* * *
Anakin stared blankly at Leodore, who was playing with his hand.
His white skin, his soft cheeks…
Like this, he just looked like a young, innocent boy.
So why was he so obsessed with Anakin, to the point of madness?
While Anakin was spacing out, he suddenly felt a hand grab his wrist.
Without realizing it, he had grown relaxed around this childlike prince and had started gently stroking Leodore’s silver hair.
“I don’t like people touching my head.”
“…”
You touched my hand first, though. Still, Anakin coolly withdrew his hand.
Sitting here alone in the luxurious conservatory, everything felt unreal—the calm silence, the fragrant scent of leaves, even the silent guards surrounding them.
Still, wasn’t this… not bad?
They spent quite a while reading in silence when Leodore peeked over and spoke.
“If you want to touch my hair, you can.”
“I thought you said you didn’t like it.”
“…You can talk casually too.”
At that, Anakin closed his book for a moment and looked over.
Leodore seemed to be thinking something over before propping his chin up and staring at Anakin.
“I think it’d be fine if it’s you.”
Was this… favoritism?
That beautiful silver hair looked silky and soft—so alluring that it made you want to touch it if it was right in front of you.
Anakin knew better than anyone that he shouldn’t get closer.
But the idea that this beautiful boy would become a tyrannical “possessive top” in the future… he just couldn’t believe it.
Of all the tyrants, Leodore was at least one who sometimes listened to Anakin’s opinion and showed him consideration.
Maybe if he nurtured him right from this age, the story wouldn’t spiral out of control. It might already be too late to lower his affection levels, but still.
In stories like this, when the bottom rejected or tried to run away, the top would become even more obsessive.
So, as long as he didn’t push past that limit, there’d be no need for stalking or confinement.
It’d be hard, but if he wanted a peaceful second life, he’d have to give it a try.
“….”
Anakin got up and slowly approached, gently stroking Leodore’s hair.
Leodore even lowered his head kindly for him.
“So soft.”
Anakin smiled at how cute that was, and Leodore just looked quietly at him.
“You can call me Leo.”
“Okay. Leo.”
The hair slipping through his fingers felt soft—different from pet fur.
A uniquely pleasant sensation.
As Anakin, his expression filled with curiosity, continued petting Leo’s head, the boy propped his chin up and closed his eyes, quietly enjoying the touch.
It was hard to believe this was the same Third Prince who had seemed so aggressive earlier.
How could he turn into such a docile lamb in front of Anakin?
This duality surprised Anakin, but he figured Leo was still young—maybe he could change with time.
Though frankly, he should be more worried about himself first.
“You smell really nice.”
Of course, once Leo fully manifested as an Alpha, that might not matter anymore.
“Sweet.”
Leo, still with his chin in his hand and eyes closed, gently brought Anakin’s wrist to his face.
Then he opened one eye—and licked Anakin’s palm.
“…What are you doing?”
Frozen in surprise, Anakin didn’t move as the other boy gently bit down on his finger—careful not to hurt him.
“A taste test.”
The mischievous smile on his lips was exactly like the Leodore Anakin had imagined from the original story.
Maybe he really was being deceived by a future war maniac.
A few days later, he received another summons from the Imperial Palace.
This time, it came in the form of a letter bearing the Crown Prince’s official seal.
In the original story, their first encounter had been far from pleasant—so getting summoned like this was unexpected.
He hadn’t been hoping for anything at all.
“It seems His Highness the Crown Prince has taken a liking to you, Anakin.”
There had definitely been signs of interest, but whether it was actual fondness was still unclear.
Maybe the Crown Prince simply wanted to observe him up close.
“You’ll be studying alongside him from now on. It’s a kind of social gathering, really—only the best tutors and handpicked heirs from the marquess and ducal houses.”
“……”
“You’ll be visiting the palace as much as you like now.”
“How… glorious.”
Anakin, smiling like a porcelain doll, was suddenly pulled into a warm hug by the Countess.
“The Count is worried about you, too. If it’s too much pressure, you can always refuse.”
Saying something like that with such a delighted face—there was no way he could refuse.
Besides, rejecting a summons from the palace was akin to defying an imperial order.
There had never been a real choice.
