* * *
“Are you all right?”
The torture chamber was quiet and cold, save for the boy’s ragged breathing.
“Uh… blood…”
The boy gave no answer, and Anakin was about to crouch down for a closer look when—suddenly, as if from nowhere—the dying boy lunged at him like a wild beast.
“Ugh!”
Anakin was thrown to the ground in an instant, staring up in shock at the boy who now straddled him.
He had expected a face twisted in rage or thirst for revenge, but the expression he saw was unexpectedly calm.
The boy’s empty eyes—almost inhuman—held no emotion as they locked on Anakin’s red ones.
Anakin could only lie there, pinned, and stare back.
A familiar face…
Yes, without a doubt, this was the same boy who had been helplessly beaten by Leo the day Anakin first arrived at the palace.
Warm drops of blood fell from the boy, sliding down Anakin’s cheek and dripping onto the floor.
His name was Harca von Kirstan.
Second Prince of the Lania Empire.
Abandoned.
Harca gently wiped the blood from Anakin’s cheek.
He stared at him for a long while before finally pulling back.
Even from that brief contact, Anakin could tell—his body was burning with fever.
Rising to his feet, Anakin asked, “Um… should I get you something for the fever?”
“……”
He shook his head, expression blank, as though he didn’t understand the question.
“Then… painkillers?”
When there was still no response, Anakin gave up on getting an answer.
‘I’ll just have to slip out and find some medicine myself,’ he thought.
But then Harca spoke.
“Don’t.”
“……”
“Anything.”
So he could answer when he wanted to.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” Anakin asked.
Surely he must want to escape the pain as soon as possible.
Was it because of her?
Empress Consort Seina.
Leo’s biological mother, and the cunning woman who held the real power in the imperial court.
“If you’re worried about the Empress Consort, you don’t need to be. I can bring medicine without anyone knowing.”
“……”
Despite the torture and whipping, Harca looked at him with a startlingly calm face.
It wasn’t that he was barely hanging on—he genuinely seemed fine.
‘Just how monstrous is his body to withstand this?’
His mother, though of lowly maid status, had been stunningly beautiful—and ruthless.
Unlike Seina, who had the powerful Duke’s family behind her, Harca’s mother had nothing, yet she fought back without fear.
She died when Harca was seven—assassinated.
That tragedy became poison in Harca’s heart.
Seeing his strength now, Anakin understood why Seina had always been wary of Harca and his mother, Leila.
“I don’t need medicine,” Harca said flatly.
“…Do you know who I am?”
“Anakin Descartes.”
This boy would one day execute the Crown Prince, Leo, and even his own stepmother, Seina—every last one of them.
And he would do it brutally.
On the night filled with screams and shadows, he stabbed until the blade loosened in his grip, then hacked the bodies into pieces and threw them to the dogs.
Half-brothers or not, there was not a shred of mercy in him.
But given the daily abuse he endured, perhaps that hatred was only natural.
In the original story, Harca was not the male lead—he was the final boss, slaughtering everyone and taking the throne.
At that time, Anakin—gaslit and imprisoned by the Crown Prince—was shocked by his death and blamed Harca.
But eventually, he let go of the resentment and escaped their obsession, living a new life.
Was that a happy ending or a sad one?
Perhaps Harca… had been Anakin’s hidden savior all along.
“So you know who I am.”
“……”
“Should I wipe your face?”
Anakin pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief from his pocket.
Ah—right, he’d used it earlier to wipe his hands after playing in the grass with Leo…
It didn’t look very clean.
With a troubled look at it, Anakin decided to just use his sleeve to wipe Harca’s face instead.
But before he could, Harca grabbed his slender arm.
Despite being only a year younger, his grip was frighteningly strong—enough to make Anakin’s arm tremble.
“Ow—”
Anakin’s delicate face twisted in pain, and seeing that, Harca released him without hesitation.
“I wasn’t going to hit you… I was trying to clean you up…”
Crouching beside Harca, Anakin hugged his knees and pouted.
