Drip.
Adrian’s gaze dropped down as he stared blankly at the crimson blood trickling down from his neck.
“……”
“Are you deaf?”
Apparently, what the bastard wanted was for him to introduce himself in this state. Adrian parted his lips.
“…Mikhail Luce—ugh!”
He had been about to say he came as a guest of Mikhail Luce Inehart, but the attempt was abruptly cut off.
What the hell? Why even ask if you’re not going to listen? Adrian’s head was forcibly tilted upward by the sharp blade.
“Ah, so you’re a bit slow in the head.”
I told you to introduce yourself, was the unspoken message.
But the cold voice didn’t stop there. Without the slightest hesitation, the man pushed the blade deeper against Adrian’s neck. A harsh slice. Drip. Drip. Blood rolled down the edge of the sword. He could feel his white shirt soaking through with warmth. Huh? What the hell is going on right now?
“What are you doing? Kneel.”
At his command, Adrian heard controlled footsteps behind him tapping against the polished floor. A moment later, both arms were yanked behind his back and twisted hard as his body was spun around. The men carrying out the order pressed their sword hilts behind his knees, forcing him to drop.
Thud. The cold marble floor met both knees.
A man with a sword strode toward him with heavy, unhurried steps.
Should’ve just gone with Mikhail. Adrian frowned, his brows knitting in frustration.
Standing before him was a black-haired man who bore a strong resemblance to Mikhail, now gazing down at him with a cold, amused smile.
That must be the infamous Alix de Inehart.
Behind the man with the sword stood two knights. One of them—one of those who had forced Adrian to kneel—spoke up.
“Your Highness. I heard yesterday that the youngest prince’s guest arrived at the royal palace.”
“Yeah? This him?”
The man in the fine clothes responded flatly, his expression devoid of interest. He seemed utterly unconcerned with the facts, toying with the sword in his hand as though he might swing it at any moment. The blade twisted in his grip. At the same time, a choked sound slipped out from Adrian’s lips.
“…Ugh.”
“Hmph. Golden hair and a passable face…”
He studied Adrian’s pained expression with a playful glint in his eye, drawing out the words like a joke. The title Your Highness confirmed it—this had to be that Alix. Just as Mikhail had described.
“Are you any good with magic? If you are, then you’d be just…”
The man stared intently into Adrian’s soft brown eyes. Right. Someone with these looks and golden eyes would be hard to come by.
“…perfect for some kids’ theater.”
“……”
You’ve got a sword to someone’s throat and you’re cracking jokes? And now you want an answer? Like this? Adrian silently locked eyes with Alix, saying nothing.
That’s when the sound of someone running filled the space between them.
“Alix!”
Gasping for breath, Mikhail rushed in. Judging by the servant panting behind him, it looked like someone had just filled him in on what was happening.
“What the hell…?”
Mikhail’s eyes locked on the sword in Alix’s hand. When he saw what was at the tip of the blade, his expression twisted into a grimace. Crimson blood clung to the edge, Adrian’s shirt soaked in red.
Oh? The man toying with the sword finally looked up when he heard Mikhail’s voice. Then, with an easy grin, he spoke.
“Long time no see. How’s life at Basamiel?”
“……”
The youngest prince didn’t even acknowledge the greeting. He stormed forward, grabbing the sharp blade with his bare hand and yanking it upward.
“…Get up.”
He grabbed Adrian’s arm and pulled him to his feet. As Adrian tried to stand, he let out a pained grunt, one hand instinctively reaching up to press against the bleeding cut on his neck.
“Adrian, don’t touch the wound.”
We need a palace healer. Now.
Mikhail snatched his hand away with a mutter. But his eyes were still locked on his eldest brother, Alix. There was something he needed to take care of before summoning anyone.
“Brother, I didn’t realize the standard of hospitality at the royal palace had fallen this low. What exactly do you think you’re doing to a guest I brought?”
