The Faceless stood still, staring at the tall mirror in front of him.
He was still in his nightclothes, soft silk robes that shimmered faintly under the morning light. His hair was an utter mess, bedhead tangled and wild… but the face in the mirror wasn't what he expected at all.
A beautiful young man gazed back at him.
He had long golden hair, so long it trailed past his toes and probably could wrap around him twice. He had a slender build. His skin was smooth, with delicate features, and long eyelashes. He tilted his head.
"…Am I a girl?" he muttered.
He furrowed his brows, squinting suspiciously at his reflection. The servants had called him Your Highness, so probably not. Then again, royalty was weird.
"I have a face… Haha!" he grinned smugly, running his hand down his own cheek.
After years of being known as Faceless, he finally had a real face. He spun slowly, admiring himself like a peacock showing off its feathers. It was dramatic.
Apparently, his new name was Shian Ravencroft, firstborn of the Raven Kingdom's royal family. A prince.
Which… meant the ritual had gone wrong.
He wasn't in the hero's body after all.
But he still got an identity! That alone was a win. And more than that, he had power now. Authority. A kingdom. Swords, armies, annoying maids. He could still hunt down the hero. Crush him, even.
So that smug grin on his face wasn't going anywhere. Who cares that damn ritual goes a little wrong. There was a saying that said everything was happening for the greater good.
Behind him, the guard looked increasingly suspicious, and the servant, Klein, looked like a dying soul on the edge of giving up.
"Your Highness… please get ready," Klein said again. For the twenty-fourth time.
Shian rolled his eyes. "Ugh, just give me a moment to admire this divine beauty. What are you, an impatient child?"
He side-eyed Klein, who shrank like a scolded puppy.
The guard beside them cleared his throat. "Forgive me for asking, Your Highness… but… did you perhaps hit your head in your sleep?"
Shian paused. He blinked. Then frowned.
Why were these people speaking so casually to a prince?
"Huh?" he grunted, eyebrows twitching as he faced the guard.
The knight shrugged awkwardly. "I mean, I know you're a deadly sleeper, but your personality today is… different."
Shian placed both hands on his hips, letting out a breath as if life itself had just become too annoying. Tch… whatever. The ritual's messed up, but I've still got a body. Time to live this life, destroy the hero, and rule with whatever cards I've got.
His eyes trailed downward.
To his feet.
To the floor.
To the long golden braid that had wrapped around his ankle like a lazy snake.
"…What's with this freakishly long hair?" he muttered, dragging it around with mild disgust. "What kind of prince grows this much? Even noble girls would cry."
Of course, he said those words to himself in a low tone.
He snapped his fingers and pointed toward the guard while still looking at the mirror.
"Neh. Lend me your sword."
The guard hesitated. "My… sword?"
Shian turned his head slowly, annoyance clear on his face. "Yes? Is there any other sword in this room?"
The guard let out a sigh and unbuckled his sword from its sheath. "Fine… just… as long as you're not about to pull something suicidal, I suppose it's alright."
Shian went still.
His face turned blank.
He stared.
This… punk!
Did this guard just imply he might off himself? Did he seriously dare to throw shade at a prince?
"...…"
Shian's eye twitched as he took the sword, forcing a smile over his anger, not answering. But deep inside, his pride screamed.
How dare he?
Without saying a word, Shian grabbed his braid with one hand, right from the front, and raised the sword in the other.
SHHHK!
The silver blade sliced clean through the thick, golden braid.
Gasps echoed in the room.
A tray clattered to the floor behind him, cups and spoons scattering like frightened birds. The maids stood frozen, hands over their mouths. One of them looked like she was about to faint.
Klein… poor Klein… looked like he'd just seen a ghost crawl out of a teapot.
Even the stoic guard's eyes widened. He hadn't even had the chance to react, let alone stop the prince.
Seventeen years.
That hair hadn't been touched for seventeen whole years. It was practically a royal legend.
And just like that, it was gone.
"Y-Your Highness…" Klein stammered, stepping forward slowly as the thick golden braid hit the floor like a fallen banner. The breeze from the open window drifted through the room, ruffling Shian's now shoulder-length hair.
Shian smiled.
Not his smug, plotting grin, but a simple, honest smile. A quiet kind of happiness.
"One problem's over," he said, shaking his head lightly, free at last from that golden rope.
Klein opened his mouth, maybe to say something like Do you know what you just did?!, but he stopped.
Instead, when he saw how truly relieved the prince looked, a small smile formed at the edge of his lips.
"…Now, please get ready, Your Highness," Klein said gently, his voice softer than before.
Shian ruffled his newly short hair, looking at the scattered golden locks on the floor with a shrug. "Good riddance," he mumbled, then turned toward the mirror.
His eyes narrowed.
Standing next to the mirror was a mannequin dressed in his ceremonial outfit: white and gold, bright and radiant, almost glowing.
He squinted.
"…What the heck is that?" he muttered.
It looked like something a saint would wear to a wedding.
Turning to Klein, he pointed at the mannequin like it had personally offended him. "Do I have something darker?"
Klein blinked. "Your Highness?"
Shian tilted his head, lips pressed together, then shrugged. "Maybe the real one didn't wear black...," he muttered to himself.
There had to be a reason. A reason he acquired this body. It didn't feel like a coincidence. He had to figure it out. He was so sure that Shian wasn't the hero, and both the hero and he were from another kingdom. Not Raven.
Shian looked at his hands. The ritual let him travel into the past, to the body of the victim of the ritual. He had failed for so long, but like a miracle, he succeeded just before his death. But instead of the hero, he acquired a complete stranger. that was too suspicious to be a coincidence.
"Something black. Get me something black," he said again, louder this time.
The guard furrowed his brows. "Are you sure, Your Highness? Wearing black... to a meeting with the Queen?"
Shian turned to him with an unimpressed expression. "Is there a problem?"
The guard looked at him for a long moment. He let out a slow sigh and gave up.
"…No. No problem, Your Highness," he said, nodding.