Morning arrived in silence.
A faint golden light slipped through the tall windows of the Fifth Prince's residence, slowly pushing back the shadows that had settled through the night. The estate remained as it always was—quiet, distant, untouched by urgency or importance. There were no hurried footsteps in the halls, no servants rushing to prepare for the day. It was a place that existed without expectation, and nothing about that had changed.
A firm knock broke the stillness.
"Your Highness," came a calm, steady voice from beyond the door, "it is time to wake. Today is the day of the royal summons."
Inside, Samuel Krueger opened his eyes.
There was no trace of sleep in them, no lingering fatigue. His awareness returned instantly, sharp and composed, as if rest had merely been a pause rather than a necessity. For a brief moment, he remained still, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above, before speaking.
"…enter."
The door opened, and Edward stepped inside.
He was already prepared for departure, his armor secured and his posture straight, carrying the quiet discipline expected of a royal knight. Yet his eyes, as they settled on Samuel, held something beyond routine duty. There was a weight behind his gaze—an unspoken observation that had not left him since the previous day.
Something about the Fifth Prince had changed.
Edward had served Samuel for years. He had seen the boy as he was—unmotivated, passive, detached from everything expected of him. Among the royal children of the Masca Kingdom, every prince and princess began their training at a young age. Swordsmanship, discipline, physical conditioning—these were not optional paths, but fundamental expectations.
Even the youngest had long stepped onto that road.
All except one.
The Fifth Prince had never trained. Not once. He had never shown interest, never made an effort, never displayed even the slightest ambition to improve himself. While others refined their skills and strengthened their bodies, Samuel had remained still, content with doing nothing, as if the world required nothing from him.
And because of that, the world had given him nothing in return.
He had not been hated. He had not been targeted. He had simply been… ignored.
Edward had accepted that reality.
Until now.
Standing before him, the prince was still physically the same—frail, untrained, undeniably the weakest among the King's children. Yet the air around him felt different. His gaze was no longer empty. His presence was no longer absent.
He was… aware.
"Your Highness," Edward said, breaking the silence, "preparations have been completed. We must depart soon if we are to arrive at the royal palace on time."
Samuel sat up slowly, his movements controlled despite the weakness that still defined his body. There was no resistance in his expression, no reluctance.
"I remember," he replied calmly.
Edward studied him for a moment longer before continuing.
"The summons was issued to all princes and princesses. The royal palace does not call for such a gathering without reason."
Samuel rose from the bed, his golden eyes lowering slightly as if considering the statement.
"…then it is worth attending."
There was no hesitation in his voice. No trace of the indifference that had once defined him.
Edward lowered his gaze slightly, acknowledging the response.
"Your attire has been prepared."
—
Not long after, they stepped out of the residence.
The carriage stood waiting in the courtyard, marked with the royal insignia of the Masca Kingdom. Guards were present, but their expressions remained neutral. There was no ceremony, no sense of importance surrounding the departure.
It was simply… happening.
Samuel entered the carriage without a word. Edward followed, taking his place across from him as the door closed behind them.
Moments later, they began to move.
The journey toward the royal palace unfolded in quiet continuity. The roads were well-maintained, guarded at intervals, and clearly reserved for those of status. Yet within the carriage, silence remained unbroken for a long time.
Edward's gaze shifted toward Samuel briefly.
Even now, the prince showed no signs of tension. No anticipation. No unease.
It was unnatural.
"…Your Highness," Edward spoke at last, his tone measured, "the King is not someone to be taken lightly."
Samuel did not look at him.
"I would expect nothing less."
Edward's expression hardened slightly.
"His Majesty stands unmatched in swordsmanship. There is no one within this kingdom who surpasses him in that regard. His presence alone is enough to command obedience."
A brief pause followed before he continued, his voice quieter now.
"He is not a kind man."
The words carried no disrespect—only truth.
"After your mother's passing, the structure of the royal household changed. The Queen Consorts no longer reside within the palace. Each now lives within their own domain, alongside their children. The palace itself is no longer a place of family—it is a place of authority. They are summoned only when His Majesty requires it."
