Chapter Text
It was said that the lives of all men and women were written in the stars long before their first breath was drawn. The heavens spun silently above the land, a great wheel of fate that no one could halt. It was believed that even the emperor himself was born not by chance, but by divine design—his name whispered in constellations long before his coronation.
And yet, in times of unrest, a single question returned again and again: Can anything written in the stars be altered?
Some said yes, if one was clever enough to trick the gods. Others said no, for to tamper with the stars was to call ruin upon the realm. Still, in secret corners of the palace, powerful men gathered to ask that very question…
So it was that the four great ministers of the kingdom now stood in the inner sanctum of Seonggwang Temple, where the divine and mortal worlds met. They did not kneel in reverence, nor had they come to bear offerings of faith. Their hearts held no prayers, only ambition.
The Prime Minister, who held sway over all courtly affairs, stood at the front. At his side were the Minister of Personnel, who decided who would serve the Crown; the Minister of Justice, who twisted the law in silence; and the Minister of Works, who built cities by day and tore down bloodlines by night.
They had already rendered the reigning emperor unfit to rule. Great Emperor Kwon, once praised across the land for his kindness and strength, had been reduced to a hollow vessel, his mind clouded by poisoned tea and false counsel. All of it, a careful design by the men who now wished to rule behind the throne.
And now, their attention turned to the boy who would be emperor.
Crown Prince Kwon Soonyoung was only twelve years of age, yet already burdened with the responsibility of leading the nation. Though young, he was bright-eyed, quick-witted, and beloved by the people. And that made him dangerous to men like them.
However, they all knew that the way to control a king is through his queen—or, in this case, his future omega consort. In this world, alphas alone were destined for power, but an omega bound to the emperor could shape the tides of history… if placed wisely.
Thus, they summoned the high priestess of Seonggwang Temple, known far and wide for her gift of prophecy. She now sat at the center of the sacred hall, surrounded by fluttering silks and the heavy scent of incense. Her eyes remained closed, fingertips resting lightly on the woven threads of fate laid upon the ritual table before her. Hours passed in stillness, broken only by the breath of flame and the rustle of robes.
Then, her voice rang out, soft, yet deep with power:
“The path of the tiger ends at the lion’s den,
Where moonlight hides in golden fur.
A child of pride, forgotten by name,
Born not of roar but of silence and flame.
From the fourth breath of the noble beast
Shall rise the one bound to the Crown.
Though unseen, they walk among you.
Beware the lion, for the lion remembers.”
The hall grew cold despite the burning torches. The ministers exchanged uneasy glances.
The “noble beast” could only mean one family—the Lees, known as the Noble Lions. For generations, they had served as warriors and tacticians, a bloodline of strength and pride. They were known to bear alphas, and only one omega presented in each generation. Every omega from their line held great influence wherever they lived.
The last omega to present had been the third generation’s only omega, Lee Dongmin, who was married abroad to a foreign emperor to secure peace. Since then, no other omega had appeared among them.
But now the stars whispered of a fourth breath.
“A fourth-generation omega,” the Minister of Justice muttered. “That blood still lives?”
“They said it was impossible now,” the Minister of Works added. “They said the line was sealed.”
“Then they must’ve lied,” the Prime Minister said darkly. “Or perhaps the gods hid this child from our sight.”
The prophecy did not give a name, but it gave a bloodline. And it was enough for them to plan for the next steps. If the destined mate of the Crown Prince truly belonged to the House of Lee, then that child—whoever they were—was a threat. A Lee consort would turn the tide of power in the palace, making allies of the military and reclaiming loyalty lost to the ministers’ greed.
That could not be allowed.
They bowed to the priestess—out of formality, not respect—then swept out of the temple, their robes trailing behind them like shadows.
If fate had written the name of a lion in the stars, then they would burn the pride before that name could ever be read.
Jihoon had been trained to hold a sword ever since he could walk. That was expected of him—he was the eldest son of the Minister of Defense, after all. His father was a respected man, strong and feared on the battlefield. People said Jihoon would grow up just like him, perhaps even stronger.
Now that Jihoon was twelve, he was already faster, sharper, and more skilled than most grown men in the guard. He had not yet presented his secondary gender, but no one doubted that he would become an alpha. He carried himself with confidence, speaks with purpose, and moved like a young warrior.
