I Became a Slave to the Man I Abandoned Novel (Completed) - Chapter 1

The dazzling chandelier glowed like a burning log. Though it was made of luxurious crystal and gold, it seemed more like dry firewood set alight. Nox Rainerio lowered his gaze after staring uneasily at the unstable chandelier.

The high heels of the ladies, the glossy shoes of the gentlemen. Their straight backs—held as rigidly as their headpieces—and the full smiles stretching across their faces were clear signs of the anticipation brimming in them.

“Who would’ve thought His Majesty would pass so suddenly?”

“Indeed. But with the Crown Prince grown and capable, what is there to fear?”

“Oh my, he’s not the Crown Prince anymore, is he? He’s the Emperor now.”

“Oh dear! I misspoke!”

Laughter—greedy, hollow laughter—rippled through the room. The Emperor, though never truly well, had seemed to recover recently before dying quite suddenly. Yet not a single person in the party hall appeared mournful. After all, the Crown Prince—born of the Empress—was already past thirty. What was there to worry about? But what they felt wasn’t relief. It was an expectation. Greed.

“At last, the day has come. The Crown Prince ascends the throne.”

“I heard there was mention of the diamond mine as well…”

“Yes, I hear he plans to distribute shares of it as rewards for contributions.”

They were like a pack of hyenas circling the lion’s leftovers. The Crown Prince, now over thirty, had both solid backing and indisputable legitimacy. But his personality and character? More befitting a demon from the depths of hell.

He craved pleasures of the flesh and hoarded wealth by the foulest means. Loyal ministers who dared to offer sound advice were silenced, while sycophants with honeyed tongues were generously rewarded.

The people gathered here were those very same sycophants. Not nobles of grace and virtue—but beasts twisted by greed. And among them stood one man, coldly observing them all with quiet contempt.

“Nox.”

Nox Rainerio. The only son of House Rainerio.

“Ease your brow. You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Nox glanced down at his father, Duran Rainerio. Duran clicked his tongue at the son who showed him not a shred of respect, then continued speaking as if to soothe him.

“Come now, didn’t I tell you? The Crown Prince is now unshakable.”

Nox didn’t even bother scoffing. He ignored his father entirely, even as he muttered and fumed beside him. This place was full of men like his father—filthy, self-serving wretches. A slight smile crossed his lips before he realized it. And if such men filled this room… then what did that make him?

“The Crown Prince will arrive shortly. Wipe that look off your face before he gets here.”

Duran gave up trying to scold his son and settled for a warning. Of course, Nox had no intention of sulking in front of the man who was about to become Emperor. But neither could he bring himself to wear a fake smile.

Only then did he turn his eyes toward his father and whisper softly:

“Do you really believe His Majesty died of illness?”

Duran’s face turned deathly pale at once. Forgetting all discretion, he seized Nox’s arm and dragged him away. Nox let himself be led, unresisting, into an empty terrace. Once inside, Duran furiously drew the curtains shut.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

“As if anyone here doesn’t already know.”

“Even if they do, there are things you don’t say aloud! How old are you again!?”

“Twenty-eight, if you must know.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Nox finally smiled—a cold, serpentine grin in the shadows of the dim terrace. Among these snakes, he looked like the biggest and most venomous of them all. Yet in truth, he belonged neither to the snakes nor to the doves. He was an outsider.

“To throw a party before the coronation even takes place. It’s all too obvious, isn’t it?”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Do you really think the Second Prince is dead?”

“Even if he’s alive, what can he do?”

“And if he becomes Emperor? How long do you think this Empire will last? Go look for yourself—this hall is full of people no better than the tail end of a snake. And that’s if you’re lucky. Most of them are maggots drawn to rotting meat. What could you possibly build with such filth? A throne atop a pile of worms?”

His voice was ice. The colder it grew, the more twisted Duran’s face became. Nox felt nothing but disgust and hatred toward his foolish, pathetic father. Had his mother not fallen ill, he wouldn’t have had to sink to such depths.

“You are insolent—!”

Duran lunged for his collar, but Nox easily shoved him back. A body trained through swordsmanship and discipline didn’t yield to that of a feeble leech. Duran barely managed to keep from falling as he glared and pointed a shaking finger.

“You always think you’re so high and mighty—so clean!”

Nox found his breath revolting. Without a sound, he laughed bitterly. Clean? He had long since cast aside that illusion—back when that child was abandoned.

“You’ll see soon enough that I made the right choice. I will stand beside the Crown Prince—soon to be Emperor—and bask in the greatest glory of all!”

“Glory? Are you referring to the ‘glory’ of indulging your filth with helpless children?”

Nox sneered as if he’d just stepped in something vile. Duran turned crimson with rage and charged at him again.

“You little—!”

But just then, a scream rang out from the hall.

Duran’s head snapped toward the source. There must be no scandal—not tonight, not before the Crown Prince’s arrival. He had to restore order. But before he could take a single step, another scream echoed. Then another. And another. Until the room became a cacophony of fear.

“Glory, huh. Doesn’t look like it to me.”

Duran didn’t even register Nox’s remark as he bolted from the terrace. The moment the curtain flew open, chaos greeted him.

Nobles in peacock-like finery fled in terror from knights with drawn swords. These were not the golden-armored knights of the imperial guard. They wore old, faded armor stained with layers of dried and fresh blood.

“What is the meaning of this outrage in the Imperial Palace!? This is treason!”

A man like an old crow dared to shout. Laughter rose from within the gray-armored soldiers. The group parted, revealing a man in pale steel. His armor was old, but cleaner than the rest. He removed his helmet without hesitation.

And pandemonium followed.

“The Second Prince…!”

With reddish-brown curls and round eyes, the Second Prince smiled gently—oddly soft, for the moment.

“Treason, is it? Tell me—treason against whom?”

His gentle tone only heightened the horror. No one could understand why the Second Prince—missing since the Emperor’s death—was here.

Nox stepped from the terrace, watching from the back. His height gave him a clear view of the scene.

Duran, devoted to the Crown Prince, pushed his way forward and stood boldly before the Second Prince.

“What is the meaning of this!? His Highness the Crown Prince will arrive shortly. What gives you the right to act so brazenly, Second Prince!?”

“Ah.”

Peltion Andras Daidalonts—the Second Prince—offered an even sweeter smile. His kind face was now marred by shadows.

Rather than reply, he stepped aside and gestured to someone behind him.

“I was wondering what all this noise was about.”

A figure stepped forward—towering, blood-soaked. The same gray armor, but soaked through with something red and dripping. The smell left no room for doubt.

Duran looked around, confused. Was the Crown Prince here? The one who would raise him to greatness?

But everyone’s eyes were fixed on the giant figure.

More precisely—on what he held in his hand.

“Your Crown Prince is right here.”

Thud. Splatter.
A wet sound, like a chunk of mud hitting the floor. Duran’s ears rang. Perhaps age had dulled his hearing.

“N-No… that’s…”

He couldn’t believe what he saw. His mind refused the truth. The golden hair, now soaked red. The half-open green eyes. That was undeniably Crown Prince Beoranz—his severed head.

The one he had devoted his life to serve.