The sunlight bled softly through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the room. A man was sprawled on the bed loudly snoring. He was so out of it as if this was the first time in years he was sleeping so well.
And then...
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Your Highness," came the maid's voice, muffled by the heavy oak door. "The National Ceremony begins in two hours. Please prepare yourself."
The sound tugged him out of a half-dream. With a groggy breath, the prince stretched beneath the silk sheets. He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and reached toward the nightstand. His hand found the familiar weight of his phone. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications: palace staff schedules, official reminders, and, of course, his socials.
He swiped lazily through his feed. News headlines, memes, concert ads. Then, the charts.
Right at the top of the Global K-Pop Billboard shone a name he had seen countless times before:
HUNTRIX — #1.
They were everywhere these days. Posters in every city, songs on every channel. To the world, they were idols. To those who believed the rumors… something else entirely.
Scrolling further, his eyes landed on another name at the peak of the International Idol Rankings: Keira Starling — #1.
He chuckled softly to himself. So, the princess-turned-idol still holds her crown. Keira's songs were the kind that made kingdoms stop and listen. Even he, who was supposed to care about state matters, found himself humming her choruses under his breath sometimes.
Setting the phone aside, he exhaled. The ceremony. He almost wished he could trade places with someone—anyone—who didn't have to sit through speeches, handshakes, and long, boring hours of smiling for the cameras.
Dragging himself to the bathroom, he turned the water on and let the steam rise. A hot shower later, his body felt awake, but his mind still wandered elsewhere. He imagined standing on a stage, lights flashing, music pulsing through his veins instead of this dull weight of royal duty.
Back in his room, attendants had already laid out his clothes. The royal uniform gleamed on the hanger: a deep navy jacket with golden embroidery, polished boots, and the ceremonial sash. He slipped them on piece by piece, his reflection taking shape in the mirror.
A prince looked back at him. Polished, proper and perfect.
He adjusted the collar, straightened his cuffs, and muttered under his breath, "This is gonna be boring."
His voice was swallowed by the empty room, but inside, a different thought stirred.
Even after eighteen years in this life, he still marveled at the world. He had lived twenty-one years in his old one, and yet here he was, reborn as a prince of a modern kingdom. Castles and ceremonies on one side, smartphones and idol billboards on the other. Two worlds, somehow stitched together into one reality.
He slipped the phone into his pocket, turned toward the door, and pushed it open.
The day had begun.
______
(Akira's POV)
The oak doors creaked open, and I stepped into the wide hallway. My polished boots tapped lightly against the marble floor as I made my way toward the dining room. Chandeliers hung above like crystal constellations, guards lined the walls at intervals, and the red carpet stretched endlessly before me.
My mind wandered as it always did in moments like these.
My name is Yagami Akira.
My parents divorced when I was still young, so I grew up under my grandfather's care. He was a strict man, but kind in his own way — the kind of person who carried the weight of history in his silence.
In my second year of university, he passed away. Suddenly, I was alone.
Still, I was lucky. I was born in a peaceful era. No wars, no great disasters, just the struggles of an ordinary student trying to get by. I worked part-time, saved what I could, and managed to finish my degree. But my real dream never left me.
I wanted to stand on a stage. To sing, to dance, to be an idol.
Years of training followed. Endless practice, sweat, exhaustion. But I shined enough to be noticed, enough to be chosen. Finally, I was set to debut in a new P-pop group. It felt like all my suffering had led me there — like life was finally giving me a chance.
But God… didn't play by the book.
On the very day of our debut, the car I was riding in was struck by a speeding truck. My life ended before it could truly begin.
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in a hospital, or the afterlife. I was in a gilded crib, reborn as the second prince of Yamatozia Kingdom.
At first, I was elated. Who wouldn't be? A prince, surrounded by luxury, servants, and endless food. No more part-time jobs, no more cramped apartments. I thought I could be a couch potato for the rest of my life.
But reality slapped me harder than before. The older I grew, the clearer it became. Royalty wasn't about freedom — it was about duty. Expectations and endless ceremonies.
And the more I learned of this world, the crazier it felt. Through these eighteen years, I realized the truth: this wasn't just another Earth. This was a world stitched together from the movies and stories I used to watch. Barbie's kingdoms. Demon-hunting idols like Huntrix. They weren't fiction here. They were real.
I stopped before the tall double doors of the dining room. My hand pressed against the polished wood.
Click.
The door opened.
Seated at the long table were the pillars of my new life.
At the head, my father, the King, whose stern gaze commanded silence even in casual moments. Beside him, my mother, the Queen, graceful and poised as always. And at his right, my elder brother, Crown Prince Ryouma the golden heir of Yamatozia, perfect in every way I was not and my little sister, Yuna.
They were already eating. And now, the second prince had arrived.