Crown Prince Maximilian
"By the way, Your Highness, today marks exactly one month since you arrived in the Empire."
"Has it been that long already?"
I checked the calendar at Amber's words, and sure enough, it had.
"A whole month has already passed. Time flies, doesn't it."
My first month in the Imperial Palace had flown by like an arrow. I'd expected to live in constant fear as a hostage from an enemy nation, walking on thin ice, never knowing when my head might roll. But surprisingly, my days had been remarkably routine and peaceful.
I'd even developed a schedule for meeting the imperial family.
First Imperial Princess Victoria visited every Monday around lunchtime, and we'd sip tea, enjoy desserts, and chat for a couple of hours.
With Second Imperial Princess Chloe, we met in the library Tuesday and Thursday mornings to read and debate until lunch, then took dance lessons in the afternoon.
(Somehow, without me realizing, the two siblings had agreed on this—Chloe went first, at least.)
The Emperor and I conversed every Wednesday afternoon in his private greenhouse over tea, discussing all sorts of topics. Lately, it had been about imperial administration, which wasn't too hard for me—I'd majored in public administration in my past life and even considered grad school.
Meeting these three wasn't as tough as I'd thought. As long as I was politely honest in our talks, there were no issues.
But the person I'd spent the most time with was someone else entirely.
"Sit deeper! Push with your glutes! Still resisting the pain? Embrace it!"
"Gah! Your Highness, I really can't—huff!"
"No whining! One more! The Ian Sterling I know is a strong man!"
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening, Second Imperial Prince Arthur subjected me to merciless iron-pumping sessions without fail. And it wasn't just weights—if I was lucky. Afterward came mandatory cardio that left me feeling like I was dying.
"Hey, brisk walking isn't cardio! Run!"
"Y-Your Highness! Doing lower body work then cardio is—"
"—good for muscle recovery! Run!"
At first, it really felt like death. But humans adapt, don't they? Stuffed daily with meat-heavy meals from the Empire's finest ingredients and pushed to my limits with forced workouts, my body had changed noticeably in just a month.
My constant low-grade fatigue was gone, stamina unrecognizable. Stripping down in front of the mirror, decent muscles now lined my formerly slim frame. Shoulders broadened properly, chest and arms had firm contours. Abs were faintly visible, too. The light, flowing silk shirts I'd brought from Sterling Kingdom now strained taut across my chest and shoulders.
There was some physical pain, sure, but honestly? Pretty healthy hostage life. Right up until today—Monday afternoon, that is.
As always, First Imperial Princess Victoria had shown up at my quarters for our peaceful afternoon tea time. She lounged deep in the sofa, teacup in hand.
"—So, yeah. Empire's cavalry is the strongest, but sieges? Can't use 'em. Loran Kingdom knows that, so they won't fight us on open plains. Holed up like turtles behind mountain walls—how the hell do we deal with that..."
"Must weigh heavy on your mind, Your Highness. Aren't you deploying soon? Plans should be set by then, right?"
"Tell me about it. Spring thaw, southern cleanup done, then straight to conquering Loran. But still no clue. Even Grand Emperor and his father failed to breach those walls. If only cavalry could fly—ah, all this talking's got me thirsty."
"More tea, Your Highness?"
"Yeah, please. This lemon tea's delici—"
Victoria's chatter cut off the moment I reached for the teapot on the table to refill her empty cup.
"Your Highness? What's wrong all of a sudden?"
"...?"
Her gaze locked onto my forearm, broadened shoulders, and the straining buttons on my shirt—frozen, unblinking.
"...Ian."
"Yes, Your Highness. Careful, the tea's hot..."
"You. Your body's been... weird lately?"
Her brows furrowed ever so slightly.
"Shirt shrunk? Shoulders too, and those arms... Weren't you twenty? Late growth spurt... or something?"
I mistook her noticing my healthy changes for approval, feeling a quiet pride as I shrugged lightly.
"I've been working out hard lately. Palace food's so good, muscles are packing on nicely. Stamina's way up too."
"Working out?"
"Oh, yes. With Second Imperial Prince every other day in the underground gym. Thanks to him, I'm in great sha—"
The faint smile on Victoria's face vanished in an instant.
She slammed her teacup onto its saucer with a sharp clink.
Her icy reaction made my hand freeze on the teapot.
"...Thicker."
