In the world of royalty, life is a careful balance of tradition, power, and privilege. Royals attend grand galas, make appearances at state dinners, and negotiate treaties between nations. They wear crowns and bear titles that carry the weight of centuries of history. Every word they speak is scrutinized, every gesture analyzed. For so, it's a life they relish, full of pomp and importance, ruling from gilded thrones and making decisions that shape the fate of nations. Power, wealth, status—these are the things that many royals live for.
But is it fun?
For so, yes perhaps.
Those who crave control, who find joy in leading others and basking in the grandeur of it all, may find their lives fulfilling.
But for one particular royal, the glitz, the ceremonies, and the weight of a crown couldn't be further from what he desired.
"AHHHHHH, LET'S GOOO!!" a voice rang out from the crowd.
Mikhailis Volkov, standing at a towering two ters tall, let out a laugh. He was at a concert, surrounded by hundreds of people, all waving glow sticks and screaming their lungs out.
The lights danced across the stage as the perforr—a Japanese singer famous for her songs in his favorite ani—belted out another hit. Mikhailis could feel the beat pulsing through his body, the energy of the crowd infectious.
Now this, is life.
He stood out like a sore thumb. Not just because he was taller than most of the audience, but because, well... he was a prince.
But in this mont, he wasn't a prince. He was just another fan, lost in the music, singing along with the lyrics in broken Japanese that most people wouldn't really catch that as Japanese words.
"I'm telling you, this is the best song yet!" he shouted over the music to no one in particular. The people around him gave him glances—so annoyed, so impressed by his enthusiasm.
He didn't care.
This was freedom.
But sure if I was there I would smack him, of course.
Soone bumped into him from behind, pushing him slightly forward. Mikhailis glanced down at the person, a shorter man who quickly apologized, his eyes widening as he took in the prince's height. Mikhailis just smiled and waved it off. "No worries, man, it's all part of the experience!" he said, laughing again.
The shorter man chuckled nervously before blending back into the crowd. Mikhailis knew his height made him a walking landmark, especially in a place like this. But it didn't bother him—if anything, it added to the fun.
As the concert continued, Mikhailis swayed with the music, letting himself get lost in the rhythm. It wasn't often he got to enjoy sothing like this without the burdens of royalty weighing him down. No grand balls, no state dinners, just him and a sea of people who were here for the sa reason: to enjoy the mont.
The final song ended, and the crowd erupted into applause, chanting for an encore. Mikhailis clapped along with them, his deep voice joining in with the chants, but he knew his ti was up. There was a schedule to keep, as always.
Stretching his long arms above his head, Mikhailis let out a contented sigh. "Man, that was great!"
He could feel the ache in his legs from standing for so long, but it was a satisfying kind of tiredness.
As the crowd began to disperse, Mikhailis made his way toward the exit. People parted for him—partly because of his size, partly because they were surprised to see soone who looked so out of place in a concert for an ani singer.
But Mikhailis didn't mind.
He had grown used to the stares.
So he doesn't really care.
Stepping outside into the cool evening air, he pulled out his phone. It wasn't just any phone—it was custom-built, outfitted with AI enhancents that Mikhailis had personally tweaked. The screen lit up with a notification. His private jet was ready.
"Alright, ti to head back to reality," he muttered to himself, slipping the phone into his pocket. He made his way to the airport, a private one, of course. As much as he loved these monts of freedom, the royal life was never far behind. He couldn't escape it, not entirely.
At the entrance to the airport, a man in a sharp suit greeted him with a bow. "Your Highness."
Mikhailis winced internally. He hated that title. It always reminded him of the expectations that ca with it—the responsibility, the duties, and the ugly world behind it.
He often ca across people on social dia, daydreaming about the so-called glamorous life of royalty. They'd gush about the palaces, the fancy dinners, the endless luxuries, as if it was so sort of fantasy where all their problems would vanish. It was easy for them to say. They only saw the surface, the glittering crowns and the red carpets. But could they really endure the suffocating reality?
Take this for example—being forced to stay still, straight-backed, for hours, all while maintaining a fake, practiced smile. Not just for a single event, but over and over again, day after day. Imagine attending endless formal dinners where you can't just grab your food and eat like a normal person. No, you have to use the correct fork, the correct spoon, all while pretending to enjoy boring conversations about politics or foreign affairs with people you hardly know. And God forbid you make a mistake, because every move is scrutinized. One wrong glance or misplaced word could cause a scandal.
