Unwanted Throne

The first night Evan stayed in the Empress's Palace, he didn't sleep on the bed.

Diana had ordered the servants to prepare a warm, comfortable room for him—soft pillows, thick blankets, even a small fireplace to keep the cold away.

But when Ellise went to check on him in the morning, she found the bed untouched.

Instead, Evan was curled up in the corner of the room, knees tucked against his chest, his thin arms wrapped around his legs.

His golden eyes were open, dull and wary.

He hadn't slept at all.

And when she took a cautious step forward—

He flinched.

Ellise's heart clenched.

She lowered herself slowly, keeping her voice gentle. "Young Master Evan, the bed is much warmer than the floor."

Evan didn't respond.

He just stared at her hands.

Ellise hesitated before carefully reaching out—

Evan's entire body tensed.

The moment her fingers got too close, he jerked away, his breathing shallow, his small hands trembling slightly.

Ellise withdrew immediately.

She smiled softly, pretending not to notice. "Breakfast will be ready soon. Prince Lucien is waiting for you."

Evan blinked.

Lucien.

He hesitated before nodding slightly.

Ellise exhaled in relief.

At least, he was responding.

It was a start.

Lucien had been waiting impatiently at the table, swinging his short legs under the chair.

The moment he saw Evan, his gray eyes lit up. "Brother!"

Evan stiffened.

Lucien jumped down from his seat and ran over, reaching for Evan's hand.

Evan instinctively pulled back.

Lucien froze.

Evan's hands clenched.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then—

Lucien smiled.

Not the usual bright, excited grin—

But something softer.

Something understanding.

He lowered his hand.

Instead, he turned and walked ahead.

"Come on, Brother Evan! The food's really good!"

Evan hesitated before following him.

The meal was warm.

There was freshly baked bread, soft eggs, fruit, and warm milk.

Lucien eagerly reached for a piece of bread, taking a big bite.

Evan sat stiffly beside him, his posture straight, his hands unmoving.

Lucien chewed happily. "You don't like bread?"

Evan shook his head.

Lucien tilted his head. "Then what do you like?"

Evan opened his mouth—then stopped.

What did he like?

For a long time, he never had the chance to choose.

Lucien watched him before smiling again. "Then try everything! That way, you'll know!"

Evan blinked.

Lucien grabbed a fork and stabbed a piece of soft omelet.

Then he carefully placed it on Evan's plate. "Here! This one is really fluffy!"

Evan hesitated before finally picking up his fork.

He took a small bite.

Warm. Soft.

…Good.

Lucien beamed. "See? It's nice, right?"

Evan swallowed and nodded slightly.

Lucien looked so proud, as if he was the one who cooked it.

Evan didn't understand why—

But for some reason, his chest felt warm.

Lucien never gave up.

Every time he saw Evan, he called him brother.

He talked endlessly, telling stories, showing books, dragging Evan to see the gardens.

He never forced him to speak.

Never asked too many questions.

He just stayed.

And—

He reached out.

Not physically—

But in small ways.

One afternoon, Lucien brought two blankets into Evan's room.

Evan stared at him.

Lucien grinned. "I always use two blankets! One isn't enough!"

Then, without waiting for permission, he draped the second blanket over Evan's shoulders.

It was warm.

Evan's hands gripped the edges tightly.

Lucien just smiled and flopped onto the bed.

"Good night, Brother Evan!"

Evan sat there for a long time, staring at the blanket in his hands.

He didn't understand why Lucien did these things.

But…

It wasn't bad.

One evening, Diana came to check on them.

She found Evan standing in the hallway, frozen.

Lucien was holding out his hand.

"Come on, Brother! Let's play in the courtyard!"

Evan's fingers twitched.

His body knew what to do.

Run. Hide. Pull away.

But Lucien was just standing there, waiting patiently, his small hand open, his gray eyes soft.

Not demanding.

Not forcing.

Just waiting.

Evan stared.

Slowly—

He reached out.

His fingertips brushed against Lucien's.

Lucien grinned.

And just like that—

He pulled Evan forward, laughing as they ran outside together.

Diana smiled softly.

It was slow.

It was fragile.

But—

It was progress.

*****

Lucius sighed.

Then sighed again.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he watched the two brats sitting across from him.

Lucien, his official student, was sprawled over the desk, chin resting on his arms, his gray eyes sparkling mischievously. The little prince had an innocent face—but Lucius knew better. That child was anything but innocent.

And then, there was Evan.

