(Bl) Transmigration: Seducing and making Cinderella's prince mine

Zolan's steps echoed ominously as his brooding figure strutted down the grand hallway until he arrived at the enormous dining hall.

The room was vast, with a long table stretching the length of the hall, lined with countless chairs placed along its edges. Mouthwatering dishes adorned the surface — boiled potatoes, roasted chicken and turkey soaked in scented stew, and a generous serving of golden, crispy plantains.

Zolan stared at the breakfast, but instead of hunger, a wave of nausea surged through him. He wasn't in the mood for food. As expected, the royal family was already gathered, their expressions laced with expectancy, clearly awaiting someone's arrival.

Queen Thalia's voice rose gently upon seeing her son.

"Come here, son. We've been waiting to start the meal," she said with a smile, beckoning him to the seat beside her.

Stephen, who had hoped to claim that seat, frowned deeply.

Here comes the favoritism again.

He had tried to sit there earlier, only to be driven away by a single glare from Queen Thalia. Now, regret settled in his chest like a weight. Why had he even come? No one ever noticed him — no one except Kayden.

The beautiful stranger he met. The only person who saw him. He would do everything in his power to bring Kayden here. First, he just needed to eat quickly and find a way to talk to him again. He was his one and only friend, after all.

Zolan didn't return his mother's smile. Instead, he stared awkwardly before begrudgingly making his way to her side, clearly displeased.

At the other end of the table, Emperor Gerald Nightshade sat, his cold gaze fixed on his meal. When the chattering grew too loud, he slammed his fist against the table, silencing everyone instantly.

"Quiet, all of you. Can't someone have a moment of peace in this damned palace?" His voice was sharp. "And Zolan, from now on, you won't sit beside your mother. You're destined to be emperor, not a pampered princess. Your place is beside me. Relocate."

The command was curt, final. Zolan stood up without protest, though Queen Thalia's eyes softened in heartbreak. She couldn't remember the last proper conversation they had. Her son was slipping away from her, bit by bit.

Zolan took his new seat beside the Emperor, a high-backed chair adorned with a golden crest — unlike the plain wooden ones used by the rest of the family.

As he stared down at his plate, a maid gracefully lifted the covers off the dishes and began serving him. While scanning the table, Zolan's eyes landed on Thane — his cousin.

Thane, the mystery. The brunet — or so they assumed — with a hypnotic gaze that made most people uneasy. He was the only one Zolan hadn't spoken to since his time at the palace. Strange, unsettling... dangerous was the word use to describe him.

At that moment, Thane was delicately slicing into a chicken, dipping the meat into thick sauce, and placing it in his mouth with such elegant precision that Zolan's skin crawled. He couldn't explain it, but the man exuded something... disturbing.

Well, Thane wouldn't cross him. Not unless he wanted his entire family banished from the palace.

With his portion now served, Zolan finally dug in, though his mind began to wander — back to earlier that morning, to his encounter with the silver-haired boy. Kayden.

Ah, how he loved the strong, unyielding ones. They made breaking so much sweeter.

He'd been informed that Kayden had vanished before they could catch him, but fate was predictable. Their paths would cross again. And next time, he wouldn't escape.

Suddenly, Gerald's steel-like voice reverberated through the room once more.

"Zolan, you and Butler Clyde will lead a squad of guards today. A royal declaration will be made — the maiden who fits into the golden slipper shall be your bride."

All activity at the table paused.

Annabelle, seated opposite Zolan, smirked.

"Something tells me a huge drama's about to shake this palace," she whispered, her voice dripping with excitement.

Across from her sat Princess Esther, chatting softly with her mother, Queen Charlotte. They spoke quietly to avoid drawing Gerald's wrath, but Esther's laughter made Annabelle twitch.

Why was she so beautiful? So graceful? And I... I ended up looking like an old woman wrapped in silk. What kind of curse is this?

Annabelle wept internally, envy burning in her chest.

Then, as if things weren't chaotic enough, Stephen suddenly burst into laughter.

For a moment, Gerald didn't react — confused by the outburst — but once he realized who it was, his face contorted with dark fury.

"Who dares interrupt me while I speak?"

Stephen froze.

"I— No, Father... it was a mistake—"

But before he could finish, Gerald slammed the table again, sending food crashing to the floor.

"Maybe some discipline will remind you never to raise your voice when I'm speaking." His eyes narrowed. "Guards! Take him to the dungeon. Lock him up for one week."

Stephen's eyes widened in terror.

"No, please... Father, I can't! I can't survive in there!"

He turned to his mother, desperate. Queen Charlotte remained composed but gave him a single, stony glare.

"Do as your father says. Stop making a scene."

Stephen's heart shattered.

Only Esther showed any sympathy. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, but she didn't move. Her attempt to rush to her brother was blocked by Queen Charlotte, who shoved her back with a glare.

"Don't you dare."

And just like that, Stephen was dragged away, heartbroken and defeated.

As the guards carried him off, he cast one last look at Zolan and Gerald. His lips moved faintly, but Zolan caught every word:

"You think you're safe, Zolan? You stupid brother of mine... But one day, when you finally taste happiness, Father will be the one to rip it away. And you'll live to regret ever being born a royal."

And then, he was gone.

A suffocating silence fell over the table. Linda, who had once planned to oppose Queen Thalia and Zolan, suddenly began to rethink her life decisions.

Was this to be her fate, or worse?

No way. She wasn't livestock to be butchered.

"Zolan, take Clyde now and begin the search for the maiden with the golden slipper," Gerald declared. "Your wedding will go as planned. Understood?"

Zolan nodded.

Thane, who had watched the entire spectacle in silence, smirked faintly.

It's all unraveling perfectly. They're planting the seeds of their own destruction.

He turned his head toward Zolan and caught the prince still staring at him. With those crystalline blue eyes, Thane winked.

Then, as Gerald rose and exited the dining hall, Thane followed quietly behind. But he wasn't heading to his chambers — he was heading for the palace gates.

Time to take a stroll around the Empire.

Meanwhile, the search for the unknown maiden — the owner of the golden slipper — was already in motion. But behind the scenes, Zolan had given a different order.

Track down Kayden Shawn.

Alive.

And for revenge.

And nothing, nothing was more delicious than revenge served piping hot.