"By the order of His Majesty, the great king of the Concordia Kingdom..."
'Why did this happen?'
"You, Prince Florian Thornfield, are being accused of the crimes of adultery and treason against the nation's crown."
'I did not mean any harm...'
"How do you plead?"
'Does it even matter what I say?'
"...Not guilty," Florian whispered, his voice barely audible as he kept his head bowed. "But that doesn't really matter, does it? I'll be beheaded either way."
The herald paused for a moment before responding, his tone calm yet chilling. "Yes."
Of course. Florian was already bound, kneeling before the citizens of the capital outside the grand Diamond Palace. His eyes, dull and lifeless, stared at the cobblestone ground as the crowd murmured.
"What did he expect? Seducing the king's younger brother... how shameful."
'I didn't mean to.'
"I heard he even tried seducing the king himself."
'I just wanted him to look at me—just once.'
"What a disgusting excuse for a man."
'....'
"He's barely a man. I mean, look at him!"
'....'
"He pleads not guilty? What a bastard."
'....'
"Poor Prince Hendrix. He was beheaded all because of this evil vixen."
'I begged him not to kill Hendrix. I told him it was all my fault, but he didn't listen.'
"Executioner, place this man under the guillotine," the herald commanded.
Cheers erupted, deafening and cruel. Florian's stomach churned at the sound. Were they truly this joyous about his death? Why? He couldn't comprehend it. Yes, he was different—an anomaly due to his biology and gender—but to wish for his death so fervently?
He hadn't even been granted a fair trial, yet no one questioned it.
Well, even if they had, they wouldn't dare defy the word of the great king.
The great and mighty King Heinz Obsidian—the man who murdered his own father to claim the throne at just eighteen. Feared across all kingdoms, guarded by a fierce blue dragon, the only one of its kind.
The man Florian had loved with every fiber of his being.
The cold steel of the guillotine pressed against his neck, and Florian shivered as he lay bound and helpless. His once-defiant eyes were now clouded with sorrow.
The herald's voice echoed through the courtyard, silencing the crowd. "Prince Florian Thornfield, by the order of His Majesty, the great king of the Concordia Kingdom, you are sentenced to death. May your fate serve as a warning to all who would dare defy the crown."
Florian's gaze swept across the gathered faces, lingering on those who had mattered to him.
His servant, Cashew, was openly sobbing, his trembling hands clutching the hem of his shirt as though holding himself back from rushing to the stage. Florian had ordered him not to intervene, and Cashew, loyal to the end, obeyed.
Then there were Lucius and Lancelot—the two men who had vied for his heart. They stood together, for once, their usual rivalry set aside. Despair filled their eyes as they watched helplessly. Florian wondered why he hadn't chosen either of them to love instead of Heinz.
'I wonder if my family even knows... My sister... I haven't seen her in months.'
Regrets clawed at him. They would never leave him now. He would die carrying them all.
If only he had stopped earlier. If only he had stopped loving Heinz.
"Your Majesty," the herald called, his voice cutting through Florian's thoughts.
Florian flinched. He didn't want to look at Heinz, who sat on his gilded throne above the crowd. The king's gaze wandered everywhere but toward Florian, even now.
Flanking him were the princesses—those who basked in Heinz's affection and looked down on Florian with contempt. Some wore masks of indifference; others watched the scene unfold with poorly veiled glee.
"I have nothing more to say to him. Proceed with the execution," Heinz said coldly, his tone devoid of emotion.
Florian's chest tightened, but instead of despair, a sudden burst of laughter escaped him. It was loud and manic, startling the crowd into silence.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Some stared in horror; others in confusion. The princesses exchanged uneasy glances.
"Is something funny?" the herald demanded, visibly disturbed by the prince's behavior.
Florian ignored him, his laughter fading into soft chuckles. His eyes locked on Heinz—always on Heinz. Even now, the king refused to look at him.
"Executioner, do not delay," Heinz ordered sharply. "End this madness."
The executioner adjusted the blade. Florian could feel its sharp edge resting against his skin.
Closing his eyes, he allowed his last thoughts to drift toward the man he had loved so deeply.
