The First Prince was a coward. That's what everyone said.
He was weak and pitiful. The Queen hated him. His brothers joked about him behind his back or in front of him. It didn't matter. No one took him seriously.
The Kingdom of Raven had nine princes, each with their own fame and talent. And although Shian Ravenscroft was the firstborn, it was the second prince, Hayes Ravenscroft, who everyone believed would inherit the throne. He was strong, gifted, and beloved by the Queen, he was the perfect prince.
Meanwhile, Shian had no swordsmanship, no magic, no political wit. A failure in every category. A prince only in name.
That's why everyone was stunned when he walked through the corridor.
He wore a black jacket with elegant golden lining, a dark brooch at the collar like a black sun. White pants tucked into polished combat boots. A sleek cape, black with gold trim, drifted behind him like trailing shadows.
No longer that absurd golden waterfall dragging behind him. It was neatly cut to shoulder-length and tied at the nape. Strands shimmered as they swayed with his stride.
Behind him, Klein looked like he was about to faint from nerves. His eyes darted everywhere, as if trying to absorb all the judgment pouring in from the walls. Meanwhile, Hans, the guard, followed like a silent pillar of steel. Stoic as ever.
They stopped in front of the grand meeting room doors.
Shian stared at them for a moment. His body, or maybe his new instincts, told him this was that day, family breakfast day. A royal tradition where the Queen would dine once a week with her children.
From the way his stomach twisted, he could already tell, this Queen... She didn't like him. Not even a little.
Shian gave a light yawn, then tucked his hands into his pant pockets.
"Well, whatever," he muttered.
He glanced sideways at the servant standing beside the door and gave a short nod. The servant jolted like he'd been struck by lightning, then turned toward the hall with a nervous voice:
"T-The First Prince has arrived!"
Even that announcement made the atmosphere ripple. The servant looked jittery, like even he couldn't believe the First Prince looked this... different.
The double doors creaked open with weight and ceremony. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, so bright that Shian had to squint.
Inside was a long, regal table.
Nine people were already sitting there.
At the far end, sitting on a chair more elaborate than the rest, was a stunning woman with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore a gown lined with jewels and power. Cold elegance radiated from her like winter air.
Shian's eyes met hers for only a second. That was all it took.
Her gaze turned frigid. Disdain flickered across her expression. But then... surprise. Just a flicker. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
Shian gave a lazy wave as he stepped forward.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, casually, as the doors shut behind him.
The room stared at him. His brothers blinked.
Was cutting his hair that shocking?
Ignoring the stares, Shian pulled out the empty chair at the end of the table, beside a boy who looked barely twelve, and sat down without asking permission. He leaned back slightly, arms resting on the table like he belonged here.
The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence. No one dared to speak. Even the sound of the wind outside seemed to have gone quiet, as if the palace itself was holding its breath.
Shian sat at the long table, calm as ever, completely unbothered by the stiff atmosphere around him. Well, he was a ruthless villain, after all.
Klein, who stood behind him, looked as if he wanted to say something, to warn him, perhaps, but before he could open his mouth, the quiet was broken by a soft voice beside Shian.
"Big brother," a little boy whispered, leaning slightly toward Shian. "Greet the Queen."
Shian turned his head and looked at the boy beside him. He recognized him, even with the foggy memories from the original prince.
That round face, polite tone, and worried eyes, it was Nova, the ninth prince. A child of a concubine, like the sixth, seventh, and eighth princes. Still young, maybe twelve at most.
Well, despite his age, he clearly understood the weight of palace manners. And now, this little potato was urging him to bow his head like a good royal child.
Shian lifted his eyes toward the woman sitting at the far end of the table. Her red hair glowed beneath the crystal chandeliers, and her blue eyes were sharp and unreadable.
Even without full memories, Shian's chest tightened the moment he looked at her. His body remembered her in a way his mind didn't. There was pain in his heart. She was his mother. The Queen. And yet… she felt so distant and cold.
Still, Shian wasn't one to tremble.
"Greetings to the Queen," he said smoothly in a casual voice as if he were saying hello to a neighbor.
Klein, standing behind him, gasped and immediately bowed low in panic, clearly hoping to make up for the lack of formality. Nova's eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he said nothing.
The Queen's eyes narrowed. Her expression was like ice. "I see," she said in a cold voice. "So, you've stopped pretending to be a saint," she said. "And now you're playing the part of a delinquent? What a failure of a prince."
Shian met her gaze directly. He didn't flinch. But most of all, wasn't this woman the mother of this body? Why was she so cold to Shian? Well, if that's how she wants to play, then, without missing a beat, he smirked lazily and tilted his head.
"Ah, thank you for the praise, Your Majesty." He said, resting his elbow on the table and placing his chin against his palm. His eyes were half-lidded, like he was bored with this whole family act.
A pause. The entire table went stiff. Breaths caught in throats. Even Hans, the stoic royal guard, blinked once. Klein's voice broke into a soft, terrified whisper.
"My prince...!"
The Queen's expression twitched slightly, irritation bubbling just under the surface. But instead of reacting, she simply closed her eyes and let out a tired sigh.
"Let's eat," she said, reaching for her fork with sharp elegance.
A pale and trembling servant stepped forward to serve Shian his food. The plates clinked gently against the table, and silverware was passed around, but the earlier tension hadn't fully left the room. The air was still thick with confusion and unease.
Shian glanced at the food placed before him and picked up his fork. He gave another light yawn, as if bored by all the royal drama. Then he casually leaned back in his chair, casting a glance around the table. So, these were the siblings of the original prince. Some glared, others looked confused, and a few seemed too shocked to speak.
But Shian didn't mind.
He stabbed his fork into a soft piece of fruit, popped it into his mouth, and smiled.