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A man laughed brightly in the middle of a grand dining hall, the sound tinkled like bells and was filled with amusement.
The aristocrats of different names and titles all turned their gazes to a man who seemed to command everyone's attention. At first glance, he seemed to be no one special. His suit was a plain white with only the barest of jewels and gold, far too bare for the nobility present in the gathering. His physique was thin and presumably lacking in strength, so unlike the renowned knights of the country. His hair and eyes were a dull and murky gray that could barely catch anyone's attention from a far.
You could suppose that he was pretty in the right light, with his fair skin, long lashes, and soft features but overall, quite unremarkable in the face of the blue bloods upholding the trend of individuality.
And yet, it did not escape the crowd's attention how his whole presence commanded the room. His loud laughter was by all intents and purposes supposed to be boisterous and obnoxious, but instead, it gave off a feeling boldness and power hidden beneath snow white skin. The people seemed to circle around him, entranced and drawn to a man they have never seen before.
Perhaps a new recruit?
Ah. The one that was introduced by the Lady Persephone.
Curiouser and curiouser, the banquet's attendants observed how a smile curved from the man's lips and how his eyes crinkled in what seemed to be delight.
"A meal I would surely enjoy, you say?" he asked, his tone a soft contrast from his laugh earlier.
The hostess faced him, a young nouveau riche named Anna Croft, and smiled patiently at the guest. "But of course, my Lord."
With a wave of her hand, an attendant strode to the table and brandished a dish, placing it across the man with great flourish. The dull-eyed man stared down at the meal that was placed before him, his face seemed as if it was frozen in time. The meaning behind the curl of his mouth was unreadable.
The guests filled with unexplained anticipation, cast furtive glances to his direction. They were unable to completely turn their eyes away yet they refused to shred an ounce of their naturally conveyed poise in full view of the judging eyes of fellow nobles.
The mysterious man finally reached for the golden utensils neatly arranged in front of him, long, elegant fingers caressing its handles. The crowd held their breaths as he raised the fork and dug it into the tender piece of meat, its juices oozing out at the gentle pressure. He hovered his knife above the dish before his eyes suddenly turned cold, glinting a surprising sinister hue of silver.
"Disgusting," came a chilling voice from the man's parted lips. He lets the priceless utensils clatter into the floor with a resounding echo.
All of a sudden, the room froze. All eyes turned to the man, this time no longer hiding their interest nor their contempt. The tension was palpable until another man broke through it with a mocking laugh.
"Are you sure you're in the right banquet, boy? Everything served in this glorious occasion is the best of the best! Us elites of the country have no place here for a child like you," said Earl Brash, a man with features sharp and almost lizard like, his tone urging others to make their sudden disdain of the new recruit known.
The other nobles murmured amongst themselves in agreement. They had foolishly thought that the Lady Persephone had introduced an exemplary new member into their elite group but they seemed to have been mistaken. The young man was brash and unappreciative of their delicacy. He has no place in the Gourmet Association. An outsider to them all.
The man in question suddenly stood up from his seat, his plain face void of the pleasant smile that adorned it seconds ago.
"I've seen all I had to see," he declared with an air of finality that the aristocrats around him have yet to understand.
The crowd paused before their eyes widened in confusion and alarm at the man's next words.
"Seize them, seize all of the traitors to the kingdom and do not let a single soul escape."
In the next moment, the shadows from the dark corners of the banquet hall revealed themselves. The room was then filled with screams of hysteria as the people who tried to run away were struck down with the shadows’ blades. The ones who sat stiff and frightened in their seats were left behind but soon gathered into the middle of the hall.
Some of the nobles shouted in outrage, threatening retribution under their prestigious names. None of them knew how futile their struggle was.
"Who are you? How dare you do this to us, the high nobility of our great kingdom?" screamed the lord who previously mocked the young man standing calmly in the middle of the chaos.
The man let out a crooked smile and this time, it was clear how thick the layer of falsehood coated all of the expressions he portrayed. Pale hands reached up and tugged at the matted gray strands of the hair he had, revealing a rich black curtain that fell across his face like a dark veil.
"I am the crown prince of the Great Kingdom, Kim Dokja,” his voice boomed, silencing the entire room. “Under my name, I sentence you all with treason against the kingdom. Anyone who tries to run would be killed and everyone who's smart enough to cooperate will be put into trial."
The soon to be fallen nobles trembled at his words.
