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The courtyard of the Golden Throne Palace was silent.
Not quiet — silent. The kind of silence that holds breath, swallows words, and tightens the air like the moment before a storm breaks.
Above, the sky was a violent red.
A rare, terrible moon loomed in the heavens — the Blood Moon, bleeding into the clouds like a wound in the sky. It had appeared again on this very day, eight years after it first marked his birth.
And today, beneath that cursed moon, the king of Haneulguk was about to crown his bastard son as the heir to the throne.
"Let the child step forward."
Wangyeon's small feet, bare on the black marble floor, echoed across the vast courtyard. He wore ceremonial robes of deep crimson, trimmed in gold — but the color looked too much like blood on his pale skin.
The boy did not tremble.
He walked with the stillness of a shadow, eyes dark as obsidian, framed by long raven-black hair. His hands remained at his sides, motionless, even as the crowd of nobles watched him with veiled disgust and fear.
Their whispers were like slithering things:
"A child born of a concubine…"
"That cursed power… did you feel it just now?"
"He is not fit—"
The king raised his hand, silencing them.
Wang Feng, ruler of Haneulguk, sat atop his obsidian throne with a hunger in his eyes that no age could dull. His voice cut through the murmurs like a blade.
"The Blood Moon chose this child. Nature has spoken."
He did not mention the boy's mother — the woman he killed moments after birth, as promised to his queen.
He did not look at the queen now, either.
She stood in full regalia beside him, her face a beautiful mask carved from ice. Only her clenched fists, hidden beneath flowing sleeves, betrayed her rage.
Beside her stood Prince Wanghain, the older brother. A boy with warm eyes, delicate features, and a smile that made the people adore him. He looked at Wangyeon now — not with hate, not with envy, but with what appeared to be gentle affection.
Wangyeon looked only at him.
His steps paused as he reached the base of the throne. The ceremonial blade was drawn.
"Kneel," the king commanded.
He did.
A tremor rippled through the stone as the red moonlight struck him directly. At that moment, every elder in the court felt it — a pulse of ancient, forbidden power radiating from the child. It wasn't just darkness.
It was something older than the kingdom itself.
Something that should have remained asleep.
The blade touched his shoulders.
"By the will of the heavens, and by the strength of the Blood Moon, I name thee — Crown Prince Wangyeon, heir to the throne of Haneulguk."
Silence again.
Then, a slow clap — deliberate, breaking the tension.
It was Wanghain.
"Long live the Crown Prince," the elder brother said, smiling wide.
Wangyeon looked up at him with a rare softness. He did not smile — he never had — but something flickered behind his dark eyes.
A bond. A trust. A belief.
And the first wound that would one day split his heart.