After the long and exhausting day, Third Prince Freien found himself sitting with a familiar face—his childhood friend, the so-called Hero of the Holy Empire.
Or rather, the hero who had just been thoroughly beaten by an Empress wielding a teaspoon.
"You're still sulking?" Freien asked, watching the older boy poke at his untouched meal with a scowl.
The Hero grumbled. "She humiliated me."
"You attacked her first."
"I didn't expect her to be that fast! She—she used a teaspoon!" His voice cracked, as if still unable to process his defeat. "A teaspoon, Freien! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!"
Freien sighed, resting his chin on his palm. "I mean, you should've seen it coming… She reminded me of my mother."
The Hero blinked. "Your mother? But I thought your—"
"Not my birth mother," Freien corrected. "The Empress. My stepmother."
The Hero shuddered. "You mean the scary one?"
"Yep."
"You're saying Diana Hinsdale is like her?"
Freien nodded solemnly. "Same aura. Same terrifying presence. Just… she smiles kinder."
The Hero swallowed. "That doesn't make it better."
"No," Freien agreed, "it really doesn't."
Later that night, Freien returned to the palace for dinner.
As usual, he greeted his eldest brother, the Crown Prince, with a bright smile. Despite everything, despite the uncomfortable feeling twisting in his gut after seeing those documents from Diana, he quickly pushed those thoughts aside.
Because in the end, he trusted his gentle brother.
The Crown Prince, like all rulers of the Holy Empire, had white hair—a striking contrast to Freien's golden locks. Unlike his older siblings, Freien had inherited his hair color from his mother, a Cardinal's mistress who had died during childbirth. Yet, despite his different bloodline, the Empress—his father's wife—had always treated him kindly.
His family was happy.
And Freien wanted to keep it that way.
So, as he spoke about his conversation with Diana over dinner, he omitted certain parts.
All of the parts related to the accusations.
After the meal, Freien resumed his usual duties, filling out documents and listening to reports. It was the same as always.
Everything was normal.
So why did he feel… uneasy?
Even as he lay in bed, wrapped in expensive silk sheets, he couldn't sleep.
After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, he groaned and rolled onto his stomach, his golden hair a mess.
"This is annoying…"
He decided to take a walk.
The palace halls were quiet, illuminated only by soft candlelight. Most of the servants had retired for the night, and only a few knights remained at their posts.
As he wandered, enjoying the silence, Freien suddenly heard small footsteps.
He stopped.
And then—
A tiny, adorable little figure appeared.
A small boy, no older than five, stood in the middle of the hallway.
Black hair. Gray eyes.
Freien blinked.
The boy blinked back.
Silence.
"...Are you lost?" Freien finally asked.
The little boy hesitated, looking around as if unsure how to answer. Then, finally, in a very soft voice, he whispered:
"Maybe."
Freien's brain completely short-circuited.
C-cute.
This was too cute.
It was like a hamster meeting a baby rabbit in the wild.
The little boy fidgeted slightly, his small hands gripping the hem of his clothes. "I was… looking for something. But now I don't know where I am."
Freien took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
This was Lucien, wasn't it? The rumored prince of Verdeca. The one Diana Hinsdale had brought with her.
But… what was he doing out alone in the middle of the night?
And why did he look so innocent and soft?
"You shouldn't be wandering around," Freien finally said, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the child. "It's late."
Lucien tilted his head. "I know."
"Then why—"
"Because," Lucien cut him off, his voice still quiet, "I was looking for answers."
Freien's breath hitched.
That was… an odd thing for a five-year-old to say.
Before he could respond, Lucien suddenly turned his head, looking toward a set of large doors.
Freien followed his gaze—
And his stomach dropped.
That was his brother's office.
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
Freien wasn't the type to bother his older brother at night, but for some reason, as he reached out to knock—
CRASH.
Something shattered.
Freien froze.
Lucien didn't react, as if he had expected it.
Then, a loud, angry voice erupted from inside.
"Another failed experiment?!"
Freien's heart stopped.
His hand, still raised, trembled slightly.
What…?
What did he just hear?
He turned to look at Lucien, expecting the boy to be frightened.
Instead, the little prince remained perfectly still, his expression blank.
But his gray eyes were sharp.
It hit Freien like a punch to the gut—
This child wasn't lost.
This child had been investigating.
"Lucien," Freien whispered. "What are you—"
Lucien finally looked at him.
And then—
In the calmest voice, the five-year-old prince said:
"I'm learning."
Freien had no words.
Because standing before him wasn't just an innocent, adorable little boy.
No.
This was a prince who had been watching. Listening. Waiting.
And for the first time, Freien felt a chill.
Because Diana Hinsdale's son…
Might be even scarier than his mother.
*****
Diana was not amused.
No, she was beyond not amused—she was absolutely done with this entire situation.
Because in front of her, kneeling with both arms raised in the air, was her five-year-old son.
A five-year-old boy who had somehow managed to escape the watchful eyes of Evan, Ellise, and an entire team of knights just to go snooping around the Holy Empire's palace alone.
