CHAPTER 1

...The Arrival...

The capital city was silent that morning. The citizens knew their king-to-be would soon make an appearance at the palace halls, and when he appeared, no one dared to raise their voice. The young man who would soon wear the crown was like winter itself—calm, distant, and cold enough to freeze a man’s blood with a single glance.

But this day, the silence was about to be broken.

The heavy palace doors opened with a creak, and a group of students from another city entered, here to study under the kingdom’s great masters. Among them walked a boy who did not belong to silence at all.

He strolled lazily, robes slightly untied, hair carelessly tied back, a wine flask dangling from his hand. His posture was anything but proper—leaning on one friend’s shoulder, sometimes walking backwards, sometimes staring up at the ceiling as if the carved dragons amused him more than the solemnity of the hall. His lips carried an easy smile, one that made him look both innocent and infuriating at once.

“This city is so boring,” he said loudly, ignoring the glares of the palace guards. “Not a single tavern open in the morning? How do people survive here?”

His friends tried to shush him, but he only grinned wider, spinning his flask in his hand.

From the high dais, the soon-to-be king watched. His sharp eyes followed the boy’s every careless movement. The king’s face, as always, was unreadable, carved from stone, but those who knew him could sense it—something flickered in his gaze.

No one had ever seen him take interest in anything. Not food, not music, not people. And yet, now…

The boy yawned loudly, flopped down cross-legged instead of bowing, and tilted his head back with a mischievous smile. “So this is the palace, huh? Looks colder than the king’s face.”

Gasps echoed through the hall. His friends froze in terror.

Only the boy smiled at his own words, as if he enjoyed tossing stones into still water.

The king’s hand tightened on the armrest of his throne. His eyes darkened, dangerous, like a storm about to break.

No one dared breathe.

The reckless boy tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, and for the first time in years, the king felt something stir in his chest.

...The Laws of the Palace...

The silence stretched dangerously after the boy’s careless remark. The guards’ hands hovered near their swords. The other students bowed lower, trembling as if the weight of heaven itself pressed down on their backs.

The soon-to-be king finally spoke. His voice was low, calm, yet carried across the vast hall with an authority that made the torches flicker.

“Bring him forward.”

Two guards instantly stepped toward the boy, but he only tilted his head and gave them a lazy smile. “No need to drag me, I can walk.” He stood up with a careless grace, flask still in hand, and sauntered to the front, unhurried, as though the king was nothing more than another teacher.

He stopped a few paces away and looked up. Their eyes met—storm meeting flame.

The king’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable, but heavy enough that most men would drop to their knees. Yet this boy… only smiled.

“Since you come from another city,” the king said coldly, “I will allow ignorance once. But only once.” His voice cut through the hall like a blade. “Here, you will learn discipline. You will rise with the first bell, bow to your elders, and train until your body can no longer move. You will not drink. You will not gamble. You will not shame your sect. And above all—” his eyes sharpened, locking onto the boy’s mischievous grin— “you will show respect to the laws of this kingdom… and to me.”

The boy blinked, then gave a dramatic sigh. “So many rules… sounds like a prison.” His lips curved into a teasing smile. “But, Your Highness, even prisons usually allow wine.”

Gasps broke out again. His friends nearly collapsed from fear.

The king’s fingers tapped once against the armrest of his throne. A dangerous sound. His eyes did not leave the boy’s face.

“You think this is a place for your childish games?” His voice was soft now, but colder, sharper. “If you break even one law, I will make sure you regret stepping foot into this palace.”

The boy didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned slightly forward, eyes glimmering with something between defiance and curiosity. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to see what kind of punishment Your Highness gives.”

The entire hall froze.

And for the first time in years, the king felt his calm mask strain—because this reckless, sulky, beautiful troublemaker was not afraid of him.

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