Previously on Chapter. 1.
Leon, a broken and lonely young man from another world, found an ancient book — The Cursed Prince: Ryo Asskar. Drawn to the tragic life of the cursed prince, Leon read until the words came alive, engulfing him in blinding light. When he awoke, he was no longer in his room, but in the grand throne hall of the Salmara Empire — in Ryo's frail, dying body. Humiliated before the King and nobles, Leon experienced Ryo's pain firsthand… yet swore he would not break. No matter the curse, no matter the fate — he would rewrite it.
The first light of dawn crept through the narrow window, painting pale gold across the cold stone walls. For a long time, Leon lay still on Ryo's bed, listening to the faint crackle of the dying torches. Every inch of his body screamed in pain — not the ordinary ache of exhaustion, but a deep, searing throb that seemed to echo through his bones.
He could feel the curse.
It was alive, pulsing beneath his skin like a second heartbeat — faint, but constant. Every time he moved, it stirred, whispering pain through his veins.
Leon exhaled shakily, beads of sweat tracing down his temple.
"So this is what you felt every day, Ryo…" he murmured, his voice hoarse. "How did you survive this long?"
He tried to sit up. His limbs protested. His chest burned. It took every ounce of will just to swing his legs off the bed and touch the cold marble floor. The shock of the chill almost helped — grounding him, reminding him that he was real, that this wasn't some fading dream.
The chamber was silent except for his ragged breathing.
It wasn't the grand room of a prince. It was plain, almost bare — a simple desk, a cracked mirror, and a small shelf of dusty books. The walls were void of banners or symbols. Not even a family crest.
As if the palace itself wanted to forget him.
A faint knock came at the door.
"Your Highness?"
Leon froze. The voice was soft — a young woman's. Unsure. Fearful.
"Enter," he said after a pause, though his voice trembled slightly.
The door creaked open, revealing a girl no older than sixteen. Her hair was neatly tied back, her eyes lowered to the ground. She carried a tray with bread, water, and a bowl of thin soup. When she stepped inside, Leon noticed the way her hands shook.
"Set it down," he said quietly.
She obeyed quickly, placing the tray on his desk and bowing deeply before retreating to the door. But before she could leave, Leon's voice stopped her.
"Wait."
The girl froze mid-step.
He hesitated, realizing he didn't even know her name — or how Ryo usually spoke to his servants. But the fear in her movements hurt more than the curse itself.
"Do I… frighten you?" he asked softly.
Her breath caught. "N-no, Your Highness," she stammered, but the tremor in her voice betrayed the lie.
Leon offered a faint, tired smile. "You can look at me."
Slowly, she lifted her gaze — hesitant, wary. When their eyes met, Leon saw pity flicker behind the fear. It was brief, but it was real.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Caro, Your Highness," she said, almost whispering.
"Thank you, Caro. For the food."
The girl blinked in surprise — as if no one had ever thanked her before. She nodded hurriedly and backed away, closing the door behind her.
Leon exhaled. His hands trembled. "Even they… fear me."
He forced himself to eat, though each bite tasted like dust. His body needed strength, but the curse fought him, coiling tighter each time he tried to rise from the bed. His breathing quickened. His chest tightened.
Then came the whisper.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't clear. But it was there — faint as wind through a graveyard.
"You don't belong here…"
Leon's spoon clattered to the floor. He glanced around, heart hammering.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
Only the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears.
He pressed a hand to his chest, swallowing hard. "Just my mind… It's just my mind."
But deep down, he knew better. The curse wasn't just pain — it was presence. Watching. Waiting.
Hours passed.
Leon forced himself to walk, dragging his weak legs across the room. Every few steps, his vision blurred. He clutched at the wall for balance. His reflection in the cracked mirror looked barely human — pale, hollow-eyed, and drenched in sweat.
"I won't let you win," he whispered to the reflection. "Not you, not fate, not anyone."
But the reflection seemed to move a moment after he did — a fraction too slow. The eyes in the mirror gleamed faintly red before fading back to black.
Leon's breath caught. He blinked — and the reflection was normal again.
He stood there for a long time, staring. The curse pulsed once beneath his skin, as if mocking him.
Then came a sharp knock.
"Prince Ryo," a stern voice called. "You are summoned by His Majesty's command. Attend the morning court."
Leon's stomach sank. His memory flashed back to the throne hall — the laughter, the cruelty, the King's cold eyes. His instinct screamed to refuse. But he couldn't. Not yet.
He took a deep, shaky breath. "Tell His Majesty… I'll be there."
The corridors of the palace stretched long and silent, lined with stone pillars and banners depicting the golden sun of Salmara. Servants passed him quickly, avoiding his gaze. Some bowed hastily, others pretended not to see him at all.
He caught fragments of their whispers as he walked by.
"…still alive after yesterday?"
"…I heard the King nearly cast him out."
"…the curse should've finished him long ago."
Leon's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He had faced ridicule all his life — this was no different.
Except it was.
Because now, he wasn't powerless. Not completely. Somewhere inside him — or inside this body — something was stirring.
When he entered the court hall, the familiar weight of a hundred eyes bore down again. The nobles stood in their usual ranks, whispering behind jeweled hands. King Deros sat on his black throne, his expression unreadable.
"Ryo Asskar," the King said slowly. "I trust you have recovered from your display yesterday."
Leon bowed his head. "I have, Your Majesty."
The King's lips twitched. "Recovered, but not learned humility, I see. You would do well to remember your place. The Empire has no room for pride from the cursed."
The hall filled with restrained laughter. Leon kept his head low, hiding the anger burning behind his calm mask.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said quietly.
But inside, he whispered to himself — You'll see. One day, you'll see.
The King dismissed him with a wave, as one might dismiss a servant. The court moved on to other matters — taxes, treaties, wars — while Leon stood there like a shadow, forgotten in plain sight.
When he was finally allowed to leave, he walked through the corridor in silence. His body trembled from exhaustion, but his mind was sharper than ever.
He began to notice details he hadn't before — strange symbols etched into the palace walls, faint runes carved beneath torch brackets, hidden marks that pulsed faintly when he passed.
Magic. Old magic.
As he reached his room again, a thought struck him like lightning.
What if the curse wasn't meant to destroy Ryo… but to contain something far worse?
He clenched his fists. "If I can understand it… maybe I can break it."
But the moment the words left his lips, pain lanced through his chest like a spear. He doubled over, gasping. His vision blurred white.
And then — a voice. Clearer this time. Older. Colder.
"Break the curse… and you break the seal."
The air grew heavy. The candles flickered violently. Leon collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest. The mark on his wrist — one he hadn't noticed before — began to glow faintly red beneath the skin.
"Stop…" he gasped. "Stop it—!"
The pain receded suddenly, leaving him shaking and drenched in sweat. He stared at the faint mark — it pulsed once more, then faded.
Leon's heart raced. His breathing came uneven.
He looked toward the window — the moon had risen early, silver and cold. Its light spilled over his desk, where the book now lay.
The same book that had brought him here.
It hadn't been there before.
He stared at it, dread and curiosity warring inside him. Slowly, he approached. The cover was the same — The Cursed Prince: Ryo Asskar. But the letters shimmered faintly, rearranging themselves as he watched.
New words appeared beneath the title:
"The Awakening Has Begun."
Leon's blood ran cold.
The pages fluttered open on their own. The words inside glowed faintly, alive with unseen energy. His reflection in the window darkened — and for a brief moment, it smiled back at him.
The candles went out.
And the whisper came again, right behind his ear — closer this time.
"Welcome home, Ryo."