Moonstone Empire — Third-person perspective.
Calendar:January 6, 1015
In a luxurious room that looked more like a museum than a bed, a young man awoke, exhausted and with a heavy head. The silvery-blue silk curtains swayed gently in the gentle morning breeze. Sunlight filtered through the ornate silver glass, dancing across the gleaming marble floor—reflecting the remnants of the previous night's chaos.
He was Rion von Moonstone, Crown Prince of the Moonstone Empire. He sat on the edge of a king-size bed with a golden silk canopy. He was not alone—next to him slept a woman who looked older than him. Her name was Elisa—his personal maid.
Rion stood—his golden-blonde hair in disarray—covering his forehead. His skin was pale as if untouched by sunlight, and his eyes were a golden hue—clear yet cold. He walked past the full-length mirror—reflecting his muscular body.
---
Private Bathroom — 30 Minutes Later
Hot water flowed from the crescent-shaped shower head—the Moonstone family crest. Rion stood beneath it with his eyes closed, letting the water wash over his sticky body.
"Ah... So good—her body is fucking addictive." Rion smirked.
A few moments later.
He emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. In the full-length mirror, the reflection staring back was a magnificent face: a defined jawline, the facial structure was so perfect that it appeared in the visible with very precise calculations, eyes that were neither too big nor too small, long eyelashes, thick eyebrows, a high nose, naturally pink lips, and perfectly white teeth.
He looked like a prince riding a white horse from a fairy tale.
---
Rion returned to his starting point. There was a woman sleeping soundly, a blanket shielding her from the morning air. There were long-dried bloodstains on the blanket.
"I'm surprised—she's still a virgin."
Should I wake her? No—it's better to let her sleep.
Rion stared at the woman for a long time—long, light brown hair and fair skin. Although there were a few pimples on her face, they still didn't diminish her charm.
Elisa, she's my personal maid. She's three years older than me. I'm 15, so she's 18 now.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of footsteps from the corridor broke the tranquility. The opulent door opened softly, and another young man entered.
His golden-blonde hair, the hallmark of the Moonstone family, was neatly combed, his gray eyes sharp as freshly sharpened swords. He was Rakesh von Moonstone, the second prince, three years Rion's junior.
"Brother... apparently he likes to rape his own personal maid." Rakesh said coldly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You look just like our father." There was a hint of hatred when Rakesh said 'father'.
"This is none of your business—you little brat."
"Chosen hero... Crown prince—if the people knew what their heir to the throne was like, they'd probably pray the sun never rises again."
Rion ignored him, choosing to focus on his own business—wearing a white shirt and well-fitting black pants. However, Rakesh always provoked Rion.
"Likes to drink alcohol, gets drunk, wastes money. If mother were still alive—she'd cry when she saw you."
A strangled sound.
Rion darted toward Rakesh, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt—making Rakesh look up, forcing him to look at him.
"You're shameless—mother died giving birth to you!" Rion exclaimed, veins bulging on his temples.
"What?! Do you think I asked to be born?! Damn it, it's father's fault, you bastard!—Father impregnated mother, and then I was born."
If I could... I would have given up on being born so that Mother could live.
"If I could ask. Then I would rather not have been born. And if that's my destiny, then I wish I were born into a different family."
Push.
Rion released his grip with one rough push, pushing Rakesh away from him. "Then get lost," Rion hissed, his voice returning to its usual mocking tone. "Go find another family. See if anyone will accept a child of misfortune like you."
"And you say, 'It's Father's fault, I didn't ask to be born.' How funny." Rion grinned.
"Always blaming others," Rion hissed, his voice lower, more dangerous. "That's your weakness, Rakesh. You find scapegoats for your pain because you're too cowardly to bear it yourself."
"Coward?" Rakesh laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. "Look who's talking. The Chosen Hero hiding behind alcohol bottles and maids' skirts. You're nothing more than an empty shell, Brother. A grand facade built over Mother's grave."
Every word was a sharpened knife. Rion pushed Rakesh hard against the carved wall behind him. The sound of the impact echoed in the silent room, enough to make Elisa, the woman in the bed, stir restlessly in her sleep.
THUD!
"At least I was there when Mother died!" Rion roared, his face inches from Rakesh's. "Where were you? You were just a clueless, crying baby! You didn't see her last look, you didn't hear her last breath!"
Rakesh returned the stare, his sharp eyes now glassy with pent-up anger and grief. "And you think that makes you better? You were there, and you did nothing but serve as a reminder of what we've all lost!"
Silence.
A tense silence enveloped them. Rion's grip slowly loosened. The explosive energy now receded like a wave, leaving him with a familiar feeling of emptiness. He stared into his brother's eyes, the gray irises their mother had inherited.
Those eyes again... You remind me of mom.
For a moment, the anger on his face wavered, replaced by a cold, hollow glint. This argument suddenly felt exhausting and pointless. He let go of Rakesh completely and stepped back, looking away.
"Get out," Rion said flatly, his voice less harsh than before. He walked over to the soft sofa and sat down. "I'm tired of your morning drama."
Rakesh was momentarily stunned by the sudden change in demeanor. He smoothed his wrinkled shirt collar, trying to defuse his anger, just like his brother. "Okay," he said hoarsely. "I won't bother you anymore."
Rakesh turned and left the room, his firm footsteps echoing—before the door closed. "Don't be like dad."
The door slammed shut.