The palace was quiet again. The laughter of the festival, the music, the glowing orbs of light that floated like stars over the streets… all of it was gone. Only the sound of the wind brushing against the balcony curtains remained.
I was lying in my crib, soft silk sheets tucked around me, a ridiculous stuffed griffin at my side. Anyone would think I was just a baby about to drift into another dream. But my eyes stayed open, staring at the ceiling, my mind whirling.
'That festival… it wasn't just lights and laughter. It was a mirror of the kingdom itself.'
I replayed every sight. Commoners with their cheerful smiles, throwing coins at performers. Nobles with jeweled cloaks, standing tall as if they owned the air around them. Merchants shouting their wares, children chasing each other under the glow of enchanted lanterns.
Even with only eight months of life here, I could tell—this kingdom wasn't simple. Magic wasn't just entertainment. It was the foundation, the air people breathed. Every booth used it, every lamp glowed with it, even the games relied on it.
'Magic is life here. Whoever controls it, controls everything.'
I frowned—or at least tried to. My cheeks puffed up instead, which only made me look cuter. Wonderful. A genius trapped in a baby's body.
Still, I thought back to the whispers I caught when my parents weren't paying attention. Nobles at the festival gossiping near the food stalls:
—"The Duke of Veynar is pushing for more influence at court."
—"The Marquis's son showed his fire affinity yesterday. The balance will shift soon."
Even without understanding every detail, it was clear. Dukes and lords weren't powerless. They were pillars holding the kingdom up—while also tugging at the throne, testing its weight.
And then… there were the assassins.
I shivered slightly, my tiny fingers curling around the stuffed griffin. No one else noticed, but I did. The air shifted, heavy with killing intent, like a blade brushing against my skin.
My heart had pounded so fast, my vision flashed gold for the first time. I didn't understand it fully, but instinct told me:
'Those eyes… that power… it's not ordinary.'
Mother had held me tighter then, soothing me with her soft humming voice, as if she didn't know what had just happened. But Father's eyes—red, sharp, unwavering—had caught the darkness in the crowd. He knew. He had felt it.
And I… I had responded without meaning to.
'The Golden Fang…' I thought, biting down on the inside of my cheek. Not that my baby teeth could pierce anything. Still, it was terrifying. I didn't control it. It had awakened on its own, baring its fangs at unseen danger.
What if next time, it hurt someone? What if the wrong person saw?
I shifted my gaze toward the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floor. My reflection shone faintly in the glass—dark golden hair messy from sleep, wide blue eyes blinking back at me.
Blue, calm, harmless.
But hidden beneath them… golden eyes that answered only to danger.
'I'm not ready. I can't control it yet. I don't even understand it.'
I turned my head slightly. The door to the nursery was closed, but beyond it, I could sense them. My parents. Always there, like two steady flames keeping the shadows away.
Father, King Leon Leonhart, the man with golden hair that shone like fire and eyes like burning rubies. Everyone feared his name, yet when he looked at me, his gaze softened. He carried me on his shoulders during the festival like it was the most natural thing in the world. Not as a king, not as a ruler—but as a father.
Mother, Queen Celestia. Her silver hair glowed under the magical lanterns like the moon itself, her blue eyes as deep as the ocean. She held me close every time the crowd pressed in, shielding me with her warmth. She smiled at me as if I was her entire world.
Warmth. Love. Safety.
It was overwhelming.
'Do I even deserve this?'
In my old life—before this rebirth—I never had such luxury. No one looked at me with such unconditional love. No one placed me at the center of their world. And yet here I was, the Crown Prince of Leonhart, the future heir to a throne of light and magic.
Me.
A sigh escaped my lips, though it came out more like a baby's coo. Pathetic.
Still, I couldn't deny it. That warmth I felt from them… it made me want to protect it. Even if I didn't know how yet. Even if I was too small to lift a sword or too weak to cast a spell. Someday, I would.
I let my eyes drift back to the moonlight, my grip on the stuffed griffin tightening.
"The nobles are restless. Assassins lurk in the shadows. The Golden Fang is inside me, waiting. This kingdom isn't as peaceful as it looks."
I paused, the thought echoing in my head.
'If I want to survive… if I want to protect Father and Mother… I need to learn. To watch. To listen. To grow.'
The moonlight reflected in my eyes, sharp for a moment, too sharp for a child.
'One day, I'll sit on that throne. Not as a baby prince. Not as a helpless child. But as someone worthy of the name Adrian Leonhart.'
My lids grew heavy. My body, still bound by infancy, betrayed me. No matter how sharp my thoughts, I was still a baby. Sleep always came too soon.
But as I drifted off, one final thought lingered in my mind.
'Until then… I'll wait. I'll endure. And I'll learn.'
The nursery grew quiet, bathed in silver light. And within that silence, the Crown Prince of Leonhart, only eight months old, fell asleep with the weight of a kingdom already pressing gently against his tiny shoulders.