"Don't you have a carriage?"
Louis' voice broke the silence as the two walked side by side, heading toward Mika's mansion.
The question hung in the air for a moment before Mika glanced over his shoulder, his expression calm.
"Carriage?"
He shook his head, his tone casual.
"No, I don't have workers."
Louis froze mid-step, his eyes widening slightly.
A royalty without servants?
It was unheard of.
Even the illegitimate children of nobles had at least one or two workers.
Louis' expression darkened, his mind racing as wild scenarios began to form.
Every single one painted a picture of Mika being treated cruelly, neglected, and cast aside by the King.
Even though none of it was true, Louis couldn't stop the thoughts from spiraling.
'That damn King… Every story about him speaks of his greatness and benevolence, but to think he'd torture his own son…'
His gaze shifted to the back of Mika's head, his jaw tightening.
'I will make you the King, my lord. Just say the word, and I'll fight for you.'
Mika shuddered, feeling the weight of Louis' intensified gaze boring into him.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Mika sighed quietly.
'I feel like he wants to kill someone.'
Mika let out a sharp yelp as Louis suddenly lifted him into a bridal carry, the unexpected motion throwing him off balance.
His red eyes widened in shock, but before he could protest further—
Louis pulled Mika's hood up, covering the third prince's face without a word.
"What are you doing?!"
Mika's voice rose in indignation, but Louis ignored him completely, his steps steady as he continued walking.
"People will get suspicious about your eyes."
The simple statement sent a jolt of awareness through Mika.
Without thinking, his fingers instinctively grabbed the hood, pulling it further down to shield his face.
Louis was right.
The world might not know about Mika's existence—but that didn't mean he could just wander around, flaunting his royal red eyes.
'But does he need to carry me?!'
Mika bit back a groan, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment as he found himself still firmly held in Louis' arms.
No matter how he tried to shift slightly, the man didn't loosen his grip, his hold secure, unwavering.
Meanwhile—
Inside Louis' mind, thoughts were running in wild circles.
'He's so small and soft.'
It was almost terrifying how delicate Mika felt in his arms.
Louis was trying—desperately—to control his strength, keeping his movements gentle, careful, terrified that one wrong shift might hurt his new master.
On the outside, his expression was calm, composed, not a single trace of worry showing—
But inside?
Pure panic.
'What if I drop him? What if I bruise him? What if I—'
Louis stared straight ahead, walking stiffly, doing his absolute best not to make a single mistake.
And yet—
Neither of them noticed the way passersby openly stared at them, their faces warming in delight at the sight before them.
'Cute.'
'What a lovely couple.'
'Oh my, what adorable kids!'
'Aah, it reminds me of me and my wife back in the day…'
With Mika's help in pointing the way, the two finally arrived at the mansion.
The gloomy estate loomed before them—tall, imposing, shadowed with age.
Louis' expression remained unreadable, his gaze darting around, scanning the surroundings with quiet calculation.
Mika watched him carefully, concern flickering in his mind.
'What is he thinking?'
Before Mika could ask, Louis gently set him down on his feet, then stepped forward, pushing the large gate open.
His expression remained unchanged, but his eyes—
They never stopped moving.
Then—Louis stopped.
His gaze locked onto the gate leading to the garden, before his fingers reached out, brushing against the delicate petals of an overgrown black rose.
A furrowed brow. A slight pause. A quiet moment.
His fingers lingered, caressing the soft, fragile surface.
Then, finally—he spoke.
"…Black roses. I heard they're so rare that only royalty is allowed to plant them."
Mika halted at the words, his gaze flickering toward Louis in faint curiosity.
"Really?"
He had never known that.
To him, black roses had only ever existed in fantasy books—something imagined, not something real.
He had never seen one before today.
"Yes. I read it once in a book—"
Louis paused.
Before he could finish—
Mika interrupted.
"You can read?"
Silence.
Louis turned slowly, giving Mika a deadpan stare.
Mika blinked, then instantly muttered a quiet apology, looking away awkwardly.
Louis exhaled sharply, but didn't dwell on it.
Instead—he looked back at the flower, his fingers grazing the petals once more.
"Anyway, like I said. I read it once in a book the Leader graciously let me read."
A pause.
Then—a revelation.
"Black roses were banned in this country… nineteen years ago."
Mika froze at the revelation, his fingers instinctively reaching up, brushing through his black hair—a nervous habit he rarely acknowledged.
He didn't want to act as if he mattered, but—
He did remember.
One detail stood out from his own introduction in the novel—a passage meant to define him before the plot cast him aside.
'Black hair resembles calamity. Mika Lyre is the only one born with black hair—A testimony of his survival against death.How the reaper once caressed the child and whispered,'Your time has not yet come, child of death.''
Mika's hand slowly lowered to his side, his brow furrowing slightly.
What a waste.
How his existence was painted as something legendary, only to be discarded in favor of a less meaningful plot.
Then—
'So… the King banned black roses just because of Mika?'
His gaze softened, eyes drifting over the dark petals.
And inside—something unfamiliar settled in his chest.
Warmth.
A quiet comfort that wasn't entirely his own.
Was this the real Mika's feeling?
Was this the part of him that still yearned for something more?
To know that his father had cared this much—enough to erase the very symbol of Mika's existence from the world.
Anyone else might assume the King resented Mika—that a child born from his dead lover would be seen as a burden rather than a son.
But Mika understood it differently.
The King loved Mika so much that he couldn't bear to let him suffer the same fate as his mother.
He knew that if Mika entered the palace, the Queen would never allow peace for the child who stood as a reminder of what she could never destroy.
