Chapter 36: The Fallen Prince (1)

The VIP cell—true to its name, it was a prison meant for those of particularly high status among royalty and nobility.

But no matter how well-appointed it appeared, it was still a prison.

Soldiers stood before the room, serving both as guards and watchers.

Inside was a young man.

Compared to the chambers he usually occupied, this place was unbearably small.

Though lavish enough by common standards, being confined in a VIP cell wounded his pride deeply.

The young man’s name was Lucas Orl Sandis.

The first prince of the prosperous Sandis Kingdom, son of the queen consort, and the one closest to inheriting the throne.

Or rather—he had been.

Why he was here, how things had come to this—he did not understand.

He did understand, but his mind refused to accept it.

Where had things gone wrong? When had they started to go wrong?

He questioned himself over and over.

What floated through his mind was the image of a girl with a lovely smile—bright, innocent, and faintly mischievous.

Lucas had been raised as the next king, a cog in the machinery of the state.

He had borne the expectations of the king and the fervent desires of his mother, the queen.

Surrounded by admiration, envy, jealousy, and schemes, the girl of lower nobility was the first thing he had ever chosen of his own will.

His clothes, his education, his food, his fiancée, his companions—everything had always been decided for him.

To Lucas, the girl—Renaria—was the first person who saw him, not the prince.

At first, her familiarity had irritated him.

But as they spent time together, he was drawn to her.

She filled the empty spaces in his heart with the words he wanted to hear, becoming something irreplaceable.

He had a fiancée, but she was flawless, every inch the noble lady aiming to become crown princess.

He respected her, but he felt no affection beyond that.

Once he grew fond of Renaria, that feeling only deepened.

Renaria showed him a world he did not know.

Her constantly changing expressions were charming, and at times she struck at the heart of matters with surprising insight.

He understood the gap in their status.

He knew he should distance himself.

Yet even when he tried to gently push her away, she easily crossed that boundary.

She delighted in a small necklace with a modest, hard-to-see gem.

It held little value—something his fiancée Vivian would likely consider beneath notice.

In return, Renaria baked him sweets.

Simple, handmade, and shyly presented—they were precious to him.

Everything Lucas ate was always tested for poison and served cold.

Her sweets carried a floral scent and a gentle sweetness, almost dreamy.

Compared to palace cuisine, they were inferior in taste—yet knowing she had made them herself filled him with joy.

When he smiled and said they were delicious, Renaria’s face would bloom with happiness.

That, in turn, delighted Lucas even more.

From then on, she brought sweets regularly, sometimes tea, and they began holding secret tea parties.

She was not particularly intelligent, nor was she graceful in etiquette.

But she tried her best at everything, and that earnestness left a strong impression on him.

Vivian often criticized Renaria, calling her a country girl lacking manners.

Though Lucas knew it was improper, seeing Renaria endure with tears in her blue eyes stirred his protectiveness.

It was around then that he began to feel that, while Vivian was a perfect lady, he could not love her as a woman.

Yet while Lucas’s heart leaned toward Renaria, the eyes around him were harsh.

Renaria was only a baron’s daughter—barely above commoners.

No matter how charming or kind she was, everyone said she could never become queen.

Some even doubted she could become a consort.

To Lucas, who knew her earnest nature, such words were insults.

Yes, birth could not be helped—but she was nothing like the shallow noblewomen obsessed only with appearances.

—Here, Lucas made a critical mistake.

It was true that Renaria, as she was, could not become queen.

But had she been adopted into a higher-ranking noble house—at least a count’s family, or higher—her chances would increase dramatically.

That possibility had been hinted at.

Renaria’s charm captivated not only Lucas, but also his half-brother Leold, his friend Graham, and even the knight Joshua.

That troubled Lucas, yet Renaria told him she loved him.

He never doubted the shy confession she gave him.

However, he did not realize that she had also grown close to teachers and other students.

Considering her charm, perhaps it was inevitable.

And as a future queen, influence over others was necessary.

If Renaria possessed that, it was not a bad thing.

Still, Lucas grew weary of those who criticized her—

Vivian and others engaged to his peers, as well as noble ladies who complained about Renaria.

They were surely just jealous of her popularity.

They spoke of fashion and sweets, unable to hold their fiancés’ hearts, yet blamed Renaria instead.

Those who frightened or demeaned her kept appearing.

Driving them off and punishing them took effort.

Some were even recommended by his father, King Lauzes—

future officials and powerful nobles’ sons.

But they only said unpleasant things.

