Your Highness the Crown Prince... Let Me Explain
The Gyeol-eon Palace—the very heart of the Gyeol-eon Festival, its seal broken for the first time in twenty-five years. The five major figures dragged here from across the nation—no, invited—along with the princesses, all crammed into this single palace to eat, sleep, and film. Crystal Balls floated everywhere, capturing every corner and broadcasting the footage live across the kingdom.
When I returned from the borderlands, the palace buzzed back to life. …Except the buzz was strangely subdued. The servant guiding me to the makeup room never once met my eyes. The production staff standing beside the chair kept their backs glued to the wall, bodies rigid. Then, as if pushed forward by an invisible hand, one of them stepped out. The youngest-looking writer.
The paper in her hands trembled even though there was no wind.
“I-if I may be so bold, Your Grace the Duke…” Her voice shrank to a whisper. “I-I have been instructed to convey the concept for this promotional teaser…”
“Speak.”
“Y-yes!”
The writer flinched and quickly unfolded the paper.
“Th-the concept is… ‘Affection Beneath the Ice’… Your Grace.”
…Affection beneath the ice.
“I-it’s scary at first! B-but once you get to know him, he’s actually warm… Th-that kind of surprising charm… The viewers’ votes will… um…”
Her voice trailed off into nothing. The look on her face said she could hardly believe she was the one ordering the Blood Winter to be affectionate.
I simply nodded.
“Understood.”
“Hiiik—”
The writer sucked in a sharp breath. One of the producers beside her staggered as if his legs had given out.
…I just said I understood.
It carried no deeper meaning. I was simply agreeing to follow instructions. Yet everyone wore the expression of people who had just received a death sentence.
With trembling hands, the writer pointed toward one wall of the palace. A massive ranking board hung there. The names of the five major figures were listed in order of viewer votes—and my name sat dead last.
“Y-Your Grace’s… current ranking is, um… the lowest…”
Last place meant elimination. And for me, elimination meant following the original story’s route—straight to death.
“If you cannot raise the atmosphere in this teaser… the next public opinion poll will be… dangerous…”
The writer finally couldn’t finish and hung her head. She seemed unable to bring herself to say the word eliminated.
I looked up at the ranking board. My name, nailed to the very bottom.
…I see. All I have to do is deliver results.
Whether it was overtime or a photoshoot, if the boss said jump, you jumped. That rule was the same everywhere.
Once makeup was done, a servant led me to the filming site. All along the corridor, everyone we passed pressed themselves against the walls to make way. The people of the Gyeol-eon Palace still held their breath at the mere sound of my footsteps.
…I really can’t get used to this.
The filming location was the inner courtyard of the palace. Several Crystal Balls floated in the air, lenses aimed at us like cameras. And right in the center, someone was already waiting.
“Haa— even the makeup has turned you into a work of art.”
It was the Southern Admiral. The merchant who supposedly sank people with a hundred ships. His face under the sunlight gleamed like a finely honed blade.
“We meet again, Northern Duke. I hear we’ll be sharing a frame in this teaser.”
He extended his hand.
“It is an honor. To be honest—I was the one who chose you, Your Grace.”
…Chose me? Why?
Me, stuck at the bottom of the rankings. Of course, I didn’t say it aloud. I simply took the offered hand.
“…I look forward to working with you.”
It was a greeting without any hidden meaning. Truly.
But the Southern Admiral’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…As expected. Even a single word from you carries weight.”
No, it doesn’t. It was just a greeting.
“All right, here we go—the concept is ‘Affection Beneath the Ice’! Your Grace, just look at the Admiral and… give a slight smile, that’s all we need!”
The director’s voice trembled at the end. A smile. Right. The same one I used to give clients back at the company. Not difficult at all.
I lifted the corners of my mouth.
“…Hiiik.”
Behind the Crystal Ball, someone gasped. The director dropped his cue card. One of the staff standing behind the Southern Admiral collapsed on the spot.
…Why? I smiled.
I definitely smiled. Yet everyone looked as if I had drawn a sword.
Beside me, the Southern Admiral let out a low chuckle.
“Haha. Your Grace, that wasn’t a smile… it was closer to a death sentence.”
He then subtly turned his face toward the sunlight. With a single angle, the entire image softened.
“Like this. This is where the votes come from.”
Very merchant-like. In a world where ratings equaled money, the man knew exactly what his face was worth.
But then—something strange happened.
Above my head, glowing letters surged like a river of light.
My rank rose one spot from the bottom.
…Why is this working?
I couldn’t understand it at all. I had simply smiled as instructed.
That afternoon, a joint public favor event was held in the front courtyard of the Gyeol-eon Palace. The Southern Admiral was like a fish in water. He moved through the citizens, shaking hands, lifting children, cracking jokes. Cheers erupted wherever he went. He perfectly embodied the warmth of the South.
On the other hand, the moment I took one step forward, the entire front row stumbled backward. A child burst into tears. An old man who had been about to wave froze solid. It was a blessing that screams didn’t break out.
