The Fragile Thread of Life

“Why on earth have you changed so much?”

The Emperor’s face was etched with genuine curiosity, as if he were studying a rare specimen. It was understandable. Until now, I had been the “Mad Dog” of the palace—a lunatic who would throw a violent tantrum even in front of the Emperor himself.

It was only natural for him to be bewildered.

‘But I can’t exactly tell you the truth.’

If I confessed that the memories of my past life had suddenly surged back, I’d likely be branded a madman and locked away in a spire. I had to offer a plausible excuse.

“I simply wish to demonstrate the magnanimity of the Imperial House.”

“The Crown Prince… showing mercy?”

The Emperor didn’t fully cast off his suspicions, but seeing the intrigue in his eyes, it didn’t seem like he intended to interfere.

The Empress, on the other hand, appeared quite moved by my words. She likely believed her delinquent son had finally come to his senses and matured.

In reality, the “Mad Dog” was still alive inside me; it was simply being suppressed by the weight of my past-life memories.

Having concluded my business, I bid farewell to the Emperor and Empress and returned to my palace. Chase must have been watching from the window, for he came running toward the lobby the moment I stepped inside.

“Y-You’ve returned.”

“I have.”

Chase stuck close to my side. It was strange; only a few days ago, I was the half-brother who had tormented him relentlessly. Yet, instead of fearing or hating me, he seemed to find me more familiar than the strangers surrounding him.

I led Chase into my chambers. Now that I had the Emperor’s permission regarding his fate, I intended to tell him the news.

“I met with His Majesty today.”

Chase inhaled sharply at my opening. His face paled instantly. “Was… was His Majesty very angry?” he stammered.

A small laugh escaped me. The Emperor and I didn’t share the kind of “soft” relationship where we worried about each other’s feelings. We were nothing like Chase and Consort Dahlia. Dahlia had tried to kill me for Chase’s sake, but even if the roles were reversed, the Emperor wouldn’t lift a finger for me.

“Your sentence has been decided. His Majesty has left your fate entirely in my hands. As I mentioned yesterday, you will lose your title as Prince and be demoted to a commoner.”

“Ah…”

“Even so, you are not permitted to leave. Since you might be exploited by others, I intend to keep you by my side under my supervision.”

Even at the blunt declaration that I would be monitoring him, Chase didn’t flinch. He simply accepted it with a quiet, “I see.”

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should mention Consort Dahlia, but decided it was better he knew.

“Regarding Consort Dahlia…”

“…”

“I do not know if this will bring you any peace, but I have requested that her end be as painless as possible.”

Chase dropped his head. His hands, resting on his knees, clenched into tight fists. After a long silence, he whispered a soft “Thank you.”

He looked as if he were on the verge of breaking into tears. It occurred to me that I should let him say his final goodbyes. Perhaps it was pity for a child about to lose both parents at such a young age—or perhaps it was because I, too, had known the pain of loss in my previous life.

“Do you wish to see your mother?”

Chase couldn’t answer immediately. He knew she was a criminal, which made the request heavy. Eventually, however, he gave a small nod.

I summoned the people outside and pointed to one of my personal knights.

“Sir Knight, escort Chase to the dungeons to meet with Consort Dahlia.”

“Pardon? But… she is a high criminal, Your Highness.”

The knight glanced down at Chase. Since the Imperial decree hadn’t been officially announced yet, the knight still viewed Chase as a sinner as well. Seeing his hesitation, I spoke again.

“It is fine.”

And it truly was. Unless Dahlia had completely lost her mind, she wouldn’t harm Chase, nor would she blurt out the truth about his biological father. She was currently trembling in fear; she would realize that if Chase knew his very existence was a deception against the throne, he would be even more terrified. Dahlia was smart enough to know that.

When I repeated the order, the knight accepted it with a stiff expression. As Chase followed the knight out, a complex swirl of emotions crossed his face—joy at the thought of seeing his mother, mixed with confusion as to why I was doing this for him.

He didn’t take his eyes off me until the door finally closed.

