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I was reborn inside a romance fantasy novel I’d read in my previous life.
Bedridden at the drop of a hat and with hardly any supporters, I was the third prince only on paper. The part I’d been cast in was:
‘The side character who frees the heroine, held in the palace as a hostage, only to be found out and murdered in cold blood by his brothers….’
Hell no. I already died too young once. I wasn’t about to do it again. Whatever it took, I had to rewrite the future.
In the original, Michel was quick-witted and touchy, forever showing his thorns to his brothers. So I chose to be his complete opposite: a sweet, slightly dull boy.
I clung to life by charming my brothers with everything I had. After years of careful pretending since I was small, they surely wouldn’t consider me a threat.
The trouble was, it worked almost too well. Something about my brothers felt slightly… no, seriously off.
“If a rival can’t be removed, then the only option left is to live alongside him.”
Perhaps they never thought of me as their younger brother at all. Because otherwise, how on earth could they…
“Every one of us here was born to a different mother. So what does it matter if the children are born to different fathers?”
…come out with the outrageous idea of each getting an heir from me!
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