* * *
“Young master, are you awake?”
It was Chandler’s voice.
Remy answered from inside.
“Yeah, I’m up. Come in.”
The door opened, and Chandler entered, looking as composed as ever.
However, what he carried in his hands was anything but ordinary—a large box.
“What’s that?”
“It was delivered for you, young master.”
“For me?”
“Yes. A royal courier dropped it off this morning. It seems to be from Prince Hayward.”
“What?!”
Of course.
Thoughts became reality.
Just when Remy thought things were quiet, Hayward had sent something over.
‘Damn alphas.’
As if competing to prove who the most insane alpha was, they kept pulling ridiculous stunts.
Exhausted, Remy groaned and said to Chandler.
“Could you open it for me?”
“Yes, young master.”
Chandler opened the box sent by the royal family on Remy’s behalf.
As he untied the golden ribbon wrapped around the red box, the symbol of the Frederica royal family—a golden stag’s face—came into view.
He opened the lid and pulled out something from inside.
“Gasp!”
A sharp cry escaped from Remy’s lips.
It was a dead bird.
Its once-colorful feathers were now soaked in red, leaving behind a gruesome, pitiful corpse.
“W-What is this…?”
“Are you all right, Young Master?”
“Chandler, what is this? Why on earth would Hayward send me… this?”
“There’s a letter enclosed. Should I read it for you?”
“Yes, please. Read it now.”
Unable to bear the sight, Remy squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.
Chandler’s calm voice began reading the contents of the letter aloud.
[To my dearest Remy,
Remy, I’m currently in Letrium. It’s a place where the land boils under the midday sun and freezes intruders solid in the frigid night. The endless desert stretches under a veil of swirling sandstorms, turning everything into a hazy mess—just like the state of my heart right now.
I’ve sent you a rare bird I found here. It’s called a Frelian. The male Frelian is known for its beauty and its fierce love for its mate. But it’s equally infamous for its cruelty—if it fails to win over the female, it will bite her to death without hesitation.
I’ll be returning to the castle soon. By the time you receive this Frelian, I might already be there. I’ll visit you within a few days. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not a man of patience. Much like a male Frelian.
I’ll be waiting.
With love,
Your Hayward. ]
As soon as Chandler finished reading, the only words that spilled from Remy’s lips were:
“That crazy… bastard…”
Of course.
He should have known it was too quiet to last.
Reading that letter made everything clear.
That alpha… was insane.
Just as madness doesn’t require reason, the actions of this lunatic alpha needed no explanation.
He wasn’t just a deranged “grand duke-type” alpha.
No, he was unhinged beyond any possible reasoning.
‘Would something like this have been acceptable in this era? If this were modern times, he’d already be arrested as a stalker and thrown in jail!’
“Are you all right, Young Master?”
“Do I look all right to you, Chandler?”
“No, you look far from all right.”
“Good observation.”
Barely able to stay upright, Remy staggered out of the room, but soon, his nausea overwhelmed him, and he had to run to the bathroom.
Clutching the toilet, he vomited everything in his stomach.
Even when there was nothing left, he continued to heave, tears streaming from his strained eyes.
His insides burned as fiercely as his heart felt like it was being scorched black.
After flushing the toilet and rinsing his mouth, Remy dragged his pale face back into the room and collapsed onto the couch.
“What do I do now, Chandler? What am I supposed to do?”
Desperate for advice, Remy turned to the steward, who was probably about 30 years older than him.
“If I were you—”
“Yes? What would you do?”
“I would head to the palace immediately. His Highness is much more resolute than we give him credit for.”
“Do you really think that’s the right word for it? Resolute?”
“Well, calling it ‘insanity’ might be a bit too blunt.”
“Pfft.” Remy couldn’t hold back his laughter at Chandler’s unexpectedly candid comment. Insanity…
That word fit Hayward far too well.
Who else in the world would send a dead bird to someone they claimed to love?
If this wasn’t the act of a truly insane man, what was?
“So, Chandler, your advice is to go and meet that lunatic—uh, I mean, His Highness the Third Prince?”
“Yes. Assuming you value your life.”
“Ugh, my life…”
At this point, Remy wasn’t sure if he was doing this to survive or if it was some twisted form of self-destruction.
“Fine. Prepare everything for me. And… make sure that poor bird gets a proper burial in the backyard.”
“Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.”
With his usual stoic expression, Chandler rewrapped the bird’s corpse in its box and left the room.
“Ugh… This is driving me insane.”
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Remy buried his face in his hands.
Walking into the palace to meet that lunatic alpha… It felt like walking straight to his death.
“This is practically suicide…”
But he had no choice. If he was called, he had to go; if he was commanded, he had to obey.
That was simply his reality.
Reluctantly, Remy stood up.
As he made his way to the bathroom to wash up, the lingering metallic scent of blood in the room stabbed at his senses.
The carriage screeched to a halt, jolting Remy from his thoughts.
With a deep sigh, he stared out the window. For the past few days, not dealing with any alpha nonsense had been a small relief.
But now, the thought of facing Hayward again made his head ache.
‘No, this is a good opportunity. I’ll settle this once and for all. What can he do if I tell him I don’t feel the same? Surely he has some pride and will back off, right? There’s no way he’d try to force anything… would he?’
Surely not. Hayward was a prince, after all.
Remy’s thoughts were simple and naive—he seemed to have forgotten entirely why Hayward had earned the nickname “lunatic alpha.”
“Welcome, Lord Wesley.”
The palace steward greeted him warmly, having been notified of his arrival in advance by Chandler.
“His Highness is waiting for you in the privy chamber.”
Remy froze.
“The privy chamber? Not the drawing room?”
“Yes, he specifically ordered you to be brought there.”
This can’t be good.
Remy bit his lip nervously. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
The drawing room was where nobles typically met with the royal family.
Why the privy chamber?
At the large doors, the steward knocked and announced his arrival.
“Your Highness, Lord Wesley has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The steward stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.
Loosening his clenched fists, Remy steeled himself and took a step forward.
Gripping the door handle, he swung it open.
“I greet Your Highness.”
As the door closed behind him, Remy forced himself to bow toward Hayward, his heart pounding with dread.
“Welcome, Remy.”
Ramy slowly lifted his head in response to Hayward’s words, shifting his gaze toward him, standing alone in the grand, expansive room.
* * *
