Chapter 1 - Prince Red Riding Hood

Translator's Note:

Hello, I hope you've all been doing well

Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

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From the emerald-draped mountain range rose a singular, snow-crowned kingdom—Vallcent.

 

This small northern realm, where snow lingered even in the height of summer, was encircled by crimson snow known as Strawberry Snow and forests of trees whose branches jutted like spears.

 

Vallcent had a long history of battling cunning, magic-infused wolves, and the Strawberry Snow, which traced pale red ribbons across white fields, served as the sacred marker of the barrier that protected the land from these beasts.

 

Thus, in this country, red was revered—a sacred color, the hue of protection.

 

The bold color that shielded the land and its people from evil—so sacred that only the royal family was permitted to wear it. It was a forbidden color to all others.

 

"Happy sixteenth birthday, my dear Lil."

 

"Thank you very much, Grandmother."

 

On the morning of his birthday, Lil bowed gracefully before Queen Cyndia, the reclusive sovereign of Vallcent.

 

Lil, the queen's grandchild, bore a striking resemblance to her in beauty—save for the unique color of his eyes. His skin was as pale as snow.

 

His hair, jet-black like a raven's feather, was cut short in a boyish style that traced the elegant shape of his head.

 

His full formal name, without titles, was Liladry Raymond Vallcent.

 

Though second in line to the throne after the queen's only daughter, the royal princess, he was often treated as the de facto heir. The princess, having lost her husband before Lil's birth, had been unwell and confined to a tower for all sixteen years of his life. As a result, many addressed Lil as Crown Prince.

 

"As in past years, a new red cloak has been made for summer. Now that you are sixteen—an age marking your entry into adulthood—it is different from the ones before. Come try it on."

 

"Thank you. I'm excited to see what makes it special."

 

Though now sixteen, Lil remained delicate and childlike. He approached the queen's throne slowly.

 

In truth, he longed to run up to her like he did when he was younger—clutch her crimson skirts or climb into her lap. But ever since turning ten, he had begun to carry himself with the awareness of a future monarch. So he behaved with careful decorum, mindful not to give his tutors reason to scold him.

 

"Oh… the hem is so long and elegant. The gold embroidery is exquisite, and so many rubies are sewn into it… it's absolutely stunning. Even though it's made for summer, it feels wonderfully heavy."

 

Lil didn't simply drape the cloak over his shoulders—he pulled the hood over his small head as well.

 

Spinning before a tall mirror, he spread the long hem like a gown, letting it fan out like a royal skirt.

 

Bathed in the glow of the crystal chandelier, the embroidery and rubies shimmered with dazzling brilliance.

 

The more Lil turned, the more the cloak sparkled with decadent splendor.

 

From behind, the waiting ladies-in-waiting offered a chorus of praise:

"Your Highness, it suits you beautifully."

 

They all wore warm smiles, seemingly sincere in their admiration.

 

And yet—where did the truth lie? That answer, Lil would never know.

 

He understood well enough: because of the strange color of his eyes, he was feared by many—nobles, clergy, common folk… perhaps even all of them.

 

Though the castle staff praised his eyes as beautiful and never recoiled from them, it was entirely possible that the queen, protective of her only grandchild, had hired only those skilled in the art of lying. Their livelihoods depended on pleasing the crown. There was no guarantee their smiles were genuine.

 

"Thank you, Grandmother. And thank you, everyone."

 

As Lil returned their smiles, the ever-dignified queen's expression softened.

 

Whether or not the attendants' praise was genuine, the gift still made Lil's heart glad.

 

In Vallcent, the cold was so severe that snow never fully melted, even in summer. To step outside, one needed proper outerwear.

 

Each year, on his early-summer birthday, Lil received a new red cloak for the season, and in autumn, during the founding festival, he was given one for winter. Counting even those from his childhood he could no longer wear, Lil possessed over twenty red cloaks in total.

 

Other garments were sometimes passed down to the sons of nobles, but not the red cloaks. They were tokens of his grandmother's love and were kept with care. Besides, only royalty could wear such garments.

 

"The hem really is long… If I'm not careful, I'll trip on the stairs."

 

"Which means you must move with care and grace. That's the lesson."

 

"Oh… I see. That's what it meant."

 

Understanding dawning, Lil bent and straightened his knees repeatedly, trying to get used to the weight and length.

 

The cloak he'd worn just the day before was a thick winter piece, lined with animal fur and trimmed in rich pelts—but its length only reached below his knees. This new one felt fresh and unfamiliar.

 

It no longer felt childish. Wearing it, he could almost believe he'd already become an adult.

 

"Grandmother… Thank you for recognizing me as someone grown."

 

"My, how impatient you are. I haven't gone quite that far. But I am glad you've grown enough to accept the color of your eyes. You don't hate them anymore, do you?"

 

Though a grandmother, the queen was far from elderly. She smiled behind the delicate fan that hid her lips.

 

Looking at her radiant beauty, Lil couldn't help but see in her the image of his mother—a woman he had only ever known through portraits.

 

"No… I don't hate them anymore. And that's all thanks to you, Grandmother. I feel so fortunate to be wrapped in your love, sparkling like this cloak."

 

As Lil gently stroked the cloak's fine surface, his heart drifted toward something he longed for far more.

 

Every year, his grandmother gifted him a new cloak, and allowed him ten days free of study and training for his birthday—but she never allowed him to approach the tower on the eastern side of the castle.

 

What Lil desired most wasn't the lavish red cloak adorned with jewels and embroidery. It was the freedom to visit his mother. Just once—on his birthday, if nothing else—he wished he could see her.

 

Now that he had come to accept the color of his eyes, a color he had once despised, the longing to see her had grown even stronger.