Lucas ignored them, and those who went too far were punished.

Gradually, they disappeared, and things grew quiet.

Each time he told Renaria this at their tea parties, she smiled and said, “I’m happy,” “Thank you.”

Those smiles filled Lucas with satisfaction.

How wonderful life was with her.

How empty his previous life had been.

He became intoxicated by love, a feeling he had never known.

His mother, Queen Meserine, disliked Renaria.

Yet she herself was not of particularly high birth—only from a count’s family that had gained power recently.

Lucas had hoped they might connect, but instead, she seemed to loathe Renaria.

Even in the academy and palace, few acknowledged her worth.

Those who did lacked influence.

It was troubling.

People simply did not understand how wonderful she was.

One day, Renaria looked troubled.

“Kishtarial and Michaelis won’t come to my tea parties…”

Renaria often invited Lucas and his close companions to tea.

Graham, Joshua, Leold, even the teacher Findor and the scholarship student Cain attended.

Female students rarely appeared, likely due to jealousy.

Kishtarial, however, was the heir of the powerful Lattiche ducal house.

Though adopted from a branch family, he was highly capable, known for his beauty and immense magical power.

Lucas remembered his ash-brown hair, pale features, and gemstone-like blue eyes.

He disliked him—Renaria’s gaze often lingered on him.

Still, as a future crown prince, he could not offend the Lattiche family.

His father had strictly warned him not to interfere with them.

Michaelis, a young count, was equally renowned—

a red-haired, red-eyed noble admired for both his leadership and swordsmanship.

His territory flourished, partly due to ties with the Lattiche family.

Calm and composed, yet not timid, he often smiled around Kishtarial and his sister Jibril.

He was known as the “Rose Knight” or “Crimson Count.”

These two were famous nobles.

Renaria paid them attention, but they showed none toward her.

Lucas preferred fewer rivals, but if Renaria wished it, he would act.

When Lucas invited them, they finally came.

They greeted politely, smiling with elegance.

Their manner suggested they had simply been busy before.

Renaria seemed entranced by them, which troubled Lucas.

At the tea party, Lucas was ignored.

Renaria moved constantly between Kishtarial and Michaelis.

“Your Highness… perhaps you should restrain Lady Renaria a little.

Despite your presence, this appears as though—”

“Silence! They finally came, so she must simply be excited.”

“My apologies. I overstepped.”

The knight bowed and withdrew.

Walrig Carrelas—loyal to the royal family but annoyingly strict.

Lucas could not dismiss him due to his standing.

If he did, an even harsher attendant might replace him.

It was just curiosity, Lucas told himself.

He suppressed his irritation.

Another day, Renaria looked pale.

Though usually cheerful, there was someone she disliked—

Jibril, Michaelis’s sister.

A delicate beauty with vivid red hair and eyes, admired as a jewel of high society.

She embodied elegance and led fashion trends.

In the Sandis Kingdom, fashion was synonymous with the Rose Brand.

Its goods—from dresses to jewelry to cuisine—were unmatched.

Jibril always wore the latest trends.

Renaria envied her, and Lucas tried to obtain similar items, but even for royalty, they were hard to get.

The Rose Company originated from the Lattiche house, though its inner workings were mysterious.

Regardless, Lucas could not tolerate Renaria being upset.

She would be crown princess—he was determined of it.

If Jibril caused her distress, she could be punished.

And if that removed Michaelis as well, all the better.

“W-wait, Lucas… Jibril is necessary for Michaelis…”

Renaria could not say outright that she needed Jibril to win Michaelis over, so her words were vague.

Lucas misunderstood them as compassion.

Had he been more perceptive, he might have noticed the insincerity.

But blinded by love, he could not.

Slowly, surely, everything Lucas had built began to crumble.

Yet he did not notice.

Eventually, Kishtarial and Michaelis stopped attending tea parties altogether.

They still appeared at official events, but not at private gatherings.

Lucas was reprimanded by the king for interfering with the Lattiche house.

Even when he invited them again, they refused with various excuses.

Lucas felt relieved, but Renaria seemed troubled.

She need not care about men who did not appreciate her.

Renaria was wonderful—

a presence that brought happiness, that made one forget pain.

Lucas adored her to the point that he could not imagine a future without her.

For a while, things remained relatively peaceful.

Yet those offering “advice”—in truth, disrespect—never ceased.

He drove away the worst offenders, but they kept appearing.

Then one day, Renaria clung to him, tears brimming in her large blue eyes.