The Sweet Alpha Crown Prince Loves Me So Much

“Are you listening to me?” 

Belfry asked irritably.

Adrian responded sullenly. 

“You said the magic circle is accurately referred to as a ‘door’?”

“Yes. It seems like the prince clearly has knowledge of reading magic formulas.”

“I had a rough idea.”

To others, magic formulas were simply geometric formulas.

Very few people knew that it was a phonetic script that had been passed down from ancient times, and even if they could read and write it, there was not a single person who could understand the meaning at a glance.

Even the Crown Prince, who has lived with magic formulas since he started walking, only recently learned to create formulas with meaning.

Where did Carl Lindbergh learn it from?

It was too ambiguous.

A butterfly fluttered in from somewhere.

Adrian chuckled as he watched the butterfly fluttering its white wings, struggling to find the source of the fragrance.

The butterfly landed in the spot where the prince had been. 

But it soon panicked and flew away.

Unlikely as it may seem, Adrian felt as though the scent of Carl was fading, perhaps because he had subtly released his pheromones.

In truth, animals were more sensitive to pheromones than humans.

Regardless of gender, it was the animals who first recognized the strongest individual in a group and referred to them as the Alpha, even before humans.

When the Omega tempted, the Alpha dominated.

In that sense, Carl Lindbergh was unique.

He had a gaze that seemed detached from both dominance and submission, as if he didn’t belong to either side, and Adrian found it incredibly appealing.

With a sniff, Adrian wrinkled his nose, opened his eyes slightly wider, his cheeks flushed, and he crossed his legs, all without showing any signs of being overwhelmed.

“Your Highness, Adrian.”

Belfry’s firm voice interrupted Adrian’s reverie.

“Ahh, I’m listening.”

“When you meet Prince Carl Lindbergh next time, I suggest you interrogate him properly.”

“If I interrogate him, will he tell me?”

Adrian didn’t really care whether the prince could read a magic formula or not, but he was curious why he felt the need to hide it.

Belfry’s lips pouted in response to Adrian’s nonchalant attitude.

“So you mean if he doesn’t answer, that’s interrogation? That’s just a question.”

Adrian stood up abruptly.

Even if Carl could read a magic formula, he was a novice when it came to engraving and refining magic stones.

Adrian had to make sure Carl didn’t suffer any hardships when he went to Lindbergh.

He needed to finish the task quickly and return to his side.

It’s best to use silver to decorate the magic stone.

Since Carl seemed to prefer neat attires, would he also prefer less flashy accessories?

He decided to create a sturdy decoration made of silver intertwined with the magic stone, resembling amethyst, which could be attached to the waist.

He would minimize the weight so that Carl wouldn’t even notice he was wearing it and continue to keep it with him.

He hoped he would never realize that the magical tool he created with half concern and half greed was nothing but a shackle.

Even as the Crown Prince sat at his desk, arranging magnifying glasses and various tools, Belfry continued to pour out words without faltering.

“And when did he learn emergency treatment? Besides that, he has many talents. The servants are even amazed.”

He was curious where he learned such miscellaneous skills, but he was even more curious about what he intended to use them for.

“Honestly, even if there were another soul inside the prince’s body right now, I would believe it.”

Belfry Hendrick, a man who believed that magic was also science. In his mind, Prince Carl Lindbergh was gradually turning into an unknown creature.

“Ah, another soul. That makes sense.”

But what difference would it make?

Adrian, completely absorbed in his magical tools, unfolded a piece of paper and retorted while drawing something.

“There must be a reason why Carl wants to hide it, so let’s wait until he decides to tell us himself.”

Have you ever seen such a stupid man?

“If you’re already backing down like this, are you going to give him everything if you get married?”

Marriage, just imagining it feels good.

Emperor Glenn, his father, would give in to Empress Theresa a hundred times, but he seemed perfectly happy.

Of course, there were a few things he would never concede. For example, if there were someone closer to Theresa than him or certain habits that harmed her health.

“But the prince hasn’t given you an answer, so isn’t it unfair for you to get all excited?”

As the voice that constantly scolded him grew colder, Adrian finally looked up and met his milk brother’s gaze.

He was the youngest son of the Hendrick family, who proudly claimed to be devout believers if the imperial family was a religion.

