New Eyes, Old Vengeance
Soft sunlight slipped through silk curtains, casting a warm glow across the quiet, lavish bedroom. But to Kael, everything felt foreign.
He was alive again.
But not as himself—
He had awakened in the body of a boy the world seemed to loathe.
His breaths were heavy as he sat up slowly. This body... was too small. Too fragile. But his eyes—those hadn't changed. Still sharp. Still cold. Still trained to kill in silence.
He glanced around. The room screamed nobility. No surprise there—a large mirror across from the bed reflected the image of a young boy with silver hair and gray eyes. Bruises marked his cheeks and arms.
"So... the third prince," Kael muttered, a thin smirk curling on his lips. "Your body... now belongs to me."
Fragments of the boy's memories trickled in. The name was Veryon Aetherwyn—third son of the king. Royal blood, but loathed and cast aside. A noble by name, yet treated like filth by his own servants.
Kael, once an assassin shaped by shadows and blood, was now trapped in the body of a disgraced prince. New world, new rules... but his principle remained:
The weak are meant to be trampled.
Fools. He clenched his small fist.
If you have status, use it.
If you have a name, make it a weapon.
The door slammed open. Four servants walked in without knocking. They laughed quietly, wearing smug, contemptuous expressions.
The tallest—a harsh-faced woman—crossed her arms and looked toward the bed.
"Well, look who finally woke up. Filthy little prince," she scoffed.
"I still don't get why anyone calls him 'Prince'," sneered another, her voice dripping with disdain. "If I were queen, I'd have tossed trash like him onto the streets."
"He couldn't even speak properly when we slapped him yesterday. What a coward," sneered the third servant.
"A coward and a fool," the tall one added, stepping closer. "Unfit for royal blood. Born from the womb of a dead queen—no wonder he's cursed. Just a burden."
She stood at the foot of the bed, a cruel smile on her lips.
"Useless little exile. You'd be better off dead."
Their laughter resumed, echoing in the room. Kael watched in silence, calculating.
"Tch… I just woke up and I already have to clean house."
One of the servants noticed his blank stare and scowled.
"Hey! Why are you looking at me like that? Want to die, brat?"
SMAACK!
A hard slap struck Veryon Aetherwyn's cheek.
His head turned with the blow, silver hair falling messily over part of his pale face. Around him, the servants giggled, one of them spitting out with disgust:
"Stupid little prince. Trash like you doesn't even deserve to live in the palace!"
"This kingdom's ashamed to have a son like you."
"Years of breathing, and still a damn fool. You're nothing but dead weight!"
Their laughter turned nauseating. One servant, braver than the rest, stepped forward and slapped him again, cocky and smug.
…A slap?
Who dared…?
Back then, people trembled just meeting my eyes.
Have they grown tired of living?
Without hesitation, Veryon's small hand shot up and struck the servant back—full force.
SMAACK!
The woman staggered, nearly falling. Silence fell over the room.
Veryon slowly raised his gaze, sweeping it across them.
His stare was frigid.
It cut deeper than anger—this was bloodlust.
Real. Palpable.
"Do you think I'm weak?" he whispered coldly.
Then, a smirk. That familiar assassin's grin—one that knew exactly where to stab.
"You filthy little servants… daring to look at me like that?"
He stepped forward, one slow step at a time.
"Are you bored of life? Or should I slit your throats while you sleep in your cheap little servant quarters?"
The one who slapped him earlier trembled, tears threatening to spill.
"P-please, I—I didn't mean—"
"Veryon Aetherwyn is the Third Prince. Touching my body without permission… is treason against the royal bloodline."
His voice turned sharp, like a blade drawn in the cold.
"I could report you today… and by tomorrow, you'd be executed in the courtyard for crimes against the crown."
The servants dropped to their knees, panicked and pleading like slaves.
And at that moment, Veryon—no, Kael—smiled.
The boy they once spat on now stared down at them like the god of death.
And strangely… they believed it.
The aura was real. The domination absolute.
"Well then," he said softly,
"Let's make a deal."
Late Afternoon, Third Prince's Chamber
The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, casting soft shadows across the marble floor. Veryon lounged on a lavish sofa, dressed in pale purple royal loungewear. Around him, the servants—now fully under his command—stood silently, their faces cautious and alert. The aura of the third prince… had changed completely.
Once, they had treated him like garbage.
Now, they obeyed without question.
Veryon sipped his tea slowly. His gaze was fixed out the window, though his mind was busy calculating his next moves.
"Alright… First, I need to observe the dynamics of this family. I have to see who can be used."
The creak of a door interrupted his thoughts.