Or how about having to dress in uncomfortable, heavy ceremonial robes even in the heat of sumr? Most people wouldn't last an hour, let alone through an entire day of engagents. And don't forget the countless ceremonies. Weddings, state visits, charity events—you have to attend them all, even if you don't feel like it. A royal doesn't have the luxury of saying, "No thanks, I'm not in the mood." You smile, nod, shake hands, and pretend like it's the most exciting thing in the world. No complaining allowed.
And don't get started on the constant need to be politically correct in every word you speak. You can't say what's really on your mind because there are protocols to follow, scripts to read, and the constant fear of offending soone or sparking a political incident.
Damn. I would give my kidney to anyone who wants to live as a prince.
Of course, this is Mikhailis' intrusive thoughts, not mine.
He waved a hand dismissively, giving the man a nod. "Yeah, yeah, let's get this over with."
As much as he appreciated the luxuries that ca with being royalty, it was all a bit much. The constant bowing, the formalities—it felt suffocating at tis. Mikhailis entered the private jet, sinking into one of the plush leather seats. The plane humd to life, preparing for takeoff.
His thoughts drifted as the plane soared into the sky. He was the second son of King Yaroslav IV of Ruslania. The Volkov family had ruled the small but wealthy kingdom for centuries, navigating political storms and global conflicts.
But in the modern world, Mikhailis often wondered what the point of it all was. His older brother, Dimitri, was the heir, the one grood for leadership. Mikhailis, on the other hand, had always been... different.
Sure, he had the brains for politics and the charm to mingle with foreign dignitaries, but his heart wasn't in it.
What did he care about trade deals and treaties? He'd rather spend his days studying insects, watching ani, or tinkering with his AI programs. And won... well, let's just say his interests in won were more of a personal hobby, sothing he never acted on but enjoyed observing.
Taking care of the aftermath would be too troubleso for a lazy prick like him, after all.
When the plane touched down in Velikygrad, the capital of Ruslania, the familiar weight of his royal responsibilities returned. As soon as he stepped off the jet, a guard greeted him. "Your Highness, the King and Queen request your presence."
Mikhailis sighed. "Of course they do. They never miss a chance to lecture ."
The guard didn't react, only nodding and leading Mikhailis toward the royal car that would take him to the palace. As the car sped through the city streets, Mikhailis gazed out the window at the passing skyscrapers and ancient castles, a blend of modern and historical that defined Velikygrad.
When they arrived at the palace, Mikhailis reluctantly stepped inside, greeted by the grandeur that he had grown up with but never truly embraced.
The Palace of Volkov was a sprawling fortress, a mix of neo-Gothic and Byzantine architecture, filled with tapestries, chandeliers, and portraits of his ancestors.
As he entered the grand hall, his parents were already waiting for him. His father, King Yaroslav IV, stood tall and stern, while his mother, Queen Sofia, looked regal in her gown. Both of them wore expressions that Mikhailis knew all too well.
"Mikhailis, we need to talk about your responsibilities." That was his father's first words.
"Great," Mikhailis muttered under his breath, but he kept his face neutral.
His father launched into a lecture about duty, responsibility, and the importance of upholding the family's legacy. Mikhailis nodded absentmindedly, but his mind was elsewhere. He had heard all of this before—too many tis to count. Be more like Dimitri. Take your royal duties seriously. Blah, blah, blah.
When the lecture finally ended, Mikhailis bowed his head slightly.
"Understood, Father."
As soon as he was dismissed, he practically ran to his room, eager to escape the suffocating expectations of his parents. His room was his sanctuary, filled with books, gadgets, and—of course—his insect collection.
Lying on his bed, Mikhailis stared at the ceiling. The history of his kingdom ran through his mind, a kingdom that had survived centuries of war and political upheaval to beco a modern technological hub. Ruslania had embraced the future, but Mikhailis often wondered where he fit in all of it.
The Kingdom of Ruslania had endured invasions, alliances, and betrayals. It had thrived during the Industrial Revolution, becoming a center for AI developnt and robotics. And yet, here he was—a prince, bound by tradition but yearning for sothing more.
