Chapter 01: The Life of Kings.

The year was 2560, a time when the grandeur of monarchies still reigned supreme in select corners of the world. In the heart of a sprawling European town, nestled amidst cobbled streets and towering spires, stood a palace of breathtaking artistry. Its architecture was a marvel of human ingenuity, adorned with intricate carvings and gilded embellishments that caught the light of the late afternoon sun. The palace's towering gates, wrought of iron and gold, opened into sprawling courtyards where fountains whispered secrets to blooming roses.

Inside, the air was tinged with the faint scent of incense, a mark of the palace's timeless opulence. A plush red carpet stretched endlessly down the halls, its fibers muffling the soft steps of a young king. He was a striking figure, his golden hair gleaming like spun sunlight beneath an ornate crown adorned with sapphires. His royal attire, a deep velvet blue accented with golden embroidery, swayed lightly as he moved, his posture composed yet heavy with thought. Behind him, two servants dressed in sleek black uniforms followed in silence, their movements precise and deferential.

The young king's name was Yulion. His sapphire-blue eyes were steady as they scanned the lavish surroundings, yet within them lay a quiet storm of contemplation.

"The life of kings is far from simple," he mused to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint grimace.

"Responsibilities upon responsibilities. If ever given the chance to abandon it all, I would trade this crown for the simplicity of an ordinary life."

---

Yulion entered the royal hall, a vast chamber illuminated by the glow of crystalline chandeliers. Their light danced across marble floors and tall stained-glass windows depicting scenes of his kingdom's storied past. The walls were lined with golden sconces, each holding candles that flickered like stars. Awaiting him was a table of monumental proportions, laden with fine china and an array of beverages. Around it sat a collection of finely dressed individuals, each representing the power and wealth of the neighboring regions.

The nobles rose as he approached, bowing in unison. Their movements were rehearsed, their smiles practiced.

"Welcome, King Yulion," began an older man with a silver beard and piercing eyes. "Thank you for receiving us in your splendid palace."

Yulion inclined his head, a polite yet distant smile gracing his lips. "It is I who should thank you. You have traveled far to strengthen the bonds between our lands and nurture the prosperity of our people."

The room responded with murmurs of approval, yet Yulion's mind wandered. As the meeting unfolded, he sat straight-backed, his expression serene, but within, he bristled at the weight of his role.

"These gatherings," he thought bitterly, "are a theater of endurance. Sit perfectly straight, eat precisely, avoid drinking too much water lest you offend decorum. Every word, every glance is scrutinized. I am not a man; I am a symbol, shackled by expectation."

Since childhood, he had been trained for this, his every action dictated by the needs of the crown. The king sighed inwardly, his thoughts turning wistful. "The only freedom I have is in my dreams, fleeting and intangible. How I yearn to soar unbound, to escape these invisible chains."

---

The meeting drew to a close after hours of tedious debate over trade routes and treaties. One by one, the nobles approached Yulion. The first bowed deeply, the second embraced him warmly, and the third—a spry old man with a mischievous glint in his eye—gripped his hand with surprising vigor.

"How is your father, Your Majesty? Still enjoying retirement, I trust?" the old man asked.

Yulion's smile softened. "He is well. He treasures his time away from the burdens of the throne."

"Good, good." The old man's eyes twinkled. "You know, Your Majesty, you are at a fine age for marriage. I have a daughter—beautiful, accomplished, and of the same age as you. Shall I arrange an introduction?"

Yulion chuckled politely, though his thoughts were far from amused. "The third marriage proposal this week," he reflected. "Do they seek my hand or my treasury?" Out loud, he replied, "Perhaps another time. I thank you for the offer."

As the hall emptied, one of Yulion's servants approached with a leather-bound ledger in hand. "Sire, the Family Code amendments require your signature before tomorrow."

Yulion pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping him. "The headache never ends."

---

Late into the night, after the last document was signed and the palace had grown quiet, Yulion walked alone. The red carpet muffled his footsteps as he passed under flickering candelabras. He stopped by a grand window, its panes revealing a sky scattered with stars. The moon hung low, its light painting the marble floors in silvery hues.

Gazing at the heavens, Yulion murmured, "Would flying in such a vast sky be liberating? Are the stars radiant because they are free? Is the moon beautiful because it belongs to no one?"

The questions hung in the air, unanswered. Yulion's shoulders sagged as he turned away, making his way to his royal chambers. Once inside, he removed his crown, his robes, and his jeweled accessories, leaving them in a careless heap. Donning a simple tunic, he collapsed onto the silken sheets of his grand bed. The ceiling above him was an intricate masterpiece, but his gaze turned inward.

As his eyes closed, a peculiar sound filled his ears. It was faint at first—the rhythmic crashing of waves. His brow furrowed. "Waves? But I've never even seen the sea. Why does this sound feel so familiar?"

The waves grew louder, mingling with the cries of seagulls and the distant hum of voices. Alarmed, Yulion's eyes snapped open, but the sight before him was not his chamber. He blinked, disoriented.

Above him was the endless expanse of a cerulean sky. The scent of salt hung in the air. Before him stood a towering figure, a man with a broad chest, a thick white mustache, and golden hair that shimmered under the sun. The man grinned broadly.

"Well, well, you've finally opened your eyes, kid."

Yulion's voice caught in his throat. He tried to move, but his limbs felt alien, unresponsive. Panic bubbled within him. "What is happening? Where am I?"

Another voice chimed in, this one younger, tinged with disbelief. "Oyaji, don't tell me you're planning to raise him. How are we supposed to feed a kid like that?"

Straining to look, Yulion saw a rotund teenager with messy black hair and a mischievous grin. The boy's words confused him further. "A child? What child?"

The older man reached into a wooden crate and lifted a small bundle. Yulion's breath hitched as he saw it: a baby with golden hair and piercing green eyes.

"That... that can't be me," Yulion thought, terror mingling with disbelief.

The older man laughed heartily, his voice like rolling thunder. "Gurararara! Don't worry about the details. What matters is that a new son has joined my family."

Around them, the deck of a pirate ship bustled with activity. Crew members moved with purpose, their laughter and shouts filling the salty air. Beyond the railings, the ocean stretched endlessly, its waves glinting under the sun.

This was the moment everything changed.