Five months ago
The Royal Family sat together in the grand dining hall of the palace, enjoying a lavish meal beneath golden chandeliers.
Josef, the king, set down his wine glass and turned to his eldest son. "Is everything going well with your research, son?"
Hans nodded. "Yes, Father. The project's development is progressing daily."
Before the conversation could continue, Queen Hilda interrupted. "Must we discuss royal business at the dining table?"
Hans sighed. "Apologies, Mother."
The room fell into silence. The butlers stood at attention nearby, awaiting any command from the family.
Trying to shift the mood, Hilda turned to the younger children. "Now, Gerta, Conrad—how was school? Wasn't it fun being around other kids?"
Gerta beamed. "I loved it, Mother! I made new friends, and they were really fun!"
Hilda smiled. "That's wonderful! And you, Conrad? Did you make any friends?"
"I don't know if I did," Conrad replied flatly, poking at his plate.
"What do you mean?" Hilda frowned, concern creeping into her voice.
"They're only friends with me because I'm the prince. They care more about what I have than who I am."
Hilda studied him carefully. "That's interesting… Have you tried presenting yourself differently?"
"What do you mean?" Conrad asked.
"You could change the way you carry yourself around them. Maybe wear the same clothes they do? Blend in more?"
Josef scoffed. "So, you want him to change who he is just to please commoners?"
"Darling, that's not what I'm saying. Listen, Conrad—the reason they treat you differently is because you present yourself as The Prince of Algoria. If you approach them as just Conrad, as one of them, you might find people who appreciate you for you."
Josef shook his head. "I don't think any of my children should lower themselves to commoners."
"I agree with Father," Conrad said firmly. "Why should I belittle myself for people beneath me?"
Hans, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "I have to agree with Mother on this one. She has a point. Besides, understanding how people outside the palace live might help with your social skills."
Hilda nodded approvingly. "Exactly! Look at your sister—she's made friends because she doesn't remind them she's royalty every second."
Josef and Conrad exchanged glances but chose not to argue further.
After finishing his meal, Hans excused himself and headed to the study.
As Conrad made his way to his room, he passed Gerta's door and heard excited chatter. Curious, he pushed the door open.
"OH!" Gerta gasped at the sudden intrusion. "Big Brother!"
Conrad blinked. "Who are you talking to?"
"Mr. Cuddles," she said cheerfully, holding up a stuffed bear. "I'm having a tea party!"
Conrad stared at the toy and turned to leave without another word.
"Wait," Gerta called. "You can join me if you want?"
Conrad paused, glancing at the tiny table filled with stuffed animals.
"It's okay if you don't want to," she added quickly.
"...No. I'll join you."
Gerta gasped, eyes widening in surprise. "Really?! Awesome!!"
Before Conrad could change his mind, she grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the table.
"Don't think I'll be doing this again," Conrad grumbled.
Gerta didn't care. She gleefully rearranged the dolls, making sure they had seats, before ordering Conrad to take one himself.
As the tea party began, Conrad watched his sister closely. She was beaming—her happiness radiating through the room. For the first time in months, he felt something stir within him.
It reminded him of when Hans used to play with him when they were younger, before his brother became king. Those moments had faded, their bond growing distant. He didn't want Gerta to experience that same loss.
She deserved more than that.
"Okay, now it's time for you to go to bed," Conrad finally announced.
"Aww, it's too early," Gerta whined.
"Nope, it's bedtime." Conrad chuckled.
"Fine! But you have to tell me a bedtime story."
"Deal. But only if you go to sleep right after."
Without warning, Conrad picked her up and dropped her onto the bed. He pulled the blankets over her and grabbed a chair, preparing himself to tell a story.
He spoke softly, weaving words into a tale that soon lulled her to sleep.
Once her breathing became slow and steady, Conrad leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Goodnight, little one," he whispered before quietly leaving the room.
Instead of heading straight to bed, Conrad decided to visit Hans. He stepped into the study and found his older brother absorbed in research displayed on an artifact.
Hans didn't even look up. "You should be asleep, brother."
Conrad blinked. "How do you always know when I enter the room?"
Hans smirked but continued reading.
"I just finished telling Gerta a story," Conrad said, "and it made me feel nostalgic… so I came to check on you."
Hans chuckled and finally turned his attention to his younger brother. "That so?"
"Yeah. It's been a while since we really talked." Conrad scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before wandering the study, examining the documents Hans had scattered across the desk.
"Brother, why are you so interested in commoners? And why do you insist we should be on equal ground with them? We're royalty. We'll never be the same as them."
Hans studied Conrad carefully before finally answering.
"Because," he said simply, "I want to change the world."
Conrad froze.
Something about those words sent a chill through him.
"Change... the world?"
Hans smiled knowingly.
"You still don't understand, do you?"
Conrad furrowed his brows. "That doesn't explain how we're supposed to be equal with commoners."
Hans leaned back. "Do you remember my speech on the day I became king?"
"Yeah… You said you were bringing the world to Algoria."
"Exactly. And not just that—I want to bring us and the world together. I'll start with the youth, and I'll expand beyond that!"
Hans's voice carried conviction, a vision greater than Conrad could grasp.
"In the future, brother, Algoria will be the world."
Conrad stared at him.
"The world…" he whispered.
...
Conrad lay in bed, shifting from one position to another, but no matter what, the conversation he had with Hans played on a loop in his mind.