Unlike Lucien, Evan sat perfectly straight, posture stiff but not unnatural. His golden eyes flickered over the book in front of him, absorbing every word with terrifying speed.

Lucius sighed again.

"Monsters," he muttered under his breath.

Lucien perked up. "What?"

"Nothing."

Lucius glanced at the notes in front of him.

It had only been a week since Evan started learning under him.

And already, the boy had mastered basic reading and writing.

Not just that—he had grasped history, politics, and strategy at a level far beyond his years.

It was absurd.

He had seen geniuses before—Diana was one, Cassian was another, and even Lucien had a terrifying talent for magic.

But Evan?

Evan was different.

Lucius suspected it was because the boy had spent his whole life watching.

Observing.

Memorizing everything, because he had to.

Because in the world he came from, knowledge meant survival.

And now, he was applying that same desperate skill to learning.

Lucius almost pitied the future nobles who would have to deal with him.

Almost.

"Teacher."

Lucius blinked.

Evan rarely spoke on his own.

He usually only answered when asked a question.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Evan hesitated, then looked at Lucien. "What do you want to do in the future?"

Lucien, who had been doodling in his notes, paused.

He looked up, blinking his big, gray eyes. "Huh?"

"What do you want to do when you grow up?" Evan clarified.

Lucien pouted, clearly never having thought too deeply about it.

He twirled his quill between his fingers. "A magician, of course!"

Lucius wasn't surprised.

Lucien was already showing immense talent in magic, even without formal training.

But Evan didn't react to the answer.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "Then… what should I do?"

Lucien frowned. "You?"

Evan nodded.

Lucien tapped his cheek in thought, then grinned. "Then you should be my magician assistant!"

Lucius scoffed.

"Idiot. Magicians don't need assistants."

Lucien pouted. "Then what should he be?"

Lucius turned to Evan. "What do you want to do?"

Evan was silent for a long moment.

Then, softly, he said—

"I want to be someone who can help Lucien."

Lucius stilled.

Lucien blinked.

Evan's fingers curled slightly on his lap. "Lucien is… the Empress's son."

Lucien nodded. "Yeah?"

Evan glanced at him.

Then, at Lucius.

Then, back at his book.

"If the Empress becomes stronger… then one day, Lucien will be Emperor."

Lucien froze.

Lucius barely held back a laugh.

Evan was sharp.

Too sharp.

He already understood that Diana's influence was growing.

And that the stronger Diana became, the closer Lucien got to the throne.

Lucien, meanwhile, looked horrified.

"Me?" he squeaked. "Emperor?!"

Evan nodded. "It's possible."

Lucien turned to Lucius for help. "Teacher! Say something!"

Lucius merely shrugged.

Evan wasn't wrong.

If Diana kept making enemies, someone would eventually try to put Lucien on the throne—either to control him or to oppose him.

Lucien groaned and buried his face in his hands. "No way… that sounds like so much work…"

Evan tilted his head. "Then… what will you do if it happens?"

Lucien hesitated.

Then, softly, he admitted—

"I don't want it."

Lucius watched him carefully.

He expected Lucien to say that.

The child had no ambition for the throne.

He just wanted to live peacefully with his mother.

But peace was rare in the imperial family.

Evan seemed to understand that.

Lucien, however, did not.

He was still too young, too naive, too focused on his immediate happiness.

He had a great knack for manipulating people—his big, pitiful eyes could make even Lucius feel guilty sometimes.

But he didn't truly understand politics yet.

Evan did.

And that was dangerous.

Lucius sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, whether you want it or not, people will try to push you toward it."

Lucien groaned. "Ugh…"

Evan was still watching him closely.

Then, very softly, he said—

"If you don't want it… I will protect you."

Lucien froze.

Lucius raised an eyebrow.

Lucien lifted his head, staring at Evan. "Huh?"

Evan's golden eyes were serious.

"If you don't want the throne," he said, "then I will make sure no one can force you to take it."

Lucius almost whistled.

For a seven-year-old, Evan was far too perceptive.

Lucien blinked rapidly. "You mean… you'll be my knight?"

Evan tilted his head slightly. "Something like that."

Lucien grinned and grabbed Evan's hands. "Then it's a promise!"

Evan stiffened slightly at the touch—then slowly nodded.

Lucius exhaled.

This brat…

Lucien didn't realize it, but he had just gained a terrifyingly loyal shadow.

And Evan—

He had just tied his fate to Lucien's.

Lucius clicked his tongue.

Monsters. Both of them.