Lucian Ardanart

I have now reached the age of one, and I believe that in this short span of time, I’ve come to understand a fair number of things, both about myself and the place that has now become my world.

My name is Lucian Ardanart—the firstborn, and also the first prince. In fact, for the time being, I am the only prince in the Kingdom of Adharta. By virtue of that title, I automatically stand as the sole heir to the royal throne. Unless, of course, my parents decide to have another child, and that child happens to be a boy.

Apparently, among the people of the kingdom, I am also known by the additional title of "The Brown-Haired Sage Prince." Although, to be honest, I’ve never actually heard anyone refer to me by that name directly.

It seems that within this kingdom, there is an age-old belief passed down through generations, that anyone born with a mole beneath their eye will grow to become a wise and noble leader.

That mole is said to be a mark chosen by the Ancestral Goddess—a sacred figure who once ruled this land and is believed to have left traces of her power and blessings upon a select few.

It’s a bit different from the myths I knew in my previous life. In Chinese physiognomy, for example, the position of a mole carries various meanings depending on where it’s located.

But as far as I can recall, a mole beneath the eye isn’t exactly a symbol of wisdom. What was it again...? I’ve forgotten, or perhaps the interpretations simply vary between cultures.

What I do know for certain is that the ceremony held when I first became conscious in this world was no ordinary celebration. It was a kind of blessing ritual—one that not only honored my birth but also formally recognized me as the future heir of the Kingdom of Adharta, born with a rare and sacred mark.

That’s all the information I’ve managed to gather so far.

And yes, up to this very moment, I still haven’t been taken outside the palace—not even once. Most likely, the reason is that I still can’t walk properly. Understandable, I suppose. While there are some children who can already walk steadily at the age of one, unfortunately, I’m not part of that physically gifted group.

Judging by my current physical abilities, simply standing for five seconds is already a major achievement. After that, I almost always end up falling. It seems I still need to be patient and keep practicing until I finally master this whole balance issue.

Every time I try to stand or walk, I have to cling to walls or flat surfaces. And even with that support, the chances of falling are still painfully high.

So for now, crawling remains my best option. Even then, I’m never truly free to move around. Several servants are always on standby near me, watching over me as if they were guarding a treasure.

To be honest, I’ve reached the point of boredom. The bedroom that once felt grand now just seems like a spacious prison. There’s no corner left to explore.

I’ve already finished reading every book in my room—and the most annoying part? They all turned out to be children’s fairy tales. Damn it. I was hoping to find at least an encyclopedia or maybe some history books, but not a single one could give me any meaningful information about this world.

Even so, my curiosity has yet to run dry. There are still countless things that make me furrow my brow. For example—how in the world do the lamps in this palace shine so brightly? I’ve often stared at them, hoping to find wiring or a hidden energy source tucked behind the walls, but nothing. Not a single clue.

According to what I knew in my previous life, light bulbs should emit light from electric currents—currents that heat up a filament until it glows. But this is entirely different. No wires, no switches, not even a hint of electrical energy.

At one point, I thought maybe it had something to do with this world’s setting, which resembles that of an ancient kingdom—so perhaps their lighting system still relies on conventional methods.

I suspected they might be using kerosene as fuel to light a flame, and then placing that flame behind glass to make it appear static, almost like a light bulb from a distance. It was a fairly reasonable assumption… at least until I realized things weren’t nearly that simple.

If they were truly using fire as a source of light, the protective glass casing should have had openings for air circulation. Fire needs oxygen to keep burning, doesn’t it? But what I saw—there were no vents, no smoke, not even the faintest trace of soot around the glass casing. Everything was too clean, too precise—too unrealistic for a typical combustion-based system.

And what made it even more baffling was that these lights always dimmed on their own as dawn approached. As if some hidden mechanism was able to detect the presence of sunlight and automatically adjust the brightness. It felt like they had discovered some form of renewable energy technology… a kind of technology that didn’t even exist in the world I once came from.

Magic?

That word had crossed my mind more than once. It seemed impossible that in a world like this—with kingdoms, nobles, and a classic social structure—there wouldn’t be any concept of magic at all.

I vaguely remember overhearing someone mention the term in passing once, though I’ve yet to witness any direct evidence of its existence.

There was a moment when I actually tried to bait the presence of magic. I had climbed up onto a chair, hoping to catch a glimpse of the view beyond the palace window. But I lost my balance and fell. Quite hard, actually. And as expected, the servants immediately came rushing in, their faces pale with panic. Among them was my mother, Riangelin Ardanart—Queen of the Adharta Kingdom.

My mother comes from the pure lineage of the Ardanart family. In many fantasy novels I've read, characters from such bloodlines usually have great magical energy, right? So I thought, at that moment she would immediately cast a healing spell like, "Blah... blah... blah... Healing!"

But no. She simply stroked my head gently and whispered, "It's okay... it's okay... shhh, shhh..." like any normal mother trying to calm her child. And I wasn’t even crying.

That incident is also the reason I am now being watched by so many servants.

But even though my exploration space has become more limited due to the constant presence of servants watching me almost all the time, I still have one passive channel I can use to get information—although sometimes the information I receive seems trivial, or even completely unimportant.

Imagine, at any given time, I can be watched by two to three servants simultaneously. They are around me from the crack of dawn until nightfall. With that duration of supervision, there must be a point where they feel saturated or bored, right?

And guess what they do when that boredom strikes? That's right. They start to gossip.

Funny enough, it was through the cracks in their casual chatter that I began to learn about things I had never even imagined before. From petty little topics to half-serious rumors. That’s how I came to know what’s going on outside the palace walls, even things about the lives of the palace residents themselves.

At first, I thought these servants would spend most of their time badmouthing their masters. That seems to be a common pattern; when subordinates gather, there’s usually at least one complaint, a grumble, or a sly remark thrown into the mix. Especially during quiet hours like these, I figured someone would inevitably ‘vent’ their frustrations just to gain a bit of sympathy or validation from the others.

But it turned out to be the opposite. I'm sorry for having such a negative prejudice.

On the contrary, these servants seem to genuinely love and respect the royal family. They often praise how well and fairly they are treated here. Even among their chatter, there's a sense of sympathy for my father, King Cassian Ardanart. They say his days off are often spent just sleeping all day, as if the responsibility of being a leader is that exhausting.

According to them, every time my father returned from a trip outside the kingdom, his face always looked so tired. Sometimes he would even fall asleep right there on the chair in the main hall, still wearing his robe, even before he had a chance to taste his dinner. Often, the servants would have to carefully remove his robe and cover him with a blanket, without waking him.

They also often mentioned how hard my father worked to advance this small kingdom. He was willing to sacrifice his rest for various meetings and negotiations, all to strengthen the economy and improve the welfare of his people.

From their perspective, my father wasn't just a leader... but a figure who truly carried the burden of the entire country on his shoulders, and did so without a single complaint.

Cool...

That was the only word that came to my mind. A compliment that just came out, even from the deepest part of my heart.

But on the other hand, for some reason, that admiration also dragged along another, dimmer feeling.

There was a part of me that felt small and unworthy. It felt unfitting for me to bear the status of a child of such a great person.

And maybe that's why, the more I heard stories about him, the more I felt like someone who wasn't yet worthy of bearing the same family name.