FMY 8

“How wonderful that you can attend Her Majesty the Queen’s salon again, Gabriel.”

Clang!

At the Duke of Arthur’s voice, which stretched across the table where lunch was being served, Serge dropped his spoon. Thanks to that, the plate, beautifully engraved on its edge with the laurel leaf crest of the Duke of Arthur’s family, was nearly cracked. However, Serge, oblivious to the mistake he had just made, turned his eyes toward Gabriel, who was sitting at the same table, as fast as lightning.

Gabriel’s face was radiant, and a faint, fluffy cloud of emotional pheromones filled with joy and anticipation was flowing from him. To think he would be so careless as to reveal his feelings using ‘emotional pheromones,’ which are said to be the second language of those with traits. He must be in an exceptionally good mood. He glanced at Serge once, then snorted softly and lifted his chin. Then, as if to show it off, he smoothly swept back his ever-prideful blond hair, smiled confidently, and opened his mouth.

“Yes. His Highness the Second Prince sent a telegram this morning and told me so.”

The Duke’s eyes, as he looked at his ward, Gabriel, were full of affection. As usual, they held a sense of pride, the kind one feels for someone like a son who has accomplished what his own son could not.

“Yes. I heard a royal attendant brought his message.”

“That’s right, Your Grace. He made a request to His Highness the Crown Prince, and His Highness, upon hearing the plea of his only younger brother, immediately rushed to Her Majesty the Queen and received permission to have yesterday’s order withdrawn…”

Gabriel’s face was a sight to behold as he described, in a very complicated and specific manner, how his life had blossomed once more. The slight blush on his face made it clear that he was recalling how the Crown Prince had personally defended him to the Queen, adding all sorts of rose-tinted fantasies to the memory.

“Furthermore, he said he was sorry for misunderstanding me, and that His Highness the Crown Prince would be my partner at the royal ball next month…”

Watching Gabriel, who was so excited with joy that he couldn’t finish his sentence properly and made a disgusting sound like “Kyaa,” while making a fuss, Serge twisted his lips.

“Ha…!”

Serge clicked his tongue in disbelief, hidden from others.

‘So this was it.’

So this was what he meant by making it impossible for me to refuse.

Indeed. The Second Prince was truly the Second Prince. In a single stroke, he had put Gabriel, whom Serge had cornered with his passionate acting yesterday, right back in his place. No, he had gone a step further—the Crown Prince’s partner at the ball. Isn’t that a higher position than his original one?

Serge recalled the process Duke Arthur must have gone through to make the Crown Prince his partner for his own birthday. He did not know for sure, but it was a position the Duke of Arthur had likely obtained only after offering something of great value to the royal family.

Comparing these two situations made it even more ridiculous. So starkly different from that time, for Gabriel to have snatched the spot next to the Crown Prince so easily. Had the Crown Prince cherished his only younger brother more dearly than expected? Or had he negotiated by seizing his older brother’s weakness, just as he had tried to do with him? In any case, one had to acknowledge the skill of Raphael, who had moved the Crown Prince and made the Queen herself reverse her own words.

Yes. Raphael was certainly playing a card that forced him to move one way or another.

Unbefitting of someone who proposed forming an alliance to prepare for the future together, he was thoroughly backstabbing and stirring things up from this side, but in any case, the Second Prince had certainly made it so that Serge could not help but make a move, just as he had been sure he would…. Serge lifted a napkin and gently pressed it around the corners of his mouth, quietly observing the warm and friendly scene between his father and Gabriel.

‘I’ll be damned if I let a fox like Gabriel become the Crown Princess.’

Just looking at it superficially, one might wonder, shouldn’t he just let the Crown Prince and Gabriel get together? He could have had such a thought. He could have just stood by with his arms crossed, letting those pieces of trash gather together prettily, and cheered for the miserable lives they were about to lead. But the problem was not that simple.

If he ascended to the position of Crown Princess, Gabriel was not the type to leave Serge alone. Just as he did in his past life, he would surely get rid of him and slowly make the family’s power his own.

So, this was not just a situation where revenge was at stake, but also a matter of survival.

Nevertheless, the foul feeling remained. A grinding sound, graaaunch, came from his white molars. To think he would resort to such a cheap trick….

He was clearly a fellow he could not warm up to, neither in the past nor now. It was not a fatal interference that would thwart all of Serge’s plans, but he had certainly succeeded in getting on his nerves.

The fortunate thing here was that Serge was an extremely rational human being. For him, someone making him feel a little bad was a secondary problem.

The most important things were the abilities Raphael had just demonstrated, the specific current situation, and how to proceed with matters from now on. And to accurately grasp whether he would truly be a help or a hindrance. That was precisely the problem Serge needed to figure out right away.

Serge felt the absolute necessity to meet with Raphael again and have a talk.

Strike while the iron is hot, as they say.

Serge immediately sent a card requesting an audience, and on the same day, he received an invitation granting him a visit to the palace, which is how he was now pushing his way into the Second Prince’s palace.

“He is currently away for his daily exercise. He will be back shortly, so I ask that you wait here, my lord.”

The young attendant who was guiding him into the palace said as he opened the door to the reception room.

“Does he exercise?”

“Yes. His Highness builds his stamina with fencing every day.”

