The Sweet Alpha Crown Prince Loves Me So Much

“Magic stones that activate through a life force, such as skin, heartbeat, or blood, inherently require a high degree of purity. Impurities destabilize the contained magic, increasing the likelihood of errors during activation.”

Viscount Drambuie, a man who’d dedicated his life to magic stone research, carefully examined the magic stones produced in Parman.

“With high purity, magic can be transferred efficiently even through mediums with similar wavelengths, like leather or saltwater. However, since consistent access to high-purity magic stones isn’t feasible, we compensate for the lack of purity by using other minerals to amplify the magic. Heineken has already completed its research in this area. While I don’t know Parman’s production methods, the irregular magic stones suggest instability, making them unreliable for magic use. That’s likely why they’ve resorted to direct implantation.”

Carl Lindbergh mechanically jotted down notes, nodding, but his mind was a whirlwind of other thoughts.

Belfry had been battling fever due to differentiation for two days straight.

Unable to eat, delirious, and his pheromones thick enough to attract insects, Carl Lindbergh had established a quarantine, barring entry to everyone except Janis, the Beta physician, his assistants, and himself. He’d personally taken on the task of nursing Belfry.

Whenever Belfry briefly regained consciousness, his gaze would meet Carl’s, a complex mix of emotions swirling within them.

〈I’m sorry… for falling in love.〉

That gaze, filled with unrequited longing, convinced Carl that Belfry had finally acknowledged his feelings for Adrian.

Carl, pressing a cool, damp cloth to Belfry’s dry lips, feigned ignorance.

The human heart was fickle indeed.

It was Carl Lindbergh who’d been hesitant and uncertain, despite being grateful for Adrian’s overwhelming affection.

Yet, knowing that Belfry had differentiated into an Omega, suspecting it was due to a night spent with Adrian, made him feel like the world was collapsing around him.

When or how it happened didn’t matter.

Even with limited time, stolen moments between duties and meals were enough for indiscretions.

Adrian might have mostly been by his side, but that didn’t mean they were attached at the hip twenty-four seven.

How could love change so easily? It hadn’t even been a month since their engagement, and he was already turning Belfry into an Omega? Carl suppressed the urge to grab the absent Adrian by the collar and demand answers.

Lulu, who’d probably been rooting for the original plotline, wore an ambiguous expression.

When Carl had asked her, 〈Do you think Adrian slept with Belfry?〉, she’d avoided answering directly.

〈Would you even believe me if I said no? Why don’t you just ask Adrian yourself?〉

She’d practically shooed him away.

He was tormented by a strange sense of betrayal, wanting to confront Adrian, yet hesitant to voice his suspicions.

Could he even bring himself to ask? If Adrian’s heart had shifted, he should let him go. But if he had to define it, to categorize it as an emotional or physical transgression, he couldn’t. It didn’t feel like betrayal.

He blamed the undefined nature of his relationship with Adrian.

It lacked the intensity of passionate love. Adrian showered him with affection, but Carl had mostly been reciprocating out of obligation.

After all, Belfry was Adrian’s intended soulmate in the original story. It was an eventuality, if Carl Lindbergh hadn’t interfered.

Adrian, at the border, was still unaware of Belfry’s differentiation.

Something was interfering with James’ communication device. They could only exchange brief, urgent messages once a day, as time and magical energy were limited.

How would Adrian react when he found out? Would he be surprised? Guilty?

Or perhaps… happy?

Given his unexpectedly upright character, it’s unthinkable that he would keep his engagement to Carl Lindbergh and relegate Belfrey to the position of a mere concubine.

So, what was he supposed to do?

Should he gracefully step aside, release Adrian’s hand, and wish him well?

His thoughts spiraled, his imagination painting scenarios of heartbreak and betrayal. Carl Lindbergh hadn’t yet realized this was jealousy.

He simply assumed that, as he’d initially feared, the world was correcting itself, realigning to revolve around the two protagonists.

But why did it make his heart ache, filling him with such overwhelming sadness and anxiety?

“Your Highness?”

Viscount Drambuie’s voice snapped him back to reality. He slapped himself, trying to clear his head.

Ignoring the viscount’s startled expression, he continued slapping himself, his cheeks flushing. “I apologize.”

