The Coward's End
The poison worked fast.
Siam lay on the cold stone bed, breath shallow, limbs numb. The ceiling blurred as the toxin spread through his veins.
Standing beside the bed, Brother Leo watched calmly.
"Why?" Siam asked softly. "Why, Brother Leo?"
Leo scoffed. "You took vows only to survive. You abandoned the world and called it peace. Cowards like you deserve nothing better than a quiet death."
Siam smiled faintly, even as blood crept up his throat.
"If I was truly a coward," Siam said, "why poison me? Why not strike openly?"
Leo's eyes narrowed.
"Because poison is the only way," Leo replied coldly. "If you ever willed it—if you ever chose ambition—you would threaten my crown. You had to die before that day arrived."
So that's it.
Fear… or potential.
Siam closed his eyes.
"I see."
Steel flashed.
The blade descended without hesitation.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Hell's Slayer
The world snapped back violently.
Siam gasped, sitting upright as air flooded his lungs. His heart hammered as if it might tear free.
Alive.
He looked down.
Young hands. Unscarred. No poison. No blood.
"Eyes. Body. Intact," Siam muttered, touching his face. "And I'm still… me."
The room was familiar.
Too familiar.
Before Siam could think further, the heavy royal doors burst open.
The Third Prince strode in, boots echoing sharply across the marble floor.
Without a word, the prince kicked Siam to the ground.
"You've got nerve," the prince sneered.
"Thinking the Crown Prince seat would protect you."
Siam hit the floor hard.
"Third Cousin?" Siam said slowly.
"Hah. Drop the formalities," the prince said. "Listen carefully. If you don't reject the crown tomorrow, your mother follows your father to the grave."
The prince leaned closer, voice low.
"You experiments should remember your place."
Then he turned and left.
No pause. No explanation.
The doors slammed shut.
Silence.
"Coronation… tomorrow," Siam murmured.
Siam stood still for a long moment.
Then exhaled.
"So," Siam said quietly, eyes sharpening, "I'm back at the beginning."
A voice yawned inside his mind.
"You finally noticed?"
Siam didn't move his lips. "Who are you?"
"Take a guess."
Fragments of memories—old books, whispered legends, forbidden stories—surfaced in his mind and converged on a single name.
"…Hell's Slayer," Siam said.
A lazy laugh echoed.
"Correct. Seems your knowledge wasn't wasted."
"So the legends were real."
"Legends exist because they happened," she replied. "Once."
Siam clenched his fist.
"So we're bound."
"Indeed," the voice said lazily. "And you don't get to retire until all monsters are dealt with."
"I became a monk," Siam said. "To avoid bloodshed."
"And died for it," she replied flatly. "You ignored the monsters closest to you."
After a pause.
"This time, don't make the same mistake."
Siam straightened.
A faint heat stirred deep within his chest—subtle, controlled, but undeniable. The fear lingering in his body receded, replaced by something cold and steady.
Control.
Siam's gaze fixed on the closed doors.
"Tell me the rules," Siam said calmly.
She chuckled.
"Good. First rule," she said. "Peace is a lie. Power decides who lives."
Siam smiled.
The Prince Who Didn't Run.
Time passed in silence. Siam sat upright on his bed, unwavering.
The night faded, and dawn broke, yet his Third Cousin did not return.
Finally, the morning sun rose, and the chaos within the Royal Palace reached its peak.
The entire nation was preparing to welcome their new Crown Prince.
By this time in his previous life, Siam had already fled.
He had shed his royal robes for a monk's cloth, forcing the King—his grandfather—to name the Third Prince as heir by default.
But today, Siam remained.
Servants bustled into his chambers, bowing low, ready to dress him for the coronation.
Meanwhile, at the Third Prince's private villa, the atmosphere was suffocating.
The Third Prince sat lazily on his chair, though his eyes were sharp, devoid of any care for the world.
A servant hurried forward, trembling as he bowed. "Your Highness... the Grand Prince is seeking an audience with you."
The Prince barely glanced at the servant. "Reject it."
"But... I cannot simply..."
"Go. Now. Don't mutter like a madman."
The Prince stood up, walked calmly toward the servant, and with a sudden, violent motion, threw the man straight out the open doors.
A scream echoed through the courtyard as the servant landed hard.
"You should just obey the Master," another servant whispered, rushing over to the injured man. He shook his head, his face pale. "Come. I'll take you to the physician to fix those broken limbs."
He lowered his voice further, glancing fearfully at the open doors.
"Our Master... he wasn't like this before."
"Then... how was he?" the injured man groaned.
"Forget that. Don't tell outsiders. Not even the King should know. Otherwise, we all die."
Inside the villa, the Third Prince's frown deepened with each passing second.
A shadow emerged from the corner of the room. The Prince didn't turn.
"What happened?"
"No movement," the Shadow reported.
"Siam didn't budge the entire night."
The Prince's eyes narrowed. "He didn't run away? Huh."
He let out a cold, sharp breath, his irritation boiling over.
"Then he wants to die. Let him, then," the Prince hissed. "His very existence is annoying."