"Your Highness… your meal." A female servant entered, giving a short bow. Behind her, two younger maids carried silver trays.
Their eyes were blank. No respect. No fear.
Kael stared at them sharply.
"Have you always acted so carelessly around me?"
The three froze. The lead maid forced a nervous laugh. "O-of course not, Your Highness. We were simply… doing our duties."
Kael stood up. His steps were calm, but his eyes—those of a killer—locked onto them like prey.
"Put down the food. Now get out."
They didn't move.
Kael rolled his wrist, as if preparing to strike. The three quickly bowed and left the room.
The door shut. Silence returned.
"Nobles, huh?" he muttered. "Let's see… just how far I can turn this palace upside down."
A soft knock echoed at the door.
One of his own attendants opened it. The servant he had sent out to gather intel entered with a bowed head, holding a small notebook in his hands.
"Your Highness… as you commanded, I've gathered the information you requested."
"Speak."
Veryon listened closely to the report: the habits of the nobles, the movements of his siblings, and those who held influence within the palace.
"There is also recent news that First Prince Cassian and Second Prince Elric will advance to the next level at the Royal Academy. Prince Cassian is widely known for his brilliance in military strategy and swordsmanship. And the second prince, Elric, possesses extraordinary talent in defensive magic and is no less popular than his older brother. Both are scheduled to return to the palace during next month's holiday to celebrate their promotions."
Veryon leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the table slowly. His expression remained calm, but those eyes—Kael's eyes—were already analyzing.
"And what about Elena?" he asked casually.
"Princess Elena is currently preparing for her coming-of-age ceremony, which will be attended by many prominent nobles. The palace will soon be busy with preparations for the debutante event. That is all, Your Highness."
"Hmm… So the First and Second Princes will return soon, and at the same time as Elena's ceremony? Isn't this a perfect opportunity, hahahaha."
With his cunning mind, Kael immediately recognized this as the perfect moment to unveil the new image of the Third Prince.
The servant who saw the Third Prince's sinister laughter shivered—it was absolutely terrifying.
---
The Next Day – Royal Capital
The royal capital was still cloaked in morning mist. Merchants began opening their stalls, the sound of cart wheels scraped against cobblestones, and the scent of fresh-baked bread wafted through narrow alleys. In the distance, a temple bell chimed gently, marking the passing of the hour.
Veryon—under his new identity as the forgotten third prince—strolled through the city in a black cloak. No one paid him any mind. That worked to his advantage.
He observed the surroundings. Memorized routes, noted guard positions, and identified hidden paths.
In a narrow alley, he heard a commotion. A group of boys surrounded a blond-haired kid who was cornered against a wall.
"Hand over the ring! Filthy little noble brat!"
"Don't touch me!" the boy cried, his voice trembling.
Kael moved swiftly. A small rock flew and struck one of the bullies on the head.
"Leave," he said flatly.
The boys turned to see a stranger with golden hair standing at the alley's entrance.
"Who are you?"
Kael didn't answer. He simply walked closer—slowly. His gaze made them hesitate. Two of them backed away. The rest followed.
Once they fled, the blond boy looked up.
"Th-thank you…"
Veryon simply looked at him and said nothing.
But then, the boy suddenly spoke.
"M-my name is Lucien Arvenhardt."
Instantly, Veryon turned his eyes to the child.
"Arvenhardt?"
"That name… I've heard it. The Arvenhardt family is a powerful noble house close to the royal family, isn't it? Wouldn't he make a fine bait? Let's see."
---
Veryon extended his hand. "Are you alright?"
Lucien nodded.
"In the future, my father will thank you. We live in the western district."
"No need."
"But… I'll make sure my father knows. You saved me."
"Do as you like. You'd better head home—it's dangerous for a kid like you to be wandering around."
In his heart, Lucien couldn't believe he had just been called a kid—by another kid. What a strange boy… but he was grateful nonetheless.
As Kael turned to leave, Lucien suddenly grabbed his hand.
"Wait…"
"What now? Don't tell me you're lost?"
"It's not that… I just want to know your name."
"My name is Veryon."
"Veryon? What's your full name?"
"You sure are full of questions."
Veryon sighed for a moment. "Aetherwyn. Satisfied now?"
Veryon found it strange that the dumb kid suddenly went silent after hearing that.
But a few seconds later…
"Whaaat?! A-Aetherwyn? Th-that's…"
What's with this kid? Yelling like an idiot in public?
"Ugh."
In that moment, Kael realized—he was the Third Prince, and he was supposed to be undercover.
"Damn it."
Veryon bolted from the scene, running as fast as he could to avoid drawing more attention.