Rudra's footsteps echoed in the grand hallway, the stone beneath him cold and unyielding. The servant, her movements efficient and purposeful, did not look back as she led him through the corridors. He followed without hesitation, his pace deliberate yet swift. They reached the grand staircase, an imposing structure of marble that wound its way down to the waiting crowd below. The servant glanced at him, her voice gentle. "Be careful, sir."

Rudra's eyes briefly met hers, the slightest shift in his expression as he nodded. It was a small gesture, but one that signaled the return of his usual calm. Without a word, he began his descent, the crowd below stirring as his feet touched the first step. A murmur rippled through the onlookers, their whispers drawing his attention, though he did not let it show.

"Do you know that boy?"

"No, I've never seen him before."

"Is he a prince from another kingdom?"

"Look at his eyes—those eyes are the most captivating."

Their words swirled around him like a distant breeze, but he moved past them with the practiced detachment of someone who had learned long ago to ignore the noise. Their gazes followed him, each step he took met with a quiet fascination, but Rudra remained unfazed. His focus remained fixed ahead, toward the royal table at the far end of the room.

The servant led him through the crowd, but her pace faltered as the crowd's attention became too much. The greetings and comments from all sides caused her to slow, and Rudra found himself falling behind. He paused briefly, his face betraying no sign of frustration, only the faintest hint of weariness.

He greeted those who spoke to him with a smile that, though outwardly warm, did little to mask the exhaustion beneath. *If I truly belong here, among them, I must act like them. I must be human, as they are.* The thought lingered, but the act had begun to take its toll, his smile turning a little more strained with each passing exchange.

Then, the question came, sharp and clear, cutting through the noise of the crowd. "Which kingdom do you belong to?" The voice was soft, regal, its tone curious, yet tinged with authority. Rudra's gaze shifted toward the source—a woman, her beauty matched only by her poise. Her gaze was unwavering, her smile welcoming yet searching.

For a moment, the room fell silent as Rudra's gaze lingered on her. He turned his attention back to the royal table, where the king and his family watched, their eyes now fully on him. He could feel their scrutiny, the weight of their expectations heavy in the air. He stood still, his smile fixed in place as if it were a mask he had long since learned to wear.

"Where do I belong?" he asked, his voice soft but certain, carrying the weight of something deeper. "I belong here, where I stand."

The murmurs returned, louder now, as the crowd tried to make sense of his words.

"Is he the third prince?"

"But the king has only two sons..."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Who is he, really?"

Rudra paid them no mind, his eyes fixed on the royal family. He had long since learned to ignore the whispers, their fleeting curiosity of no consequence to him. His only goal now was the table where the king sat, the only one whose attention mattered.

"Could you move, please?" His voice was light, yet insistent, a sharp contrast to the murmuring that still swirled around him. The crowd parted, and he continued on his path, the royal table now within reach.

The king's voice rang out, uncertain and searching. "Where is he?" The confusion in the air was palpable as the king scanned the room.

The servant pointed toward Rudra, confirming what the king had failed to see. The king's eyes widened in disbelief. "He?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The servant nodded, confirming the impossible. "Yes, Majesty."

The king and his family took in Rudra's appearance, their gazes lingering longer than necessary. His beauty, unusual in its almost ethereal quality, seemed to captivate them all. Even the king's wife was taken aback, whispering to her husband in awe.

"He looks... incredible," she murmured.

Their eldest son, Ray, was no different. His piercing blue eyes followed Rudra as if drawn by some unseen force. The golden strands of his hair gleamed under the light, his features sharp yet filled with an effortless elegance. His gaze never wavered, studying Rudra with an intensity that went unnoticed by the crowd.

The king's wife glanced at Ray, concern flickering in her eyes. "What is it, Ray?"

Without answering, Ray stood up, his movements fluid and graceful. The room seemed to hold its breath as he walked toward Rudra. Every eye in the room followed him, their silence a mark of reverence. Ray's steps were slow, measured, almost ceremonial in their deliberate grace.

When he reached Rudra, Ray stopped, his form regal and poised. He knelt down in front of him, an action that caught the room by surprise. The crowd, once filled with whispers, now held its collective breath as Ray's hands, steady and deliberate, moved to remove his shoes. His fingers moved with care, as though this act carried meaning far beyond the simple gesture. He placed the shoes gently at Rudra's feet, his expression one of deep sincerity, as if offering not just footwear, but a symbol of protection and respect.

The moment hung in the air, weighty with unspoken meaning. Rudra, who had long since learned to suppress any hint of emotion, felt a stir deep within. It was an unfamiliar feeling—something between confusion and a strange warmth. For the first time in over a year, someone had shown him such simple kindness, with no expectation, no ulterior motive.

Ray's voice broke the silence, gentle yet filled with concern. "How can you walk without shoes? Didn't the servant help you put them on?"

The words, though innocuous, carried an undertone of care. Rudra blinked, his cold demeanor faltering for a moment. It was the first time anyone had addressed him like this in over a year. The weight of the question—though not emotionally charged—unsettled him in ways he could not easily explain.

Rudra's lips curled into a faint smile, the edges barely rising. His voice was soft, almost too soft, as if he were speaking to himself more than anyone else. "I was in a hurry, so I forgot about it."

The exchange was brief, but the undercurrent of Ray's actions left a lingering question in Rudra's mind. A question about what it meant to truly belong for now he let go of hi

The room fell silent as every eye turned toward Rudra and Ray, their gazes filled with a mix of awe and intrigue. Ray, seemingly unfazed by the attention, looked toward the king, who watched him with a slightly raised brow. After a long pause, the king sighed deeply and ordered coldly, "Get a pair of shoes for him." His voice cut through the quiet room, and the servant standing nearby moved quickly to fulfill the request.

Ray then turned to Rudra, his smile widening. "Let's go, I'll introduce you to our family," he said, his voice warm and inviting. Rudra followed, though his mind was still reeling from the sudden attention and the exchange with the queen. He furrowed his brow, unsure of what exactly was happening.

"'Our' means...?" Rudra asked, his voice soft, not wanting to show confusion.

Ray chuckled slightly and explained in simple terms, "Royal adoption means adopting an outside child into the family. You see, I proposed that idea." His eyes softened as he spoke, a deep sincerity in his words.

Rudra's brow furrowed. "Couldn't you have considered me first?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Ray paused for a moment before responding, his voice calm but with a hint of regret. "The situation was tight, and I couldn't explain everything then. I said that word in a hurry. Let's talk about it later." He looked at Rudra earnestly, a silent promise in his eyes.

As they neared the royal table, Rudra smiled politely, greeting the royal family with a practiced warmth, though a faint tiredness shadowed his expression. The queen, looking at him with a warm, motherly gaze, asked, "What's your name, child?" Her voice carried the soft kindness of a mother's love.