* * *
Anakin gave him a suspicious look, and the Crown Prince smiled, eyes curving charmingly, as if to say you guessed right.
“If you haven’t chosen a partner yet, why not go with me?”
Once again, the original story veered off track. In the original, the Crown Prince attended with his fiancée, Lady Evelyn, daughter of Marquis Schneider.
Though he spent most of his time with Anakin, he was still supposed to show up with Evelyn.
“…Your Highness, you have a fiancée.”
Anakin blinked rapidly in surprise.
“True. But I want to go with you.”
If Lady Evelyn—his very official fiancée—saw Anakin as his partner, she might very well rip him apart.
Shaking his head, Anakin spoke up.
“I appreciate the sentiment… but I’ll have to decline.”
The Crown Prince, as if expecting this, gave a slightly disappointed smile.
“That’s too bad. Then who will you go with?”
“Can’t I attend alone?”
“You could. But wouldn’t it be lonely without a partner?”
“Hmm. Then I guess I’ll try to find someone.”
‘Maybe I’ll ask Lillian or Hilde. Lillian would probably say yes right away…’
After enjoying a quiet tea time with the Crown Prince, Anakin headed straight for the Second Prince’s palace.
Using the key he’d gotten, he unlocked Harca’s tight restraints.
He’d have to put them back on before the Empress returned—but even a moment of freedom was something.
“How did you get the key?”
“I just asked a passing servant for it.”
Anakin replied shamelessly, blinking innocently.
Harca responded in a dry tone.
“If the Empress finds out you’re helping me, she might kill you.”
“Then I just won’t let her find out.”
Harca stretched his arms and shook out his body, seeming far too normal for someone who’d been bound just moments ago.
Though lean, his strong frame hinted at a body that would be solid with a bit more weight.
Even in the original novel, his physique rivaled that of Kamil and Leo.
As Anakin watched Harca shake out his limbs, dazed, Harca looked down at him and murmured:
“…You really are strange.”
“What is?”
“Strange isn’t even the right word. No one in this palace tries to help others when there’s nothing to gain.”
“Harca. There are people in the world who do good even when there’s no reward.”
Harca frowned at Anakin’s words.
Sure, they exist.
People who offer sympathy unasked, and then get disappointed when things don’t go their way.
But Harca saw most of them as hypocrites—falling in love with the ideal version of themselves reflected in their own “good deeds.”
There was no guarantee this pretty little boy beside him was any different.
Anakin sank down next to Harca, hugging his knees.
His fingers, pushing stray strands of hair behind his ear, were delicate.
To Harca, Anakin looked like a fragile creature who might vanish the moment he reached out.
And yet, the boy always spoke with that same bright smile—sharing stories of the world outside the palace, of things Harca had never heard or seen.
How many fun things there were beyond the palace gates, how many things there were to do.
Each time he spoke with those brilliantly red lips, listing off strange and unfamiliar words, time seemed to slow down for Harca.
A beautiful child. But not just beautiful—something more.
Whenever that child came to visit, even the endless, gray days Harca had spent started to feel… slightly more livable.
‘If it’s Anakin… maybe I wouldn’t mind pretending, just a little.’
Harca genuinely thought so.
That child—he didn’t feel like someone who belonged to this place.
With skin as pale as porcelain, eyes a striking crimson that drew everyone’s gaze, and a smile so radiant and innocent despite his otherworldly looks…
Anyone would agree—he was something unique.
One of a kind.
To Harca, the cold imperial palace was all he had ever known.
Maybe that’s why everything felt dull. Even gaining power or avenging his mother’s death.
He couldn’t even remember his mother’s face anymore—unless he looked at the official portrait in the history books, the image wouldn’t come to mind at all.
Harca never moved without a reason.
Even his mother’s death hadn’t spurred him to action.
He had remained still—even when the Empress, full of ambition, twisted the imperial court to her will—because he was curious.
What was she trying to achieve?
He wasn’t interested in her, but in her ugly greed and desperate thirst for power.
He wanted to see how far she would go.
Then, suddenly, a small figure appeared before him.
A little, pale child who seemed unlike anyone he had ever met.
From that moment on, Harca’s attention was fixed on him.
That tiny, snow-white child.
His name was Anakin.
Anakin Descartes.
“Are you listening?”
Anakin’s upturned eyes narrowed sharply.
Harca hadn’t thought of him as a soft, gentle beauty—but with that expression, he looked far fiercer.
“I’m listening.”
“Sure, you’re listening. But I bet you won’t remember.”
