Shian ate quietly, his expression unreadable as he chewed through the meat on his plate.
But internally, he knew. He knew who Shian Ravenscroft was. And more importantly, he knew who Hayes Ravenscroft and Asher Ravenscroft were, especially that damn Asher, the fourth prince. Even the so-called Hero hadn't given him as much trouble as that red-haired menace.
If he had calculated correctly, it was about two years before his death, four years from now, when the real chaos would begin.
Hayes would turn twenty-four, and the King would name the seventh prince, Cyrus, a concubine's son, as heir. That was the moment everything unraveled. A war broke out. Hayes, furious at the King's decision, would start killing his brothers one by one. Every prince except Asher.
That's how Hayes earned his future name: The Raven Tyrant.
Asher, on the other hand, would flee the kingdom and eventually join the Hero's party, just to make Faceless's life even worse. That was the legacy of the Ravenscroft royal family. And while the name "Shian" hadn't come up much in that history, Faceless had always known he was the firstborn.
Back then, his only goal had been to find his true identity. He had taken his own path, made progress, until that damn Hero interfered. And the one who stood in his way the most? That red potato, Asher. If Hayes was going to go on a rampage anyway, he should've started with that brat, not spared him.
From what he recalled, the order of death went like this: the third prince, Ivor, died first. Then came Shian, followed by the fifth, Nash. Faceless never planned to save anyone, but now that he had this body, a face, a name… he wasn't about to let himself be killed so easily. He finally had an identity. And he still had a grudge to settle with that Hero. He holds grudges after all.
Across the table, a quiet voice broke through his thoughts.
"You look good today," Nova whispered with bright eyes as he glanced at Shian.
Shian gave the boy a flat stare while continuing to chew his food. Nova, with his soft yellow-gold eyes and round cheeks, reminded him of a nervous potato. His golden eyes, Faceless hated those colors of eyes more than anything. Still, the boy's innocent compliment caught him off guard.
"I mean, you look so different today, big brother. Did something good happen?"
Shian blinked, then stared at his plate. "Good, you say…?" he muttered, more to himself than to Nova. "Who knows." With a shrug, he returned to eating.
Nova looked confused at the vague reply, but a small smile crept onto his lips. It was the first time his eldest brother had responded to him. Usually, no matter how much he tried, Shian would ignore him entirely. But today felt different.
Not just the conversation, the way he dressed in black, the way he cut that long, legendary hair that hadn't been trimmed since he was five. Nova couldn't help but feel uneasy. Something had changed.
But Shian's eyes were elsewhere now. They had drifted to the opposite side of the table, to a prince seated near the Queen. That boy wore red, a fiery, arrogant red, and had matching red hair with green eyes. He looked exactly like the Queen. Asher Ravenscroft. The fourth prince.
Of course, Asher noticed the stare. He caught Shian's gaze and gave him a confident smile, as if mocking him. Shian immediately looked away.
Then the Queen's voice sliced through the tension in the room.
"So, how is the progress of your growth?" she asked, tone poised and expectant. Her sharp eyes turned first to Hayes, who sat far across the table, in the same direction as Shian but too distant for a clear view.
"I've been working on a new attack technique, Queen Mother," Hayes said with confidence. Queen's face softened at once, pride shining in her eyes.
Then her attention shifted to the third prince, Ivor.
"I... I've been learning some new languages," he stammered. He smiled innocently, clearly trying his best, though the contrast between his answer and Hayes's was clear.
Shian crossed his arms. His expression was blank, but internally annoyed. Wasn't he the first prince? Shouldn't she have asked him first? That woman…
"I've been hanging out with my friends!" said the fourth prince, Asher, like he was announcing a great achievement.
"Seriously, you never listen," the Queen muttered, disappointed, though her tone didn't carry much heat.
Then her eyes landed on the fifth prince, as if the golden child had never spoken, "And what about you, Nash?"