Though he was shorter than other boys his age—especially next to Seokmin, who was already stretching tall—Jihoon never let that stop him. His size made him quicker on his feet, harder to catch, always a step ahead.
He wasn’t training alone. His younger brothers, Seokmin and Chan, trained with him every day. Seokmin was only a year younger. He was cheerful and energetic, always full of smile. Even when he fell to the ground during practice, he laughed as if it were just another game. He admired Jihoon deeply—his words were always filled with praise and respect for his older brother. More than once, he had said proudly, “When I grow up, I’ll be your right hand, hyung. I don’t care what rank I get; I’ll fight beside you.”
Chan, the youngest, was nine. He was a little more serious than Seokmin, and much more interested in books than swords. But even though he preferred reading about battles over fighting in them, he never skipped training. He tried hard to keep up, even when his arms ached from swinging the wooden sword. He said he wanted to be a scholar one day—someone who could serve in the palace and advise the future Emperor. Still, a part of him thought it was cool to be strong like Jihoon, so he stayed in the courtyard and practiced every morning without complain.
That morning, the three brothers were in the yard, training with their wooden swords under the soft light of the sun. Their shouts and banter resonated through the open space. Jihoon faced both Seokmin and Chan at once, like a true leader in the middle of a battlefield.
Seokmin was easy to knock down—he laughed every time and stood up quickly, asking for another round. But Chan was different today. He had a fire in his eyes. Every time Jihoon blocked his strikes, he came back harder, faster, and more determined.
Jihoon was proud. It makes him happy to see his youngest brother trying so hard. When the match ended, Jihoon lightly pressed his foot against Chan’s chest, his wooden blade resting gently against Chan’s neck. Chan was lying on the ground, panting and frowning.
“You lost again,” Jihoon said with a small smirk, eyes bright.
“I’ll win next time,” Chan muttered, still out of breath but not giving up.
Just then, a familiar voice called out.
“Young masters!”
It was Lady Ahn, their caregiver. She had helped raise them since they were small. Though she was not their mother, the boys loved her deeply. She was gentle but authoritative, and when she called, they listened.
“The Crown Prince is coming,” she said, “And the four ministers will be accompanying him. Wash up at once and change your clothes.”
That made all three brothers freeze.
The ministers often visited the house of the Minister of Defense for meetings, but it was rare—almost unheard of—for the Crown Prince himself to come.
Seokmin let out a surprised gasp and turned to Chan, his eyes shining with excitement, “The Crown Prince? Really? We’re going to see him today?”
Lady Ahn added with a smile, “Your father is on his way home as well. His journey has ended earlier than expected.”
Seokmin and Chan rushed into the house, already chatting about what to say to the Crown Prince. Jihoon lingered a bit longer, quietly picking up the wooden swords and setting them aside.
He wasn’t the type to show his feelings easily, but even his calm face couldn’t hide the anticipation in his eyes. He tried to act like it didn’t matter, like it was just another guest—but inside, his heart beat faster.
He always reminded himself of his Father’s words; if he was going to serve the Crown Prince one day, he had to leave a good impression. Not just as a fighter, but as someone dependable. Someone the future Emperor would trust.
The deep, resonant sound of the gong can be heard through the entire Lee manor, a signal that stirred every corner of the estate. Servants froze mid-step, nobles straightened their backs, and the hum of morning conversation faded into silence. The Crown Prince has arrived.
Jihoon, Seokmin, and Chan stood side by side in the center of the grand hallway, their posture impeccable, hands behind their backs. Around them, courtiers and household staff had formed two neat lines leading to the entrance, all waiting to receive the royal guests.
Though their father had not yet arrived to greet the Crown Prince himself, the three brothers were well-prepared. From a young age, they had been trained in court etiquette and diplomacy. They knew exactly when to bow, how low to go, and the precise moment to smile or speak.
And yet, nothing could have prepared them for the awe of seeing the Crown Prince in person.
He stepped through the doors in a wave of gold and silk, flanked by high-ranking ministers and guards. His presence was commanding. The brothers bowed deeply, voices unified in greeting.
Lady Shin, their mother, was quick to approach. With grace born of both nobility and intelligence, she offered a poised smile and bowed in greeting herself.
“My lords, welcome to our humble home,” she said, her voice steady.
