He was called Faceless, not because he liked it, but because he had no face. No name. No identity. Not even a reflection. Whenever he looked into a mirror, his features were nothing but a blur, even to himself. He didn't know where he came from or why he was born. He simply was.
A curse. It had to be a curse. But with no proof, no memory, and no name, all he could do was search, search for answers, search for the truth, search for himself. He didn't expect that just trying to discover his own name would make him a threat to the world. A villain, in the eyes of justice.
"My prince, you shouldn't have done that," Klein muttered anxiously, struggling to keep up with Shian's long strides. "The Queen was angry. Your Highness will be the one who gets hurt for it."
"Don't worry, Klein," Shian replied coolly, not even glancing back. His voice held no care.
Hans, following close behind, muttered under his breath, "He really did hit his head in his sleep. Now I'm sure."
Shian deadpanned, though he didn't turn around. This damn guard potato...
"No, I got possessed in my sleep," Shian said sarcastically, delivering his roast with the sharpest deadpan.
It backfired.
Klein immediately dropped to his knees, head bowed to the ground. "My prince got possessed… and I failed to protect him… Mighty gods, please punish this ignorant servant!"
"Seriously, Klein!" Shian snapped, finally turning around. "Are you a crybaby or what?"
Klein looked up with trembling lips, then dramatically slumped down again. "My prince called me a crybaby… I am not worthy to live…"
Hans sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Let him be," he muttered. "Let's go ahead, Your Highness."
And just like that, they left Klein groveling on the palace floor behind them.
Hans and Shian stepped out of the palace into the Queen's courtyard. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the sky a crisp shade of blue. Shian paused, letting the warmth settle on his skin, a fleeting smile crossing his face, quiet happiness, almost unfamiliar. For a brief moment, the world didn't feel as heavy.
Then his eyes drifted to Hans.
Stoic as always.
He stood tall and composed, black hair tied neatly back, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area like a hawk's. He was handsome, dignified, and reliable. Shian couldn't help but feel a little envious. He looked like the type of guy the world could never break.
"Don't worry," Shian said, looking away from him. "I didn't hit my head. Neither did I get possessed. I just… had enough of the person I used to be."
That was a complete lie. But who cared? He said it because he saw the subtle shift in Hans's demeanor during that meal, that sliver of concern behind the mask. And even if Hans didn't say it, Shian, Faceless, could feel it.
"I see," Hans replied, flat as ever.
Shian squinted. "Tell me something, Hans. I'm a little forgetful, you know…"
"Yeah," Hans said without missing a beat.
Shian twitched. This punk... He should've said no! When his prince said something like that, wasn't he supposed to reassure him?! A vein pulsed on Shian's forehead, but he forced a smile anyway.
"Fine. Then tell me, what's my affinity for magic?"
Faceless had asked this because, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't sense any magicules in this body. Not a single thread of magical energy. Maybe it was just because he was still unfamiliar with the body, or maybe…
Hans stared at him, deadpan.
"You… don't have an affinity for magic, Your Highness."
There was a pause.
Shian blinked. "Ah. I see. I didn't have an affi-wait." His face twisted in confusion. "I didn't have what?!"
He snapped as it clicked.
"Are you kidding me?!" he shouted, throwing his arms up. "You're saying I, the first prince of this kingdom, don't even have magic affinity?! What kind of trash setting is this?!"
Hans blinked. "It's always been that way."
Shian let out a sound halfway between a groan and a scream.
How could this be? Every member of the royal family had an affinity for magic. Not only that, they each possessed something called a Beast Soul, a power tied to the superior bloodlines. It was tradition. It was a legacy. It was expected. And yet… Shian Ravenscroft, the firstborn prince, had nothing.
No affinity. No Beast Soul.
Was that the reason the Queen hated him? That hollow look in her eyes, the indifference in her voice whenever she glanced his way, it all made sense now. He wasn't just a disappointment. He was an anomaly, a defect in a line of legends.
"God damn it…" Shian muttered.
He clenched his fists and stared down at his hands. They were pale and delicate. They did not have a single scar, not a trace of callus. These were hands that had never held a blade, never known the weight of a sword or the tension of a bowstring. They were hands that had never fought.
He sighed, the breath heavy with frustration.
Of course, he wasn't going to suddenly learn weapon skills in this body either. He wasn't that lucky. And now, if he had lost his magic too, his one strength, the very core of who he was, then how the hell was he supposed to wipe the floor with that damn hero?!
All the rage boiled up.
"Fuck you, damn gods!!" he roared, throwing his head back and yelling at the sky. His voice echoed through the courtyard.
Hans flinched slightly beside him.
"This is more than abandoning your past self…" he murmured under his breath, his eyes filled with a quiet, hidden concern. "Maybe… the prince's mind finally snapped."