Alice was grounded.
Not in the you're-a-prince-and-this-is-a-serious-punishment way, but more like a you're-stuck-in-your-room-until-you-learn-some-responsibility way. Which, let's be honest, probably wouldn't change anything.
Lizzy, on the other hand, had thrown herself into embroidery and socializing events, because apparently that was a thing noble ladies enjoyed. Kun personally thought it sounded worse than Alice's punishment.
And Kun?
Kun was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him.
Stare.
Stare.
And stare—
Sigh.
"I don't understand."
Kun mumbled, absentmindedly touching the graze on his neck.
The words kept echoing in his mind.
"Do you like your throne?"
Kun frowned. "Why don't… I remember anything?"
Another sigh.
This was getting frustrating.
Before he could sink further into his existential crisis, a sharp knock at the door dragged him back to reality.
Knock. Knock.
His thoughts screeched to a halt. He blinked.
"Who is it?" he mumbled, forcing himself up and shuffling toward the door.
Kun barely cracked it open—just enough to peek outside.
What he saw made him freeze.
A group of attendants. A lot of attendants. Standing in eerie, disciplined silence. Behind them? Knights. And at the very front, a woman holding a carefully folded outfit on a red silk pillow, complete with polished royal boots.
Kun's eyes slowly narrowed.
He looked left.
Then right.
Why the hell were there so many of them?
An awkward silence stretched between them.
"...What do you want?" Kun asked, his voice cautious.
No one answered. They just stood there like well-dressed statues.
Then, finally, a man stepped forward. He had a royal badge pinned to his chest—the King's personal assistant.
"We are here to inform you that you have been invited to tonight's royal celebration," the man announced. "We are to prepare you—head to toe."
Kun blinked.
"Huh?"
The man ignored his confusion and clapped his hands.
That was all it took.
Suddenly, the attendants rushed forward.
"W-Wait—hold on—!"
Kun barely had time to react before he was lifted off the ground.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
He flailed, but it was useless. The attendants carried him with purpose, marching into his room like a well-organized invasion force.
One grabbed his wrist, another his hair, a third was already inspecting his boots in disapproval.
His protests were completely ignored as the attendants worked at an alarming speed. Clothes were stripped, fabric was measured, and someone was definitely trying to put scented oil in his hair.
"Hold his arms."
"His hair needs more volume."
A bucket of warm water was dumped over his head.
Kun sputtered.
- - -
Kun had been through a lot in his life. Fights. Surviving as a stray. Getting thrown in a dungeon. Almost being accused of being in league with demons.
But this?
This was true horror.
A brush yanked through his hair. Water was dumped over his head. Fabrics were measured, stitched, and pressed against his body at an alarming speed.
At one point, someone even powdered his face.
"STOP THAT!" Kun spluttered, waving his hands wildly as he dodged a puff of perfumed powder. "I'M NOT SOME PORCELAIN DOLL!"
"Please hold still, young master," one of the attendants said calmly, as if they weren't currently holding him hostage with grooming tools.
"LET ME GO!"
They did not let him go.
Instead, they strapped him into what felt like ten layers of clothing. He tugged at the stiff collar, scowling. "Why is this so tight?! I can barely breathe!"
One of the attendants smiled. "It's fashion, young master."
"It's suffocation."
"Elegantly so."
Kun groaned. He turned to the King's assistant, who stood in the corner supervising the madness.
"Why do I have to go to this stupid event anyway?"
The man barely blinked. "His Majesty insists."
That wasn't an answer. That was a threat.
Kun gritted his teeth. "But why me? I'm not even a noble. I don't—"
"You are to be officially introduced as a member of House Ravencourt," the man cut in smoothly. "It is a significant event. A royal celebration is the perfect occasion."
Kun froze.
His mind raced. This… this was really happening? The King was serious about adopting him?
A strange weight settled in his chest.
But before he could even begin to process it, he was suddenly shoved in front of a mirror.
The attendants stepped back, admiring their work.
Kun blinked.
The boy in the mirror did not look like him.
His usual rough appearance was replaced by crisp, elegant attire—deep navy and silver, the colors of House Ravencourt. The tailored coat fit snugly, embroidered with intricate patterns that shimmered under the light. His once-messy hair had been carefully combed and styled, though a few stubborn strands still refused to behave.
Even his boots looked expensive.
Kun stared.
"This is so weird," he muttered.
"Your attire is perfect," the assistant declared, nodding in approval. "His Majesty will be pleased."
Kun scowled, crossing his arms. "Well, I'm not pleased."
