If You Take the Enemy Prince as Your Knight

Prologue: A Doomed Love

My first love was doomed before it even began—because he was the prince of an enemy nation.

It happened when I was captured while carrying out the insane imperial decree to retrieve an elixir of immortality. The enemy forces thought they had secured a great advantage by taking an imperial princess as a hostage. Unfortunately for them, the princess they had captured was the thirty-sixth princess of the empire—so common that she held no value as a hostage.

The emperor of the empire had pillaged the world’s beauties to fill his harem, taking ten women at a time each night. With over a thousand concubines, the number of children born as a result had long since exceeded a hundred. There was no reason for the emperor to care about a worthless hostage, much less one who was the daughter of the tyrant responsible for the war.

The enemy imprisoned me in an iron cage, tormenting me with cruel threats and psychological warfare. Worst of all, they didn’t give me a single drop of water. I thought this would be the end of me. Lying on the filthy floor, starving to death, I waited for it to be over.

Then, on a night bathed in the light of a full moon, a boy with jet-black hair appeared before me for the first time. He brought a waterskin to my parched lips and tore a piece of bread into small bits, feeding them to me as if they were meant for himself.

I knew immediately—he was breaking military law by saving me. So I made no sound, barely even breathing, and simply silently accepted the food. These secretive nights continued for some time.

It was one evening.

“I might end up getting tamed like this,” I murmured absentmindedly, waiting for him like a caged bird anticipating its next meal.

The boy froze. Come to think of it, it was the first time I had spoken to him. And surprisingly, he responded.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what it sounds like. It feels like I’m being raised.”

“There is no slavery in this kingdom.”

“I know. That kind of barbarism only exists in the empire.”

“…”

“…”
A long, awkward silence followed. It felt as if that first conversation would also be our last. But unexpectedly, the boy seemed eager to continue.

“Why did you become a hostage?”

“Did I have a choice?”

“Yes. You had a choice. You could have used your subordinates as shields and saved yourself. But instead, you surrendered to save them.”

His eyes, bright and golden like the rising sun, gazed at me intently. I owed him an honest answer. He had kept me alive, after all.

“If I were destined to die here anyway, I thought it would be better to just die than to live by sacrificing someone else. I already bear the original sin of inheriting the tyrant’s blood.”

“…”

The boy’s lips parted silently for a moment as if taken aback by my mature response. I found myself staring blankly, captivated by that small movement, and then it hit me. He was handsome.

The boy before me possessed such shockingly exceptional looks that even I, who had grown up surrounded by beauty, couldn’t help but be impressed. Not just because he was my savior. Objectively, he was undeniably breathtaking.

“Princess, are you…” he finally spoke, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “living with the resolve to die, or are you deliberately trying to die?”

“You misunderstand. I fear death. I’ve simply chosen not to become desperate for life.”

“What do you mean?”

“The more desperately you long for something, the more the world conspires against you. So, I decided not to long for life.”

The depth of my words seemed to startle him. This time, he furrowed his brows, an expression of frustration—yet even that imperfection was handsome.

“I’ve heard the emperor treats his own children like disposable toys… It seems to be true.”

By the time he regained his composure, his gaze had shifted downward—to the sword at his waist.

“Princess.”

“Yes?”

“You hold no value as a hostage. Out of the emperor’s countless children, he would never feel paternal affection for you.”

What could be his intention behind stating something so obvious?

Is he going to kill me because I’m worthless?

The moment he grabbed his sword, I squeezed my eyes shut—but there was no pain. It wasn’t my neck that had been cut, but the rope around my ankles.

He took my right hand and pulled me up. “Follow me.”

Moving stealthily to avoid the guards, we soon picked up our pace, almost running. As the torches of the barracks faded into the distance, the only thing I could see was his straight, unwavering back. Relying on the hand pulling me forward, I hurried along the path he cleared through the forest.

“We’re almost there.”

After panting and struggling to keep up for a while, we finally reached a plain far from the kingdom’s military base. Thick clouds drifted lazily across the early dawn sky, as dark and uncertain as the future me, the thirty-sixth imperial princess.

The border between the forest and the plain was marked by piles of small rocks and layered cliffs. To descend the rough, uneven path—practically a crumbling stone staircase—the young knight took my hand as if escorting me.

This would be our last farewell. Sensing this, I spoke up with each step-down. “What is your name, Sir Knight?”

“I’m just an ordinary knight. My name isn’t worth mentioning.”

Lies. I knew who he was.

The boy was the third prince of the Kingdom of Lohengrin. Not only was he blessed with stunning looks and exceptional martial prowess, but he also possessed a noble character, which made him beloved by his people. His reputation had even crossed borders, reaching my ears.

At just twelve years old, he had slain the sea dragon that terrorized the northern shores. At fourteen, he had defeated the wraith lord who blocked the great bridge of the Grand Canyon. And now, he was single-handedly holding back a thousand imperial soldiers to protect his kingdom. Whenever the people suffered, he appeared like a savior—how could anyone in the kingdom not fall in love with him? This young hero was Lohengrin’s most treasured jewel.

Since he seemed intent on hiding his identity, I changed the subject. “Are you sure it’s okay to let me go? Military law must be strict.”

“It’s fine.”

Another lie. It couldn’t be fine. Whether in the empire or the kingdom, military law was likely similar—desertion or aiding the enemy would usually mean execution. He might not be killed since he was a beloved prince, but he could still face dozens of lashes.

“Why are you letting me live?”

“Right now, making me dwell too deeply on that question might not be the best choice. What will you do if I change my mind?”

“Nothing. Just make sure to do it quickly and painlessly.”

“…”

“I told you before, I don’t let myself grow desperate. That’s my creed.”

Was I too bold? He briefly tightened his grip on my hand before letting go. That seemed to be his way of warning me.

“I wasn’t going to ask, but now I can’t hold back my curiosity anymore.”

“What are you curious about, Sir Knight?”

“Pardon me, but how old are you, Princess?”

“I’m old enough. Old enough to know everything I need to.”

He looked as if he strongly disagreed with my claim of maturity. I heard him mutter, “You look too young.” So, I added a rational explanation.

“Most of my siblings died around the age of ten. I’ve lived long enough to take care of myself.”

“…The imperial family is insane.”

“I agree. But I’m really curious—why are you sparing me?”

He suddenly stopped walking and turned to face me properly. Standing atop a large rock, I was finally at eye level with him. A large hand reached toward my face. I flinched at the unexpected movement, my vision momentarily blocked—but instead of harm, I felt a gentle touch. He was stroking my hair.

“…”

What was this? I had never experienced such a touch before. When the maids did my hair, they were always careful, and everyone else never even considered laying a hand on me. Objectively, this was a disrespectful action. As a princess, I should reprimand him. But the warmth in his touch strangely disrupted my ability to think clearly.

While I stood there, bewildered, his deep voice wrapped around me.

“You remind me of my younger sibling.”

It was a casual remark, spoken without formality.

Once again, I couldn’t find the right response.

“So, it’s just a sentimental reason.”