(He wants the world, huh?)
Annoyed by his own restlessness, he pushed off the covers, climbed out of bed, and walked to the window. His eyes scanned the city, its vastness stretching out beneath him. From here, it looked different—almost… mesmerizing.
Curious about Hans's ambition, he grabbed a thick black coat, threw it over his shoulders, and without hesitation, leaped from the window. He bounced off ledges and rooftops, landing roughly on the ground outside.
Avoiding the main gates, he slipped into the backwoods, maneuvering past the castle's security with practiced stealth. Every movement was precise, silent, his training kicking in.
(Thank you for the stealth lessons, brother.)
As one of the guards turned in his direction, Conrad froze, pressing himself against the shadows. The man hesitated for a second before shrugging it off—mistaking the flutter of Conrad's coat for a stray forest creature.
A smirk tugged at Conrad's lips.
Once clear of the perimeter, he sprinted through the woods, weaving between towering trees and vaulting over thick mangrove branches.
The deeper he ran, the brighter the city lights became. Music swelled, growing louder with each step—a clear signal that he was getting close.
Branches slapped against his arms, his path growing dense with vegetation, forcing him to wrestle through the undergrowth like a man forcing his way through a packed crowd.
Then—he broke through the brush.
The city stood before him, alive with movement and color.
The first thing that caught his eye was a bar.
Baby Blues.
The neon pink sign blazed above the entrance, posters of music events and entertainment promotions plastered across the walls. Among them, a firm warning stood out in bold red: "No form of abuse will be tolerated."
He moved past it, walking aimlessly through the streets, observing.
At first, the city seemed to belong to the older crowd—women and men deep in conversation, their interactions unlike anything Conrad was used to.
For him, conversations were always formal, even among family. Etiquette shaped every exchange.
But here?
Here, people spoke without rigid constraints. Their words flowed freely, their laughter boomed uninhibited.
It seemed disrespectful at first.
But the more he watched, the more he realized something else—
They were enjoying themselves.
They were bonding.
Not through forced civility, not through obligation or hierarchy—just through the simple act of human connection.
Even though Conrad resisted the thought at first, he slowly acknowledged something unsettling.
They weren't bound by formalities, yet their relationships felt… healthier.
"Aren't you too young to be here?"
The unexpected voice startled Conrad.
He turned to find a young man standing behind him.
"Mind your business, peasant!" Conrad snapped instinctively—then instantly regretted it.
Damn it.
The insult was careless. He was sure his identity had been exposed.
The man blinked, then scoffed. "Peasant?! I—I assure you, young prince, I'm no peasant!"
Conrad's heart lurched.
Then—he realized something.
The man was drunk.
A deep sigh of relief escaped him as he stepped back, now fully registering the pungent scent of alcohol.
"My… okay… okay…" The man squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stabilize himself. After a moment, he reopened them and continued, "My name's Ian, by the way! Wha—what's yours?"
His words slurred, his body swayed as though he was fighting gravity.
Conrad hesitated. What name do I give him?
"...Coman."
Ian squinted. "Li—Like the… like the warrior?"
Before Conrad could answer, Ian lost his footing and crashed onto the road. Conrad instinctively reached out, but it was too late.
Ian landed with a groan.
Instead of helping him up, Conrad just stared.
"You know Conan the warrior?"
"He's like… the only man to… beat a dragon with no unco, duhhh."
Conrad smirked. "Well… he was my cousin."
Ian's face lit up.
"Wow!!! I got—"
And then he threw up.
Conrad recoiled.
Panicked, he crouched, quickly attempting to help.
"I'm… good, I'm good…" Ian muttered weakly. Then, out of nowhere, he grinned. "H-hey, I have an idea. You wait here—I'll be right back!"
Conrad waited.
As time passed, he noticed how the streets had grown quieter, deserted compared to earlier.
Finally, Ian returned—barely able to carry six pints of rum.
"TA-DAHHHH!!!" he declared, plopping down beside Conrad. He lined up the drinks, grabbed one, then nudged Conrad toward another.
"Now you pick one."
"No, thank you."
"Come on, warrior! Do it for me, your brother Ian!"
Conrad hesitated before finally picking up a pint.
Ian raised his drink, waiting for Conrad to match his motion. Their glasses clicked together, and Ian took a sip. He glanced expectantly at Conrad, motioning for him to do the same.
After several moments of hesitation, Conrad took a small sip.
He blinked.
It tasted… better than expected.
Ian gave him a thumbs-up.
Then—
"Wait… what exactly are we celebrating?" Conrad asked.
Ian paused. "What do you mean?"
"We clicked glasses. That's a sign of celebration, right?"
Ian's drunken brain processed the thought. Then—
"You're right!" He beamed. "I got it! Let's celebrate your cousin, man!"
Conrad raised a brow. "...My cousin?"
"Coman the warrior! He deserves a celebration!"
Conrad laughed.
With no objections, the two drank in honor of the legendary warrior.
Over a single drink, a bond formed—unexpected yet effortless.
For Conrad, it felt like he had found a long-lost friend, someone whose presence filled a void he didn't even realize existed.
He spoke about things he wouldn't even tell Hans.
In Ian, he found the older brother he needed in that moment.
And, perhaps most importantly—he finally understood Hans's philosophy.
His brother hadn't changed.
He had always been the same.
The only thing that had evolved was his aim.
And now, Conrad understood why Hans wanted the world.