"My dearest Heinz, I loved you. From the moment I saw you, I gave you my heart—even when you didn't want it. I endured every rejection, every cruel word, just to stay by your side. I would rather have suffered with you than lived without you. But now..."
Tears streamed down his face as his voice trembled.
"If I could have one wish, it would be to have never loved you at all. Maybe then, we both could have been happy."
For the first time, Heinz's eyes met his. The moment felt eternal—but it was fleeting. The blade fell, swift and merciless.
Florian Thornfield was no more.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"So...?" A hopeful voice broke the silence beside him. Aden slowly looked up, his face contorted in a mixture of horror and disbelief. "What did you think?"
Aden, a 19-year-old college student, sighed deeply and placed his tablet down on the table. "Kaz, how old are you again?"
Kazari—better known as Kaz—tilted her head in confusion. "I'm fourteen. You already know that. Why does it matter?"
Aden pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly disturbed. "This web novel you wrote... is not something a fourteen-year-old should be writing."
Kaz blinked, her expression the picture of innocence. "Huh? What do you mean?"
"Do I really have to spell it out? You know what, fine." Aden grabbed the tablet again, navigating back to the cover of Kaz's novel. He turned the screen toward her, showcasing a provocative image of a barely clothed young man surrounded by four hands.
"First of all," Aden began, his tone exasperated, "this is the cover you chose?"
"Yes, and?" Kaz asked, unfazed.
Aden closed his eyes briefly, resisting the urge to slap his forehead. Instead, he took a calming breath. "This entire novel is smut. Pure, unadulterated, boy-on-boy smut. It's about a depressed boy with unrequited love, sleeping with two other boys who love him but whom he doesn't love back."
"And...?"
"You literally stated in your synopsis that your work is for readers eighteen and above!"
"Okay, an—"
"YOU AREN'T EVEN EIGHTEEN! YOU'RE BARELY A TEENAGER!" Aden's voice escalated, but Kaz, unbothered, took the tablet from his hands and shrugged nonchalantly.
"Most authors writing boy's love smut are underage, so what? Besides, I can make actual money from that app just by writing, and I think my novel is pretty unique."
"Unique?" Aden repeated incredulously. "You think making your male protagonist able to get pregnant without a shred of explanation is unique?"
Kaz's eyes lit up, as if struck by a brilliant idea. "You're right!"
"W-What?"
"You're right! I should explain Florian's backstory and biology better. It doesn't make sense that he's just some random prince who gets thrown into a king's harem because he can get pregnant." Kaz's face grew serious as she started jotting notes on the tablet.
"Florian is from a kingdom where women are the dominant sex and men are the caregivers, so they evolved the ability to get pregnant. Because of that, his father sent Florian to Heinz instead of his sister, who is the future queen of their kingdom..."
Aden stared, utterly speechless, as his little sister ignored his protests and dived deeper into her fictional world.
"Look, big bro," Kaz began, still typing. "I really like my story. It's different, and it's my first one. I didn't show it to you to tell me off—I showed it to you because I can't afford an editor or proofreader. You're a creative writing major, so you're my best option."
"But—"
"Do you think I didn't hesitate before showing this to you? I'm passionate about this story. I planned it from start to finish. Please, just help me make it better."
Then she pulled out her ultimate weapon: puppy dog eyes.
Aden groaned. He could never say no to those eyes, and Kaz knew it. Even without the look, though, he would've come to the same conclusion.
"...Fine," he relented. "I am highly uncomfortable with the fact that you're writing gay smut, and even more so with you making me read it, but..."
Kaz's face lit up. She jumped from her chair and hugged him tightly. "You're the best! I promise you won't regret it!"
"I already regretted it the moment I read it," Aden muttered.
"Oh, shut up! It's a good story with great potential!" Kaz beamed, her arms still wrapped around her sulking brother.
"How humble of you."
Kaz rolled her eyes. "If this story becomes popular and I start earning real money, you'll regret doubting me."
"Sure, sure," Aden replied dismissively.
"Believe me! This series will blow up. They might even make a manga adaptation of it, bro!"
That was what Kaz claimed, but she would soon find out that no one was interested in reading her story, and the only thing it became was Aden's worst nightmare.