The Sweet Alpha Crown Prince Loves Me So Much

Every noble, deeply familiar with the correlation between differentiation and magical power, craved dominant traits.

Even in Heineken, where advancements in magic stone processing had made magic accessible to most, dominant traits were still considered ‘special’.

Magic wielded directly was considered superior to magic channeled through mediums. And the amount of magical power one possessed was often a measure of their status and wealth, granting them privileges in various aspects of society.

However, there was one exception: Belfry Hendrick.

Born the youngest son of Grand Duke Balvenie Heineken and Duke Anderson Hendrick, he’d been showered with love and attention, regardless of his differentiation. And he’d possessed a sharp mind from a young age.

Though unable to wield magic, he was free from the constraints of ruts and heats, and his accomplishments were recognized regardless of his Beta status. In a way, he was special too.

Now, for the first time, Belfry was experiencing true despair and dejection.

He wasn’t even sure what was causing this emotional turmoil.

Differentiating into a dominant Omega, a rare occurrence, should have been a cause for celebration. Yet, his heart felt heavy, sinking like a stone in deep water.

He emerged from his room, several servants, including Janis, hovering nearby, but he waved them away.

He’d been confined to his room for three days due to his potent pheromones, constantly monitored by the physician. He craved solitude.

Lindbergh Castle, with Heineken knights stationed at every corner, wasn’t dangerous, even without an escort.

He knew the layout of the castle, half the size of Heineken’s main castle, like the back of his hand. He’d memorized every secret passage, every hiding spot.

He was fine, except for the occasional whiff of the knights’ scents and their lingering gazes on his back.

He paused by a window, studying his reflection.

What had changed? His appearance, his heart… they were the same.

He examined himself, wondering how his altered differentiation had affected him, then he opened the door to the kitchen.

He’d simply wanted a glass of water, but the last person he wanted to see was already there.

“Belfry? Are you feeling better?”

“…Your Highness.”

The one who’d been by his side every time he’d regained consciousness, the one who’d inadvertently awakened his unrequited love… Carl Lindbergh.

His heart, adrift and unsettled, ached.

He’d been too embarrassed to face Carl Lindbergh after his feverish ramblings, his undignified display of affection. The prince, sitting at a small table in the kitchen, gestured for him to join him.

“Come, sit down. Why are you wandering around alone? You haven’t fully recovered yet. Do you need anything?”

Carl, who’d been eating, pulled out a chair beside him, patting the seat and showering him with questions.

Belfry stood there, speechless.

Carl Lindbergh, seeing his hesitation, simply smiled awkwardly.

Belfry finally noticed how haggard the prince looked, his usually cheerful face now pale and drawn.

He’d clearly been neglecting his own well-being, worrying about Adrian and Leia, who’d left the castle, and nursing Belfry back to health.

Wasn’t it tiresome, caring for everyone, giving so much of himself to others?

Belfry, who was struggling to cope with his own emotions, frowned and turned away.

Carl Lindbergh’s hand, hovering over a spoon, dropped to the table at his cold response.

Belfry, glancing back, saw the prince’s dejected posture.

He should just leave. But he couldn’t. As if drawn by an invisible force, he walked over and sat down beside Carl Lindbergh.

“…..”

“…..”

Carl Lindbergh, studying Belfry’s gloomy expression, remembered his own jealousy, and fell silent.

He’d set aside his suspicions about Adrian and Belfry, but he couldn’t shake off the memory of Belfry’s whispered confession, ‘I’m sorry… for falling in love.’

It would be rude to ask who he’d fallen for.

As the silence stretched, just as Carl was about to break it, Belfry spoke.

“Why…”

“Pardon?”

Belfry’s gaze was fixed on the food in front of Carl Lindbergh.

“…are you eating scraps?”

“Huh?”

Carl stared at him, bewildered.

“Is that… pig slop you’re holding right now? Or am I mistaken?”

“Well… it does…”

Carl, flustered by Belfry’s disgusted tone, glanced down at his bowl.

His culinary masterpiece, carefully crafted in the castle kitchen with the chef’s permission, seemed to resemble pig slop in Belfry’s eyes.

“Where is your attendant? You’re eating at this hour, which means you skipped dinner, and this is… this is what you’re eating?”

Belfry, clutching the back of his neck, looked like he was about to faint from disbelief.

Carl Lindbergh, speechless, simply stared at him.

Where should he even begin?

He’d been too restless and anxious to stomach cold salads and pastries. He’d craved something… different. He’d made bibimbap, without the gochujang, of course.

“How can this be, Your Highness? Surely, even during these difficult times, there’s no shortage of ingredients.”

He could demand a multi-course meal if he so wished. Yet, here he was, alone in the cold kitchen, picking at a bowl of wilted vegetables and coarse rice, a staple only in the southern regions. It barely looked edible. Belfry was deeply troubled by the prince’s excessive frugality.