Lucien knelt on the floor, his small frame still and obedient, his gray eyes looking up at her—innocent, calm, unbothered.
Diana took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. This boy.
"Lucien."
"Yes, Mother?"
"Do you want to explain," she said, voice deceptively gentle, "how exactly you ended up eavesdropping on a conversation about illegal human experiments?"
Lucien blinked. "I was just walking."
"Walking."
"Yes."
"And you somehow ended up in front of the Crown Prince's office?"
Lucien nodded.
Diana inhaled deeply. "And how exactly did you escape Evan, Ellise, and my knights?"
Lucien blinked again. Then, after a pause, he responded, "I was very quiet."
Diana slowly closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub her temples.
Of course.
Of course, her son, at the tender age of five, had already inherited her own slippery, scheming nature.
He was her child, after all.
Still, the fact that Lucien had managed to outmaneuver her best knights was not something she wanted to encourage.
"Lucien."
"Yes?"
"Do you know what you did wrong?"
Lucien thought for a moment. Then, very softly, he said, "I got caught?"
Diana stared.
A vein in her forehead twitched.
This child.
This child.
"Wrong answer," she said, reaching down to grab his ear.
Lucien winced but didn't protest, only slightly tilting his head to lessen the pain.
Diana sighed. "Lucien, you are five."
"I know."
"Then act like it!"
Lucien blinked. "But you said I should always be prepared."
Diana groaned. "I meant prepared for danger, not sneaking around foreign palaces and listening to national secrets!"
Lucien tilted his head. "But it was important."
Diana rubbed her face.
Yes, she was aware.
She had already known the Holy Empire was hiding something—she just hadn't expected her own child to be the one to confirm it.
Even in her past life, when she had been the cruel, manipulative Empress who seduced the Emperor and lost all her dignity, she had still been good at scheming.
But looking at Lucien now—at his calm, too-sharp eyes—Diana realized something terrifying.
He was just like her.
And that was her fault.
She couldn't even scold him properly because she knew—she knew—that she would have done the exact same thing in his place.
Damn it.
She let go of his ear with a sigh. "Just… don't do it again."
Lucien nodded. "I'll be more careful next time."
Diana's eye twitched. "That's not what I meant."
Meanwhile, Freien sat on the couch, looking as if his soul had left his body.
He had grown up believing in his family.
Believing in the righteousness of the Holy Empire.
And now—now he was sitting in a room, listening to an outsider tell him that his beloved older brother was committing horrific crimes.
What was so holy about this empire, then?
What was so pure about their divine bloodline?
Freien's hands trembled slightly as Diana handed him a folder.
"Read it," she said simply.
He hesitated.
But then his eyes landed on something else.
A boy.
A small, frightened boy with blonde hair and dull golden eyes—eyes that looked eerily similar to the Crown Prince's.
"Evan," Diana called softly.
The boy flinched at Freien's gaze, his small frame hiding behind Lucien.
Lucien, who was even smaller, still stood in front of him as if trying to shield him.
Freien felt something heavy settle in his chest.
"...Who is he?" he asked, his voice quiet.
Diana exhaled. "One of the survivors I found in the Northern Plains."
Freien's breath hitched.
The Northern Plains.
A place that had once been inhabited—before the people mysteriously vanished.
Evan, despite his small frame, suddenly stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists.
"I won't let you hurt Lucien," he said firmly.
Freien blinked. "I wasn't—"
Evan's dull golden eyes burned with an intensity Freien wasn't expecting. "I know who you are," he muttered. "You look like him."
Freien's stomach dropped.
Like who?
Like the Crown Prince?
Like the brother he had always admired?
He swallowed, suddenly feeling like the room was too small.
"What… what's actually going on?" he whispered.
And that was when the door opened.
A woman in priestly robes stepped inside, her white veil flowing behind her.
Cardinal Celline.
Freien's aunt.
She looked at him softly, then at Diana.
Then, in a solemn voice, she began to explain.
The experiments.
The chimeras.
The undead soldiers.
Twisted creatures made with dark magic—but designed to obey divinity.
Freien felt sick.
Before he could stop himself, he stood up and bolted to the nearest bathroom.
He barely made it before he started gagging.
Everything—everything—felt wrong.
All his life, he had believed in the greatness of the Holy Empire.
But now—
Now he wasn't sure if the Holy Empire was even holy at all.
Back in the room, Cardinal Celline watched her nephew leave, her expression unreadable.
"Is it alright?" she asked.
Diana, who was calmly drinking tea despite everything, tilted her head.
"Shouldn't you trust him?" she said.
Celline frowned slightly.
Diana sipped her tea. "After all," she murmured, "your sister—Natalia—was the one who gave up her Cardinal position to be with the Emperor and have Freien, wasn't she?"
Celline's fingers tightened slightly around the folds of her robe.
But she didn't answer.
Because she knew—
That despite everything, Diana Hinsdale was rarely ever wrong.