“Haa.”

Now, I had done everything I could. I had pushed my sickly body way too far. Telling the staff I was resting, I collapsed onto the bed. It was finally over. I drifted into a deep, dark sleep.

[Chase’s Perspective]

To Chase, the Crown Prince was the most cruel and terrifying person he knew. His violence was frightening, but the thought of his mother finding out about that violence was even worse.

‘Because I am… incomplete.’

Because he was a “half-wit” royal without a single awakened power. His mother had left her homeland and lived only for him; he was terrified of disappointing her by being so lacking.

It wasn’t that his mother had ever said such things to him. He was simply projecting his own fears.

But eventually, his mother did witness the abuse, and upon discovering how long it had been going on, her reaction was something he never could have predicted.

‘To think she tried to poison the Crown Prince.’

He just hadn’t wanted to disappoint her. He just hadn’t wanted to be hated. He was devastated that the result of those simple feelings was the impending death of both his mother and himself.

Where did it go wrong? Was it when he got caught being hit? Was it when he endured the Prince’s violence in silence? Or was it…

‘The moment I was born?’

When he heard his mother had poisoned the Prince, a sense of grim inevitability washed over him. He had always figured he would eventually be killed by the Crown Prince anyway. But knowing his mother had committed such a sin for his sake filled him with crushing guilt.

“…I’m hungry.”

After his mother was taken away, the people in his palace vanished one by one. No one wanted to be caught near a sinking ship. The knights remained, but they weren’t there to protect him—they were there to guard a prisoner. He couldn’t even go to another palace to beg for food.

Chase survived day by day by filling his stomach with water. Is this how I die? By starving? He thought it might be better than the gallows or the guillotine. He hated pain.

He was starving in his room when, one day, the Crown Prince arrived.

He came with a massive retinue, and Chase was certain the Prince had come to execute him. He was paralyzed with fear.

But the Crown Prince didn’t kill him. He even made him a meal.

“Do you want to live?”

When the Prince asked that, Chase felt his breath hitch. But in those eyes, there was no murderous intent, no malice—nothing negative at all.

“If I say I want to live… will you let me?”

The words were a gamble. He feared the Prince might say “no” and kill him on the spot, or mock him for wanting to live while his mother was a criminal.

But contrary to his fears, the Prince told him he would save him.

“But your mother cannot live.”

The Prince explained why, and Chase knew he was right. Even if it was for his sake, his mother had committed an unforgivable crime. The Crown Prince was giving him a choice: die with his mother, or survive, even if it felt like betraying her.

‘I know Mother sinned for me. But… but…’

Chase wanted to live. He was terrified of death. The mere thought of it made his legs shake.

But if he chose life, wouldn’t his mother despise him? That fear haunted him too. What if she blames me? What if she says she wouldn’t have sinned if not for me? To him, that felt like an undeniable truth. If he hadn’t been born, his mother never would have left her home for a foreign Imperial court.

“I… I want to live.”

Still, he was too scared to die. I’m too young to die, aren’t I? He justified his survival to himself, but a heavy weight of guilt and self-loathing for “betraying” his mother began to gnaw at him.

He almost wished the Crown Prince would insult him like usual. He wanted to be called a “parasite” or mocked for wanting to cling to life so desperately. Only then did it feel like this muddy guilt might wash away.

But the Prince who came to him didn’t curse him or look at him with contempt. He simply waited for him to make a choice, watching him with calm, quiet eyes.

That made the tears come even faster. He felt like trash.

The Crown Prince said nothing as Chase wept. He simply took Chase’s hand and led him to his own palace, declaring it Chase’s new residence.

In that small, lingering warmth, Chase found a tiny bit of comfort.

‘Is it really okay for me to be here?’

Lying in the bed of the room assigned to him in the Crown Prince’s palace, Chase brooded. The maids and servants were polite, but their eyes were cold.

It was a pathetic realization, but with his mother unable to protect him, the only person left in the world who could was the Crown Prince.

“Brother Ayleen…”