Lucien stood frozen, forgetting that he had a nosebleed minutes ago, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot as if an unseen force had anchored him to the ground. The words echoed in his ears, a haunting refrain that refused to fade away, as if they had been spoken in another language – yet, they were too loud, too real to be misunderstood. The syllables still lingered on the air, vibrating with an almost palpable intensity that made his skin prickle with unease.
He felt as though he was drowning in the silence that followed, the only sound the heavy pounding of his own heart in his chest. The words replayed in his mind, each repetition like a knife twisting in his gut, leaving him breathless and disbelieving. For a moment, time itself seemed to stand still, and all that existed was the echo of those words, resonating deep within him like a death knell.
> "What do you think, Lucien? How would you like to be the Crowned Prince?"
He blinked, his eyes fluttering closed and open again as if hoping to clear the haze from his mind. Did I just hear that right? he thought, a wave of incredulity washing over him as he stared up at the golden-haired man whose hand still rested on his shoulder like they were about to celebrate something outrageous. The warmth of the man's hand seeped through his clothing, a gentle reminder of the impossible words that had just been spoken. Lucien's gaze was drawn to the man's face, searching for some sign of jest or mockery, but the golden-haired man's expression was dead serious, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made Lucien's heart skip a beat. The room around them seemed to fade into the background, becoming a distant hum as Lucien's entire focus narrowed to the man beside him, and the impossible, unbelievable thing that he had just said.
He tried to replay the conversation, connect the dots. My mother did say she had a brother in the imperial palace… then that means this man in front of me—
Lucien looked up, eyes squinting in disbelief.
Vale Aurion Aurum Vale.
Vale Aurion Aurum Vale. A man who looked like he had stepped out of a heroic legend, straight from the pages of a dusty, leather-bound tome, and landed in the most mundane of settings – a job interview, of all places. Tall, radiant, and undoubtedly powerful, he exuded an aura of confidence that bordered on arrogance. Yet, despite the air of authority that surrounded him, there was something about him that screamed "I refuse to take anything seriously."
A mischievous glint danced in his eyes, hinting at a sharp wit and a tongue that could charm the wings off a butterfly. His smile, when it broke across his face, was like a flash of sunlight on a cloudy day – bright, dazzling, and utterly captivating. It was as if he was perpetually amused by some private joke, one that only he was privy to, and the rest of the world was just along for the ride.
Despite his heroic appearance, there was something undeniably roguish about him, a sense that he was always pushing the boundaries, always testing the limits, and always, always looking for the next great adventure.
Behind him, two more figures now drew Lucien's attention.
At the far side of the lavish room, seated with imperial grace, was the Emperor himself.
A man with a thick blonde beard tinged with white, like the first wisps of snow on a winter's morning, framing a face that seemed chiseled from the very granite of the mountains. His presence was overwhelming, a palpable force that filled the room and demanded attention, his body relaxed in a pose of languid ease, yet his energy was tightly coiled like a spring ready to burst into action at a moment's notice. His piercing gray eyes, like two shards of polished steel, were full of years, victories, and command, each line and crease on his face etched by the weight of centuries and the burdens of power.
Aurelian Valentino Aurum Vale, the Emperor of the Valderian Empire, exuded an aura of authority that was both captivating and intimidating. Lucien's grandfather, a man whose name was whispered in awe and reverence across the empire, whose reputation was forged in the fire of countless battles and tempered by the weight of responsibility.
Every aspect of his being seemed to scream "power" – from the way he carried himself with the effortless confidence of a born leader, to the subtle, almost imperceptible movements of his body, which seemed to hint at a coiled strength waiting to be unleashed. Despite the passing of years, his presence still crackled with an electric charge, a reminder that this was a man who had shaped the course of history, and would not be forgotten anytime soon.
Aurelian Valentino Aurum Vale, the Emperor of the Valderian Empire—Lucien's grandfather.
And beside him, with a visage soft yet striking, was a regal woman seated with perfect poise, her very presence seeming to embody the gentle elegance of a summer's breeze. Her long blonde hair, now carrying strands of pale silver that caught the light like delicate strands of moonlit mist, cascaded gently down her shoulders, framing a face that radiated warmth and kindness.
Her dress shimmered with fine silks and subtle enchantments, the fabric seeming to shift and ripple like the surface of a serene lake, reflecting the soft luminescence of the room. The delicate patterns woven into the fabric seemed to dance in the light, adding a subtle depth to her already statuesque presence. Her mystical blue eyes, like two glittering sapphires, met Lucien's with an unspoken warmth – a grandmother's gaze that knew much and expected more. It was a look that spoke of generations of love, of laughter, and of quiet understanding, a look that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words and memories.
As their eyes met, Lucien felt a sense of comfort wash over him, a sense of being enveloped in a warm, gentle hug that seemed to say, "You are home, you are loved, and you are understood." The woman's gaze was a balm to his soul, soothing his worries and calming his fears, and yet, it also seemed to hold a hint of expectation, a sense that she knew him better than he knew himself, and that she would not hesitate to guide him towards his true potential.
