The Prodigal Prince - vanish into fiction

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Quilbeon Palace, built during the height of the monarchy centuries ago, overwhelmed Louis with its suffocating grandeur every time he entered.

Even though they were father and son, he had to meet King Gehrt in the audience chamber, like a vassal before his sovereign—not in a drawing room.

King Gehrt lounged in a lazy posture, resting his chin on his hand as if already waiting for the meeting to be over before it had even begun.

Next to him sat Queen Violetta, extravagantly adorned, looking down at Louis. The two thrones placed side by side represented the power of the king and queen.

It was the queen who spoke first.

“You never visit unless you’re summoned. How cold of you.”

Though the words were smoothly spoken, they carried an undercurrent of reproach. She was essentially demanding he bow and scrape before them more often. Louis folded his arms and lowered his posture, offering a respectful bow—a preemptive defense before the real confrontation began.

“I apologize.”

“Do you keep in touch with your sister?”

“I take no news as good news.”

“Tsk.”

With only three of them in the room, Queen Violetta didn’t bother to maintain appearances and clicked her tongue.

Her red lips, painted thickly, closed without bringing up the real issue. She fidgeted with each ring on her fingers, a move clearly meant to draw out time and make him uneasy.

“Dorothea is about to be blamed for something serious. As her brother, you can’t just stand by, can you? Please, step up and help her.”

It was undoubtedly something Dorothea had actually done. She always had. And the scale of her misdeeds had grown dramatically since coming of age.

“If you explain the situation in detail, I’ll try to find a solution.”

Louis lowered his gaze and repeated what he had to say in a flat tone. He had no other option. Saying “no,” shaking his head, or even pausing for clarification—none of it was permitted.

King Gehrt, who had been stroking his short beard the whole time, added a remark, clearly wishing to end this quickly.

“Apparently, civilians ended up in the hunting grounds. Quite a few people were killed.”

A horrific scene immediately flashed through Louis’s mind. He asked for clarification, his voice heavy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.”

Violetta placed a hand on the king’s arm in a surprisingly gentle gesture.

“Oh, Your Majesty… if you say it like that, Louis might get the wrong idea.”

Her refined, noble smile followed. Even while discussing her daughter’s scandal, she remained perfectly elegant—a noblewoman to her core.

Although the public believed she was Louis’s biological mother, the queen was actually his stepmother. She loved only her own daughter. And so, cleaning up Dorothea’s messes had always fallen on him.

He wasn’t allowed to refuse. The queen had leverage over him—

—because of his real mother’s imprisonment.

Violetta, all sweet on the surface, didn’t even try to hide that she saw him as nothing more than an errand boy. Her every polite word was laced with command.

“Dorothea went hunting recently with a friend. It seems the laborers didn’t know hunting had begun and were wandering about… and they got caught in stray fire.”

So she shot someone. If it were that insane girl, it was entirely believable.

“How many casualties?”

“Around ten? I don’t know. Could be more.”

Louis nearly choked. If the queen herself mentioned ten, the real death toll might be several times higher. It was a human hunt in every sense.

In the face of this unprecedented massacre, his voice sank low.

“This won’t be easy to cover up.”

King Gehrt tapped his shoe heel sharply against the floor.

“That’s why we called you. The tabloids are already picking up the scent.”

“If we try to suppress the press recklessly, we’ll face international backlash.”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

The king’s bellow thundered through the room. It was the tone one used for an animal that didn’t understand speech.

Yes—Louis was the king’s dog.

Obedient, trailing the flick of a finger. A beast that might growl but would never bite its master.

Admitting the truth tasted bitter. Even now, Louis, the mutt, couldn’t dodge his master’s coming kick. He accepted King Gehrt’s grumbling without resistance.

“We need to preserve the image that the royal family cherishes its people. Frame what happened in the hunting grounds as an accident.”

“……”

“You handle it. Your reputation is already in the gutter anyway.”

Even when hearing such outrageous words, Louis didn’t bat an eye. He was used to the injustice.

His reputation had been ruined because of Dorothea.

He had gotten tangled up while trying to cover for one of her vulgar parties. The kind of party where she shamelessly slept around was nothing new—but this time, she’d gone as far as involving diplomats from a neighboring country.

And she’d destroyed the rear end of a highly respected noble.