Mika would never experience a normal childhood.
His two brothers—there was no telling if they would accept him or cast him aside.
So—rather than watching Mika suffer, the King had chosen to leave him here.
Planting black roses in his wake.
A silent message, a quiet vow.
'If it weren't for my position— I would do anything for you. Even death.'
Mika sighed softly, pressing a hand against his chest, trying to steady himself.
Maybe one day—when Mika could finally reconcile with the King—he would spend time with his father.
But for now—
"I guess... we should clean up the garden first."
Louis blinked, momentarily thrown off by Mika's statement.
His gaze flicked down at the prince.
"...We?"
Mika nodded confidently, rolling up his sleeves as he strode toward the gate, ready to push it open.
"Yeah, I'm helping too."
Then—
A startled yelp escaped Mika as Louis suddenly grabbed his wrist, pulling him back before he could enter.
"No."
Louis stepped forward, his towering frame blocking Mika's path entirely.
His expression didn't waver.
His tone left no room for argument.
"It's dangerous. Leave it all to me."
Mika sweated nervously, caught off guard by Louis' absolute seriousness.
'I can't let him do work. What if he falls and hurts himself? What if his fingers get pricked by the thorns? What if he gets sick? What if—'
Louis' thoughts spiraled further, creating an entire worst-case scenario list in his head.
Meanwhile, Mika simply nodded quickly, swallowing any protest before Louis' protective instincts could escalate further.
"O-Okay. Okay!"
Mika stepped back, rubbing his wrist nervously.
'Geez… He's supposed to be a bodyguard. Oh well, at least I have a free gardener too.'
His gaze flickered toward Louis, watching the fighter eye the garden like it was a battlefield.
'I guess… if he's this eager to do work, I might as well just relax while he cleans everything up.'
Mika covered his mouth, stifling a yawn as exhaustion settled over him.
Thinking back—he really had gotten up early today just to fetch Louis.
Before Mika could reflect further—
Louis shoved him toward the mansion, firm but careful, like escorting a fragile artifact that must not be disturbed.
"Go rest up. You look tired."
Mika blinked, caught off guard by Louis' blunt insistence.
The fighter—who had just escaped from literal imprisonment—was eager to clean up the mansion, while Mika, a prince, was being ushered off to relax.
Absolute jackpot.
Mika mentally punched the air in victory, feeling no guilt whatsoever about the arrangement.
With a small, satisfied smile, he looked up at Louis.
"Thanks. I'll leave it all to you."
Without hesitation, Mika turned around, stretching lazily as he strolled toward the mansion, already fantasizing about hitting the bed and sinking into sleep.
'Lazy life, here I come!!'
"I'll leave it up to you."
"I'll leave it up to you..."
The words echoed in Louis' mind, sinking deeper than Mika would ever realize.
'He's relying on me!'
Louis' expression remained blank, unreadable—
But to anyone else?
He was practically beaming in satisfaction.
Louis hated being ordered around, hated doing things for others—a constant reminder of his past as a slave.
Back then, everything he did had been because of force.
People expected him to serve, obey, never question—believing themselves to be above him.
But Mika?
Mika wasn't like the others.
He looked Louis directly in the eyes.
He relied on Louis, not because he owned him—but because he saw Louis as his equal.
Because Mika trusted him.
This—
This was kindness.
A kindness Louis had last experienced with his late mother.
A kindness he had craved for so long.
Louis took a deep breath, then stepped forward—
pushing the gate open with quiet determination.
The weight of the words Mika had spoken settled firmly in his chest.
Louis unsheathed his sword, gripping the hilt tightly.
His gaze fixed on the overgrown garden, sharp and unwavering.
"This flower is important to my lord… I will clean this place to his liking."
His tone carried the gravity of a soldier preparing for war—
Even though he was, in reality, preparing to clean a garden.
Meanwhile—
Mika was already sinking into his bed, comfortably wrapped in soft sheets.
A hot cup of tea rested on the bedside table, beside a plate of cookies he had bought on his way to fetch Louis.
He sighed in utter bliss, leaning against the plush bedrest, a book held loosely in his hands.
'Aah, this is heaven.'
He picked up one of the cookies, munching on it lazily before taking a slow sip of the fragrant tea.
'Being a prince is the best.'
Meanwhile—
"A-aaah..."
A young woman knelt before the altar, her hands clasped tightly in prayer.
Golden light poured down upon her, casting her in a divine glow, illuminating the trembling figure beneath it.
Her gold-and-emerald eyes shimmered, radiating an ethereal brilliance—
And within them, a halo appeared, glimmering like sacred fire inside her irises.
"A prophecy..."
Her voice shook, barely above a whisper.
"The gods have sent me a divine message..."
A stunned gasp rippled through the church.
Priests and sisters stared in wide-eyed disbelief, stepping forward without thinking, drawn by the gravity of her words.
It had been ten years since the gods last spoke.
Ten years of silence.
Ten years of waiting, watching—uncertainty.
For such a prophecy to suddenly descend upon them—
It sent shockwaves through their hearts.
One of the priests hesitated, then stepped forward.
His voice low, careful—yet desperate for an answer.
"What is the prophecy, Holy Maiden?"
The maiden's body shuddered, her breath uneven, fingers intertwined above her head.
She lowered her gaze, confusion clouding her expression.
Then—her voice broke into the silence.
"The gods will strike this kingdom with divine punishment unless..."
Her voice caught.
A moment of hesitation.
Then—the final words spilled from her lips.
"Unless the King announces the third prince to the public!"