Carl Lindbergh sighed deeply, and Viscount Drambuie, nodding sympathetically, mirrored his sigh.

“This is extremely dangerous. The blood vessels could fuse with the magic stones, causing inflammation or an uncontrolled surge of power, leading to unforeseen consequences. Countless demonic monsters must have perished before they perfected this process.”

If it were only monsters, they’d be fortunate. Human experimentation was a strong possibility.

Carl massaged his temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain.

“The single inscription on each magic stone seems to be an attempt at damage control.”

“Indeed. Or perhaps it’s to ensure easy replacement if the implanted stone causes inflammation and requires removal.”

The thought was horrifying.

“The monsters’ unnatural appearances are also concerning.”

Carl voiced his worry, and the viscount nodded in agreement.

“They must be either breeding the demonic monsters artificially or creating ghouls to maintain a steady supply for magic stone production or for further experimentation.”

“Ghoul?”

Carl’s attention sharpened.

Ghouls… Corpse-eating creatures that rose from the dead like zombies…

“Yes. Creatures that regenerate by consuming corpses, replacing missing or damaged body parts.”

The viscount stroked his beard, observing Carl Lindbergh’s horrified expression.

“A normal animal wouldn’t turn into a ghoul just by consuming corpses, but it’s possible for demonic monsters. Rejected by the goddess, they exist in a state between life and death, and some species possess immense magical power. Magic stones are formed similarly. It’s a trade, exchanging life force for magic.”

Life force… So, these magic stones were fragments of a demonic monster’s life…

Carl Lindbergh stared at the magic stones extracted from the Parman monsters, then gently picked one up.

He concentrated, recalling the time he’d imbued the ‘Burning Firewood’ formula with his magic, and felt the familiar tremor.

A faint warmth, accompanied by an erratic pulse, emanated from the stone.

It was subtly unsettling, so he quickly dropped it.

He couldn’t see or touch magic. But that invisible force, only perceived through intuition, was beginning to feel real.

“This could explain their grotesque and disfigured forms. Ghouls are often found in areas with a dense demonic monster population. In Heineken, we kill them on sight. But we don’t waste resources on complete eradication. It’s simply too demanding in terms of manpower.”

“So you’re saying… humans, if they possess magic, can also become ghouls?”

Viscount Drambuie gasped. 

Carl, biting his lip, asked again:

“Could humans with magic… turn into ghouls by consuming monster corpses?”

The viscount nodded.

“I suspect Parman might be breeding human ghouls along with demonic monsters. We don’t know how many differentiators they have, but there must be some.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Your Highness, but most humans possess magic. The only difference is the quantity—minuscule, small, large, or immense.”

Carl Lindbergh’s jaw dropped.

“You mean… everyone has the potential to be a differentiator?”

The viscount nodded enthusiastically. 

“That explains why, albeit rarely, differentiators are sometimes born even to Beta parents. Of course, there are a few isolated tribes unaffected by the goddess’s blessings and differentiation, but they’re extremely rare.”

“Is Parman affiliated with the goddess?”

“Most of the central continent is. Parman, before closing its borders, accepted immigrants, so there must be quite a few descendants of Heineken and Lindwyer living there.”

Carl Lindbergh was starting to question the world-building of this novel.

He thought it was a lighthearted romance, but on top of male pregnancy, they were now introducing ghouls?

He closed his eyes, thinking of the one person who might know the original story.

“So, if we assume magic stones are created by a chemical reaction triggered by the decomposition of magic-infused monster corpses, then Parman must have mountains of corpses stored somewhere. To create both ghouls and magic stones.”

Or perhaps… human corpses.

“Indeed, Your Highness. It’s highly probable.”

Viscount Drambuie’s expression turned grim.

“Ghouls can replenish their magic by consuming other ghouls or by preying on monsters. They become stronger. The same applies to humans with magic. Now I understand why they’ve chosen the Mibari Forest as their base of operations.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a communication device the size of his fist.

“I need to inform His Majesty immediately.”

Carl Lindbergh nodded. He had to tell Adrian about the ghouls as well.

He unconsciously touched the magic stone at his waist.

He still had a connection to Adrian, even without James Hoegaarden’s device.

Carl’s eyes hardened.

This wasn’t the time to be wallowing in self-pity, whining about changing affections.