[[ Tuk's POV]]

  Ever walked into a job interview, nailed it, and then walked out wondering, What did I just sign up for? That’s my new nine-to-five. I call it “professional improvisation.”

  A few months ago, I thought I planned out and understood my job description: pose as the prince’s love advisor, guide him through the “mysteries of romance,” and eventually pair him off with some noblewoman. Simple enough, right?

  But the prince had other plans. I learned this three weeks ago when I was summoned unexpectedly into a court packed with high-ranking nobles, all staring at me as if I’d just announced I’d invented love itself.

  The last time Prince Michaelli and I spoke, he gave me that smirk of his, the one that says he’s got the upper hand before the conversation even begins. I fumbled through some excuses about “understanding my role” as his advisor. “Your Highness, about this ‘love advisor’ thing... I might not be the best—”

  His smirk deepened, and he replied with a calm, unnervingly serious tone, each word lined with purpose. “Ah, Tuk,” he said. “The title of ‘love advisor’ was always just a mask. A convenient distraction from your true purpose.” He stepped back, folding his arms.

  My stomach twisted, a silent warning that whatever came next from his mouth was not a good thing for me. “Your tasks are far more important than merely offering advice on emotions. You’re here to help me manipulate the court officials who constantly demand an heir from me—anticipate their thoughts, actions, and weaknesses.”

  I felt my cold sweat as he began to pace, his gaze never wavering from mine. I willed my expression to stay neutral, but my hands clenched behind my back, betraying my unease. “Your role is simple yet critical: observe, analyze, and provide insight. Whether they are loyal, enemies, or potential allies, you will guide me through their emotions with this thing you call love, just as you did before with the scroll. It might be only one piece of the human psyche, but it’s the most unpredictable—and the one thing the council cannot contest.”

  He paused, his eyes sharp, daring me to flinch. I swallowed hard, the weight of his expectations pressing on my chest like a vice. “You’re here to make sure I don’t miscalculate when dealing with them. I have far more pressing matters to attend to, but handling the constant heir dilemma gives me more headaches than executing the emperor's officials.”

  My ears rang, as if I’d heard something I shouldn’t have, and a cold shiver ran through me as my thoughts raced. The prince stopped, scrutinizing me as though he could see every piece of my composure slipping away. “And of course,” he continued, his voice taking on a darker edge, “you’re to assist with the Arcanographica scrolls. They hold the information and the power that I need. Your job is to help me unlock that power and ensure no one else deciphers it first.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  He leaned in, his gaze piercing. “If any historian becomes a liability, you are to inform me or Leon immediately.”

  He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Trust is a luxury we do not have. That’s your true value to me, Tuk.”

  Then came that smile—a glint of dark amusement in his eyes. “Does this suit you better than advising on love?”

  I paused for a moment, blinking. Strangely enough, yes, it was. His “revised” job description suited me far better. It played to my strengths in improvisation, unlike the daunting task of providing romantic counseling. Honestly, watching him interact with a princess would be like watching someone try to hug a hedgehog—it would only end badly. But that’s where the real fun begins. I wondered, amused, who the unlucky soul would be to try and tame him.

  (A/N: Me, the author:?? )

  For the first time, I found a certain respect for him, especially in contrast to his father, whose twelve concubines paraded through the palace like characters from The Twelve Dancing Princesses—though those princesses looked dead inside. The fact that Prince Michaelli had no mistress was… unexpected, and I found it hard to believe.

  Curiosity got the better of me, and I blurted, “Your Highness, is it true you don’t keep concubines or mistresses? I mean, it’s… rare.”

  His brow arched. “And what of it?” His voice, calm but edged with unmistakable disdain, chilled the air between us. “Do you find it so hard to believe that I don’t indulge in such... distractions?”

  Silence settled as he let his words sink in. Then, with a faint smirk, he added, “I don’t parade my authority through concubines. My focus is on securing this empire’s future, not pandering to shallow curiosities.” His amusement surfaced briefly. “Perhaps that’s why this empire still stands, despite the council’s… suggestions.”

  “That’s… unexpected,” I muttered, a bit too honestly. “I thought the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  His smirk vanished instantly, his gaze sharpening. “Oh?” His tone was soft, each word a blade hidden in silk. “And what sort of tree do you imagine I’m the product of?”

  The chill in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. Scrambling for words, I stammered, “A… a golden tree, Your Highness. After all, His Highness is His Highness.” The second I said it, I wanted to reel the words back in.

  He chuckled softly—a sound more like the scrape of a blade than genuine mirth. “A golden tree…” he repeated, his voice savoring each syllable like a predator toying with its prey. “An interesting way to phrase it. But I suspect your thoughts run deeper than mere flattery.” His tone dipped lower, heavy with authority, commanding the air itself to bow. “Words, once spoken, cannot be unsaid. Remember that.”

  His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained icy and unyielding.

  I swallowed hard and lowered my head. “I apologize, Your Highness. I often fail to guard my tongue, but I’ll heed your warning.”

  That was the moment I realized I knew nothing of the darkness of this empire—no, of this entire world. What I had seen so far barely scratched the surface of the depths I was about to plunge into.

  But his warning echoed: vigilance over everyone around me. I cast a glance at the other historians, each one hunched over their scrolls, but it was Sire Leon whose every move now seemed calculated. The prince’s words rang in my ears: Ensure no one else deciphers them before we do.

  For now, things were finally starting to work in my favor. I think I’ve secured my place and acquired the most powerful shield I could ever have.

  I can live.