Harca glanced at him, then turned his head and muttered, “No need. I can just wash.”
“W-Well, that’s true.”
For a tyrant who would one day slaughter his kin and steal the throne, he was surprisingly easy to talk to.
Scary, yes—but still just a boy.
“…Helping me won’t get you anything,” Harca said coldly, weighing profit and loss.
“I still want to help,” Anakin replied, leaning forward with a bright, genuine smile.
For the first time, Harca’s expression darkened.
Was it annoyance?
That’s what Anakin guessed.
In the daytime, I attended lessons with the Crown Prince.
In the evenings, I spent time with Leo in the Third Prince’s palace.
Leo welcomed my staying at his palace, and that terrifying Empress Seina didn’t particularly interfere, so there was nothing difficult about it.
And sometimes, in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, I would visit the Second Prince’s palace where Harca stayed.
If I placed painkillers and fever reducers—stolen from Leo’s attendant—in front of him, he would only stare at them blankly, like someone who didn’t even know how to take medicine.
“Please, take it. I went through a lot to get this…”
By now, I’d naturally switched to speaking informally with him.
He didn’t seem to care about speech levels anyway, and dropping the honorifics was far more comfortable for getting closer to him.
Sweat-matted strands of Anakin’s hair clung to his cheek.
Eyes that pulled you in, pale skin, and red lips—those features only heightened his allure.
The Second Prince’s palace often had no guards at their posts, making it an easy place to slip into.
Thanks to that, it wasn’t hard to meet Harca.
As usual, he could be found in the rear garden.
That shabby garden, full of withered flowers and insects, left unattended and untended.
As expected, Harca’s wounds were not being properly treated.
It was obvious the Empress would never permit it—hurting him seemed to be the very point.
I couldn’t imagine how that young boy had endured such cruel malice.
“If you take it, I won’t come for the next two days.”
“How do I know what’s in that medicine?”
“I could take it first, if you want.”
Anakin forced a casual smile and raised the pill to his mouth.
But Harca grabbed his forearm with a cold expression.
“Ah—ouch.”
“Who said you could take it?”
Anakin hesitated for a moment, then spoke seriously.
“If you want to earn trust, you have to use the surest method.”
Harca stared straight into his eyes, at this strange boy speaking so calmly.
Maybe it was an illusion, but for a brief moment Anakin seemed to shine brighter than the moon above.
Harca’s face hardened again, and he tossed all the pills into his mouth at once.
“Whoa… all at once…?”
“Leave.”
His expression said, ‘Are you satisfied now?’ Anakin nodded.
“Yeah. Thanks for taking it.”
Anakin smiled brightly.
Harca, meeting that gaze, instinctively turned his head away.
Anakin’s daily visits were strange to him, almost puzzling—but he thought it wouldn’t last long anyway.
There’s nothing more shallow than cheap pity.
No, it definitely wouldn’t last.
That’s what Harca believed.
The next morning, during lessons, the Crown Prince no longer tried to speak to Anakin.
Yet for some reason, Anakin kept fidgeting, unable to focus.
He seemed to be in unusually poor condition today, which made it harder to ignore.
It was such a subtle difference from usual that the other students hadn’t noticed—but to Anakin, it stood out all the more.
“Your Highness, would you have some time after today’s lesson?”
Lewis Patrick, son of the Earl of Patrick, blushed and asked the Crown Prince with a sweet expression.
It was obvious he wanted to pester him about something trivial.
As I glanced over disinterestedly, a sudden and alarming thought flashed through my mind—so out of character for me that I cut in hastily.
“His Highness seems busy today. Why not make an appointment for another time?”
My voice was soft and gentle.
“What? How would you know that, Young Master Descartes?”
“I heard from the chamberlain. He has riding practice today.”
“Is that true, Your Highness?”
When Lewis gazed up at him anxiously, the Crown Prince fixed his jewel-like violet eyes squarely on Anakin.
* * *
Hmm