Golden brilliance bathed the opulent architectural marvel that was the royal palace. The sun shimmered off its gilded rooftops, casting warm light over meticulously trimmed grasses that bordered elegant stone walkways. Every corner of the palace grounds exuded prestige and grandeur, a realm where even the silence seemed to hold nobility. If one could look close enough—beyond the drifting maids and dutiful servants—they would see a blond-haired young man being forcefully dragged by guards across the forewalk toward a carriage.
Click.
The door of the carriage swung open.
The young man's eyes widened in disbelief as his gaze fell on the figure waiting inside. His expression twisted instantly into fury, veins pulsing at his temple. He thrashed against the guards' hold.
"Let go of me!" he roared.
But resistance was futile. In the next breath, they hurled him into the carriage.
BAM!
The door slammed behind him. The carriage jolted forward, and he could feel it—the rumble of wheels on cobblestone, the quiet but menacing footsteps of guards flanking the vehicle. There was no escape. Not this time.
This was truly the end.
"Lumiea, Lumiea, Lumiea~" the gray-haired man inside sang, voice drenched in mockery. His blue eyes glinted with twisted satisfaction, a grin permanently plastered across his face as he slowly shook his head.
"Rio," Lumiea growled, his voice taut with venom.
"All you ever had to do to survive in this place was one simple thing—know your place."
The menace in Rio's voice was unmistakable. Each syllable dripped with long-suppressed malice. He had hated Lumiea from the very first moment—the very day he laid eyes on that handsome face. How could the gods bless a slave with such good looks, while he, a noble, was cursed with mediocrity? He seethed every time people turned their heads to stare at Lumiea. Even when the fool seemed to resent the attention, he couldn't help but draw it.
And Rio had ignored it all—until that day.
The day he caught the princess gazing silently, longingly, at him.
He couldn't accept that. He had done everything—everything—to serve the prince just as his father instructed. The prince himself had promised him a reward: the princess's hand in marriage, in exchange for his unwavering loyalty. The thought had lifted him to the clouds. To be joined with royalty? It was a dream. But every time—
Lumiea.
Rio clicked his tongue, shaking his head with theatrical disappointment.
"Not only did you worm your way into the princess's favor... you also dared to make a move on the prince's fiancée?"
He burst into laughter, a sound that bordered on madness.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Lumiea had had enough. Mustering his strength, he punched Rio square in the face, sending him reeling.
"Argh…" Rio grunted, touching his cheek. "That actually hurt."
Then, disturbingly, he started laughing again.
"Oh… how I'll enjoy watching you die," he whispered with sinister satisfaction.
Lumiea clenched his fists. His teeth ground together as he stared at the monster across from him. He hated the royal family—completely. Every single one of them. They had stolen everything from him. His home. His parents. His future. They had made him a slave.
And all he had ever wanted was revenge.
To destroy the royal family and everything they tried so desperately to protect. To make them feel—truly feel—the pain they had forced him to carry. Every last ounce of it.
But this damn face of his.
Truly, it was an irony.
A blessing to one was a curse to another.
He had never liked the princess. Even less so prince's conniving, snake-like fiancée. But fate seemed determined to toy with him. He had tried to avoid them at every turn, avoiding contact, fading into the background. But somehow, they always found him.
Coincidence? No. Not anymore.
Suddenly, his throat clenched.
"Ugh—!" He began coughing violently, his hands flying to his neck.
"It's already working?" he heard Rio say, voice calm, amused.
"What… What's happening?! WHAT DID YOU DO, RIO?!" Lumiea's voice cracked with panic.
"Don't worry."
The carriage door clicked open again.
Hands grabbed him roughly and pulled him out. His head spun, but his senses felt sharp—too sharp. Everything was louder, harsher. His stomach twisted as reality set in.
"This is the prince's will," Rio's voice echoed coldly. "A fitting end for an ungrateful leech. You'll be buried alive."
"No… NO! PLEASE! I BEG YOU, RIO!" Lumiea sobbed, the fear raw in his throat.
"…Don't cry, dear Lumiea," came the last mocking whisper. "Save it for the grave."