Crimson vows: The prince's servant

The Spring Festival in Varethis was a spectacle of music, gold, and masks — a time when the kingdom danced, drank, and drowned in desire. But above the crowds, watching from his marble throne, Crown Prince Joong grew bored.

Women paraded before him, hoping to catch his eye. Men bowed in desperation to win his favor. None succeeded. He had tasted them all before — flesh, power, secrets. Nothing intrigued him anymore. Not until his gaze slipped toward the outer servants’ ring.

And there he saw him.

Barefoot. Dirty. Hands trembling as he poured wine into silver goblets, careful not to spill a single drop. His robes were plain, too large on his slight frame, and his head bowed so low he could’ve vanished.

But he didn’t.

Because Joong couldn’t look away.

That boy… he wasn’t like the rest. There was a softness to him that didn’t belong in this cruel world. A kind of fragile obedience that made Joong’s blood stir in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

“Who is that?” he asked, voice low with interest and intent.

No one answered. No one dared.

The prince leaned forward, lips curled into something dark.

“Find him. Bring him to me. And if he belongs to someone… I’ll buy him.”

In the corner of the noble estate, Dunk winced as another bucket splashed across the stone floor. His stepmother scowled.

“Useless boy. Can’t even clean properly. Let’s see how long before someone takes you off our hands.”

He didn’t cry. Not anymore. He only nodded and whispered a quiet apology.

He didn’t know that someone had already seen him.

Didn’t know that the Crown Prince had made a silent vow.

And by the time the stars rose over the palace, Dunk’s fate had been sealed — sold like a commodity, not to a kind master, but to a man who did not know mercy.

A prince with no heart.

A servant with no escape.

And a deal bound not in ink, but in desire.