My brain couldn’t properly process everything that had happened in the last few minutes. Mother’s embrace slowly pulled me back to reality. I could feel her warmth easing the anxiety piled up in my chest, and I hugged her back tightly.

  My God.

  I had been this close to dying.

  “I-I… Mom… I was scared,” I admitted, dropping the strong, powerful act in front of Girasol. “I was terrified.”

  “Yes, it’s normal to be afraid, my sweet boy,” she murmured. “But don’t worry—Mom is with you now. Nothing bad will happen to you.”

  Her words were comforting, even if they weren’t truly real. As long as Vlad II was here, our safety was a complete unknown.

  Still, I let myself sink into her sweet lies and buried my face against her chest. I didn’t cry, but I wanted to.

  “Thank you, Mom. Your gift saved my life.”

  I told her everything in meticulous detail. I didn’t leave anything out—and instead of trying to inflate my actions, I showed her every insecurity I carried.

  I needed it out. I hated this frustration—this feeling that I couldn’t do anything on my own.

  “I’m very proud of you, dear Ulric,” Mother said softly. “You showed courage in a crucial moment, and even if I hate seeing you in danger, your actions saved our kingdom from chaos. You’re not useless.”

  Her hug loosened, gentler now. Then she raised her right hand and stroked my head with such tenderness it made my chest ache. Damn—this made me truly happy. I had never known a mother’s touch could feel this good.

  I smiled, letting her pamper me.

  Ah… having a loving mother really was a divine gift.

  “I know, Mom, but I want to help you. They’ve been treating us like trash, and you’ve had to sacrifice yourself because of my immaturity. I hate this feeling, Mom. I hate not being able to do anything on my own and always needing to be rescued.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with relying on other people, sweetheart.” Girasol kept stroking my hair, tenderness strong enough to crush even the fear of the moment. “Many people love you and are willing to protect you. A king can’t do everything alone—he needs the support of his court and his friends to move forward. If no one wanted to help you, then yes, you’d be a bad ruler. But that isn’t the case.”

  “I-I want to protect you. I don’t want them to hurt you,” I whispered, swallowing the urge to cry.

  “The day will come when you’ll protect me,” she said. “But for now, I’m the one who must protect you. It’s my duty as your mother to make sure you reach adulthood safely. What happens after that will depend only on you.”

  She gave me one last smile, then released me and pointed down the corridor toward the banquet hall.

  “I have to return to the preparations. When you feel better, come join us so we can begin the banquet.”

  “Of course. And thank you for cheering me up—I’ll see you there!”

  I took a deep breath and pushed those fatal thoughts aside.

  Mother believed in me. I didn’t need anything else to keep going.

  It was true—maybe I couldn’t protect her right now, but sooner or later I would be able to protect not only my family, but the entire Kingdom of Etrica.

  From my vassals to the humble villagers living their lives without harming anyone.

  The day would come when everyone would live happily under my rule—but for that, I had to train my skills as king with everything I had.

  Anyway.

  I headed to Ingrid’s room. There, my personal maid was soaking the girl’s wrists in a thick brown liquid.

  “With this potion, your injuries will heal immediately,” Sora said. I noticed Ingrid’s wrists and ankles were marked by the ropes they had used to bind her. She had the same abrasions on her cheeks and lips. “Rest today, little one. You’ve had a difficult day.”

  “B-But I have to go to the banquet… Sora, please… if I don’t, my father will hit me.”

  “Don’t worry. What matters now is that you rest.”

  My arrival startled the white-haired girl. She lowered her head, ashamed that I’d seen her so vulnerable.

  Though, in fairness, she always looked vulnerable.

  “But my father…”

  “Your father won’t touch you again. I promise.”

  It was an absurd declaration, made in the heat of confidence. Still, I wanted to look impressive—anything to patch the damage to my ego.

  “Besides, he’ll be busy talking with the courtiers. Relax today. We’ll have another banquet without your relatives, alright?”

  “Ulric is right, Ingrid. You’ve had a heavy day, and you deserve a quiet night.” Sora patted her head, then smiled. “We’ll have a tea party once the guests leave. Ulric and Alda will come to talk about books—do you want to join us?”

  “That would be wonderful… yes. A party with only us…” Ingrid’s smile slowly returned. Sora finished treating her and wrapped her injured limbs, except her face. “A-Ah… K-King Ulric… thank you for saving me.”

  “Just call me Ulric when we’re alone. We’re friends, after all.”

  I struck a heroic pose I’d seen in a movie as a child in my old life: left hand at my waist, right hand pointing at the sky.

