The Sweet Alpha Crown Prince Loves Me So Much

After the communication ended, the Duke leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue.

“What’s wrong? Is Belfry alright?”

Grand Duke Balvenie, entering with a cup of hot tea, overheard him.

“It’s not Belfry, it’s Prince Carl Lindbergh.”

“Oh…”

With a nonchalant expression, the Grand Duke perched on the edge of the desk, setting down the teacup.

He’d left with his merchant guild, timing his departure with Belfry’s. However, upon hearing that his youngest son had differentiated into an Omega, he’d immediately returned home.

The reason he hadn’t gone to Lindbergh was clear. He was more concerned about the Duke, who’d be fretting over their son, than Belfry himself.

“What about the prince?”

The Grand Duke caressed the Duke’s cheek. Even after all these years, his beloved’s touch was the only thing that could calm his restless heart. His flawless skin and warmth sparked a familiar desire, but instead of pushing him onto the desk, he simply continued stroking his cheek.

“He asked what it felt like to be imprinted.”

Not

to be imprinted, but what it

like.

“He asked if the world looked different, if it… created love.”

The prince’s innocent question had momentarily stunned Duke Hendrick. Imprinting and love were distinct, yet inextricably linked.

A fusion of souls, a lifelong vow.

The bite mark on Duke Hendrick’s neck was a testament to both love and possession. Having loved the Grand Duke from the start, having imprinted willingly, he’d never experienced any regret. He found it difficult to answer the prince.

He knew imprinting was a serious commitment, for both Alpha and Omega.

Though not Carl Lindbergh’s father, Duke Hendrick had been concerned by the prince’s teary-eyed expression during their conversation. He’d instinctively reached out, as if to comfort him through the communication device, before retracting his hand.

〈Imprinting is simply… imprinting. It doesn’t magically generate love. Especially not if you’re confusing physical attraction with genuine affection.〉

At his vague response, Carl Lindbergh had closed his eyes, as if hiding his bloodshot whites.

“He seems scared. Just like you were, running away right before our imprinting.”

The Grand Duke’s words, laced with a hint of possessiveness at the memory, made the Duke pout and scratch his head.

“That wasn’t running away.”

“Sobbing your way back home a day later, because you couldn’t bear being alone, still counts as running away.”

Duke Hendrick blushed.

He often teased Belfry for being naive, but he hadn’t been much better in his youth.

In Heineken, where imprinting after marriage was customary, Duke Hendrick had fled immediately after the ceremony, only to return, driven by hunger and the unfamiliar chill of the outside world.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t the cold that had bothered him so much as the unfamiliar rustling of the inn’s bed and the cold stone walls.

He’d endured the Grand Duke’s wrath upon his return, but looking back, it seemed rather endearing compared to the anguish he must have caused, abandoning his spouse less than a day after their wedding.

“It’s called a physiological fear. Imprinting isn’t a small thing. I was scared too.”

The Duke’s eyes widened at the unexpected confession.

“You were?”

The Grand Duke nodded, leaning forward to gently kiss the Duke’s forehead.

“Yes. I was terrified you might resist, that perhaps, despite your love for me, you secretly hoped for someone else.”

“Don’t be absurd!”

The Duke pushed against his chest, trying to pull away, but the Grand Duke simply lifted him from his chair.

“I’m still scared. The more I love you, the greater my fear. I constantly imagine you leaving me for someone else. It’s a sickness, I know. And bearing it… is my burden.”

Pulled into a tight embrace, ye Duke blushed at the scent of his beloved.

This man expressed himself through actions, words, and pheromones.

That’s why the Duke felt secure, even when they were separated for months at a time.

“If I, after all these years, still feel this way, imagine how overwhelming it must be for the children. You know better than anyone that imprinting isn’t a magical cure-all.”

“…Perhaps I should have told him that.”

The Duke, leaning against the Grand Duke’s chest, closed his eyes, picturing the prince’s troubled face.

“He’ll figure it out eventually. Just like we did.”

Someone once said that love wasn’t as sweet as fairy tales made it out to be.

Despite their love, they’d hurt each other. They’d tried to control each other, using love as an excuse.

But perhaps true love meant enduring the pain and accepting the flaws, as long as the essence remained unchanged.

Grand Duke Balvenie respected Duke Hendrick’s work and loyalty, while the Duke appreciated the Grand Duke’s possessiveness and patience.

They’d learned to synchronize their steps, to match each other’s pace, after countless missteps. If either of them had been selfish during those turbulent times, their current peace and happiness would have crumbled.

The Duke hoped Adrian would quickly ease Carl Lindbergh’s anxieties. Unnecessary conflict could create rifts where there were none.

“The pain is temporary, but the happiness is eternal. Just like imprinting.”