The attendant’s expression seemed to ask, ‘Surely you know that the prince is an outstanding fencer, don’t you?’

Serge stared directly into the confident face of the attendant, who had impressive brown, curly hair.

Yes…. It was only natural for him to have an expression as if asking why he was bothering to ask something so obvious. From his boyhood, Raphael had shown exceptional talent in all sports, and he boasted such distinguished skill that he had never lost a championship, especially in horseback riding or fencing competitions.

‘I had forgotten…’

Having been guided to a prince’s palace located in a more secluded area than he expected, and to a reception room in an even quieter and deeper part of it, Serge sat down on the couch and sank into reminiscence.

To be precise, he was recalling their boyhood days when they attended a private school together.

As he remembered, it was near the end of the semester, just before they were about to graduate and enter university, something that happened before they officially came of age.

<Waaaaah!>

Along with the cheer in the indoor arena, the name of the match’s winner, Raphael, echoed loudly.

<Raphael! Raphael!>

Daring to call a prince’s name so casually was unthinkable, but this was an academy founded on the principle of equality. It was an institution where one learned to set aside all social statuses.

But even so, it was like frogs in a well—no, considering they were backed by illustrious families, maybe they were more like bullfrogs. In any case, it was nothing but ridiculous for the children of noble families to discuss equality amongst themselves within their narrow, luxurious well.

According to the school rules handed down by tradition, they were to call each other by their names, not by titles or family names, and because of that, the children called the prince’s name as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

<I knew Raphael would win!>

<I bet 20,000 Blancs on Raphael winning! What a relief!>

Serge ignored the gambling-related talk of the boys in the row in front of him and closed his book. Normally, he would not have even pointed the tip of his toe toward the gymnasium or the physical training room, but that day was the final match, and the headmaster had issued a mandatory attendance order for the entire student body, so he had been forcibly dragged here and was sitting in the very back row of the spectator seats.

‘Now that the winner and loser have been decided, I can probably leave.’

Since the final match was over, he probably did not need to be here any longer.

He had no interest in things like the award ceremony either. The winners of the fencing tournament were all of Raphael’s type, and they were, as always, a breed of people who seemed to live on the opposite side of the earth from him.

Watching them smile and emit their superior alpha pheromones would probably just make him feel even more timid. For the sake of maintaining his naturally timid and fragile mental health, it was better to leave this place quickly.

Just as he was thinking that and about to stand up, the students in the front row who had been betting on the prince and representatives from other countries started chattering again.

<Wow… look at that, all those people gathering around.>

<Is this the first or second time you’ve seen Prince Raphael with a trail of followers?>

<These aren’t just his usual followers, look at all those ladies and omegas.>

At those words, Serge also lifted his gaze, which had been on his lap, and looked at the center of the arena.

Raphael, with his robust physique, who had just finished the match—befitting a dominant alpha, he had boasted a frame so large for several years now that it was difficult to call him a boy—was heading toward his bench, and many people were surrounding him. They were mostly boys and girls, cheering while throwing flowers and lace handkerchiefs. Not only omegas but betas were also all mixed in together.

Although it was a youth tournament, it was an international competition, so a large number of external guests were present. In other words, unlike usual, it was not just the students of this smelly boarding school filled only with alpha and beta boys; as the boys in front had said a moment ago, there were plenty of women and omegas in attendance. That was what was different from usual.

Today’s victor, Prince Raphael, was responding with a smile to those who clung to his neck, enthusiastically giving him bisous, before pulling away.

It was a look of someone moderately enjoying the passion directed at him. In Serge’s view, it was a rather shameful and unsightly spectacle, but he could not deny the fact that it made him realize just how popular he was.

<I wonder what it feels like to be that popular…? Is it because he’s a prince?>

When the boy in front, who had a face full of freckles, muttered with a dazed look, his friend next to him snorted.

<Even if you were a prince, you wouldn’t stand a chance of being like that.>

<Why not…?>

<Just look at that appearance. That brilliant blond hair that directly inherits the pure blood of the Blanche royal family, and on top of that, his strikingly dazzling looks even among the royal family members, and that physique and aura that seem to scream he’s a dominant alpha. You can see the confidence of a man who knows he is the perfect king of males in his expression. That kind of thing is literally something you’re born with. You think you could become like that even if you died and were reborn ten times? Not a chance.>

At his friend’s merciless remark, the freckled boy’s shoulders slumped. He looked dejected. Although his appearance was quite pitiful, Serge also inwardly agreed with the cynical friend’s comment. The expression ‘king of males,’ however, was a bit cringeworthy.

Serge raised his eyes and quietly looked down at himself.

He was the legitimate firstborn son of the great and historic Arthur family, which had boasted enormous prestige since the founding of the brilliant kingdom of Blanche. Furthermore, the Arthur family was one that had inherited the blood of dominant traits from the ancient Carolingian royal line.

And yet, look at this pathetic state.

Despite possessing superior looks and a high status like Prince Raphael, he was like a plain little duckling stuck among beautiful and brave eagles, born with such unattractive looks and a wretched trait, living a shabby existence where he was always conscious of what others thought.

So, just as the boy in the front row said, that sort of thing truly is a blessing from God, something one is born with.