  God, I looked ridiculous—but at least I made Ingrid smile.

  “A good king should be able to protect his people and his friends.”

  “And I’m sure you will,” Sora said, patting my head like an older sister. “But for now we must return to the banquet area. The host needs to be present.”

  “Yeah. I’m sore too, but I think I can endure the party. I’ll change quickly and see you there, Sora.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Be careful.”

  Ingrid gave us one last smile before falling asleep.

  Outside her room, I placed two Royal Guard knights at the door. Both were armored from head to toe, carrying imposing golden halberds, with longswords sheathed at their belts.

  “Under no circumstances let Vlad’s men come near,” I ordered, face hard. I couldn’t allow another incident involving Ingrid. “If anything happens, use the servants I stationed in the corridors to inform me.”

  “At your command, Your Highness.”

  The knights resumed their positions without another word.

  They were loyal to my cause. I could trust them.

  Sora went ahead to the main hall, and I returned to my own room to change. I chose a black doublet with matching hose, red boots like my hair, and a gold cloak.

  I hated these garments with passion, but that was etiquette in this world.

  God, how I missed cotton clothes.

  Alright…

  After wrestling with a few clothing issues, I finally arrived at the main hall.

  I’d been here many times, but never as the host of a banquet.

  A massive wooden table ran almost the full width of the room, rising up to a concrete dais. According to the manners Gonzalo had taught me—almost always with reluctant irritation—the hosts and guests of honor sat on the dais.

  Seats that belonged to Mother and me by right.

  Alda, however, had to sit near the far end of the table—the place for natural children, household knights, noble courtiers, and lesser lords.

  Beyond the main table were others arranged throughout the hall, each with its own social importance.

  First: the servants’ table, tucked into the farthest corner, where they kept utensils and ingredients to accompany the meal—like an appetizer bar and such.

  Second: the table for ordinary knights without sworn service, common guests who used feasts like this to negotiate deals with nobles. Ladies-in-waiting and important merchants also sat there.

  Finally: the last table held late arrivals, priests, and other people outside nobility—something Gonzalo said didn’t happen often.

  “How quiet,” I murmured.

  Music began—soft ballads. Little by little, guests filled their seats, and servants took their places behind them.

  The colorful outfits and medieval finery left me stunned. Some dressed like me—formal, nothing eccentric. Others wore massive hats, tight colorful doublets, scarves, animal furs, and other strange fashions I could never fully understand.

  Curious note: the long dresses worn by noblewomen also existed in my old world—just messier versions of designer skirts sold at absurd prices. I suppose no matter the world, high-class women refused to neglect their vanity.

  “How quiet,” I repeated.

  I sat in the host’s chair at the center of the dais. Mother sat beside me, and minutes later King Vlad II and Manius took their places.

  The music continued with my arrival, but when Vlad entered, the musicians stopped, and every guest rose to their feet.

  Another obvious sign: his courtiers did not respect me, and mine were shackled.

  “This disaster will be over soon,” Mother whispered. “This is the most boring banquet I’ve ever attended. Alda must be terribly disappointed.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Vlad reached his seat and, before sitting, raised his already-filled cup of wine.

  “Today we celebrate the betrothal of Lord Ulric and Miss Ingrid. It is far too soon for a wedding, but if things continue like this, I’m sure our nations will maintain peace.”

  Yeah. Sure.

  Peace.

  Looting my villagers while we can’t defend ourselves, abusing your power to fill your coffers—that was peace?

  His words were poison and filth in equal measure.

  “Cheers!” his brother added.

  Mother took a sip of wine. I drank freshly pressed orange juice instead.

  And so the festivities began. The music resumed, and courtiers left their seats to dance around the floor.

  My whole body hurt. I could barely maintain posture. Being here felt more like torture than a celebration. I wanted to lock myself in my room and recover from the beating.

  But that was impossible.

  I didn’t listen to the songs or their lyrics. I only watched the courtiers dance with incredible laziness—feet shifting back and forth without smiles, without relaxed expressions.

  They looked tense. Nervous. Like they truly hated being here.

  Even Vlad II’s courtiers weren’t energetic, though for a different reason: they refused to lower themselves to share the floor with members of my court. They only stood up when the palace’s people were seated.

  Please… let this end already.

  “Huh?”

  Suddenly, an uncomfortable sensation crawled up my spine.

  T-This wasn’t normal.

  I’d never felt this before.