The assistant didn't react. "Now, you're ready for the party."
Kun groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back. "Kill me now."
One of the attendants beamed. "You'll do just fine!"
Kun had never wanted to jump out of a window more in his life.
- - -
By the time they arrived at the grand ballroom, Kun had already made three failed escape attempts.
Unfortunately, the knights assigned to him were very good at their job.
The ballroom was massive, glittering with chandeliers and filled with nobles in extravagant gowns and suits. The scent of expensive wine and roses filled the air. Musicians played a soft, elegant tune in the background.
It was all very overwhelming.
Kun shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to pull at his stiff collar.
Alice spotted him immediately and grinned. "Kun! You actually cleaned up well!"
Kun shot him a glare. "Shut up."
Lizzy appeared next to Alice, holding a glass of champagne. She gave Kun a once-over and smirked.
"Not bad. You almost look like you belong here."
"Almost?" Kun repeated dryly.
Lizzy took a sip. "The scowl ruins it."
Kun rolled his eyes.
Before he could respond, a hush fell over the ballroom.
The grand double doors swung open, and the King entered.
Dressed in deep crimson robes lined with gold, he exuded effortless authority. The air in the room practically shimmered with his presence. Nobles bowed. Servants stilled. Even the chandeliers seemed to twinkle a little extra in respect.
Kun swallowed hard.
Oh, great.
The King's sharp gaze landed directly on him.
"Kun of House Ravencourt," he declared, his voice smooth yet commanding. "Step forward."
Kun's stomach twisted.
Alice leaned in and whispered, "Go on. Try not to embarrass yourself."
Kun shot him a glare that promised violence and forced himself to move.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
Then—
Oh no.
His boot somehow got caught on his own other boot (or maybe the floor just had a personal vendetta against him), and in front of every noble in existence, he tripped.
Not just a little stumble. Oh no.
A full-on, arms-flailing, gravity-defying, why-is-this-happening-to-me trip.
For one glorious second, he was airborne.
Then—
THUD.
The entire ballroom went silent.
Alice let out the loudest, most dramatic facepalm in history.
Lizzy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "What a klutz."
Somewhere in the crowd, someone choked on their champagne.
Kun wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Maybe he could just live underground like a mole. That seemed preferable to this.
A heavy silence lingered until the King—who, to his credit, barely reacted—cleared his throat.
Kun scrambled to his feet, face burning, and speed-walked the rest of the way, pretending like none of that had happened.
(Everyone knew it happened.)
Once he finally reached the King, he bowed stiffly. "Your Majesty."
The King studied him for a long moment before speaking.
"You wear the colors of Ravencourt now," he said, voice even. "Do they feel heavy?"
Kun hesitated.
What was he supposed to say? That the coat felt like it was trying to strangle him? That he'd rather be wearing his old, comfortable, not-death-by-suffocation clothes?
Or, perhaps, the deeper answer—the weight of expectations, duty, and a name that was never his?
Kun, being Kun, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"...A little. Mostly the collar."
The King just sighed.
Alice and Lizzy, standing off to the side, were watching like entertained spectators at a theater. Alice smirked. "Maybe they should've given him armor instead. Would've been less of a trip hazard."
Lizzy sighed. "No, he'd just trip louder."
Kun internally screamed.
Then, the King turned to the gathered nobles.
"Tonight, we do not simply celebrate the season of love," he declared. "We celebrate new bonds. New beginnings."
His gaze flickered back to Kun.
"Welcome home, Kun."
A murmur spread through the ballroom. Some nobles whispered, some looked surprised, others… wary.
Kun's hands curled into fists.
This was real.
This was happening.
He wasn't just a stray anymore.
But as he stood there, surrounded by gold and grandeur, one thought whispered at the back of his mind—
Then why do I still feel like one?
—
"Alright," Alice whispered later, nudging Kun with a smirk. "Now that the formal stuff is over, let's get to the fun part."
Kun raised a brow. "There's a fun part?"
Lizzy smiled sweetly. "Oh yes."
Before Kun could react, Alice shoved him forward—right onto the dance floor.
Kun stumbled, barely catching himself. "What the—!?"
A young noblewoman in an elegant gown turned to him, smiling politely. "Would you care to dance?"
Kun blinked.
He turned to Alice and Lizzy, who stood at the edge of the floor, grinning like idiots.
"You two planned this, didn't you?" Kun accused.
Alice grinned. "Oh, absolutely."
Lizzy took another sip of champagne. "Consider it your official noble initiation."
Kun let out a long, suffering sigh.