…This is a disaster.
Even the Crystal Balls subtly turned their lenses toward the Southern Admiral.
By the time the event ended, the Southern Admiral’s face overflowed with leisure. There was no need to say it—the public’s hearts had clearly flowed in one direction today.
“Haha. Please don’t take it too hard, Your Grace. The hearts of the people—naturally flow toward warmth.”
Once again, he scratched at me elegantly. But this time there was no line to step on. It was simply the truth. I had no response. Because I had genuinely lost.
But then.
“…Unexpected.”
A small voice came from the side. The Southern Admiral’s paired princess. She was staring straight at me.
“In person… you’re much more handsome than I expected?”
She twirled her body to look at me fully.
“I had only heard you were terrifying. Seeing you up close… you have this side to you as well. Surprisingly gentle.”
I hadn’t done anything. The Southern Admiral quickly composed his expression. A giant was still a giant. He smoothly pushed that momentary crack back beneath a polished smile in a single breath.
“Shall we move on to the next cut, Your Grace?”
As if nothing had happened, his voice was gentle again. But the shoulder that brushed past me as he took the lead was—stiffer than usual by about half a handspan.
Even after we moved to indoor filming, it continued. In front of the camera he was flawlessly smooth, but every time the director called cut, the Southern Admiral lingered unusually close to me. Like someone who wanted to confirm something.
Then, during a brief pause in filming, the Crystal Balls’ lights went out. As if he had been waiting, the Southern Admiral slid closer.
“Your Grace. Have you heard the news about the Grey Archipelago?”
It sounded like casual chatter. But the end of his sentence was subtly sharp.
“One of our fishing boats had its nets cut by a northern vessel in those waters again. The third time this year alone.”
…Ah. This.
I had read about it in the original story. The Grey Archipelago, floating in the sea between North and South. Depending on whose territory those islands were recognized as, the entire surrounding sea would shift—a powder keg passed down through generations of ancestors.
So this was not casual talk. It was a probe, slipping a foot into the heart of the dispute the moment the cameras were off. A scheme to make me reveal even a single word about which side I leaned toward.
…I’ve seen this plenty of times.
Executives at company dinners, sliding a drink over with a smile: “What do you think about that matter~?” Answer carelessly and the next day it would appear in the meeting minutes. Here, those minutes would be broadcast live nationwide.
So I only lifted my glass.
“…What do you think, Admiral?”
The Southern Admiral’s hand froze above his glass. I had simply returned the question. But it seemed he read it as refusing to show my own hand first, demanding to see his instead.
“…Hoh. As expected, you don’t give anything away easily.”
Yet the Southern Admiral did not stop there. He subtly turned his retreating steps and let one more line slip.
“Though I suppose it is laughable for me to bring up fishing waters in front of the Blood Winter.”
He stepped lightly on the line.
“If the rumors are true—Your Grace supposedly throws those who displease him into the river and enjoys tea while watching.”
At the end of that sentence, I set my glass down.
Clink.
I had simply set it down without meaning. But the Southern Admiral’s shoulders stiffened minutely. And at that exact moment, he smiled softly and took one step back.
“…It was a joke. If I have been rude, please forget it, Your Grace.”
Clean. He had scratched as much as he could, then pulled his hand back exactly before the blade touched flesh. No more, no less.
…This guy.
He knew where the line was. He knew exactly how far he could push before it became fatal, and where to stop to survive. He understood that razor’s edge with his whole body. It was no coincidence that the master of an entire fleet had risen to the seat of a giant.
That night, in the depths of the Gyeol-eon Palace, Esran was summoned to an empty corridor. The one who called her was—the Crown Prince.
The pinnacle of the Gyeol-eon Festival. The single person standing above the five giants.
Standing in the moonlight, he slowly opened his mouth.
“I apologize for calling you at such a late hour.”
His voice was gentle. Yet that gentleness felt like a blade still sheathed.
“Ever since the princess returned from the borderlands… your complexion has changed.”
Esran’s heart sank with a thud.
“Did something happen with the Northern Duke?”
The question was short. But that single sentence seized Esran by the throat.
That terrifying man kept showing her kindness. Blankets, fabric, and even a dried-up “river.” But a monster would never give something for free. If so, the price—
…Don’t tell me. As payment… he wants… my body…?
In this competition of romance, the man paired with her kept treating her well. If the reason was ultimately to claim her, then—
—No. But she couldn’t be certain.
She had never once been able to read what lay inside that man. Perhaps it really was… simple kindness with no price attached. The possibility was tiny, but that tiny possibility ultimately sealed her lips.
She could neither declare him a monster nor believe him a benefactor. She could not bring herself to say, “It seems he desires me.” She could do nothing at all.
“…That is, I…”
The Crown Prince’s eyes narrowed. The gentle moonlight suddenly sharpened into an edge.
“…That is?”
Esran, face burning crimson, could not utter another word.