* * *

As a result, there was hardly any information about Remy’s relationship with Ashton.

All that was known was that the three of them—Allen, Ashton, and Remy—had been childhood friends.

‘Remy gets shot and killed after fighting with Allen, right? Before that, there’s barely any interaction between Remy and the other love interests.’

It was frustrating. If he knew more about how Remy had interacted with them, it would make things easier.

But there were no clues to go off of.

‘Well, let’s start with what I can do. Allen’s birthday party is coming up soon, right?’

Remy racked his brain, trying to recall the events of Allen’s birthday party in the original story.

What had happened back then…?

Remy pulled out a pen and started jotting down everything he could recall from the “Allen’s Birthday Party Episode.”

It was a precaution, just in case he needed to refer back to it later.

‘Right. This was the day Remy pushed Allen down the stairs. Pretending it was an accident, but the real intent was to hurt him.’

In the original story, Remy shoves Allen down the stairs a few days before the hunting event so Allen wouldn’t be able to participate.

However, it backfires when the Third Prince, standing at the bottom of the stairs, catches Allen, leading to the prince falling for him.

‘Typical of a minor villain—always causing trouble like this,’ Remy muttered to himself, self-deprecatingly.

‘Anyway, all I need to do is push Allen down the stairs, just like the original. Shouldn’t be too hard.’

After finishing his notes about Allen’s birthday, Remy put down his pen.

He carefully placed the paper into a drawer and collapsed onto his bed.

He let out a long sigh. It had only been two days since he found himself in this world, and he already felt utterly drained.

He couldn’t figure out why—he hadn’t even done much, yet the exhaustion was relentless.

“Tomorrow will be better… I hope. Please, let the other princes not get along.”

The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

That night, he dreamt of eating spam paired with kimchi—a small, simple pleasure.

---

The next day, Remy prepared to enter the palace.

Preparation wasn’t much: just getting dressed and brushing his hair.

He still wasn’t used to seeing his reflection.

His hair, with its striking color, was not something he’d ever imagined having.

“Surprisingly, it suits me,” he mused.

His fair skin complemented the bright color more than he’d expected.

But while he could acknowledge it looked good, he didn’t see himself as exceptionally handsome or breathtaking.

Remy was oblivious to the fact that his face was considered the epitome of good looks—something even girls back in high school had gushed over as “the perfect blend of handsome and cute.”

“Well, it’s not important anyway. Focus. Just stick to the original storyline.”

With that, Remy left his room, walking down the long hallway lined with a red carpet.

As he descended the stairs to the first floor, he saw the head servant waiting for him.

Clearing his throat, Remy prepared to attempt the “talking casually to servants” act he’d practiced yesterday at Ashton’s house.

“Hey, you,” he started.

But seeing the elderly, white-haired head servant standing there, the words got stuck in his throat.

Old habits from being raised in a culture of respect made it difficult to speak informally, especially to someone who resembled a dignified grandfather.

“Yes, young master?”

“Uh, you probably think I’m acting weird, don’t you? Like, ‘Why is our young master behaving this way?’ I get it. I’d think the same in your position.”

The head servant’s expression didn’t change, his face as unreadable as a statue.

“Indeed. Is that so?” he replied flatly.

Frustrated, Remy sighed.

“By the way, what did I usually call you? Did I just address you as Head Servant?”

“You’ve always referred to me as Chandler,” the servant answered.

“Got it. Mr. Chandler it is. Thanks, Mr. Chandler.”

“Please omit the ‘thanks.’ Just call me Chandler.”

“M… Chandler.”

“Yes, young master.”

Ugh. It felt so unnatural.

He realized he’d need to practice this before tackling the rest of the plot.

“Anyway, I’m off.”

“Have a safe trip, young master.”

As he walked away, Remy found himself wondering, ‘Do all head servants live such boring lives? Or is it just this guy’s personality?’

He shook his head and sighed.

Considering his current predicament, he wasn’t really in a position to judge anyone else’s life.

---

Remy climbed into the carriage, the coachman opening the door for him.

Compared to the head servant, speaking casually with the coachman felt much easier.

“To the palace,” he said, settling in.

“Understood,” the coachman replied, snapping the reins.

The carriage rattled down the uneven roads, shaking with every bump.

Despite the rough ride, Remy didn’t feel too bad—probably thanks to having adjusted to this body over the past three days.

When they arrived, the coachman opened the door.

Stepping out, Remy froze, staring at the grand palace before him.

“…Wow,” he whispered, his throat dry.

He hadn’t taken a proper look the first time due to the chaos, but now he couldn’t help but admire its magnificence.

“Damn. This is incredible.”

It was almost tragic that he couldn’t share the view with anyone.

If only he’d brought his phone, he would’ve taken a ton of photos.

“Excuse me, young master?” the coachman asked, confused by Remy’s mumbling.

“Ah, nothing. Thanks. You can leave now.”

The coachman tipped his hat and left.

Left alone, Remy turned his gaze back to the palace, now wondering how he was supposed to find the Third Prince.

“Are you here, Lord Remy?” someone called.

The voice belonged to a man with a powdered wig resembling a fluffy white poodle.

Clearly, he was another palace servant.

“Yes, I am.”

“The Prince has been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

Well, at least he wouldn’t get lost in this massive place.

Thank goodness for helpful servants.

---

When Remy entered the reception room, he was greeted by a stunningly beautiful man.

His delicate features made him look like an elf, just as the novel had described.

This was Hayward Federica, the Third Prince.

The original story had claimed he looked more like an omega than any omega ever could.

Seeing him in person, Remy thought the description didn’t do him justice.

If his ears were just a little longer and pointier, he could’ve passed for a real elf.

‘First impressions matter. What’s the proper way to greet royalty?’

“I greet Your Highness,” Remy said, bowing.

“Welcome,” the prince replied with a soft smile.

It seemed, thankfully, that the greetings had gone without any issue.

“Alright. Has the manifestation pain gotten any better? I heard you’re feeling more like yourself now.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Thanks to your concern, I’ve improved significantly.”

“I was so startled that day. You acted like a completely different person—didn’t even recognize my face.”

Remy flinched. Startled, he let out a small cough to cover his reaction.

“My apologies. I was so flustered back then.”

He brushed it off casually and began to walk, soon spotting the two Alphas who had already arrived.

One of them was Ashton, who had caused him so much trouble yesterday, and the other was…

“Hello, Rex.”

It was Rex, with his striking red hair.

“Hey, Remy. Feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah. You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Not really.”

* * *