“Luce, is that all you’ve got to say after seeing your dear brother again? How cold.”
“…That younger brother has a proper name, and it’s Mikhail.”
A sharp glint flickered in Mikhail’s crimson eyes. He glared icily at Alix, then tugged on Adrian’s arm, about to lead him away.
Hm. Alix watched the pair and spoke again.
“I’m the one who invited you both to the capital.”
“…What?”
“Thought I’d take a rare chance to see my baby brother’s face… and meet the talk of the rumors, too.”
Alix casually shook the blood from his blade onto the ground before sheathing it. With an indifferent shrug, he extended the sheathed sword behind him, and one of the knights standing at the ready respectfully accepted it.
“Let’s be honest. If I’d said I was the one inviting you, you wouldn’t have brought him. So, I got creative.”
“Most people call that deception.”
Mikhail clicked his tongue, placing Adrian—still injured—behind him as if shielding him from his eldest brother’s ridiculous excuse. The talk of the rumors is me? Adrian, behind the prince, winced slightly as he gently brushed the wound at his neck with his fingertips.
“Don’t I have enough merit for that?”
“I have no idea what merit you think you have.”
“Well, I got a receipt from a tailor’s shop the other day…”
Ah. Mikhail’s crimson eyes flared as he snapped irritably.
“…You’re doing all this over some spare change?”
“I can be petty. I ordered lunch, so let’s just eat outside, keep it simple.”
The palace healer will be there too. Alix grinned as he gestured toward the royal garden. Mikhail glanced from the garden path to Adrian’s neck wound, then let out a sigh.
***
So why the hell am I sitting at this awkward-ass lunch table right now?
Adrian stared down at the pristine teacup placed before him. Seated beside him was the royal healer, who leaned in to examine the sharp, clean cut along his neck. After a careful look, the healer nodded and gave his swift diagnosis.
“Pardon me for a moment,” the healer said, placing a hand just above the wound and muttering a healing incantation.
It was naturally slower than a dragon’s direct healing, but the torn flesh steadily knit back together. The pain dulled gradually, and by the time the wound was fully closed, not even a scar remained.
Mikhail sat quietly, watching the process without a word. Only once the wound had completely disappeared did he offer a brief thanks to the healer, finally bringing the teacup before him to his lips.
When the long, heavy silence of the meal was over, the servants returned with dessert for the table.
“Luce.”
Clink—the dragon raised his head from his teacup at the call. Another head lifted at the same time: Mikhail, seated right next to Adrian. He shot a sidelong glance at him as if to say, Why are you reacting to that?
It just came out… Adrian, flustered, quickly raised his cup again to hide his face.
“…How long are you going to keep calling me that?”
Alix gave a dry chuckle at his youngest brother’s pointed tone.
“You were born with that noble silver hair. Being called ‘Luce’ is an honor, wouldn’t you say?”
“……”
Adrian silently sipped his tea between the two of them.
Come to think of it, Mikhail’s middle name was Luce, while Alix used the same name as Carlo. Ah, right—Luce was a name granted only to royal descendants born with the founding king’s signature silver hair.
“You’d do well to stop dragging our family name through the mud. Associating with a commoner with golden hair is one thing—but the rumors are getting out of hand.”
“I assumed someone of your standing wouldn’t lend an ear to the baseless chatter of bored nobles.”
Mikhail replied coldly, taking a measured sip of his tea. Hah. Alix gave a small, sardonic smile.
“The people of Rustavaran can be a little romantic. They adore the legend of the founding king and the great mage… a bit too much, maybe.”
His handsome lips curled into a warped sneer, that brutal nature bleeding from his eyes.
“It’s all getting so loud, I can hardly stand it anymore.”
“……”
Mikhail’s crimson eyes fixed on Alix, unmoving. He had seen that expression before—on men who swung swords with bloodlust in the royal palace.
Alix had both the authority and cruelty to kill Adrian at a whim if he so desired.
