FMY 3

“Serge d’Arthur, the eldest son of the Duke Arthur family, greets Her Majesty the Queen.”

It was a greeting as elegant as the flap of a swan’s wings. A small gasp escaped from among the young lords and ladies who were gathered around the round tables in the greenhouse garden where today’s salon was held, as they watched Serge’s display.

And it was no wonder, considering that a handsome, large man had suddenly burst into a very old-fashioned and demure gathering that showcased the pinnacle of femininity and Omeganess. Serge felt as if he were a giant who had fallen alone into a small, beautiful land of little people.

‘This is why I had so little confidence in my past life.’

It was truly an antiquated era that believed Omegas should be petite, delicate, and gentle like women.

However, Serge had come from a time when there were no stereotypes about how one’s innate gender should be expressed through a specific appearance.

Besides, every person is beautiful in their own right. He was no longer ashamed of his natural, inborn appearance. Knowing this, the current Serge did not feel intimidated in this situation at all. On the contrary, he offered a warm smile, like an Alpha who had come to bewitch a beautiful Omega. After all, the saying that you can’t spit on a smiling face holds true in any era, does it not?

The woman seated at the head of the table made eye contact with Serge and nodded. She, who seemed to be clad in stiff, tough leather that not even a needle could pierce, was the queen of the Blanchet Kingdom.

‘A woman as tough as sinew and hard to please…’

The foremost figure in high society, who always looked down upon others with the eyes of a hawk that could see right through them, the splendid and dazzling mother of the Blanchet nation. She too came from a powerful high noble family, and her haughtiness pierced the heavens. As a woman, she was not a wife who received the king’s affection, but as his political partner, she was an influential figure who was involved in the affairs of the state.

To survive well here, she was someone he didn’t need to go out of his way to impress, but someone he must absolutely never get on the wrong side of. To Serge, the queen was that kind of presence.

“It seems everyone is present, so bring in the tea now.”

A straight back, a lifted chin, a cold gaze. And a sharp, commanding tone delivered in the perfect aristocratic accent of the eastern province. Serge clicked his tongue as he watched her give the order to her lady-in-waiting, the Viscountess Dautriche. He had felt it since his past life, but she was not an easy person. That must be why she holds these gatherings every time, saying she will personally choose the partner for her cherished eldest son.

Serge kept the smile on his face as he moved to take a seat.

“Serge, what on earth are you doing?”

As Serge was about to sit in the wider of the seats marked with the Duke Arthur family name, Gabriel whispered lowly, reproaching him.

“……?”

“The head seat is my place, as I am the elder and the representative of the family here.”

For a moment, Serge was momentarily dazed. Although his memory of this era’s specific high society etiquette was a bit faint since he had just returned to his past life… this did not seem right…?

“…Shouldn’t that ‘representative’ part have changed the moment I, the eldest son of the family, arrived?”

Gabriel sighed as he looked at Serge, who tilted his head with a bewildered expression. A look of pity, as if to say, ‘you don’t even know that much about court etiquette?’, flashed across his eyes, which were as blue as a clear sky.

“No. I have always been the representative until now, so everyone knows me as the face of the Arthur family. Besides, I am the elder between us. When we come from the same family, it is correct for the elder to sit at the head seat.”

Wasn’t that a rule of etiquette to be followed only when siblings from the same family came together? Besides, you were only born a mere three months earlier than me. Serge debated whether or not to point out how Gabriel was acting as if he were his real hyung-nim in such a difficult and public social setting, but he soon abandoned the thought. They were not alone, and everything was still in the exploratory stage.

As the saying goes, if you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. He had fallen into his past life too suddenly, and he was still in the process of comparing his memories of the people and environment around him with the current reality to grasp the situation.

In order to get proper revenge with a confident demeanor unlike his past life, now was the time to curl up and wait.

‘He really thinks of himself as if he were the legitimate firstborn son of the ducal family…’

It was something he had always been curious about.

Did Gabriel merely covet that position, knowing it was not his, or did he genuinely believe he was a person of such worth and demanded that Serge share what he had as if it were a matter of course? His more experienced mind could now realize, upon experiencing him again, that the answer was closer to the latter.

“I’m looking forward to what comes next…”

Serge muttered to himself as he methodically stored the re-evaluation of Gabriel in his mind.