Lady Shin had once been the only omega daughter of the Minister of Defense in her homeland, a rare and treasured lineage. She had once been considered a candidate for the emperor’s consort, but she had chosen love instead—falling for Lee Munjae, the future head of the Lee family. Her decision shocked many, but their union was solid, powerful in its own right.
Despite her secondary gender, Lady Shin had an outstanding presence. Now, surrounded by four high-ranking alphas and the Crown Prince himself, she remained composed and regal, directing the conversation effortlessly as she welcomed the men into the receiving room for tea.
After formalities were exchanged and everyone was seated, Jihoon and his brothers politely excused themselves. To their surprise, the Crown Prince rose and followed them. Chan practically skipped ahead, eyes shining with excitement.
Once they made it through the manor’s expansive backyard, Chan turned around dramatically. “We’ll be your future royal guards, Your Highness! So, we need to train—by playing!”
Jihoon’s ears flushed red. He bowed quickly. “Please forgive my brother’s behavior, Your Highness.”
But the Crown Prince only chuckled. Jihoon looked up—literally—at the prince, who was already a head taller than him.
“It’s fine,” he said with a soft grin. “He’s right, isn’t he? A guard must understand his prince's capability as well.”
Seokmin smiles widely. “It’d be fun to play with you now and be all serious later in the palace. Right, Your Highness?”
That made the Crown Prince—Soonyoung—chuckle. “Exactly.”
They wandered deeper into the backyard, the sounds of the manor fading into a hush. But then Soonyoung stopped walking. The brothers turned to him, puzzled.
“I have a game,” he said suddenly, but his tone had shifted. “But first… is there a secret passage or hidden room in your manor?”
Jihoon blinked. “A secret passage? There is one… Why?”
“Show me,” Soonyoung said simply.
Curious, Jihoon obeyed. He led them to a secluded part of the manor grounds, past the trimmed hedges and stone walls, to a hidden entrance half-covered in ivy. Behind it, a narrow hole in the wall opened to a small chamber sealed with a stone door.
The Crown Prince knelt, inspecting it quickly, then nodded. “Good. Now, all three of you, go inside.”
Jihoon frowned, confused. “Is this the game, Your Highness?”
Soonyoung didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his robe and pulled out a smooth, oval stone. It is white, cool to the touch.
“Take this,” he said, placing it firmly in Jihoon’s hand. “Rub it until it turns warm. Once it cools again, that’s when you should come out and find me.”
Chan’s eyes lit up. “Like hide and seek?!”
Soonyoung pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Then, turning to Jihoon, his voice dropped into an almost urgent tone. “Listen to me, Jihoon. Promise me… no matter what you hear, no matter what happens out there, make sure you three do not come out until the stone grows cold again. Do you understand?”
Jihoon stared into the prince’s eyes, his heart thudding.
“Y-Yes, Your Highness,” he nodded, feeling the Crown Prince’s hand pat his head as he closed his fingers tightly around the cold stone.
He helped the three boys into the dark hollow space and pulled the stone panel shut, sealing them inside.
At first, there was silence.
Then, commotion erupted.
Screams.
Shouts.
The sound of swords clashing, armor scraping, and glass shattering. Chan was trembling beside him, tiny fingers gripping Jihoon’s sleeve. Seokmin had pulled them into his arms, whispering soft words, but even he was shaking.
Jihoon held the stone tightly in his palm, praying—no, begging—for it to warm up.
Time passed slowly. Every sound from outside felt like a thunderclap. And then, just as suddenly as it began, came back the silence.
A silence so heavy it hurt his ears.
The stone in Jihoon’s hand slowly began to grow warm. And then it cooled.
Jihoon crawled forward and pushed at the stone door. It opened with a loud creak.
Everything was covered in blood.
Jihoon froze, his breath catching in his throat. The metallic smell burned his nose. He stepped forward slowly inside their home, shoes squelching in something wet and warm... blood. His eyes darted to the spot where his mother had stood earlier. Her hairpin lay there—bent and broken.
Then suddenly, arms wrapped around him, pulling him back with trembling hands.
“Young masters!” Lady Ahn was crying, but she held them like a lifeline. “Oh gods… I don’t know how you all managed to survive. But thank the heavens...”
Jihoon didn’t cry. He just held on tighter, the stone still clutched in his fist.
He never saw the Crown Prince again that day, but he knew he had saved them. He has so many questions.
How did Crown Prince know this was going to happen?
Who did this?
And..
Why?