Samuel listened without interruption, his thoughts moving beneath the surface.
A system built on separation.
On control.
On distance.
"…efficient," he murmured.
Edward did not respond.
—
By the time they arrived, the royal palace stood before them in full.
It did not resemble Samuel's residence in any way. Where his estate was quiet and distant, this place was overwhelming in scale and presence. Massive gates stood open, revealing layered structures that rose with deliberate authority, guarded at every level.
This was not simply where the King lived.
This was where power gathered.
The carriage came to a halt, and the door was opened.
The moment Samuel stepped onto the palace grounds—
He felt it.
An invisible pressure filled the air, subtle yet undeniable. It did not crush the body, nor restrict movement, but it influenced something deeper, something instinctive. It was a presence that reminded everything within its reach of its place.
Samuel's eyes sharpened slightly.
So this is the difference.
He walked forward.
—
The grand hall was already filled with the royal children.
Princes and princesses stood in composed silence, each carrying themselves with the refinement expected of their status. Their presence varied—some sharp, some calm, some distant—but all of them shared one thing.
They belonged here.
Samuel did not.
The moment he entered, a ripple of silent recognition passed through the hall.
…that's him?
The Fifth Prince…
The one who never trained?
So this is the trash prince everyone has been talking about…
He doesn't even have presence…
The gazes were brief.
Dismissive.
Final.
Samuel walked forward without reacting, his expression calm as he took his place among them.
As if none of it mattered.
—
"The King approaches."
A royal knight's voice echoed through the hall, firm and absolute.
And then—
It came.
A presence.
The moment King of Masca Kingdom stepped into the hall, the air itself sharpened.
It felt as if an invisible blade had been drawn across the entire space. The pressure did not explode outward—it settled, controlled, yet overwhelmingly dominant. Every breath became heavier. Every movement slowed.
This was not something that demanded submission.
It was something that made resistance meaningless.
Even those who stood with confidence lowered their gazes.
Samuel did not.
His golden eyes remained fixed on the King.
—
"All are present."
The King's voice was calm, yet absolute.
"I will not repeat myself."
Silence deepened.
"The reason I summoned you here is simple," he continued. "Those of you who have yet to reach fifteen will enroll in the academy when the time comes."
A brief pause followed.
"After graduation…"
The air grew heavier.
"…you will enter the throne succession."
No one reacted outwardly.
But everyone understood.
A system where only one would rise.
And the rest—
Would be eliminated.
"As of this moment," the King continued, "I declare the First Prince, Albert, as the Crown Prince."
A subtle shift spread across the hall.
Acknowledgment.
Tension.
Acceptance.
No one spoke.
—
Then—
"I have no interest in becoming king."
The voice was calm.
Clear.
Unshaken.
And it came from Samuel.
Silence collapsed.
Every gaze turned toward him.
Shock.
Disbelief.
Even Edward froze.
The King's gaze shifted.
And landed on him.
In that instant—
The aura changed.
What had once filled the hall now focused entirely on Samuel. It pressed down with precise intensity, like an unseen blade resting against his very existence. The air tightened. The ground felt heavier.
This was not pressure meant for all.
This was judgment.
"To speak of refusal before even stepping forward…" the King said slowly, his voice colder now, "is to admit your own worthlessness."
The pressure increased.
Relentless.
Crushing.
Samuel's body trembled slightly under the force—
But he did not kneel.
He did not look away.
"I have no interest," he repeated calmly, "in a throne built on meaningless slaughter."
Silence.
Absolute.
For a moment, it felt as if the entire hall had stopped existing.
Then—
The pressure vanished.
Completely.
The King looked at him for a brief second longer before turning away.
"Then remain irrelevant," he said coldly.
And just like that—
It ended.
—
The hall slowly returned to motion.
But the atmosphere had changed.
The same people who once dismissed him now looked again—
Not with respect.
But with awareness.
The Fifth Prince was still weak.
Still nothing.
But no longer invisible.
And within that silence, Samuel stood unmoved, his golden eyes calm.
So this is the level of this world…
A faint stillness settled within him.
…interesting.