Regardless of his attitude, it was clear that he was concerned about himself and this Empire.

“Look here, worrying too much is poison. Even if he has more magic power and strength than me, do you think this will pose a threat to Heineken? At least for now, it seems manageable to just observe him.”

Adrian turned his gaze back to the paper, adding that being able to tidy up the garden a bit and perform emergency treatments didn’t amount to a level of talent that would control the Empire.

As Belfry left with no gains, he pondered inwardly.

Because that person happens to be a dominant Omega that has control on you. That’s a big problem.

Tomorrow marks exactly ten days since the day Lindbergh requested support. 

With various thoughts swirling in my mind, I calmed my restless heart by separating the egg white and yolk with precision.

“Prince, you are truly amazing.”

The chef applauded.

Feeling embarrassed by the applause, I waved my hand instead.

“It’s just the basics of baking.”

“Still, it’s something that people who cook every day can do. But how can the prince, who never enters the kitchen, separate them so neatly? Hohoho.”

They praised me to the point that if I weren’t a prince, I would have volunteered to be their apprentice.

Since earlier, compliments have been given one after another.

Nevertheless, the reason I feel good is not just empty words, but because their expressions are filled with genuine sincerity.

Perhaps because of the smiling face, his belly fat was visible with kindness.

“Should I melt the butter and add it, or just put it in and mix?”

“Melt half of it and leave the other half as it is. Later, we’ll layer the butter when it’s perfectly cooked.” 

The chef demonstrated how it would be perfectly baked.

He carefully observed me sifting the flour and stirring it swiftly and asked where I had learned it.

I couldn’t say that I had worked part-time at a bakery, so I lied and said I occasionally went to the kitchen to make snacks.

Being in the position of stealing someone else’s body, I didn’t feel good about continuously lying, but I had no choice.

The chef’s expression was filled with curiosity.

It was true that the chef of Lindbergh Castle’s kitchen was known to have the worst baking skills.

That was the truth.

Everything else was delicious, but strangely, the bread was not.

There were no sweet and soft desserts either.

“It might be because the ingredient supply is insufficient. To achieve a soft texture and a rich and sweet taste, ingredients that require a lot of effort are needed.”

I partially agreed with the chef’s words.

The other half was slightly incorrect.

If it were a high-end place, Lindbergh’s prosperous kingdom should have had an abundance of ingredients without a single flaw. However, the problem lay in the chef’s background.

Nobles who would rather die at the touch of water would not choose to do such a laborious task like cooking as their profession, so naturally, they had to rely on commoner chefs.

No matter how skilled a chef may be, it’s difficult to create a dish they have never tasted.

No matter how skilled a chef may be, it’s difficult to create a dish they have never tasted.

I remembered the chef who suspected that Marco was stealing food every time he prepared a meal and slapped him. 

It seemed quite strange back then, but now I realize he was just another victim.

Even if the food was rotting in the storage, the commoners wouldn’t receive a single grain of rice, so if even a single piece of meat disappeared from the kitchen, punishment had to be endured.

If I were in his shoes, I would have already resorted to poisoning their food.

In a way, he was truly a remarkable talent.

“I heard that flour and butter prices are incredibly high in Lindbergh right now. That’s why people say there are only a handful of people skilled in confectionery and baking.” 

The chef expressed a regretful expression.

“To refine a large amount of flour, facilities are necessary, but the commoners lack the space and expertise to provide such facilities.”

“Oh, I see…”

“The same goes for butter. To make butter, you need to raise cows, but goats, which take up relatively less space and have good breeding abilities, are often raised. However, as you know, goat’s milk is not suitable for making butter or cream.”

And most of the time, they end up consuming those processed products before they can be produced.

It was the same with being the only source of protein.

The chef tapped my shoulder as I let out a bitter laugh.

“The prince is knowledgeable. It’s quite impressive. With the prince making efforts like this, the people of Lindbergh will soon find relief.”

The act of patting my shoulder with his thick palm reminded me of my late father. 

He would always do the same before going to work in the early morning, even though I can only remember his face hazily.

“I hope so, too.”

The chef handed me his dough while I was mixing mine, with a touch of loneliness in his words.