It didn’t end there.
This stupid bastard—yes, the original Ashen—had the audacity to slap the Second Princess at his own birthday party. In front of nobles. In front of the royal family. On the day ant to celebrate him.
Bravo, truly. The man had a death wish and a PhD in self-destruction.
The aftermath? Utter chaos. His father had beaten him black and blue in front of the guests. His mother had looked at him like her heart was being torn in two. His sister—who happened to be the princess’s close friend—watched it all with pure disgust. And just like that, Ashen Crimson’s reputation crumbled like stale bread. The long-prepared engagent with the princess was instantly annulled, and every noble present that day left with one story: The Crimson brat had finally lost it.
But honestly? I didn’t care.
Because now I was Ashen. And I was no fool.
"Why the hell would I slap a princess?" I muttered, cracking my knuckles and smirking at the mirror. "If she’s cute and royalty, I’d rather offer her tea. Or my hand in marriage. Or both."
I felt satisfied. Whatever this broken soul had done, I would undo. I would fix his sses, win hearts, and maybe—just maybe—avoid getting publicly executed.
Then ca the fragnted mories of Phase 3.
It was chaos. Rebellion. Betrayal. People literally wanting him dead. There were mobs. Secret assassins. Hidden conspiracies. My reaction?
I smiled.
"Haha, bring it on."
Then I turned to face the mirror—and froze.
For ten whole minutes, I admired the reflection staring back. Jet-black hair that gently waved just above my shoulders, shimring like silk. Piercing athyst eyes—intense, intelligent, with a constant undertone of danger. Pale yet flawless skin, sharp jawline, and a cold, alluring expression that scread royalty but whispered don’t ss with . I looked 17, maybe 18. The kind of face that made won blush and n jealous.
"...Damn. If I were the princess, I’d marry too."
Just as I was about to strike another pose for absolutely no reason, the door creaked open. A soft voice followed.
"Master Ashen, the Marquess requests your presence in the lobby. Everyone is waiting."
I turned. A young maid stood there, bowing with utmost formality.
Her na? Lira. I rembered her from the mories—one of the few people who hadn’t looked at the old Ashen with disdain, even after his spiral into darkness.
She was beautiful—light brown hair tied into a neat bun, soft green eyes, fair skin, and a petite fra that looked delicate yet composed. She was maybe 16 or 17, dressed in the classic maid uniform with the family crest stitched into the shoulder.
I raised an eyebrow. "And why, dear Lira, would the whole family summon like I’m a war criminal?"
She looked hesitant, but spoke, "Master... I believe it is due to the incident from yesterday... your birthday. When you... slapped the princess."
Ah. Right. That.
Just then, a chi echoed in my ears and a translucent blue screen blinked into existence.
[System Notification: Quest Generated]
Main Quest: Survive the Family Confrontation
Objective: Avoid punishnt, maintain family dignity, and prevent further deterioration of the Crimson na.
Reward: Shadow Elent - Initial Synchronization with Mana Core
Note: The fate of your future interactions—and possibly your life—depends on this outco.
My eyes widened. "I’m screwed."
I waved Lira off. "Give five minutes. Just five. Stay outside."
As soon as she left, my mind kicked into overdrive. Plans. Scenarios. Apologies. Denials. Fake tears. Sudden illness act. I ran through every possible outco and mapped my responses like a chessboard. I even ntally rehearsed a noble-style bow with a bit of flair.
I was ready for everything.
Or at least, I thought I was.
"Let’s go," I said, following Lira down the hallway.
The walk to the lobby felt like a march to the guillotine. With every step, the pressure increased. Lira remained silent, and I couldn’t bla her. It wasn’t every day your young master went from prince to public enemy overnight.
We reached the grand doors of the Crimson Estate’s central lobby. Lira opened them with a polite bow, and I stepped in.
And there they were.
My father—Marquess Regus Crimson—stood tall with crossed arms, cold eyes filled with fury and disappointnt.
My mother—Lady Serena—was seated beside him, her eyes red but dry, face stoic. Even her usually gentle aura felt icy.
My sister—Lucielle Crimson—stood on the left, her gaze cold, sharp, and piercing. Like she wanted to stab with her sword and then lecture for bleeding on the carpet.
Next to them, Queen Althea of Nowa, the Second Princess’s mother, sat on a gilded chair, arms folded, one eyebrow raised in disdain.
And then the two butlers—Garrick and Thomas—stood quietly in the background, looking like they were preparing to mop blood off the floor.
Every eye locked onto .
The room was so silent, I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
I had co up with a foolproof plan. Grovel, apologize, beg for rcy if needed.
But looking at their expressions... I knew imdiately.
There would be no room for apologies today.
Updat𝓮d from freew𝒆bnovel(.)com
Reviews
All reviews (0)