Read Novel Full Chapter 691: You
Chapter 691: You
Depending on the place a person grew up in, their thoughts and instincts would take shape in a certain way. That was natural.
Michael was not someone born in the Lionheart Kingdom.
He was not raised in its rigid layers of rank and blood.
He came from worlds where, at least on the surface, everyone was equal.
On Earth, money and power still created distance, but people walked the same streets and stood in the same lines.
In Aurora, strength mattered, but the system did not say a non-supernatural was lesser than a supernatural.
Just a few months of playing noble in the Land of Origin were not enough to rewrite that foundation.
Bowing to others was not the problem.
He could bow to a king.
He could bow to a beggar.
He could bow to a child if he felt it was worth it or if he felt like it.
What he could not accept was bowing because someone believed other lives were lesser by birth.
Fearing to open his mouth because of his background was also not something he accepted.
He still had common sense.
He could read the room.
He knew exactly what could be said and what needed to be left alone.
But where most people learned to bend first, Michael did not come from a place that had taught him that habit.
In a hall full of nobles trained from birth to follow rank, he was an oddity who did not fit the pattern of the Lionheart Kingdom at all.
He understood that much very clearly.
And even with every gaze pressing down on him, he did not take the words back.
The Tenth Prince did not explode, but the rage on his face was clear.
For a brief moment, the beast-like pupils tightened as if they wanted to swallow the distance between them.
When he spoke again, his tone was calm, but every word rang a little too sharp.
"A viscount at your age," he said slowly.
"It seems you are not entirely without merit. To reach such a position so young, you must have talent. And a strong background."
The prince’s gaze did not leave Michael.
"In that case," he continued, "I am curious."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Viscount Mic Nor. Tell me the name of your father."
Michael was not trained in politics, but he was not foolish.
He understood the weight inside that question.
This was not simple curiosity.
The Tenth Prince wanted a name he could measure.
If there was nothing there, the silence would speak louder than any insult.
Michael looked at him for a moment.
Then he answered in a quiet, even voice.
"Unless Your Highness goes to the heavens to ask him yourself," he said, "even I do not know my father’s name."
Michael’s words fell into the hall like a stone dropped into still water.
He had not meant to be rude.
He had simply replied in the same tone the Tenth Prince had used.
If the prince’s question carried sharpness, Michael’s answer reflected it.
That was all.
The Tenth Prince’s eyes narrowed, the golden pupils thinning again.
He was about to speak when the Ninth Prince’s voice suddenly cut through the hall.
"HOW DARE YOU!"
A ripple of shock surged through the nobles.
Raelion, the Ninth Prince, stepped forward, pointing at Michael with open fury.
"How dare you ignore the dignity of a prince?" he shouted. "How dare you speak in that manner before royalty?"
The Seventh Prince’s lips pulled into a thin smile.
But Raelion was not finished.
He swung his arm sharply and pointed toward the Second Prince on the platform.
"And you," he barked.
"Is this the person your judgement sees promise in?"
The hall froze again.
The Second Prince’s face twisted.
This was the first time his expression cracked openly.
A thin line of anger flashed beneath his eyes.
Raelion’s accusation was not small.
It was a direct challenge to his judgment, his authority, and his position in the royal succession.
Every noble watched with bated breath.
The Seventh Prince’s smile widened.
Michael watched quietly as he grew even more disgusted.
The Second Prince opened his mouth to reply, but the Tenth Prince spoke first.
He stepped forward half a pace and let his words strike the hall.
"The Ninth Prince is right."
Silence crashed down.
Even Raelion blinked before his expression turned smug.
The Tenth Prince folded his hands behind his back, eyes half-lidded but sharp.
"If nothing is done now," he said, "I will become a joke in the kingdom."
A few nobles inhaled sharply.
Some looked at Michael with pity.
Others with barely restrained satisfaction.
Many more with cold agreement.
The Tenth Prince continued, his tone light but every word heavy.
"A viscount who cannot follow protocol. A viscount who dares answer royalty as an equal."
He let the silence hang.
"That reflects poorly on the one who supported him."
Every gaze shifted toward the Second Prince.
Michael exhaled softly.
He had seen enough.
Their politics.
Their petty traps.
Their inflated pride.
Their obsession with face and hierarchy.
He had no interest in staying another second.
Michael turned away from the center of the hall.
He took one step toward the doors.
Another.
The nobles stiffened as they realized he was leaving in the middle of a royal confrontation and without permission.
Michael did not care.
Before he reached the third step, a voice echoed through the hall.
"Sir Mic," Princess Priscilla said.
"Can you give me face and wait a moment?"
The hall froze again.
Dozens of eyes widened.
Even the princes’ expressions shifted.
Michael stopped walking.
He turned only enough to face Princess Priscilla.
His voice was calm, polite, but unrestrained.
"I apologize, Your Highness," he said.
"But for tonight, I cannot remain in the same air as any of the princes aside from the Second Prince."
A pin could have dropped and the entire hall would have heard it.
Shock spread across noble faces like wildfire.