“Belfry, calm down.”

Carl placed a hand on Belfry’s wrist.

He was annoyed that his bibimbap was being compared to animal feed, but he was more concerned about Belfry, who’d just recovered from his fever, getting worked up over something so trivial.

“Soldiers stationed at the border are trained to eat live snakes, Your Highness. They even resort to tree bark when necessary. But why are you subjecting yourself to this?”

Before Carl had enlightened them, those vegetables had been considered weeds, fit only for the compost heap. They’d only agreed to serve them after the prince’s impassioned lecture on nutritional deficiencies, but adding them to the official menu was still under discussion.

“Belfry…”

“You are the prince of Lindbergh, and the future Empress of Heineken. You deserve to be treated accordingly.”

“Belfry!”

Carl, seeing his agitation escalating, firmly called his name.

“Why do you keep forgetting your own position? It’s not the soldiers or the commoners who should be acting like this. Caring for your people is one thing, but behaving like a commoner is another.”

Belfry wondered if he was losing his mind.

He shouldn’t be this upset. Why was he losing control, especially around the prince?

Was it rational to feel this strongly about someone he’d simply saved by performing CPR?

Why had he become an Omega, of all things, unable to pursue the prince, destined to give up on him?

“Belfry Hendrick, stop!”

Suddenly, sparks, like miniature fireworks, exploded before Belfry’s eyes.

“

!”

He blinked, his vision clearing, and found Carl Lindbergh inches away from his face.

“Are you alright now?”

Carl Lindbergh had simply clapped his hands.

The sudden sound snapped Belfry out of his trance, and he grimaced, realizing his outburst.

“I-I apologize, Your Highness! I… I’ve been terribly rude.”

He tried to bow, but Carl Lindbergh stopped him.

“Sit down. Don’t stand on ceremony.”

“I apologize, Your Highness.”

Carl Lindbergh, handing him a glass of cold water, smiled.

He was also confused by Belfry’s sudden outburst, but he couldn’t help but smile, seeing the tears welling up in Belfry’s eyes.

Belfry wanted to disappear.

Carl Lindbergh patted his shoulder reassuringly, his mind racing.

He’d developed a fondness for Belfry.

Belfry, in love with Adrian, was still Belfry.

Belfry, now an Omega, was still Belfry.

Regardless of what happened, Belfry was a valuable friend, a precious asset to Heineken.

He didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship.

Seeing Belfry’s trembling lips, his desperate attempt to hold back tears, Carl felt a surge of sympathy.

There was no reason to dislike him. He was a good person. Carl Lindbergh smiled genuinely for the first time since his conversation with Lulu. He wanted to comfort Belfry.

“I don’t know why I keep losing control around you, Your Highness.”

Belfry mumbled, apologizing again, and Carl Lindbergh shook his head.

“I’m not an expert, but… perhaps it’s the confusion. You know… I thought I was a Beta too, just like you, an ordinary person.”

He chuckled, sharing his own experience.

Belfry felt even more ashamed.

He couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must have been for Carl, suddenly thrown into the world of pheromones and pregnancies. Belfry had at least grown up surrounded by differentiators, had witnessed their behaviors, their interactions. The prince, however, had been completely oblivious, his memories wiped clean.

Tears welled up in Belfry’s eyes. He quickly wiped them away, embarrassed, his voice gruff.

“You seemed to take it rather well, Your Highness.”

“I’m not one to dwell on things. Acceptance is easier.”

He shrugged, then added jokingly that he was now slightly terrified by how easily he’d accepted his own fate.

“I sincerely apologize, Your Highness. For my behavior before I collapsed, for the trouble I caused during my differentiation… for everything.”

Carl, instead of offering forgiveness, placed a spoon in his hand.

“Apologize to the food you just insulted.”

“Huh?”

Carl Lindbergh placed a steaming bowl before him, his lips forming a pout.

“I worked hard on this. Do you know how difficult it is to cook rice in a pot? And the vegetables? Stir-frying, boiling, seasoning… It takes a lot of effort. This is fit for the Emperor’s table.”

“Is… Is that so?”

Belfry, picturing the prince sweating over a hot stove, felt a pang of guilt. He scooped up a spoonful of rice and vegetables.

“I’m… truly sorry.”

He apologized to the food, then put it in his mouth.

The vegetables, which had looked rough and unappetizing, were surprisingly tender, almost buttery.

He’d never realized that rice, simply seasoned with salt, could taste this good. His eyes widened in surprise, and Carl, beaming with pride, smiled.

“It’s even better with some spice. I’ll make it for you next time.”

Belfry, his cheeks bulging, nodded enthusiastically.

The warm food soothed his empty, aching heart.