Mikhailis lay on his bed for what felt like ages, staring at the ceiling and drowning in the weight of history and expectations. The palace was quiet, the grand halls no longer echoing with the voices of his parents' lectures. The world outside moved on, but he felt stuck in the sa place.
Suddenly, he sat up, shaking off the heaviness from his thoughts. "It's not ti to sleep yet. Not when there's sothing much more exciting happening."
With a grin spreading across his face, he reached toward the small panel by his bed.
"Rodion," he said, calling out the na of his personalized AI. The sleek, state-of-the-art computer system on his desk whirred to life, its screen glowing in soft blue light.
the AI's voice replied, smooth and calm, filling the room with a faint hum of energy. It's his most trusted partner-in-cri.
"Pull up the analysis on the egg," Mikhailis commanded, standing up and walking over to the desk. His fingers danced over the scattered papers and equipnt, all part of his ongoing research.
His heart beat a little faster as the thought of the specin made him tingle with anticipation. This was what he lived for—monts like this, where he could leave the burdens of royalty behind and dive deep into his passion.
Rodion displayed a series of graphs and data on the screen.
the AI reported.
"Of course," Mikhailis replied with a smirk. "We need to know what we're dealing with here. I'm telling you, Rodion, I think this one's going to be special. I've never seen anything quite like it before. And I believe this ti, my intuition is right!"
The AI humd for a mont before responding.
Mikhailis's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. "Really?" He practically jumped over to his desk, his hands moving rapidly over the holographic display. "Is it a new species, or sothing even better?"
Rodion said, a hint of excitent in its typically asured tone.
Or perhaps it's just Mikhailis's imagination.
"What?" Mikhailis asked, holding his breath.
Rodion stated.
For a mont, ti seed to freeze around him. His grin widened, his excitent barely contained.
"No way! It'shappening already?"
Mikhailis practically sprinted to the other side of his room, where a large aquarium-like chamber stood—though it was far from an ordinary aquarium. The glass enclosure was filled with various machines, all carefully monitoring the egg he had collected during one of his research trips. Tubes ran along the sides, controlling temperature, humidity, and light, while a small cluster of sensors recorded data in real-ti. A thin mist rolled across the glass, creating the perfect environnt for incubation.
His heart raced as he stood over the chamber, his breath fogging the glass as he watched the egg shift slightly, which would be kind of disgusting to so people. The shell, a pale shade of green with intricate patterns, began to crack. Slowly, pieces of the shell started to fall away, revealing the creature inside.
"There you are," Mikhailis whispered, eyes locked on the egg.
"Co on... just a little more..."
The egg split open, and from within erged a small ant-like creature. But it wasn't like any ant Mikhailis had seen before. Its body shimred in a tallic hue, with wings that glistened under the soft light of the chamber. Its legs were long and spindly, and its eyes—those eyes—glowed with an otherworldly intensity. It was both delicate and fearso at the sa ti.
"Rodion," Mikhailis called his AI assistant, his voice breathless with awe.
"Run a full scan on this little guy."
the AI responded.
Mikhailis's eyes widened in disbelief, but a rush of excitent filled him at the sa ti.
"A Chira Ant? I thought they were only a myth. I can't believe it... this is insane!"
He leaned closer, watching the tiny creature stretch its legs, adjusting to its new world. The Chira Ant was a thing of beauty, both alien and familiar, a perfect blend of elegance and power. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and the fact that he was the one to hatch it filled him with a deep sense of pride.
For a mont, he was silent, taking in the sight of the creature. Then, with a chuckle, he spoke to no one in particular.
"Ah... perhaps I didn't ntion it yet, huh?"
He turned, looking at the room filled with gadgets, books, and the ever-present hum of technology.
"I'm not just a prince," he said aloud, smiling. "I'm an entomologist. An eccentric one, at that. A woman-lover, a weeb... and now, the proud father of a Chira Ant."
Rodion chid in again, "Shall I log this as a significant discovery, Your Highness?"
Mikhailis nodded, still grinning like a madman. "Yeah, Rodion. Log it. And let's get ready for the next phase. We've just scratched the surface here."
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