CHAPTER ONE — The Curse of the First Love
The palace of Nightfall had always been silent at dawn.
But on this particular morning, the silence felt wrong—heavy, watchful, as if the entire kingdom held its breath in fear of something only the walls understood.
At the highest tower, Prince Kira stood alone, his cloak brushing the cold stone floor as he stared at the ancient inscription carved into the wall long before he was born:
"The first love of every royal son shall die by his or her hand."
It was the curse that shaped his bloodline.
A curse that shaped him.
Kira had never allowed himself to love.
Not once.
Not ever.
He wrapped himself in cruelty like armor, wore coldness like a second skin, and built his reputation on fear so no one would dare wander close enough to touch his heart.
Servants trembled when he passed.
Ministers chose their words as if each one might cost them their lives.
Even his own cousins avoided speaking his name in full.
And beneath all the ruthlessness, beneath the sharp edges and frozen glare, was a truth he would never admit:
Prince Kira was terrified of love.
He feared no enemy.
He feared no blade.
He feared no death.
But the very idea of caring for someone—
of letting someone matter—
sent a quiet, invisible terror twisting through his chest.
Because the moment he loved…
their fate was sealed.
The wind crept through the open tower window, cool and whispering, carrying a voice only he could hear:
A heart approaches.
A light you cannot destroy.
A fate you cannot escape.
Kira's jaw clenched.
"Then I will make sure no heart ever comes close," he muttered.
But deep inside, a faint shiver ran through him—one he refused to acknowledge.
A soft sound broke the air behind him.
When Kira turned, he found a servant in the doorway, trembling so violently it was a wonder he remained standing.
"What do you want?" Kira asked, his voice sharp enough to cut stone.
"Y–your… your Majesty," the servant stammered, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "The king sent for you."
Kira narrowed his eyes. "Is that all?"
"Yes, Your Highness," the servant whispered. "He says… you must not forget the family gathering this morning. All royal bloodlines are expected."
"Get out," Kira growled.
The servant stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet before running out of the room as though chased by death itself.
Kira exhaled slowly, annoyance flickering across his face.
A family reunion.
The last place he wanted to be.
Family meant closeness.
Closeness meant danger.
And danger—for him—meant love.
Something he refused to risk.
Something he refused to feel.
Not now.
Not ever.