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Chapter : 5
The Third Prince, Adriel von Rupium.
Though he bore the title of Third Prince by imperial decree, in truth he was a prince in name only.
He was a child born from a relationship the emperor had with a woman who had once been a slave—an elf of a different race who happened to catch his eye.
Because he was half elf, Adriel had a natural affinity with nature, but that was all.
He was not of high-elf blood, so in the end he was little different from a human who was merely sensitive to their surroundings.
His mother had risen, by sheer luck, to the position of concubine and had even been granted her own palace. But ultimately, due to the empress, she suffered severe mental harm and—when Adriel was still an infant—hanged herself, unable to do anything more.
His only family was his older brother.
The Second Prince, Rihard von Rupium. He was said to be like a ferocious beast, yet to Adriel he was endlessly gentle.
“I’ll be back soon, so behave yourself. Avoid the Crown Prince at all costs, and wherever you go, take the guard I’ve assigned you with you. Understood?”
Mounted atop a large horse, his brother spoke as he departed for a subjugation campaign, and Adriel nodded.
Strong and dependable, his brother always protected and loved him—the weak, frail prince that he was.
Just as his brother instructed, Adriel went everywhere with the man left behind as his guard, and for the most part stayed within the inner grounds of the Third Prince’s palace.
With no interest from the emperor and no mother, there was little a young child like him could do, so he tried to spend as much time as possible inside his room.
But then, late one night—
“N-no…!!!”
The guard who had always accompanied him collapsed beside Adriel, blood pouring from a blade wound in his side. Masked men who had invaded the room soon rendered Adriel unconscious as well.
As he fell, Adriel bit down hard on his lip at the sight of their bloodstained knives.
It wasn’t that the tightly secured imperial palace had been breached.
Carved into the blades was a crest often used by another half-brother whom Rihard had warned him to be wary of at all times—the Crown Prince.
He clenched his teeth, trying to cling to his fading consciousness, but when his neck was struck hard once more, the child lost awareness completely.
When Adriel came to, a gag had been stuffed into his mouth, his body and arms tightly bound as he lay carelessly thrown inside a carriage.
“Where’s the merchandise?”
“Inside.”
Murmured voices sounded outside, and then the carriage door was flung open, light pouring in.
He squinted against the glare, then sucked in a breath of fear at the sight of a middle-aged man with an obscenely bulging belly.
A man standing beside him roughly tore the gag from Adriel’s mouth, and the middle-aged man grabbed his chin, turning his face from side to side.
“…Where is this— Aah!”
The moment Adriel tried to speak, the man slapped him hard across the cheek.
Having never once been exposed to such violence, Adriel trembled violently.
“A pretty high-grade item. Make sure you take good care of him so we don’t lose him.”
From then on, Adriel was subjected to continuous violence for several weeks.
Tears fell steadily from the child’s eyes.
He missed his brother.
He wanted to go back to the imperial palace.
He wanted to be held in his brother’s arms.
The wind brushed past the iron bars that confined him.
Creaaak.
At the sudden metallic sound, Adriel snapped his head up.
Whether the last person to leave had simply forgotten to lock it, or whether it was a miracle granted by a merciful god, the door to the cage stood open.
Adriel ran.
The men realized he had escaped and chased after him, but he paid them no mind, moving his short legs with all the strength he had.
He fell, got hurt, and still he ran.
Spotting a restaurant nearby, he rushed inside.
Please. Please, someone help me.
“P-please, someone help me…!”
The people only looked on in confusion; no one stepped forward.
The child’s eyes grew empty.
He had cried so much that no tears would come anymore.
“You little rat!”
As the man who had chased him in raised his hand high, Adriel instinctively wrapped his arms over his head and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain to come.
But no matter how long he waited, it didn’t hurt.
Cautiously, the child opened his eyes.
“Wh-what is— Aaaagh!!”
The man’s arm had turned into a block of ice.
Adriel looked around.
A faint glow emanated from a single person wearing a robe.
He had never seen it in person before, but it looked just like magic.
Before Adriel could do anything, the robed figure who had saved him quickly left the shop. Afraid of losing them, the child hurried after the person.
That was how he met Lien, the spirit contractor.
Listening to the child’s halting, tear-filled explanation, I slowly nodded.
