AHEIAID Chapter 31: I'll Show You What It Means to Be Targeted
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Night had fallen.
Harry, who had made a discreet appearance at the banquet before slipping away unnoticed under the cover of darkness, returned to his estate—where he and his subordinates discussed important matters.
Seated at a round table, he held a bouquet of delicate white roses, still glistening with fresh dew. Humming a tune with a smile on his lips, he played idly with the petals, his slender fingers gently brushing against them.
The dewdrops moistened his pale fingertips.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the moonlight bathed the dimly lit room in a soft glow, illuminating the prince’s short, slightly curled golden hair and the youthful features that had just shed their boyish innocence. In that moment, he appeared almost like an angel—radiant, pure, and ethereal.
"In an empty room where no one remains,
Daddy lies upon the bed, Mommy on the floor.
I picked up Mommy and placed her in a vase—
She always loved bright flowers the most.
I picked up Daddy and laid him in the
backyard—
He always loved that fierce hunting hound…"
His soft, lilting voice sang the eerie nursery rhyme—a tune sweet yet unsettling upon closer thought.
The two agents standing in the shadows, awaiting their master’s orders, were drenched in cold sweat.
In the vast, silent estate, devoid of any artificial lighting, the golden-haired prince sang a chilling children’s song under the dim moonlight. The more beautiful and gentle he appeared, the more spine-chilling the night became. A creeping cold spread down their backs.
“Y-Y-Your Highness…” One of the agents gritted his teeth and finally mustered the courage to speak.
Harry’s singing paused.
His smile vanished as he turned his gaze toward the subordinate who had spoken.
The agent swallowed nervously, ignoring the goosebumps rising on his arms, and whispered cautiously, “Everything is prepared. But… keeping this from Lord Druck… won’t that be…”
Before he could finish, his voice trailed off beneath the weight of his master’s gaze—those crescent-shaped, smiling eyes.
The agent clamped his mouth shut in terror, hurriedly lowering his head.
To outsiders, this prince was a timid and charming young man.
But to his subordinates, he was nothing short of a demon.
Beneath that flawless youthful exterior lurked something twisted—an obsessive, ruthless madness.
“Why should I listen to him?” Harry asked casually.
When the agent didn’t respond, he lowered his eyes to the bouquet of roses in his arms and repeated the question, his voice soft yet laced with an unspoken threat.
“Why should I listen to any of them?”
The roses, in full bloom, remained silent.
Harry’s smile vanished entirely.
Expressionless, he lifted the bouquet and, propping his chin on one hand, carelessly tossed the once-beloved flowers onto the carpet. Petals scattered across the floor.
“My father is a fool, content with the status quo, naively trying to treat everyone ‘fairly.’”
“My mother is a whore who doesn’t care who takes the throne, so long as she can squander wealth and keep her lovers.”
“And as for those so-called ‘loyalists’ who claim to support me? They’re nothing more than flies disgruntled by my brother’s proposed reforms, hoping to use me as a stepping stone.”
So tell me—
Why should I listen to any of them?
Hearing the prince’s emotionless voice utter such blatant insults toward the Emperor and Empress, the two agents dared not breathe.
But Harry didn’t even look at them.
To him, aside from Garius—the sole ruler of District 13, the man whose power single-handedly kept the entire empire and its enemies at bay—his so-called parents, brothers, and subordinates were nothing but disgusting, boring trash.
Only that man was worthy of his attention.
He muttered to himself, “Big Brother… if only you had stayed obediently in the palace. Why did you have to pretend to care and visit your friend at the hospital? Now I’ve had to craft a whole new script—*‘Radical intruder at the hospital, Crown Prince tragically killed in an accident.’”
—But, Your Highness… wasn’t it you who ordered that assassination attempt on his friend in the first place?!
The agents shuddered at the realization of just how ruthless and calculating their master truly was.
“The assassins are in position,” one of them reported hesitantly. “But… if we’re disguising it as an accident, we can’t avoid civilian casualties…”
“Then kill them. Kill a lot of them.”
