TMG | Chapter 1.1

“Ulien. Look at your state.”

A low chuckle echoed above his head.

Ulien gritted his teeth and steadied his legs. The biting winter wind grazed his neck like a sharp blade. Inside the room, with all the windows open, Ulien shivered in his thin pajamas.

The person laughing was dressed impeccably in a coat. The emblem of the imperial family gleamed coldly on the coat’s sleeve button.

A pricey leather whip, held in gloved hands, struck Ulien’s back. Instead of screaming, Ulien bit his lip until it bled.

The window was open. The thought of anyone hearing terrified him more than death.

“You’re getting the punishment you deserve for your status, Ulien.”

The mocking laughter spread. It was the laughter of people gathered outside the window. Before he knew it, countless hands were grabbing Ulien’s body. His thin clothes were torn away.

Enough.

Ulien’s head snapped up. He pleaded in vain for mercy from the one watching and laughing from afar.

“Stop it, Dilone. Please, brother.”

“Gasp!”

Ulien’s eyes shot open.

Sitting up, he panted heavily. His pajamas, soaked in cold sweat, clung unpleasantly to his body. It had been a nightmare—brought on by the cold.

He looked up and saw one of the large windows at the far end of the room half-open. Ulien calmed his racing heart and got out of bed to close it.

What time is it?

Outside the window, it was still pitch black. There was still a long time before the coronation began, but he couldn’t go back to sleep.

Coronation.

Ulien slumped onto the sofa, staring at his still-trembling hands. The crown that had once sat on Dilone’s head was soon to be placed on his own.

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

“It’s a bit big.”

The servant attending to his clothes looked troubled.

“Shall I pin it at the back?” he suggested.

Ulien nodded simply. It was only natural that the ceremonial attire, once worn by Dilone—who had been larger in build—didn’t fit him.

Only five days had passed since Dilone’s funeral. The entire empire was still in mourning, with even the sale of luxury goods prohibited. The emperor had insisted on hastening the coronation; the position of crown prince couldn’t remain vacant. But there had been no time to make new ceremonial attire for Ulien.

Ulien didn’t mind at all. He had never coveted or envied Dilone’s position. All he had ever wanted was to live quietly as one of the imperial children. His sole desire had been to escape Dilone’s grasp.

That wish had come true.

Ulien looked at himself in the mirror, dressed in white ceremonial attire that contrasted sharply with his black hair. Why didn’t he feel relieved?

Perhaps because it hadn’t happened by his own will.

Dilone’s reign of terror, which had seemed like it would last forever, ended in a ridiculous accident. He fell from a horse he was recklessly riding and died after a few days of paralysis. The golden-haired heir—who resembled Lone II, the founder of the Crand Empire—met a premature end.

As a result, Ulien had unexpectedly become first in line for the throne.
If Dilone heard this in the afterlife, he might gnash his teeth and rise from his grave.

Despite not sharing a drop of blood.

Ulien had heard that shocking truth from Dilone during childhood, when he was too young to understand the complex matters of adults—that he wasn’t the blood of the emperor and empress, whom he resembled neither. He had never dared to ask his father, the emperor, if it was true.

Until now.

“I trust you’ll do well, Ulien.”

Lone II placed the crown on the head of his second son, now the heir. Ulien, kneeling and receiving his father’s touch, looked up as the emperor’s face drew near.

His blue-gray eyes met the emperor’s directly.

“Am I allowed to accept this?”

It was a brief question—one anyone might interpret as Ulien’s lack of confidence, especially when compared to the outgoing Dilone. However, the emperor froze, unable to respond.

Dilone was right. Ulien read the truth in the expression of the man he called father.

Ulien quickly composed himself and stood. As he turned, all the nobles and officials lined up before him bowed their heads in respect.

Ha.

Ulien laughed for the first time, holding the scepter. Everything before him felt like a joke.

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

During Dilone’s coronation, a grand ball was held, but today was different. Ulien canceled all events after the coronation, citing that it was inappropriate to hold a celebration so soon after a period of mourning. However, he couldn’t skip brief meetings with those he needed to recognize, so Ulien greeted the nobles alongside the emperor and empress.

“Your Majesty, you must be heartbroken.”

The greetings were more like condolences than congratulations. After repeating the same words several times, Ulien finally managed to escape the gathering.

Where could he go to be alone? Ulien walked briskly down the corridor, searching for a place to rest without worry. The cold wind of early spring blew through the open windows. His steps, which had paused for a moment, headed toward the western annex. The rose garden on the west side, where the flowers hadn’t yet bloomed, seemed like a place even the gardeners wouldn’t bother with.