“What did you say?”

“It was nothing. Go ahead and sit at the head seat as you wish, Gabriel.”

Serge shrugged and sat down in the slightly narrower seat next to him.

In any case, he had no intention of snatching the queen bee title of high society that Gabriel held in such a flashy and tiresome manner. That kind of position did not suit his disposition anyway. Besides, wouldn’t the shock be greater if one fell from a higher place? Serge smirked, imagining Gabriel plummeting from his lofty position into the abyss in a single moment.

It would probably be quite a spectacle. When he firmly believes he is about to ascend to the position of Crown Princess, the sight of him screaming in despair as that dream slips meaninglessly through his fingers. Won’t he probably cry his eyes out, snot and tears streaming down his face while collapsed on the floor, just like the word ‘crybaby’ he always used to tease Serge with? Serge was determined to see that amusing sight before he died. Just thinking that he would be able to see it filled him with a surge of ecstasy.

At that moment, the servants who had entered the greenhouse began to move with perfect coordination.

Light entremets[1] and fragrant tea were placed before everyone, and the tea party, which began with the queen leading the conversation, grew increasingly cheerful.

Serge sat still, covering the area around his mouth with a wide, thin teacup as he observed his surroundings. At a glance, he appeared to be enjoying the spring flowers blooming inside the queen’s splendid greenhouse. But in reality, he was assessing the situation here.

The fragrant scent of flowers, along with the Omega pheromones that were likely filling this place subtly, a social gathering full of young women and male Omegas in their late teens and early twenties. Everything was just as it had been in his past life.

The gazes of the young men and women, who, while conversing with sophistication, were constantly watching the queen’s table and her reactions. It was obvious at a glance that everyone was trying to receive a good evaluation from the queen.

‘Same as ever.’

Serge secretly snorted.

It was the same, to a tiresome degree. For him, who had once held the top position in the glamorous entertainment industry, it was not a difficult task at all, but that did not mean he wanted to voluntarily jump into the middle of high society. Especially not in a salon intended to find a candidate for the position of Crown Princess.

‘Besides my dislike for that position, I know exactly what kind of scoundrel the crown prince is.’

Just the thought of becoming the partner of such a promiscuous dominant Alpha made him shudder.

Around this time in his past life, when the Crown Princess had not yet been definitively chosen, he had been forced to be the crown prince’s partner a few times due to the Duke Arthur’s recommendation-like coercion. Usually, Gabriel would snag the seat next to the crown prince, like at birthday parties, but because the duke wavered between his son and his ward, Serge also had the chance to stand next to the crown prince a few times.

That day too was a day he had attended the royal ball with the crown prince. Serge had witnessed a scene that was disgusting to even recall now.

<Uh…where could he be…?>

He had certainly entered with the crown prince and danced the second piece, a waltz, with him. Of course, it was self-evident that his appearance, with his head bowed and his steps unconfident, must have been extremely clumsy and pathetic. Therefore, when they returned to their seats from the floor, he understood why the crown prince immediately moved away from him to laugh and mingle with other people.

Besides, was that seat next to him all that pleasant for Serge? The crown prince who would just make a sullen face with him by his side, and the aristocrats of high society who would glance at them and sneer… So he did not bother to chase after the crown prince when he moved away. But there was someone else who could not tolerate the sight of the two of them like that.

<That is a position your father barely managed to obtain, and you intend to disappoint me like this?>

At that roar from Duke Arthur, Serge was searching for the crown prince, barely able to lift his head above his slumped shoulders.

Sweating, he searched the entire Camellia Hall where the ball was being held. Even after that, he couldn’t find the crown prince and eventually went out into the hallway and up to the second floor of the building.

A woman’s shoe lay in front of a slightly open door. And…

<Ah…! Aht! Your Highness! Ugh, Your Highness!>

<…Hah! Be quiet. Someone, hah. might hear.>

<Then, Your Highness, a little! Just a little, gently. Aahng!>

Panting moans and the sticky sound of bare skin slapping together at a constant rhythm. Serge, who was not so innocent as to not know what that sound meant, quickly blushed.

The title ‘Your Highness’ uttered by the woman with a shrill voice, and a familiar voice he had heard several times.

