*Episode 4 *
“I’m confident I’ll write just as well, even if I return to the newspaper!”
“Denied.”
During a brief teatime visit, the Crown Prince shook his head from the drawing room of the annex as soon as he heard my request.
“You thought I was a petty reader, didn’t you? If you go back, I doubt your opinion of me will change much.”
“That’s not true, Your Highness. If I had known the letters came from you, I would have gladly taken them as guidance.”
“Lies.”
“I really can write well! Please trust me!”
“Didn’t you just say your health deteriorated from writing because of me? As I share some of the blame, I’ll assign you a royal physician. Think of this as a recuperation retreat—rest here and focus on your health while you write.”
Crown Prince Jereon ran his fingertips along the rim of the teacup on the table, remaining firm in his stance. His resolute demeanor made me anxious.
“Y-Your Highness, are you suggesting that I continue writing my novel here?”
“You brought things to that ending—shouldn’t you wrap it up now?”
“But… the story is already finished.”
“The Crown Prince’s First Love” may be over, but now you’ll write the sequel, ‘The Crown Prince’s Last Love.’ Of course, his hair has grown back. Everyone keeps staring at my head because of that part.”
“So, if I write here, I just need to send the manuscript to the newspaper?”
“No need to worry about that. There are plenty of people to run errands for me. The same ones who delivered my letters will make sure your manuscripts are sent properly.”
In other words, I wasn’t allowed to leave the palace—not even a step. I needed to be sure, so I asked directly.
“Then… when will I be allowed to leave?”
“When The Crown Prince’s Last Love is complete.”
“No breaks allowed?”
“I’ll be right here, offering ideas so you don’t run out of inspiration. You won’t need a break.”
“Th-thank you…”
My throat was dry. This was hopeless. The Crown Prince, perfect in appearance, was equally absolute in conversation. His word was law, and dissent had no place.
With things as they were, I had no choice but to write it short and sweet.
Right. I’ll keep the synopsis tight—end it with the Crown Prince marrying a beautiful high-ranking noblewoman and living happily ever after. That should take… maybe a year?
Just endure for one year and I’ll be free. I can do this… I can really… can I?
Unaware of my inner turmoil, Jereon seemed pleased, inhaling the fragrance of his tea, no longer considering himself a “problematic reader.”
“Then begin writing right away.”
“……Yes, Your Highness.”
What choice did I have? If he told me to write, I’d write. If he told me to jump, I’d jump.
I’d once snapped at Chief Editor Edward over a break, but there was no way I could say such a thing to the Crown Prince. Normally, he was so far above me that even talking to him felt surreal.
No one would ever guess I’m writing under royal surveillance. Except those in the palace.
No one even came looking for me when I was dragged to the palace. My parents were gone, and I was alone in the world.
I hadn’t understood why the Crown Prince was so obsessed with my novel, but his aide, Hassel, explained everything.
In the empire, only emperors with significant accomplishments earned sky-high prestige. As a result, the Crown Prince’s presence was virtually nonexistent. Occasionally, people would praise his appearance at imperial events, but it never lasted.
Even when he won hunting or jousting tournaments, people would say, “He’s the Crown Prince—they probably let him win.”
When he showed talent in art, they said, “Of course, they graded him generously.”
Even when he published scholarly articles—genuinely written by him—people accused him of using a ghostwriter.
This persistent public skepticism stemmed from widespread resentment toward hereditary privilege. The empire had once nearly collapsed due to an incompetent successor, so now its people judged crown princes by the harshest standards.
Add to that the worsening wealth gap: the poor remained poor, the rich grew richer. As taxes tightened, blame naturally fell on those in power.
So jealousy and disdain toward the Crown Prince permeated the empire, rendering him irrelevant in the public eye.
If he wanted a stable succession later, he had to elevate his public image now.
To that end, Prince Jereon devoted himself to the people—serving, donating, managing a royal trading company, and even fighting in wars to earn merit. Yet he was still ignored.
That changed two years ago during a parade through the capital.
Usually, the public barely glanced at him as his procession passed. But that day, people threw flowers in the streets, women blew kisses from balconies, and cheers rang out.
Wondering why, Hassel investigated—turns out it was because of my novel.
Not only had I turned a disagreeable prince into a beloved character, but public support for the real Crown Prince also rose.
So he began copying the clothes described in the book and even mimicking the character’s mannerisms.
