged to a group of assassins who had seen it all, survived it all.
The second assassin's eyes locked onto their fallen companion, disbelief filling them.
More precisely, they gazed at the nine-year-old crown prince who had appeared behind their companion, now collapsed onto the bed...
The prince held a sword dripping with dark red blood.
The prince, who had been staring down at the fallen assassin, slowly raised his gaze.
The veteran assassin, with twenty years of experience, felt a cold sweat trickling down their spine under the prince's red gaze.
The crimson eyes weren’t just emanating simple murderous intent. The prince's expressionless, calm, blood-red eyes conveyed one thing:
Death.
No matter how they struggled, fought, or even pleaded for mercy later, it would be useless.
The assassin instinctively knew that this moment would be their last.
In less than five seconds, countless thoughts flashed through the assassin’s mind.
Wasn't this the prince who couldn't even properly mount a horse due to dizziness...?
The crown prince, rumored to be feeble and helpless, unlike his father, Luca, who had been killed by a beast.
The prince rarely showed himself in the training yard, and when he did, he was mocked by the soldiers for staggering under the weight of his sword and shield.
It was said that the crown prince never left his chambers, spending all day in his bedroom, terrified of everything.
When they infiltrated the palace to carry out the assassination, the prince they saw was truly pathetic.
Wearing ill-fitting, loose clothing, walking timidly with his head and shoulders hunched. He couldn't even look people in the eye, flinching whenever anyone came near.
It was almost insulting to think they had to kill such a pitiful prince.
Imperial citizens had begun to worry about the future of the Helterde Empire after hearing rumors about the prince.
But now, they finally understood.
The assassin thought this as they watched the prince leap across the bed, their movements swift and precise.
The nine-year-old prince, who had straightened his once-slouched back and stood tall, could rival the stature of a young knight seasoned by war.
The mere sight of his merciless, piercing red gaze was enough to overpower his enemies.
The prince didn't even give them a chance to swing their sword, stabbing the assassin's heart in one swift motion...
This was the true master of Helterde, a beast with hidden fangs and claws.
A bitter smile curled the lips of the continent's greatest assassin as they collapsed onto the bed.
At least dying by the sword of the one who would soon rule the world was more dignified than perishing at the hands of a pitiful prince.
The prince's chamber remained as silent as if nothing had happened.
Crown Prince Maxwell looked down at the bodies on the bed, his breathing unbroken.
Slowly, he reached out and dipped his hand into the blood flowing from their bodies.
With blood now pooled in his palm, he began smearing it on his face, neck, and body.
If they had entered through the door, there were only two possibilities.
Either they had killed the four night guards stationed outside his door, or they were in league with them.
Maxwell, now covered head to toe in blood, crawled under the bed.
He curled up as much as he could, burying his head between his knees.
The stench of rotting blood was nauseating, and he fought the urge to gag.
With eyes that were beginning to dampen, he began reciting a mantra.
To keep himself from going mad, from falling apart...
Words he whispered to himself every night like a prayer.
I, Maxwell de Fonte August, feel no fear.
I feel no pain, no sorrow, nothing.
No one can frighten me. No one can hurt me. No one can make me sad.
No one can shake me.
No one can influence me.
I will never allow it.
***
The following morning, Maxwell's palace was in an uproar.
"Aaah!"
"Your Highness, Crown Prince Your Highness!"
"Your Highness, where are you?"
"We can’t find His Highness! Ring the bells immediately!"
"Bring the captain of the guard at once!"
The servants and maids who entered the crown prince's chamber screamed in horror.
The four soldiers who had been standing guard outside the door last night were all dead.
The sight of the two large bodies sprawled on the bed came into view of the terrified servants and maids.
The crown prince was nowhere to be found.
Half of those causing a commotion were inwardly shocked that the prince wasn’t dead.
They were the ones who had received orders from the Empress’s faction and helped the assassins infiltrate the palace.
Panicked eyes swept the room, searching every corner,
"Kuh... kuh..."
A faint, choking sound came from beneath the bed.
A servant quickly knelt and pulled back the sheet hanging over the edge of the bed.
