On Joril’s twelfth birthday, his father knocks and enters his room before the sun rises. He sits on Joril’s bed, “Happy Birthday, my son.”

“Thank you, father,” Joril yawns and then smiles with his eyes still closed. 

His father picks him up, takes him to the dining room, and seats him before a bowl of rice noodles, blenched wild springs, and a boiled egg. His mother sits beside him and pulls the bowl closer to him. She says, “Happy birthday, my son.”

“Thank you, mother.” He leans on her shoulder, “I’m still too sleepy. I can’t eat yet.”

“Don’t be like that. Today you’re an adult, Joril.” Rosenette scolds him but proceeds to feed him the bowl of noodles. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

As Joril eats his special birthday meal, his father reminds him to stay away from alphas who may have the evil intentions of sleeping with him or marking him. Then his mother adds that it’s quite alright if it’s the little prince who has those intentions. His father is visibly disappointed but his mother could care less. 

When the sun is more visible and the street their house is on gets busier, Joril’s father goes to wake up his twin brothers, and his mother gives him a basket of goodies. She tells him, “Go greet both of your grandparents.”

“Yes, mother.” 

“Joslan and Jorin, come sit and eat breakfast. You can’t be late for school.” Rosenette pulls her twin sons into the dining room. 

Their eyes are half asleep but still manage to each pull on Joril’s arms, “Happy birthday, big brother!”

“Thank you. Eat your breakfast and go to school.”

“Yes!”

Rosenette clicks her tongue, “These boys don’t listen to me, their mother, but are so obedient toward their elder brother.”

“It’s because Joril doesn’t yell at them,” his father whispers underneath his breath. He drags Joril to the front fence, “The little prince is waiting at the back fence. Go this way to avoid him. Be safe my son.”

“Thank you, father.”

Joril slips into the crowd and makes his way south of the city. It is good that both his paternal and maternal grandparents live across the street from each other. He goes to his paternal grandparents first, they give him a set of new clothes in return for some goodies. He stays with them for half an hour before he visits his maternal grandparents. 

He meets his maternal grandfather at the front fence, “Good morning, grandfather.”

“Good morning… Ah! Today you turn twelve!” His grandfather calls his page boy, “Go to the school and say that I’ll be a little late today. My eldest grandson turns twelve.”

“Come inside, Joril.”

“Joril! Oh, my little grandson turns twelve,” his grandmother giggles. She pulls him to sit and orders her husband to get the gifts.

“Grandmother, I bring you and grandfather some goodies.” Joril opens his basket and takes out the remaining goodies his mother packed him. 

“Good. Very good.”

His grandfather returns with a set of powders and creams and a leather book. He tells Joril, “These are from your grandmother, the book is from me. Even though you’re an omega, you ought to continue polishing your mind. No grandchild of mine will stop at learning to read and write layman words.”

“Who will marry him if he’s too smart. He should focus on making himself pretty,” his grandmother sighs. 

“The little prince would prefer a spouse who can communicate with him intellectually.”

“You and your daughter need to stop these delusions. There is no way the Duke and Duchess or the Emperor himself will approve of their marriage. Also, my grandson should marry a normal gentleman in this city.”

This old couple argues back and forth, until Joril interrupts them, “Grandfather, don’t you have to get to work soon?”

After his grandfather leaves, his grandmother places the powders and creams before him. She informs him of the benefits. Then she teaches him how to apply them. Through all of this, Joril acts innocent as if he is learning these things for the first time. Little does his grandmother know, Joril was once a pharmacist who a queen and all noble ladies once depended on. 

“Just a little red here and here and you’ve become the most beautiful person in all the lands,” she lifts Joril’s chin. “Even the little prince can’t resist you—What am I saying? But it’s truly a pity that neither set of your grandparents are from nobility, so perhaps marriage with the little prince would be more plausible.”

“It’s okay, grandmother. I don’t want to marry him.”

“Why not?”

Joril catches himself unable to make a reasonable excuse and simply says, “He’s too clingy.”

“But that’s good!” His grandmother laughs. “When they’re a little clingy, it means they won’t have another.”

That’s true, Joril sighs, thinking back to all their lifetimes. Never once did Alexander Mihr Braveheart betray his lover.

Joril’s grandmother keeps him all morning. He even has lunch with her. When he is about to return home, she says, “The Duchess asks for these for quite some time now. Please deliver these for grandma, okay?”

“Alright,” Joril answers after some hesitation. Similar to his grandmother, the Duchess often keeps him too long. If he doesn’t return home by tea time, he will be caught by the little prince.

He rides a carriage all the way north of the city where the Duke’s palace is with the fare money his grandmother gives him. The guards often see him so they simply let him in. He stands in the grand entrance hall for a while until some maids lead him to the Duchess’s corridor. 

The Duchess notices the slight difference caused by powder and cream on Joril’s face and body. She accepts the delivery and opens it, “She never ceases to amaze me. Her eyes are the best.”

“Oh,” She looks up from the box of a single hairpin. “You may leave.”

Joril says nothing and turns around to leave. 

“Wait… Take this to your mother.” The Duchess hands over a wooden box, “Be careful. And this is for your twelve birthday.”

“I—I can’t accept this, Your Grace. I’ll just take this for my mother.”

The Duchess chuckles, “Then go back quickly. Your mother must be worried about you.”

Joril nods and leaves. He knows that although the Duchess doesn’t see him as a potential partner for the little prince she still respects him through his mother and maternal grandmother. However, he doesn’t want her to have the slightest idea that he wants to marry the little prince. 

On his way out of the Duchess’s corridor, he is greeted by Tom, the little prince’s study partner. Joril clenches his basket of goods, “Please move out of the way. I need to leave.”

“His Highness said that he must see you. He’ll be here shortly, please wait.”

“It’s not good for me to meet him, Tom. Do you wish for His Highness to be scolded by the Duchess again?”

“I’m not scared of my mother.”