"I'm creating something super cool, Mom," he said cheerfully. More casual than even Faceless could manage. Yet, the Queen didn't scold him. No sharp words. No disappointed sigh.
Shian stared blankly ahead.
So this is what it's like, huh? Favoritism in royal dining rooms.
He stabbed another piece of meat, chewed it slowly, and kept his silence.
"Super cool?" the Queen raised a brow.
"Yeah!!! Just wait till I finish it. You'll be amazed, heh heh." Nash beamed with a smug little laugh.
Ew. Shian watched him with thinly veiled disgust. He's just like me... That's it. I hate him. There was something about seeing someone with the same brand of cockiness, but wielding it so freely under royal favor, that made his teeth grind. He hated people like that. People like himself.
Next, the Queen turned to the sixth prince. "So, what about you, Zayn?"
Shian blinked. Zayn was a concubine's son, just like Cyrus and Nova. And yet the Queen had called on him before even glancing Shian's way. Did the real Shian do something so terrible for her to hate him this much? Faceless couldn't remember.
"Thank you for asking, Your Majesty," Zayn said with a respectful nod, in a steady voice and well-mannered. "I'm learning sword arts."
The Queen nodded without much emotion and moved on. "You, Cyrus?"
Shian almost yawned. What is this? A royal showcase? Is she introducing her children to me one by one?
Still, he straightened in his chair as he looked toward the seventh prince. Cyrus was upright, confident, he had the aura of someone destined to rule. Even Shian, who had only been here for a short while, could see it. Though just fifteen, Cyrus spoke with the composure of a seasoned leader.
"I'm conducting research in the slums," Cyrus said clearly. "I want to understand the circumstances that lead our citizens to end up there."
The Queen gave him a small but approving nod, one she hadn't granted the others. That confirmed it, Cyrus was the chosen one. The King's heir. And for good reason. His presence alone spoke volumes. No wonder Hayes lost it in the future.
The Queen continued down the line. The eighth prince, Dante, admitted he wasn't doing anything particularly important, and Nova, in his usual small voice, said he was experimenting with recipes. Was he a prince or a chef? Shian squinted at him, then looked away. But Nova's eyes lingered on him, filled with subtle worry, like he feared Shian might be hurt.
Then it was over.
She was done.
She hadn't even looked his way.
Shian sat there quietly, the frustration bubbling under his skin. He clenched his teeth. Then, loud enough to be heard across the long dining table, he spoke.
"I'm learning how to roast people these days!" he announced, leaning forward with a sharp grin. "Thanks for not asking, but I figured I should let you know anyway!"
The entire room froze. Breaths were held. Forks paused mid-air.
"KLEIN!" the Queen's voice cracked like thunder.
The poor servant flinched, nearly dropping the cup he held. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty?!"
"Take this ignorant fool out of my sight!"
Shian smirked. "You beat me to it." He rose from his chair, hands buried in his pockets. "I was just about to say I should leave this boring meeting, but I suppose I should thank you for saying it first." His voice dripped with mocking amusement.
He stepped away from the table, turning his back without hesitation. And that's when he felt it, the sharp, heavy gaze of Hayes on him from across the room. A silent glare that felt like a blade.
"Please, stop that, my prince!" Klein tugged at his arm in panic, desperately trying to defuse the situation. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty! The prince… he's not in the mood today. Please forgive him!"
He was already dragging Shian toward the doors.
"Ah, come on. You're so impatient," Shian muttered under his breath. He glanced down at Klein, then forward again.
Maybe it was just the gratitude of having a name again. Or maybe something deeper. Either way, a thought stirred in his heart. If the real Shian had been reduced to a coward, mocked and scorned in his own palace, then someone had to repay that debt. Faceless holds grudges after all.
He stopped just before exiting the room.
Looking over his shoulder, his eyes locked with the Queen's. "Your Majesty," he said in a calm tone. "When I said I'm learning how to roast people…" He smiled, well, not the pleasant kind. "I meant it."
Then, without another word, he disappeared through the doorway.