Driel—no, the Third Prince—had been sold into a slave market by the Crown Prince’s faction while the Second Prince was away subjugating monsters. He had barely managed to escape and, by incredible luck, encountered me.
If someone ordinary had been there instead of me, there was no doubt this child wouldn’t have been saved.
“Hic… I-I’m sorry, hic! For tricking you, sob, I’m sorry. I really, really didn’t mean to do it on purpose….”
Perhaps my silence made him anxious; hiccupping as he cried, the child clutched tightly at the hem of my clothes.
Without a word, I knelt down and wrapped the sobbing Third Prince in my arms.
How hard it must have been.
Though he bore the lofty title of prince, he was still only eight years old.
His mother died right after his birth.
The man called his father showed no interest in him at all.
He had only the Second Prince, and even he was often away.
On top of that, he must have been threatened countless times by the Crown Prince, his half-brother.
After all, the Third Prince was still a prince—and moreover, the Second Prince’s weakness.
Even I had once had a family I believed was warm, that I thought loved me—though it turned out to be a false love never truly meant for me.
I hated them enough to want them dead now, but back then, when I was young, what held my heart together was probably that sense of familial love.
Something a child naturally receives within a family.
In my case, it was different—I received it, yet did not—but it was still love.
I looked at the child.
Plump, white cheeks like rice cakes, softly glowing pale-violet eyes, and pristine silver hair without a blemish.
He was a lovely child.
I gently wiped the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
He must have suffered.
He must have struggled.
What he might not have been able to endure—this child had endured for all eight years of his short life.
Holding him tightly once more, I whispered sincerely,
“You did well, Adriel.”
“Sniff… h-huaaaang….”
The child finally burst into loud sobs.
“I thought he resembled him, but I didn’t think he’d really be the prince himself.”
After laying the child—who had cried himself into exhaustion—into bed and covering him with a blanket, I closed the door and paused at Sierra’s murmured words.
“…Yes. He does resemble them.”
Though his hair color was completely different, his eyes were exactly like those of the Crown Prince and the Second Prince—violet, unmistakably the same.
Sierra looked at me.
“So, what are you going to do? Are you taking him with you?”
I nodded.
“We’ll send him back. I’m heading to see the Second Prince anyway. And besides…”
I hesitated.
If we simply sent the child back to the imperial palace, it was obvious he’d fall victim to the Crown Prince again.
“I think it’s best to send him to the most trustworthy guardian.”
I lay beside the child and quietly closed my eyes.
Memories of wandering the slums alone drifted back to me.
There was no one by my side.
I had briefly considered searching for my biological parents—if they even existed—but soon gave up.
I had no memories at all from before entering the ducal household. No clues. Nothing.
With nothing to my name, ending up in the slums was, in a way, inevitable.
As I drifted through its streets, despair consumed me.
There was no food, nowhere to rest my body.
In a place where everyone struggled just to survive, no one would help me.
Staggering around, getting hit by carriages, surviving on barely enough rotten bread and water—I endured.
I wanted to die.
Life was so painful, so agonizing, that I nearly gave up on it entirely.
The family I loved abandoned me.
The fiancé I loved hunted me down in the slums, blamed me for Arianne’s failing eyesight, and gouged out my right eye.
It was horrifying.
Painful.
I had no idea how to go on living.
Then, after two years, I met the spirits—and the people of the Spirit Tower.
Jema, Sierra, Alec, and the other spirit contractors.
They helped me reach this point without wavering.
I opened my eyes.
The child slept softly, breathing evenly.
Perhaps from crying so much, the skin beneath his eyes was tinged red, but as he slept, he looked peaceful—almost like an angel.
I wasn’t the type to worry much about others, but this child, in particular, concerned me.
He reminded me strongly of myself as a child.
I hadn’t realized it at first—it dawned on me gradually—and while he wasn’t exactly the same, the way he yearned for love felt… similar.
The difference was that he had someone he could rely on.
That, at least, was fortunate for him.
Having no one was hard.
Very hard.
I could say that with certainty because I had lived it.
Having no one by your side—no one who believes in you or whom you can rely on—is deeply painful.
At least this child wouldn’t have to experience that.
I hoped he never would.
Even it took me a long time to stand back up on my own.
By the Second Prince’s side, I hoped this child would be happy—at the very least, that he would grow up happy.
As countless thoughts passed through my mind, the night grew deeper.