“You said you wanted to try food that commoners eat. And next time, you want to walk around the capital without a guard…”
“…You remember?”
Anakin rested his chin in his hand and stared at Harca, looking slightly surprised.
Lately, Harca’s once-cold demeanor had noticeably softened.
The fact that he had softened this much meant the original storyline was seriously off the rails.
It was shocking that this man—who once seemed like you could stab him and he wouldn’t bleed—was now sitting beside him, quietly listening to what he had to say.
Just taking his medicine regularly was already more than Anakin could ask for…
“Thanks for listening. I’ve got to head back now, but next time, let’s sneak out together.”
“……”
“I’m learning disguise magic these days… I’ll try to master it.”
“…With me?”
“Yup.”
Anakin smiled sweetly, then suddenly grinned mischievously.
He stretched his arms and gave a casual wave.
“Good night. See you tomorrow.”
Harca kept his eyes on Anakin, capturing that pretty smile, until the boy disappeared from view.
This banquet was an annual affair—a grand party for the nobility.
Hosted by the imperial family, it was a rare day even for the highest-ranking aristocrats to relax, mingle, talk business, and look for potential partners.
Even lesser-known houses did whatever they could to attend, desperate to forge connections.
The tight-fitting white pants were uncomfortable.
Wearing these formal clothes, stitched with elaborate embroidery, was tolerable—but the real problem was the adornments.
Sure, he might be an omega in the future and even the main submissive character or whatever—but still.
He was a man.
Wasn’t all this decoration a bit too much?
As he grumbled to himself, a knock came at the door.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
He naturally assumed it was a servant bringing the clothes.
But the person who stepped in left Anakin speechless.
“Leo?”
This wasn’t the main palace—it was the separate palace.
What was he doing here?
The silver-haired boy, with sharp features and a dangerous kind of beauty, stood in the doorway.
It had been a while since Anakin had seen that face.
As Anakin blinked in surprise, Leo crossed his arms and turned his gaze toward him.
“Can we talk…?”
But the moment their eyes met, Leo’s words trailed off.
Despite the abruptness of it all, Anakin seemed to understand and got up from his seat.
The maid brushing his hair quickly stepped back, sensing the mood.
“Okay. Just a sec.”
Anakin dismissed the rest of the servants and was now alone with Leo in the bedroom.
The silence between them was awkward.
Leo, however, was impeccably dressed in a white ceremonial uniform.
Seeing him like this again… Anakin couldn’t help but think, ‘He really is unrealistically handsome.’
“How have you been?”
Anakin was the first to ask, but Leo only leaned against the door and looked him over, top to bottom.
“What are you staring at like that? Your gaze is creepy.”
“You’re the only one who talks to me like that.”
Maybe it was because they hadn’t spoken in a while, but their exchange wasn’t exactly friendly.
It almost felt like they were back at their first meeting again.
Then, Leo finally spoke.
“Did you find a partner yet?”
“No. I was planning to go alone.”
“Then wanna go with me?”
Anakin frowned slightly at Leo’s blunt suggestion.
“Leo, we can’t each bring two partners.”
“I don’t have a partner.”
What?
That couldn’t be right.
The third prince, the most eligible bachelor in the Empire, didn’t have a partner?
That spot was something people were dying for.
“I was planning to go with you.”
Leo said it with complete confidence, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
With that soft glow in his silver hair and his unbothered tone, anyone would think they had already made plans together.
“……”
Click. Click.
Leo walked toward him, the sound of his shoes echoing in the room.
“What, you don’t want to?”
“……”
“You didn’t even visit me all this time… and now you don’t even want to be my partner?”
“Leo…”
“Do you know how surprised I was when I heard you went to the opera house?”
Anakin looked troubled.
He hadn’t gone to the third prince’s palace for a while—not out of spite, but because he hadn’t had the time.
Things had gotten awkward since that incident, and visiting just didn’t feel right anymore.
Leo stood there, still with that relaxed, cocky stance, looking down at Anakin who had sat down on the sofa.
“You said you’d keep me company when I got bored. Was that a lie?”
His rough tone made him sound like some street thug, but it still carried an odd weight.
Anakin couldn’t tell if Leo was just acting awkward or genuinely annoyed—but he knew one thing: ‘if you want kindness, you’d better give some first.’
Since Leo came at him sideways, Anakin didn’t back down either.
“You didn’t come to see me, either.”
Leo scowled at that.
“…You’re always with that guy. Why would I?”
* * *