  A very strange lady-in-waiting walked beside King Vlad II. She was a dark-skinned girl of around fifteen, with blue eyes and heavy brows. Her thin frame matched her almost nonexistent chest and narrow shoulders, not to mention her short bowl-cut hair—oddly popular in my old life.

  If not for the blue dress, I might have mistaken her for a short boy.

  Strange.

  All the women traveling with Vlad II were beautiful—too beautiful—companions who stirred envy in other nobles.

  But she was different. She didn’t match the beauty standard at all. It felt like she was there for another purpose.

  She wasn’t powerfully built, either. Her body wasn’t that of someone who trained daily, so “warrior” didn’t fit.

  A personal assassin?

  No. Why would he expose an assassin at a public event?

  No matter who she was, something about her made my anxiety spike. My body began sweating more than it should, and my left foot developed a small nervous tic—one I stopped before Mother noticed.

  The girl leaned close and whispered something into Vlad’s ear. Then she returned to the other women. Her steps weren’t refined, but rough—like she didn’t care about etiquette in my castle.

  Was she mocking me? Probably.

  When she passed in front of us, our eyes met for less than a second.

  Her blue eyes triggered something in me—for the first time in both lives, I felt disgust toward a complete stranger.

  I didn’t like her. Not at all.

  We hadn’t even spoken.

  “Is something wrong? Hello? Son?”

  “Oh—yes. Sorry, Mom. I was thinking.”

  “Can I help?” Mother asked, concern on her sweet face.

  “U-Um… yes. Why didn’t Vlad II bring his wife? It seems strange that a king wouldn’t travel with his spouse.”

  “Good observation, sweetheart. The queen is fragile and rests in her castle. They have three children together, but rumors say he plans to keep having more until he kills her and can take a wife with greater vitality.”

  Then Mother’s voice dropped to something almost inaudible.

  “We don’t know how many natural children King Vlad II has, but gossip says it’s almost thirty.”

  …Thirty.

  Was he some kind of machine?

  I swallowed and ate a small sausage to blunt my shock.

  “And has he acknowledged any?”

  “No,” Mother said. “He hasn’t acknowledged any of his natural children, because he has legitimate heirs.”

  “I see. Thanks for clarifying.”

  I was tempted to ask about the strange lady who repulsed me, but I decided to keep that feeling to myself until I had a stronger reason.

  Anyway.

  The rest of the banquet continued drowned in murmurs and soft music. Vlad II didn’t dance. He stayed in his chair the entire time, bored. Alda looked utterly miserable, playing with her food and ignoring the nobility around her. The other young ladies ignored her because she was illegitimate, and the servants were too busy to play with her.

  This looked nothing like the grand feasts in novels, where food fell from the sky and romance always found its way home.

  What a disappointment.

  “Servant, come here.”

  Suddenly Vlad called Sora from across the room. My precious friend responded immediately.

  “How may I help you, Your Majesty?”

  “I want you to pour blue wine into this cup.”

  The rude king didn’t even say please. He set the expensive goblet down and waited for her to fill it.

  “Done. Do you need anything else?”

  “I do, woman. I need more venison on my plate—hurry up, I don’t have all day!” Duke Manius shouted loud enough to startle Sora.

  “Y-Yes… right away…”

  While my poor friend endured the brothers’ mistreatment, the strange lady-in-waiting stood again. This time she walked around the floor with no intention to dance—yet she didn’t seem eager to return to her seat either.

  Stretching her legs?

  I couldn’t blame her. Sitting too long under stress wasn’t healthy.

  I sighed deeply and wished I had a wristwatch. I wanted to go to my room and end this farce already.

  “Mom, can we serve burgers at the next banquet?”

  “I don’t think the guests would like that food,” Mother said, taking a small bite of venison stew. “But for informal occasions, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I looked down at my plate and kept eating, trying to distract myself.

  What a boring feast. Even the musicians looked like they weren’t having fun.

  I saw Sora walking with Duke Manius’s order in her hands. It was too much food, and she could barely move without wobbling.

  Then the worst happened.

  The skinny lady slipped behind the guests, as if she were going to speak to Vlad II. No one noticed her—her social rank was too insignificant, and as a result it was impossible to stop what she did.

  But I saw her clearly.

  She placed her foot directly in front of Sora.

  My poor maid tripped and fell face-first, and the food went flying—straight onto King Vlad II.

  The music stopped at the crash of plates hitting the floor. Vlad II’s face twisted, and he stood.

  Oh no.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…

  NO!

  Damn it—no.

  I shot to my feet and ran toward the scene, panic written all over my face.

  I had a very bad feeling about this.