Harry clapped his hands together in delight, smiling as if he had just thought of something particularly amusing.
“If only my dear brother dies, wouldn’t that be… too lonely?”
The agents: “…”
“B-But… Lord Druck said that harming civilians would…” The agent’s voice trembled as he forced out the warning, “...attract Garius Heine’s attention.”
“And?”
Harry tilted his head, looking at his subordinate with an innocent expression.
Then, he smiled even more sweetly.
“Isn’t that even better?”
“………………”
“What a pity that Father is biased—punishing openly but protecting in secret. Otherwise, after I had my men blow up the weapons depot under my brother’s jurisdiction last time—disguising it as an accident due to poor oversight, killing so many~ so many people—he should’ve long been court-martialed and stripped of his title as Crown Prince.”
As for the fear of provoking Garius Heine? That was simply nonexistent.
Harry was born different from ordinary people. He despised happiness, beauty, and rules.
He had no actual interest in the throne.
But watching his father in pain—watching his righteous brother fail to claim his rightful place—that delighted him.
Especially when Garius Heine became angry because of him, when that man furrowed his brows—Harry found it even more pleasurable than sex.
Even more satisfying than killing his brother.
He wanted more. He wanted to see that man lose his calm, to shake his self-control.
“Let’s go. The show is about to begin~”
Imagining the hospital filled with corpses, the cries of countless grieving people, his father receiving news of his brother’s death, and Garius Heine’s cold expression as his bottom line was violated…
Harry’s usual laziness disappeared.
He stood up from his chair, suddenly energized, and urged his subordinates forward with great interest.
Descending the stairs with long strides, his eyes gleamed with a bloodthirsty chill as he issued orders through his communicator:
“I already made a deliberate appearance at the banquet and staged my departure. I have an alibi. Tell the assassins to wait for my signal—”
The two agents assigned to protect the prince quickly followed behind him.
Upon reaching the mansion’s grand entrance, they rushed forward, one on each side, pulling open the heavy doors.
“Creak—”
The ancient doors groaned as they opened.
Night and wind poured in simultaneously, tousling their hair.
Harry, still focused on giving orders, stepped outside with his agents. “Once I receive confirmation that the Crown Prince has entered the hospital, I will signal you. You will—”
“Yes! Understood, Your Highness! We are stationed near the hospital, waiting for your command—huh? What’s wrong, Your Highness? Why did you suddenly stop talking? Your Highness? Your Highness—?”
—Beep.
The call was abruptly cut off.
The assassin leader frowned, staring at the disconnected transmission. He exchanged uncertain glances with his comrade, unease creeping into his expression.
Meanwhile, outside the supposedly deserted old mansion…
Harry stood frozen.
Expressionless, he turned off his communicator.
His agents, drenched in cold sweat, looked toward the unexpected presence blocking the doorway.
A presence that should not have been here.
A man who should not have known of their actions.
—The moonlight illuminated his crown of ice and snow.
Brilliant golden hair cascaded in soft waves, like a golden ocean rippling behind him. His chiseled face bore no emotion, his deep-set eyes piercingly cold.
Under the cool lunar glow, his fair skin appeared almost ethereal, yet his tall, imposing figure and the golden insignia on his uniform left no room for doubt.
The ruler of District 13.
Just by standing there, he was like an unscalable mountain, blocking their only path forward—an oppressive, suffocating force.
“Garius… Heine…”
Why are you here?
How did you know about my plan?
For a long moment, Harry was speechless.
When he finally spoke, it was in a stunned whisper.
All his ruthless schemes—his calculated cruelty, his intricate traps—meant nothing in front of this one man.
They crumbled into dust.
Behind Garius, three men and one woman stood at ease, exuding both laziness and sharp vigilance. Some wore amused smirks, others gazed at the Third Prince with cold indifference—watching him as if he were just another fool daring to provoke their superior.
Garius looked down at the dazzling prince before him, his voice indifferent.
"I came for a visit."
Then, he added with an unmistakable edge—
"And to show you… what it really means to be targeted."
Harry: ……………
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