“No, I actually wanted to go. The best tutors? I’m looking forward to it.”
Hearing that, the Countess finally looked relieved and smiled brightly.
“That’s good to hear. You’ll leave first thing tomorrow, so get some rest tonight.”
Click.
After she left the room, Anakin sat deep in thought.
At this rate, he was bound to get entangled with all the major houses.
Would he be able to navigate those connections wisely?
If he was going to be drawn in anyway, then maybe it was better to grow strong enough so they couldn’t decide his future for him.
Life rarely went according to plan, so wouldn’t it be better to just do everything he wanted before dying?
Studying in the same space as the Crown Prince turned out to be more manageable than expected.
The story’s progression had clearly changed.
In the original, the Crown Prince spent all his time flirting with Anakin.
Now, he didn’t even speak to him.
If anything, he seemed more interested in chatting with the other students.
“As expected, Your Highness knows everything!”
“It’s only shallow knowledge.”
“Oh no, not at all!”
This was starting to feel more like a Crown Prince appreciation class than anything else.
Even Mikhail—the head mage from the Tower and their instructor—nodded along and praised the Crown Prince.
“I heard you’re learning swordsmanship as well, but you seem quite gifted in magic too.”
Mikhail didn’t seem like the kind of man to give empty compliments.
If he was saying that, the Crown Prince must be impressive in his own right.
But Anakin knew better.
The Crown Prince was far from the wise and noble ruler everyone thought.
Maybe that was why he’d felt so off when they first met.
What was more surprising was Anakin’s own talent in magic.
He placed first in the theory exam, and when he created a mana core on the first try, Mikhail couldn’t stop praising him.
“I haven’t seen this level of raw talent in my ten years at the Tower. Did you perhaps receive any training as a child?”
“No.”
Shaking his head firmly, Anakin met Mikhail’s gaze.
The man stared at him for a long moment, as if working something out, and then smiled again.
“I see. I’d highly recommend that you continue studying magic, Young Master Anakin.”
The heir of the ducal house and the marquess’s daughter also turned to him with curious expressions.
They were still kids, but the air of nobility and sharpness they carried was no less daunting than the Crown Prince’s.
One day, they would each lead their own houses.
The Crown Prince, however, still hadn’t spared Anakin a glance, focused entirely on his book.
That day, as usual, classes had ended.
Wanting to ask a question about the lesson, Anakin made his way to Mikhail’s room with a book in hand—only to find Crown Prince Camilae standing there, leaning casually against the door.
Facing that unnervingly handsome face up close, his heart felt like it dropped straight to the floor.
“Young Master Descartes.”
Golden hair like sunlight.
Delicate yet refined features that fit his status.
Beautiful violet eyes.
And the casual, condescending tone that came as naturally as breathing.
His informal speech made everything sound more personal—too personal.
This was the future tyrant, the man who would one day rule the entire continent.
It had been manageable when Leodore was with him.
But now, being alone with the prince like this, the pressure was suffocating.
“Your Highness.”
He bowed, but the discomfort was obvious.
In the original story, this man had been Anakin’s greatest tormentor—and the one person to whom Anakin had given his heart.
“As I thought…”
“…Pardon?”
The air in the hallway shifted.
It was an empty corridor, so the silence only made everything feel more intense.
He hadn’t manifested as an omega yet, so he couldn’t sense pheromones—but if he had, there was no doubt he would’ve already collapsed under the prince’s.
“…That look in your eyes the first time you saw me. At the social gathering.”
His lips moved slowly, and his smile this time wasn’t the polite one he wore in public—it was different. Amused, mocking, intrigued.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you really not know what kind of eyes you use to look at me?”
What was this all of a sudden?
What kind of expression had he made at the prince?
Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be doing the flirting?
“Hmph… Every time our eyes meet, you go rigid. Like you’re staring at something you despise. We were complete strangers—what exactly made you hate me so much?”
“…! That’s a misunderstanding. I don’t hate you, Your Highness.”
Come to think of it, in the original, Anakin had looked at the prince with a mix of curiosity and affection.
But now, things had clearly changed.
He was starting to understand why the Crown Prince had acted the way he did.
“…Did you really think I wouldn’t notice what you’re feeling inside?”
* * *