They were the elites of the society, by all intents and purposes, they were immune to the law of the land with just a flash of a few gold coins here and there. However, even they did not expect to escape unscathed in front of the crown prince’s wrath and boundless influence over the kingdom.
The man that stood before them was the notorious crown prince known throughout the land, the Demon Prince of Salvation, Kim Dokja. The poor called him their savior, royalty called him the prince, and the evil called him the reaper.
The once proud nobles of the Gourmet Association cried for mercy once they realized the situation they had found themselves in. There was no escape, not in the face of the cruel prince.
Some, on the other hand, were still foolish enough to challenge the prince and the others stared pityingly at Lord Brash.
"We have done nothing wrong! You have nothing against nobility having a mere gathering amongst themselves!" the man sneered, before he smiled haughtily. "Killing nobles like this for no reason makes you nothing but a tyrant, a man not befitting of the royal crown!"
For the first time that night, Kim Dokja frowned. It was not because he felt particularly insulted by what the petty noble had said but rather because of the growing chill he felt behind him. Figures that he, of all people, would've been the most affected by such a poorly thought out insult.
The prince sighed, and spoke before more chaos could ensue. "You seem to be confident that I kill people without reason to do so, Lord Brash," he drawled, masking an amused smirk with an elegant hand over his mouth.
Humming softly in thought, Kim Dokja continued, "Is it perhaps because you thought that the Gourmet Association is under Duke Reinheit's protection?"
With those words the foolish lord stopped in his tracks, uncertainty clouding his eyes.
The demon prince chuckled at the sight. "It is true that the duke has sole jurisdiction over his little club however, that is as long as said club do not go against any of the Great Kingdom's laws," he explained, his chilling eyes brimming with unfiltered rage and contempt as he looked at the luxuriously designed tables and the sparkling menu set all around the dinning hall.
"Tonight's dishes were the last of the people I was unable to save from this hell you people masquerade as refined taste. Duke Reinheit has already been caught and his facilities have all been destroyed. You people were the last of the loose ends I had to tie up to finally end this nightmare," he explained tonelessly, cold, gray eyes staring down at Earl Brash as he fell to his knees. The lord’s previous bravado was nowhere in sight.
What little hope he had of escaping the situation crumbled beneath his feet. No, it couldn't end this easily for him! He had just inherited his family's name as the new Earl of Brash. The crown prince would kill him or at the very least, take away his title and leave him to rot. More and more thoughts of hopelessness mixed with the fallen noble's growing rage.
Before he realized what he was doing, Lord Brash had already pushed himself off the floor and attempted to throw his whole weight at the prince, intending to rip apart the man who ruined everything. Fingers curled, extended menacingly to do everything to harm the man who made a mess of things. Everything had been perfect before he came, if he could just--
A lady screeched horribly and a viscount expelled the contents of his once exquisite meal at the sight of Lord Brash's head rolling on the ground. Blood splattered everywhere and coated the pristine white of the dinning hall's carpet.
The prince looked at the corpse before him, and sighed once more as if it was merely a small inconvenience. A trivial matter.
He looked up at the sight of his dark knight, a lethal beauty in it of himself. The prince's ever loyal Supreme Knight, Yoo Joonghyuk, stared down at the man he had just murdered, his handsome features twisting into a snarl of hatred.
"He wasn't running away, there was no need to kill him," said the prince as he looked at the macabre scene thoughtfully.
"He ran his mouth and he dared raise his hand against you. He was an eye sore," the knight replied, glaring down at the carnage. His dark eyes turned to the prince. Yoo Joonghyuk's glare had softened but was still present as he scanned the prince for injuries. Seemingly satisfied, he turned back to the room, keeping an eye out for any other filth who felt bold enough tonight.
Prince Kim Dokja chuckled a bit at the man's antics, knowing the meaning behind each little gesture. Only he could truly understand how much of a softie his knight, Joonghyuk, really was at heart.
"Let's clean up this mess, shall we?" he said brightly as he stepped up and stood next to his knight, flashing a rare genuine smile up at him.
Yoo Joonghyuk, look down at the man, their eyes connected and communicated something only the two of them were privy to.
He looked at his prince who couldn't be described as anything but unique in his eyes. The knight's dark eyes traced out the elegant curve of the other man's lashes, the natural shade of his smiling pink lips, his brilliant silver eyes that bore into his soul, and the silky black locks that mirrored the night sky.
He was the man Yoo Joonghyuk swore he would follow to the depths of hell, the man he would protect with his sword and his life.
He looked and replied with a simple, "Yes, my prince."