Her purple eyes raked over my firm chest and bulked-up arms. I caught a flicker of murderous intent in those trembling violet depths—chills shot down my spine—but I kept my face neutral.
"...Your Highness?"
"Sorry, Ian. Got somewhere to be—tea time's over for today."
Victoria shot up from her seat and quietly left the room.
I stared blankly at the closed door, utterly baffled.
What the hell? Didn't think I said anything wrong.
A bit later, changed into workout clothes, I headed to the gym right on time. Towel around my neck, change of clothes in a small basket—steps light. Workouts grow on you, huh?
Today's leg day~
But before reaching the gym corridor, a deafening boom shook the underground.
BOOM!
"...?!"
I plastered myself to the wall, thinking disaster struck—then saw the imperial guards who should’ve been posted fleeing pale-faced the other way. Something was up.
"What the hell's going on?"
"Whoa, Your Highness! Was just coming to find you! R-right now, First Imperial Princess is going at Second Imperial Pri—!"
"What!?"
Rushing to the gym entrance, my jaw dropped at the devastation.
The massive steel door—designed heavy for core and arm training—lay crumpled like paper, flung into the hall. Inside: total wreckage.
And amid the dusty haze, two monsters clashed fiercely.
"Sis, you lost your mind!? Why're you flipping out here!"
"Shut up, you muscle-brained idiot!! Ian's charm was that fragile, delicate pretty-boy vibe—and you ruined it!?"
Victoria swung her longsword wildly at her brother. Each near-miss sliced Arthur's beloved equipment like tofu.
Arthur dodged with beastly reflexes, hurling shattered machines and plates like cannonballs.
Victoria parried the man-crushing iron chunks like tofu, dancing lightly aside. Every clash leveled gym sections.
"You dumb sis!! Ian's 'delicate'? You're blind to his future! One—no, two years tops, he'll have a perfect body. Why block it!"
"Shut your trap!! I'll never see Ian turn into a muscle freak like you—not till dirt's in my eyes!!"
"Then I'll stuff dirt in those useless peepers!"
Clang!!!
KABOOM!!!
The siblings' brutal fight shattered ceiling magic lights, raining sparks.
Frozen at the door, I watched dumbly.
My body—my muscles—sparking a blood feud between imperial princess and prince?
Then, Arthur—mid-throw with a halved barbell—locked beastly eyes on me at the entrance.
"Oh! Ian!! Perfect timing!!"
Arthur beamed, pointing at me.
"Tell this thick-headed psycho sis yourself! You love it, right? Can't live without our workouts now, huh?! Right?!"
No sooner said, Victoria glared from the dust, sword raised, eyes blood-red murder.
"Ian Sterling, answer straight. This brute dragged you here and forced this barbaric crap, yeah? I'll blast him and save you."
"...".
Crushing killing intent from both sides choked me. I fidgeted helplessly.
I wanna live long.
Desperately. But either choice ended my hostage life in gruesome death. Side with Arthur? Victoria lops my head. Side with her? Betrayed Arthur crushes me with a 20-kilo plate.
Maybe foam at the mouth and faint? Serious thought—lips twitching—that instant—
"...What the hell's this underground racket during my busy day."
A low, calm voice laced with fatigue and irritation cut through dust and debris.
Clicking heels parted the haze, revealing a man strikingly like the Emperor: lavish golden hair, cool purple eyes. Eerily similar, but exuding high official vibes over the Emperor's menace. Dark circles under purple eyes, thin gold-rimmed glasses hiding trembling fury.
That guy's...!
The Empire's heir I'd only heard of: workaholic, de facto head of imperial admin. Crown Prince Maximilian von Arzenheim.
He brushed dust from his impeccable fine uniform, glaring sharply at his rampaging siblings.
"B-bro! Victoria sis—!"
"O-oppa!? No, it's this brute Arthur..."
"Quiet."
One soft word silenced them. The Crown Prince sighed deeply, gaze sweeping slowly.
Over wrecked gym and cracked palace walls, then slowly to me, rigid at the door.
"...".
Maximilian adjusted his glasses; a chilling smile curled his lips.
"Heard the rumors. So you're Ian Sterling."
"Crown Prince, first time meeting."
"Hmm..."
After that creepy stare, he smiled warmly.
"Pleased to meet you, Prince Ian. This'll take a while—my office after cleaning this mess."