When I heard this, I broke out in a cold sweat. If I had written him as a total loser, I’d be writing from a dungeon instead of a guest palace.
So that’s why he clung to the story so desperately—and why I had no choice but to craft a happy ending, making him the most charming man in the realm.
With hair.
He ignored my slumped shoulders and jumped straight to the point.
“So, how long does it take you to write an installment?”
“A week—five days to write, two days to revise.”
“Then show me your drafts during revision. I’ll help polish them.”
“……That would be an honor.”
“Don’t be so formal. You’re one of my people now. Settle in and write comfortably.”
Your person?
In every forbidden romance novel, there’s always a moment when the male lead says, “You’re mine now!” as a declaration of love.
Wait—was that a confession?!
I froze, mind spiraling. But then he said:
“Now that you’re mine, you’ll serve as my direct subordinate.”
“Ah… so that’s what ‘my person’ meant.”
“Exactly.”
I’d nearly misinterpreted that as a love confession. Close call.
Get a grip. Focus.
Once his business was concluded, Jereon stood, straightening his uniform until it was immaculate.
The more I looked at him, the more I realized just how closely he had studied the novel. I once described his uniform as adorned with an eagle-shaped gold emblem—and sure enough, he wore that exact badge.
But the royal emblem is a sun, not an eagle…
I rose as well, bowing to the Crown Prince as he smiled like a benevolent ruler. Then I watched him leave.
Slam! The door closed behind him, and I collapsed into my seat.
“Five days of freedom, followed by two days of suffering…”
He may have flawless looks, but everything else about him was a flaw. And that was the biggest flaw.
Focus. You’re in the palace now.
The joy of meeting the Crown Prince lasted ten seconds. After that, every time he spoke, I saw a sky-blue envelope flapping open and shut.
—
On the day The Crown Prince’s Last Love began serialization, the palace held a grand celebration. I’d assumed only commoners read my work—but surprisingly, many noblewomen were avid fans too.
“What on earth is that statue…?”
At the center of the banquet stood a bust of the Crown Prince. Oddly, the top of his head was covered in soil, and grass was growing from it.
Aide Hassel encouraged me to take a closer look. I approached and read the placard in front of it.
*“In celebration, please water generously.”*
With a repentant heart, I poured water onto the grass. Hopefully, it would grow—like the Crown Prince’s hair in the novel.
“Oh my! You’re the author, aren’t you?”
A noblewoman fluttered her fan, releasing a heady rose scent. Dressed in an evening gown unlike my usual attire, I was soon surrounded by noblewomen.
I expected curiosity, but not such fervent enthusiasm. Even Hassel, who had been coaching me from the sidelines, took a step back.
“So, who is this ‘last love’? You only mentioned she’s a noblewoman—which house inspired her?”
“What about our house? We’ve had strong ties to the royal family.”
“Nonsense. My daughter debuted last year. You should come visit us for inspiration—”
“Ladies, no need to rush. You’re all reading the novel out of pure enjoyment, right?”
“How could you say that? Didn’t you bring your daughter to the author’s palace residence?”
Ah—now that I thought about it, two days ago, a noble lady I didn’t recognize had been sniffing flowers in the palace garden. Since the Emperor has no daughters, she had to be a noble’s child. I hadn’t paid much attention—just thought her dress looked like a cream puff and got hungry.
I already had a female lead in mind, and it was best to avoid basing her on any of the families present. You never know what kind of backlash that might provoke.
“Excuse me, pardon me…”
While they argued among themselves, I slipped away. Phew. I made a mental note never to attend a noble gathering again.
While munching on fruit in a secluded corner, I noticed the Crown Prince entering near the orchestra, radiating authority. The quarreling noblewomen immediately turned and smiled sweetly at him.
“I deeply thank all the esteemed guests for attending.”
Though everyone stared at him, he showed no trace of nerves or discomfort. His charisma and confidence seemed innate.
As his speech continued, the room filled with laughter and cheer. Then suddenly, he raised a hand to quiet the crowd.
“To mark the reserialization of this novel, allow me to introduce its author—of The Crown Prince’s First Love and now The Crown Prince’s Last Love—Shanael!”
Crown Prince Jereon stretched out his long arm and pointed straight at me, crouched in a corner.
His eyesight was incredible.
How did he spot me from all the way over there?