The Grand Duke’s deep voice, the one that always calmed and thrilled the Duke, resonated within him.

The Duke shivered, meeting his gaze. He instinctively pouted his lips, and the Grand Duke, as if on cue, kissed him deeply.

Standing face to face, hands clasped, swaying like they were waltzing, they broke apart with a shared laugh.

“Ah, Balvenie. What do you think about our son becoming a Queen Consort?”

Hendrick’s unexpected question gave Balvenie pause.

“Not a bad idea, but I doubt the Emperor would approve.”

“He does have a weakness for talented individuals.”

Lifting the Duke into his arms and carrying him towards the bedroom, the Grand Duke murmured, “We might be facing a rather substantial dowry once he becomes the Queen Consort of Lindbergh.”

❖ ❖ ❖

Carl Lindbergh was experiencing an unprecedented wave of loneliness and despair within the walls of Lindbergh Castle.

He’d returned to his room, collapsed onto the bed, and listlessly fiddled with the magic stones. Marco, unable to bear it any longer, finally scolded him.

“I told you, Your Highness, there was no need to visit Young Master Belfry.”

“But I was worried.”

“The physician is more than capable, Your Highness. And so is Janis. She single-handedly nursed the princess through her differentiation fever.”

Marco, mistakenly attributing Carl’s melancholy to exhaustion, couldn’t comprehend the prince’s self-inflicted misery.

“I don’t know… I just don’t know.”

He couldn’t admit that his frequent visits to Belfry’s bedside weren’t solely out of concern.

Did he… perhaps… have feelings for Adrian Heineken?

He wanted to ask, but seeing Belfry’s pale, drawn face, his lips pressed into a thin line, he couldn’t bring himself to voice the question.

What good would it do?

He couldn’t simply pat Belfry on the back and say, ‘Congratulations, you were always meant to be Adrian’s soulmate.’ His own heart had traveled too far down a different path.

He felt ashamed of his promise to Lulu, his confident assertion that he would ensure Belfry’s happiness.

“Marco.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

Marco, distractedly grooming the fur cloak he draped over the prince’s nightclothes due to the fluctuating temperatures, responded halfheartedly.

The cloak, made from the fur of some unknown creature, was soft and white, perfectly complementing the prince. However, due to the prince’s habit of sitting on the floor, it was constantly getting tangled.

Marco’s pride wouldn’t allow him to let the prince wear a tangled cloak. Brushing it each evening had become a ritual.

Brushing Elizabeth, brushing the cloak…

He was becoming a master fur groomer.

“What would I be… if I were no longer the Empress of Heineken?”

The casual yet weighty question made Marco drop his brush.

“Not this again, Your Highness! What has brought this on?”

He hadn’t heard that question in a while, and its return filled him with unease.

The prince buried his face in his pillow.

“Just… curious.”

Elizabeth, who’d been lying at the foot of the bed, whined and crawled up onto the mattress, attempting to snuggle into Carl’s side. The mattress dipped under her weight, and Marco noted that she was still growing.

Of course, the prince’s despondent murmur was far more concerning. Forcing a cheerful tone, Marco teased, “Still dreaming of becoming a baker, Your Highness?”

“No. I gave up on that.”

That was why he felt so lost, the prince mumbled.

Elizabeth persistently licked his face, forcing him to look up.

His face was unusually pale. Not just pale, but his eyes were puffy, and the tip of his nose was red.

He looked like he was about to cry.

“What’s wrong, Your Highness?”

The prince remained silent, shaking his head.

His pride wouldn’t let him sob like a child, complaining about his lover’s perceived betrayal.

Perhaps his mind, along with his body, was becoming Omega.

Marco climbed onto the bed. He wouldn’t normally do this, but the sight of the prince, clutching Elizabeth’s fur, sitting alone and dejected, was too much.

“You have to tell me what’s wrong, Your Highness. I can’t read your mind.”

He awkwardly patted Carl’s back, imitating the prince’s usual comforting gestures, and Carl, suddenly feeling a burning sensation in his nose, like he’d just inhaled a lungful of mustard, burst into tears.

He’d always believed that if he ever cried, it would be for Jae-young. He was wrong.

Marco, panicked by Carl Lindbergh’s sudden tears, didn’t know what to do. The prince, who’d weathered every storm without shedding a single tear, was crying. Something was terribly wrong. Fear clawed at him, and he started to whimper.

Carl Lindbergh sobbed uncontrollably, his pride forgotten. He was simply… heartbroken.

Ironically, as he cried, a realization dawned on him.

He hadn’t befriended Adrian Heineken out of pity, knowing the protagonist needed a dominant Omega to be happy.

He, Carl Lindbergh, needed Adrian Heineken too. He loved him, truly and deeply, with an intensity he hadn’t realized existed within him.