 

In the past, he had feared: If she sees these eyes, she might be afraid of me. She might hate me. What if it worsens her illness?

 

That fear had dulled his desire to meet her.

 

But lately, he found himself gazing up at the tower for longer and longer.

 

Still, he knew that to speak of his mother would only bring sorrow and trouble to his grandmother. So he said nothing.

 

He had considered asking—this year for sure, he thought since last year. But the moment he sensed that she had no intention of granting such a wish, the words died in his throat.

 

Somehow, without saying it, he already knew the answer.

 

Her refusal to let Lil and her daughter meet was proof enough—she must believe that such a meeting would do Lil more harm than good. And Lil couldn't bring himself to think that Cyndia's judgment was wrong.

 

"Grandmother…"

 

Because he kept his true feelings hidden, Lil suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to seek her affection.

 

He flung himself into her arms and gently wrapped his arms around her neck, where a large diamond glistened like a drop of frozen starlight.

 

"My, what's gotten into you? You're sixteen now, but acting like a child."

 

"It's just… when you spoke about my eyes, it brought back how I felt when I was little."

 

As he said this and gazed up at the queen, Lil's eyes—like the cloak gifted to him—were red.

 

Not only the irises, but even the pupils were tinged a dark, wine-like crimson. The irises themselves glowed with the vivid red of blooming roses in the palace gardens, or the ripe flush of an apple ready to fall.

 

Lil had never met anyone else with eyes like his.

 

His grandmother's eyes, and those of his parents in their portraits, had pupils as dark as onyx, with irises shaded in deep, near-black brown… So why was he the only one born with eyes that looked as though they had been dyed in blood? He still didn't understand.

 

The castle staff either never spoke of his eye color or praised them as beautiful—but children were honest.

 

When adults weren't watching, he'd hear whispers from noble boys:

 

"Those are the eyes of a beast. Frightening."

 

"If he looks at you with those blood-red eyes, you'll be cursed."

 

And once, hiding in the forest's shadows, a peasant child had screamed: "It's the demon with crimson eyes! The cursed prince has come!"

 

Each time, it felt like a blade was carving into his heart. But Lil understood all too well why they said such things.

 

More than anyone, he himself had hated those blood-colored eyes—avoiding mirrors, wondering if he was cursed.

 

He couldn't help but think his cursed gaze had caused it all—his father's death, his mother's illness. There were even times he thought he should gouge out his eyes altogether.

 

"I've always hated my eyes… Even when people called them noble, or sacred—I still hated being different. I was afraid of having the same color as a fearsome beast. But… Grandmother, you always told me they were beautiful. You said you were proud of them—you loved me, just as I am. And that's why… I don't hate my eyes anymore."

 

"You don't hate them, hmm? So you still don't love them, do you?"

 

"No… I do. I love them now."

 

That was mostly a lie. But Lil wanted so badly to make his grandmother happy that he said it anyway.

 

It was true he no longer hated them—and now he believed the color of his eyes was nothing more than a quirk of fate.

 

It had taken sixteen long years for that belief to take root, and it was Cyndia who had nurtured it.

 

No matter what others truly felt, he knew her love and praise were genuine. The way she looked at him—at his crimson eyes—was filled with pride.

 

"I'm glad," she said. "But you are mistaken about one thing. I'm not the only one who has called your eyes beautiful, or loved you for them. The maids who stand here, and many others throughout Vallcent—they all love you, every part of you. So long as you remain a good child, a Crown Prince worthy of Vallcent, their love will never waver."

 

"…Grandmother."

 

Lil, surrounded by his grandmother's touch and the warm smiles of the maids, gave a firm, grateful nod.

 

Whatever the truth might be, he felt fortunate. Despite the oddity of his eyes, he was cherished.

 

He had lost his father, had never once met his mother, and there were certainly times when he felt lonely. But still—he was loved, and he was happy.

 

The red hooded cloak he wore now was more than just protection against the cold. When he had loathed his eye color, it was Cyndia who had gently said, "Red is a noble and sacred color. Be proud of it." Then with a smile, she had added, "Wearing this will help you stand out less," and gifted him the cloak.

 

"I want to do something for you too, Grandmother. Something to repay your love."

 

Lil buried his face in her chest, breathing in the delicate scent of fine powder and the natural fragrance of her skin.

 

Lifted and shaped by her corset, her bosom was soft and full, exuding a refined, lily-like aroma.

 

Perhaps my mother's embrace would feel the same, he thought.

 

Having never been breastfed by his mother and raised instead by a wet nurse, Lil saw his grandmother as the very embodiment of love.

 

That was why he could never ask for too much.

 

He couldn't bear to make her sad or troubled. He must never disappoint her.

 

He wanted to live as the best grandson he could be—to be her ideal heir. And one day, when she finally passed the throne to him, he wanted her to think, "How fortunate I am to have such a worthy successor."

 

"This year, I want to give you something even more wonderful than last year—something you'll truly love."

 

"My, how lovely that sounds… Though truly, your feelings alone are enough, I can't help but look forward to it. What might you do for me? Will you sing like a bird with that beautiful voice? Or dance like a butterfly, light and graceful? Whatever it is, if it comes from you, I know I'll be delighted."

 

"If I only do what I always do, it won't feel special. I'll have to think harder."

 

Reluctantly, Lil stepped back from her embrace, took hold of his cloak's hem, and gave a second, formal bow.

 

He would've loved to linger a little longer in her arms, but he was sixteen now. He had stepped into adulthood—and could no longer behave like a child forever.

 

Not just by being doted on, but by showing growth befitting a crown prince—Lil wanted to prove himself worthy of her love.

 

 

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