She was Ava Valora Aurum Vale, Empress of Valderia.
Lucien bowed slightly, unsure of what to say.
But before any polite greeting could pass his lips, a thunderous voice cracked through the chamber:
> "Don't involve your nephew in to your own laziness!"
The Emperor stood from his chair, his face red with restrained fury.
> "You're trying to run away from your responsibilities again, aren't you?! Always worming your way out of duty like a snake in noble robes!"
Vale, the Crown Prince, sighed dramatically, tossing his golden hair over his shoulder.
> "Well, too bad for you, old man. I'm not going anywhere near that stupid, cursed throne of yours. It's nothing but stress, paperwork, and war councils with fossilized nobles who smell like fermented mushrooms. I value my peace."
The air shifted with tension. Lucien could almost feel his grandfather clenching his fist, suppressing a powerful urge to launch it directly into his son's smug jaw.
> "You spoiled wastrel—!"
The Emperor stood fully now, shoulders broad and chest rising. His aura flared ever so slightly, making Lucien feel like he had just walked into a storm cloud.
> "You disgrace the title of Crown Prince with every breath you take!"
> "Then take it back!" Vale retorted, arms wide. "Hand it to my adorable nephew here! He's perfect! Smart, polite, handsome, and unlike some people, not allergic to responsibilities. Aren't you, Lucien?"
Lucien opened his mouth to speak—but again, the argument spun on without his consent.
The Empress, trying to maintain her composure, gave a long-suffering sigh as she reached for a nearby glass of herbal wine. She stood, moving between them like a mother between two boys about to wrestle on expensive furniture.
> "Enough. Both of you."
Her voice was soft, but carried undeniable authority. The room simmered.
Lucien took a quiet step back, wondering if he should just sneak out—
And that's when he felt it.
An arm curled around his shoulders.
Warm. Gentle. Soft.
Startled, he turned his head—and nearly jumped.
It was the maid.
The same golden-haired girl with piercing blue eyes, who had vanished into thin air like a spell dispersing into the wind, leaving behind only whispers of her presence. Now, she was standing right beside him, her cheeky grin inches from his face, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Lucien's awareness of her proximity was acute, and he felt his heart stutter as he realized her chest was pressing against his left arm. The soft yet firm pressure was unmistakable, and the gentle weight of her body against his seemed deliberate.
Even with the tumult of emotions swirling inside him, Lucien's face burned with embarrassment, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson as he struggled to process the sudden intimacy. The accidental touch seemed more than just a coincidence, and Lucien's mind reeled as he tried to make sense of the girl's intentions. As he stood frozen, his body tense with anticipation, the girl's grin seemed to grow wider, her eyes glinting with amusement, as if she knew a secret he didn't.
His body stiffened with electric awareness, every nerve tingling in response to the unexpected touch. A strange sensation shot from his arm to his chest, then lower, spreading like wildfire through his veins.
"Damn," he breathed, his mind racing with the realization. "I can feel it. I'm touching it."
The woman beside him remained still, oblivious to his turmoil, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to his growing unease. He began shifting his arm subtly, pretending to adjust his position, but in reality, he was savoring the surreal feeling, his senses heightened as he explored the unfamiliar sensation.
The maid watched him with a glint of mischief in her eyes.
> "What a cute little cousin I have here," she whispered, her lips curling into a devilish smirk.
Lucien's eyes widened.
Cousin?
He looked up at her again, mouth half open. She looked no older than sixteen—tall, beautiful, composed, and teasing him like they'd known each other for years. And that maid outfit? That was definitely custom-tailored to distract.
Before Lucien could ask anything, Vale clapped his hands.
> "Ah! So you two have met already. Great!"
He pointed at the maid.
> "That's my daughter—Valeria Aurum Vale. Your cousin. Talented in spell theory, excellent grades in Reinegard Academy, and has been trained in both combat and court manners. Isn't she stunning? Hey Valeria!"
Valeria raised a brow at her father. "What is it, Father?"
Vale smirked.
> "What do you think about marrying your cute little cousin here?"
Lucien choked on his own breath.
Valeria blinked, taken aback for half a second—but then slowly turned to Lucien again.
He was still blushing furiously. His mismatched eyes sparkled, lips tight, clearly trying to act unaffected while definitely enjoying the contact. She watched as he subtly tried to shift his arm again—less convincingly this time.
She smiled.
A gorgeous, slow, dangerous smile.
> "I'd be delighted to marry my cute little cousin," she said sweetly, leaning a bit closer.
Vale's grin exploded. "Perfect! You'll make a fantastic imperial couple. He'll be Emperor, and I'll retire somewhere sunny, rich, and peaceful. Maybe start painting. Or breeding wyverns."
Lucien blinked. "Wait—WHAT?"
Before the chaos could settle, Vale turned triumphantly to his father, preparing to throw his arms in the air and shout victory—
But found a giant palm flying toward his face.
"YOU—!"
"OH Shi—!"