Chapter 4

"Lord Slayn, we wish for you to inherit the throne of the Hassenvelia Kingdom."

"……………Huh?"

Slayn's voice cracked awkwardly.

He had thought that his father revealing his origins now was because his father had died. Perhaps his father's will had stated that it was permissible to reveal his parentage after his death. He had imagined something like that.

But he never expected to be asked to inherit the throne—to become the king. It was completely out of the blue.

"No, what? Why me… Aren't there others with royal blood who are more suitable in terms of status? If we trace the family tree a bit—"

"There is no one."

The Duke of Nordendorf interrupted Slayn's words.

"As I said, the king's younger brother has passed away. The royal prince was unmarried. The duchess, who is the king's sister, and her son have also passed away. If we trace the family tree further, it would be to the king's cousins... but one of the king's two cousins died unmarried, and the other, who is the king's cousin, has already married into another royal family. In the current state of the Hassenvelia royal family, we cannot welcome a foreign royal as our king; it could lead to the country becoming a vassal state."

"Then, then, if we trace the family tree further, to my grandfather, the late king's cousin's descendants—"

"That would make the bloodline too distant and the number of potential heirs too large. A successor from a bloodline too far removed from the current royal line would undermine the legitimacy of the throne. It could also lead to disputes among the nobility over who should inherit the throne... There is someone much closer, a direct descendant of the king. Lord Slayn, that is you. Even though you are a bastard, you are the king's biological son. There is no one more suitable to inherit the throne in this country than you."

"……………"

Slayn was stunned.

He was just a commoner. A simple, unremarkable commoner living a peaceful life in a corner of the city.

Inheriting the throne? Becoming the king of this country?

It was unimaginable. He couldn't picture himself in such a role. He didn't think he could be a king.

"It's, it's impossible, I—"

Slayn stood up, driven by the urge to escape from the room and the oppressive gaze of the Duke of Nordendorf. He took a step back.

Baron Behrendorf, who was behind him, silently and firmly grabbed his shoulder.

"It's not an option, Lord Slayn. You have no choice but to accept."

Then, the Duke of Nordendorf looked at Slayn with a piercing gaze.

"…Does that mean if I refuse, I will be killed?"

"We would never do such a thing. We would not kill the king's heir. However… Lord Slayn, you have a responsibility. The responsibility that comes with being born into the royal bloodline. That is why you must inherit the throne."

The Duke of Nordendorf's already sharp eyes narrowed even further.

"If you refuse to become the king, the country will fall into chaos without a monarch. It would be impossible for the country to survive in such a state. It would not be respected as a nation. The country would fragment, the land would be ravaged, and the people would fall into turmoil. Many would lose their livelihoods, and there would be casualties… If you refuse to inherit the throne, such a situation could occur. The responsibility to prevent this lies in your blood—Prince Slayn Hassenvelia."

……

Slayn barely remembered the rest of what the Duke of Nordendorf said.

The king's death and the deaths of the royal family would be announced in a few days, and a state funeral would be held two weeks later, attended by the kingdom's nobles and representatives from neighboring countries. Slayn would be treated as the crown prince from this moment on, and a coronation ceremony would be held by the end of the year, around autumn, to officially make him the king of the Hassenvelia Kingdom.

He managed to remember this much, but the details were lost on him.

Now, Slayn was in a room on the top floor of the castle, in the back of the third floor. It was said to be the private room of the former crown prince, Michael, and was surrounded by high-quality furnishings, though not overly ornate.

Even as the heir to the throne, it was uncomfortable to stay in the late crown prince's private room. He asked Baron Behrendorf if he could stay in a guest room, but was refused for "security reasons."

The private rooms of the royal family were located in a part of the castle that was difficult for anyone other than authorized personnel to reach. The baron explained that it was essential to understand this, as they could not afford to lose Slayn under any circumstances.

"……"

Slayn sat limply on the sofa, which he imagined the real crown prince, Michael, had used just two weeks ago. He had a dazed look on his face.

He had declined lunch. He had no appetite. He wasn't feeling sleepy either, probably because he had slept most of the past day and a half.

Everything around him—the room, the air he breathed—felt completely unreal. He had just finished his mother's funeral and was about to start looking for a way to earn a living when, suddenly, he became the crown prince.

He was completely lost. He didn't even know what he didn't understand. He didn't know what he should be thinking about. What does a crown prince think about and do?

"Excuse me, Your Highness."

At that moment, there was a light knock on the door, and a woman's voice was heard. Slayn jumped in surprise.

"……Your Highness. May I enter?"

"Ah, y-yes, you may enter…"

That's right. As the crown prince, he had to explicitly allow someone to enter. Hearing Slayn's nervous response, the woman finally opened the door.

The person who entered was a young woman with deep red hair that reached her shoulders. She was not dressed as a maid but in military uniform.

Slayn, who had expected a maid to come for some reason, was surprised to see her. Given that she could enter this room guarded by the royal guards, she must have been a person of some standing, but her role as a "young woman in military uniform" was unclear.

Ignoring Slayn's surprise, the woman knelt and bowed her head.

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I am Monica Adraschel, the eldest daughter of the Adraschel baron. I have been appointed as your personal adjutant by the Duke of Nordendorf and have come to serve you."

"An adjutant?"

Slayn asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Yes. As your personal adjutant, I will always be by your side, assisting you in your duties and daily life, and I will be the first to receive all your commands, helping you in every aspect."

"……"

Slayn vaguely understood her role. Essentially, this Monica would serve as his attendant.

What puzzled him was that such an important role was given to the daughter of a baron.

As the crown prince and future king, wouldn't it be more natural and appropriate for someone of a higher rank, and of the same gender, to be appointed as his adjutant?

Slayn thought this but did not voice it. As a commoner who had suddenly become the crown prince, he had no right to comment on the status of Monica, a genuine noblewoman.

"From now on, I will be by your side at all times, supporting you with all my heart and soul. Please treat me well, Your Highness."

"……Y-yes, please treat me well."

Even though Monica was not looking at him, Slayn instinctively bowed his head.

After the greeting, Monica remained kneeling with her head bowed, saying nothing.

"Ah, p-please look up."

"Yes, Your Highness."

By his position, he had to give her permission to raise her head. Nervously, Slayn gave his consent, and Monica raised her head and stood up.

"Then, Your Highness, I will explain your schedule from tomorrow onwards."