“Ah, wait a minute.”

Oh, I was foolish. As Ulien stepped into the desolate rose garden, he immediately regretted his rashness upon seeing the heated scene before him. He had mistakenly thought he was the only one seeking solitude. But he wasn’t the only one desiring such a secret place. For instance, there was a madam and a rake enjoying a tryst here.

Ulien relaxed his tense body and took a step back. The woman, who had screamed in surprise at Ulien’s appearance, hastily adjusted her clothes and stood up from the bench. From beneath the embroidered hem of her voluminous dress, a man emerged.

Even under the dim sky, where the sun had almost set, Ulien recognized the man’s face instantly. It was a face too strikingly handsome to forget. A face too wasted on such deeds. With a wry thought, Ulien spoke his name.

“…Montignac.”

“…Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

Congratulations on your ascension.

Claude Montignac, who had been caught in the act by Ulien, rose gracefully and greeted him without a hint of embarrassment. The woman, one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting, quickly curtsied to Ulien with a flustered face and hurried out of the garden.

Ulien watched her disappearing figure for a moment before turning back to Claude. Claude smiled, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, not bothering to hide the glistening traces of the woman’s essence on his lips. Dimples appeared on his mischievous smile, contrasting with his firm jawline.

Ulien frowned at the innocent smile that didn’t match his actions and spoke with a sneer.

“The Montignac lady who adopted you would be greatly disappointed to see this.”

“Hahaha!”

Claude laughed heartily at Ulien’s words, showing no sign of being intimidated. Ulien’s eyes narrowed.

Claude’s dark red hair, almost auburn, swayed attractively over his forehead. He looked like someone warm and cheerful. Even his green eyes resembled the vitality of a morning forest. That’s what made him more deceitful.

Ulien frowned and took another step back. Claude took a step forward in response. Claude whispered with a smile.

“I’m just following my mother’s teachings well. You wouldn’t know.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Is that so?”

Claude stepped closer. Ulien raised his head with a wary look. He knew that hesitating here would only amuse Claude more. Dilone had been the same. When Ulien didn’t budge, Claude stopped in place and lowered his gaze.

Ulien guessed he was just pretending to be respectful. Claude was merely staring at Ulien’s clenched fist. He wondered how cold those white-knuckled fingers would feel if he wrapped them in his own hand.

“Are you leaving already?”

As Ulien turned to leave, Claude lifted his head and asked, as if they had planned to meet from the start. Was he trying to align himself with the new crown prince already?

Ulien glanced back at Claude over his shoulder. His round green eyes were clearly watching him. Hoping that face would know shame, Ulien replied with a crooked smile.

“When the scent of roses is too strong, it feels like a stench.”

With that, Ulien left the garden.

Claude watched until Ulien’s black hair blended into the darkness, then smiled. In the garden without flowers, Ulien’s words were directed at the only rose there.

Since being belatedly recognized as the illegitimate child of the Montignac family and debuting in society, Claude Montignac had scattered scandals among countless nobles, earning the nickname “Rose of August.”

Claude ran a hand through his tousled red hair with a satisfied face. He was tired of the praise from those who clung to him for a night’s pleasure or connections. Ulien’s cold shot at his messy behavior, without being swayed by his appearance, was rather welcome.

You’re still the same.

Ulien had an unwavering character that wouldn’t change no matter what power he held. He had been that way since he was very young. That’s why Claude loved Ulien. He wanted to have him, no matter what it took.

Even if Ulien despised him for that “no matter what,” it didn’t matter as long as he ended up in Claude’s arms.

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

The sound of curtains opening echoed like a whip. Ulien instinctively opened his eyes.

The elderly chief attendant, Louboutin, stood at the foot of the bed. He bowed solemnly to Ulien. At the same time, the sound of many footsteps came from the corridor.

Ah. The first morning after the coronation. Ulien recalled the ceremony Dilone had gone through.

“Your Highness. Those who will share the fate of the Crand Empire will personally attend to you.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

The chief attendant nodded and stepped back. In the corridor, numerous nobles were already lined up, waiting for Ulien. Ulien hid his embarrassment, straightened his shoulders, and got out of bed.

Fortunately, he had worn layers of pajamas to keep warm during the night. As Ulien prepared to greet them, the tallest man approached and respectfully offered a shirt with both hands. The chief attendant introduced the man holding the shirt.

“The eldest son of the Esters family, Marquis Gabriel Esters.”

“It is an honor, Your Highness. May you be blessed for a thousand years.”

Ulien looked at Gabriel’s face and silently nodded. Gabriel, who seemed to be waiting for something, bowed once more and stepped back.