"Gasp, Prince Maxwell!"
"The prince is alive! Thank the gods!"
"My word... He's covered in blood. He must be injured!"
Some truly breathed a sigh of relief, while others concealed their unease as they carefully extracted the prince from under the bed.
The trembling prince was carried on the back of a servant and moved to another bedroom.
The prince, deep in shock, could barely speak.
The few words he managed to utter were...
"S-someone came in and pushed me aside to start fighting the assassins. Hic, hic."
"I hid under the bed... Kuh, kuh... After that, I lost consciousness and remember nothing."
"When I came to, you were here... Hic, hic."
According to the prince, assassins had entered, and someone had saved him. Those assassins were killed by that someone.
The shock from the previous night's events left the prince bedridden for over a week.
As the maids carried meals and medicine to the prince’s new chamber, they whispered among themselves.
“Assassination attempts on the Crown Prince have become more frequent lately.”
“But who could it be? The one who keeps saving His Highness whenever assassins break in?”
“I heard it’s not just one person. Apparently, it’s a group.”
“Here’s the thing, this is really a secret, but I heard it from the First Guard’s stable hand.”
When one maid lowered her voice, the others pricked up their ears.
“They say His Majesty the Emperor created a secret organization to protect his grandson. They appear whenever the prince is in danger to save him.”
“Really? I thought His Majesty’s affection for his grandson might fade now that Prince Eric has been born. But I guess not.”
“Oh, not at all. Everyone knows how much Emperor Maxwell adores and cherishes the Crown Prince, even the children in the streets.”
“That’s true. Even after the new Empress bore him a son, he’s solidified the Crown Prince’s position. His Highness really does have the best grandfather in the world.”
The maids continued chattering away, thinking Maxwell was still asleep.
Maxwell nearly let out a derisive laugh at their words.
The Emperor’s
deep love for his grandson.
Every citizen of the empire sang his praises.
The grandfather who poured his affection on his poor grandson, in place of his deceased son.
Did they even know how painful the Emperor's words, eyes, and the whip in his hand were to his grandson?
The touching private lunch shared by the Emperor and the Crown Prince, uninterrupted by anyone, twice a week.
Within that secluded room, the Emperor constantly tested, neglected, and abused the Crown Prince.
At first, Maxwell foolishly believed that if he solved all the problems his grandfather posed, the Emperor would be proud of him.
But he soon realized.
The more perfectly he solved the difficult problems, the more his skills shone in any field, the greater his grandfather’s rage grew.
Especially after the birth of his uncle, Prince Eric, his grandfather’s abuse had intensified.
To avoid his blows, Maxwell deliberately began making mistakes, speaking clumsily, and hunching his shoulders in his presence.
All in the vain hope that he might escape his hatred, that he might win even a sliver of his grandfather's favor.
He wasn’t surprised that over half of the assassins who had infiltrated his chambers had been sent by his grandfather.
Emperor Maxius was one of the least popular emperors since the empire’s founding.
Incompetent, greedy, petty, and cowardly. He wasn’t even destined to become emperor.
The man who became emperor by sheer luck was a mass of insecurities.
He only began to gain the empire’s favor when he started playing the role of a kind and loving grandfather.
The late Empress Katherine and Crown Prince Luca were beloved by the citizens.
Maxwell, as Katherine and Luca’s bloodline, could not be ignored by the people or the imperial court, and it was too early for the Emperor and his new wife to elevate their son, Eric, to the position of crown prince.
The discontent from failed territorial expansions had made the public's mood even worse, and they feared that pushing Eric forward too soon could endanger the new Empress and her young son.
So, they calculated that Maxwell was necessary to buy time.
But now that the Emperor and Empress had solidified their power, Maxwell was no longer useful.
To secure Eric’s position as crown prince, Maxwell had to disappear.
***
A month after surviving the assassination attempt, Maxwell joined his grandfather on a hunting trip to Ecol Mountain.
The Emperor was killed by a black leopard beast during the hunt.
His uncle, Duke Gustav, became the regent in place of the young prince.
History records that there were eighteen more assassination attempts on Maxwell before he ascended to the throne.
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