‘Still, what if…’

Wondering if he had perhaps misheard, if it was just a misunderstanding, Serge unconsciously held his breath and approached the direction of the sound. And what he saw through the crack in the door was exactly as he had expected.

A messy appearance with a muscular body half-exposed, as if it had been undressed in a great hurry. The lower body visible beneath a disheveled, brilliant uniform, and the trousers and belt messily hung below the knees… The sight of the crown prince holding the woman’s ankles apart with both hands, ceaselessly thrusting his hips between her legs… and when the face of the moaning woman was revealed, Serge held his breath.

‘A kind of person not to be associated with…’

He felt contaminated just by being near him, yet he was to be that man’s partner? The very word made him want to spit. Besides, the closer he got to the position of Crown Princess, the more he would inevitably have to confront Gabriel head-on. A head-on confrontation, just the thought of it was utterly exhausting.

As Serge was shaking his head at such thoughts, a servant’s dignified shout was heard, as if on cue.

“His Highness the Crown Prince, and His Highness the Second Prince, Duke de Bernadotte, are entering.”

At those words, Serge whipped his head towards the greenhouse entrance. There, two men with large physiques and a lofty, intimidating presence that would make anyone recognize them as dominant Alphas were entering.

‘Speak of the devil…’

Tall stature and broad shoulders. The natural dominant Alpha pheromones that must have been enveloping them. A straight and handsome face like a northern god. They had more than enough visual allure and shock to capture everyone’s attention.

‘Do the crown prince and the second prince usually come to the salons?’

Did that son of a bitch intentionally not tell me? Serge turned his head to look at Gabriel with a furious expression. But what he found was Gabriel’s face, his eyes wide and blushing at the unexpected good fortune.

‘It seems those attending the salon were not notified in advance.’

Serge secretly schooled his face back into its public-facing expression.

“Your Highness the Crown Prince, Duke de Bernadotte.”

Someone addressed them, offering a greeting first. The first prince, the crown prince, and the second prince, the duke. In other words, the heir of King Blanchet and his younger brother.

‘François, Dauphin de Blanchet, and Raphael, Duke de Bernadotte.’

Serge recited their full names in his mind and stared at them with impassive eyes. At those brothers who, contrary to tradition, did not even share or resemble each other in a single name. No, to be more precise, at the lecher and his unfortunate younger brother.

Perhaps because he had just been recalling a disgusting past, the sight of the crown prince’s slick face was unbearable, so Serge’s gaze naturally shifted first to his younger brother, the Duke de Bernadotte.

‘Huh…?’

He thought he had strangely made eye contact with the second prince, but the blue eyes quickly turned back to the queen.

‘Was I mistaken?’

Serge tilted his head and observed them again.

He was the unfortunate prince who was strangely ostracized in the Blanchet royal family due to a prophecy from a renowned cleric made right after his birth. And in contrast to him, there was the crown prince who monopolized all the love of the king and queen.

‘Standing together like that, they are so outstanding that anyone passing by would turn their heads to look at them until they were out of sight.’

No matter how you looked at them, they were brothers who were truly alike and exceptional, at least in appearance.

They both had blond hair that anyone could see was strongly inherited from the royal bloodline, eyes as blue as the deep sea, and the superior trait of being dominant Alphas, but their lives were completely different. And as if to prove the disparity in affection felt in their names, the queen’s tone of voice was also distinctly different.

“Crown Prince, and Duke de Bernadotte.”

Look at the difference in her expression and temperature when calling her eldest son versus her second son. Serge secretly glanced sideways at the queen’s two faces.

Simultaneously with the queen calling her sons’ names, one of the young lords sitting near them rose from his seat. Then, with a graceful posture, he lifted one heel behind him and offered a courteous greeting. At the same time, starting with him, everyone in the greenhouse garden stood up demurely, leading to a grand procession of greetings.

And it was no wonder, for what was this salon for? Was it not a gathering of those striving to become the partner of the crown prince who had just entered? Except, of course, for the only person currently with a soulless expression, his gaze vaguely fixed somewhere between the brothers and the floor, Serge.

‘Look at that shameless face.’

Serge, who had been dragged here against his will because of a promise to his father, was the only one who gave a clumsy, half-hearted greeting among the people and quickly sat back down. He had not the slightest intention of showing courtesy with sincerity, even where it could not be seen.