THE BLACK SERPENT

Among the five princes of Goryeonara, none inspired fear—or revulsion—quite like the second prince, Hyeonjin, known across the realm as the Black Serpent. From the moment he could walk, Hyeonjin's name became synonymous with cruelty. By ten, he had already spilled blood for his own amusement. By twenty, his body count rivaled that of seasoned generals. Where others sought glory in honor, he found pleasure in chaos, a predator unbound by morality.

He loathed his older brother, Jinmu, the perfect crown prince—the golden heir whose mere existence seemed to mock Hyeonjin's own. Living in Jinmu's shadow festered like a poison in his veins, driving his ambition to treacherous heights. It wasn't enough to want the throne. He craved it with a hunger that consumed him, a fire that burned brighter with every passing year.

But ambition, as always, comes with a cost. When the king uncovered his plot to usurp the throne, his fury was swift and unrelenting. Stripped of his title and cast into the desolate wastelands beyond the kingdom's borders, Hyeonjin should have perished. Instead, like the serpent he was, he shed his old skin and thrived.

In the barren wastelands, he forged a new empire from blood and ash, his charm and cunning luring outlaws and mercenaries to his side. He built a fortress of stone and bone, its halls echoing with the screams of those who dared defy him. Soon, the Black Serpent commanded an army that could rival Goryeonara's own. Yet, for all his power, his heart remained a bottomless pit of cruelty. He married often, but no wife ever lived to see a second spring. Each death served as both a reminder of his monstrous nature and a warning to any who dared grow close.

Yet fate has a cruel sense of irony. While Hyeonjin ruled his dark domain, Jinmu—the golden heir—was found dead under mysterious circumstances. The crown of Goryeonara lay unclaimed, the kingdom on the brink of chaos. And Hyeonjin? He remained oblivious, consumed by his endless thirst for blood and domination.

One fateful night, as crimson stained the walls of his banquet hall and the air reeked of death, an unexpected visitor arrived. His most trusted advisor, pale-faced and trembling, interrupted his revelry. "Your Highness," the man stammered, barely able to meet Hyeonjin's piercing gaze, "the Queen... she is here."

Hyeonjin froze, his blade still dripping from his latest victim. A slow smile spread across his face, cruel and predatory. The Queen? What business could his brother's wife possibly have in his forsaken domain?

"Entertain our guest," he said with a wave of his bloodied hand, his voice cold as winter. He rose to his feet, his long black robes trailing behind him like shadows, and made his way to the audience chamber.

When he saw her, his smile widened into something both mocking and dangerous. "Sister-in-law," he drawled, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. "What an unexpected delight. Have you come to see the monster your dear husband so graciously banished? Or..." He paused, tilting his head as his dark eyes glittered with malice. "Do you bring word from the kingdom?"

He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, as if the air itself recoiled from him. She did not flinch—how bold of her. It amused him. "Tell me," he murmured, his voice soft but no less deadly, "to what do I owe this visit?"