How to Live as the Enemy Prince

Rumein was seated in an armchair in his study, perusing through some documents stacked high in front of him and as expected, he also had black hair. 

Rumein looked every bit the perfect kingly figure out of a story book or textbook, the expression on his face was one of careful thought and his eyes held depth. The image reminded Calian of someone else.

‘It’s almost like I’m looking at Randell.’

Not just the blue, distant eyes, but even the facial features and the quiet pressure that he exudes that crushes people into silence. Everything about Randell seemed to resemble Rumein. 

Like Randell, Rumein was also the type to stand by and watch idly.

Despite his quiet strength, he was a heartless king who pretended not to know the true causes of Freya and Calian’s death – that was Calian’s personal opinion of Rumein and his thoughts had yet to change. It didn’t seem like this uncomfortable feeling he felt around Rumein would disappear anytime soon.

Calian struggled to empty his thoughts as he walked to stand before Rumein, he was afraid that his feelings would be easily read in his expressions or words.

By the time he arrived in front of King Rumein, Calian had managed to school his complicated feelings into something more impassive and appeared every bit the perfect prince. He spoke in a clear, quiet voice.

“I greet Your Majesty,”

Rumein set down the papers he was looking at onto the table. Judging by the proximity of his teacup and other stacks of documents, he seemed to have been working at his seat the whole time.

With his hands now free, Calian thought Rumein would finally look up to accept his greeting, however Rumein simply picked up another stack of documents and continued to peruse them as though he had not heard Calian speak. 

‘—Ah?’

Calian’s expression stiffened as he worked to hide his bewilderment. 

Of course, Rumein did not notice, as if, more than Calian’s hardened eyes or his greeting, the documents in his hands were more important. 

“Take a seat,” he said.

Although inappropriate, Calian almost laughed, despite his anger. Rumein’s voice sounded similar to Franz’s, naturally there was a slight difference in tone, but it was what Calian would’ve imagined an older Franz to sound like.

Rumeins’ traits seemed to have been split evenly among his sons.Calian sat across from him, trying to put rest to his conflicting thoughts,

“Congratulations on your 38th birthday,” he said in a subdued voice.

Rumein nodded and answered in a low tone, 

“Yes, thank you.”

After responding in such an emotionless way, Rumein lifted his hand to take a drink from his cup. He seemed quite exhausted.

“Are you doing well?” Rumein asked.

“Yes, your majesty,” Calian answered right away without thinking, “I am doing very well,” 

“Good,” Rumein seemed to be completely unaware of Calian’s frail figure, as if he would know considering he had not looked at Calian once. 

“If anything uncomfortable occurs, tell me.”

Calian’s lip curled to one side, ‘There’s certainly more than one or two things troubling me.’

Should he say that he found it difficult to tolerate the suffocating breakfasts with his other sons? 

That the assassins sent by his wife were likely to come soon? 

Or that he might wither away and die due to an unknown disease?

Perhaps he should tell him that the person inside this body was not actually his son?

Maybe if Calian said any of that, Rumein might actually turn to look his way. 

“I am doing well,” In the end, Calian repeated his same insincere answer, and Rumein nodded, their conversation was nothing more than a decoration.

Now he understood. Understood why it was quicker for the King to see three sons individually than seeing his three sons together at once.

It was because Rumein couldn’t act so carelessly with three people sitting in front of him. How much more efficient it was that he only had to briefly open his mouth while working?

‘He thinks it a waste of time to simply spend just five minutes with his son.’ During the conversation, Rumein continued to press a hand to his forehead, his eyes glued to the documents. 

Calian could not stop the bitterness welling up from him.

He couldn’t even remember what they talked about after that and thought it was not worth remembering either. Their conversation lasted exactly five minutes and soon Calian was once again climbing back into his carriage. 

“It would have been better if I had just said ‘It is a pleasure to meet you’ or something,” 

Yan smiled quietly. He did not know what happened in the office, but he knew of the way Rumein treated his sons.

The carriage set off, and it was not long before it stopped in front of Chermil Palace. Calian stepped out of the carriage, looked around and took in a deep breath. The lake was rippling under the wind.

“There is a little time until 10 o’clock, would you like to take a walk, your highness?” Yan said, reading Calian’s frustrated expression. Calian nodded gratefully. 

Calian walked the grounds alone after Yan departed. He slowly paced around the lake, then went to the rose garden, where to his surprise he found a mound of black soil. Calian tilted his head.

‘Who’s in the garden on a day like this?’

Calian walked towards it in curiosity then quickly stopped, noticing Randell’s presence there.