LIGHTNOVELONLINE The Ponder and Resolution
Mikhailis blinked as the familiar surroundings of his chamber came into view.
One moment, he had been standing in the grand hall of Silvarion Thalor, talking to a queen about becoming her prince consort, and now here he was—back in his own world.
Inside his room that seems to be a combination of chaos and brilliance, a strange mixture of a bedroom and a lab.
Stacks of papers littered one side, filled with his insect research, while shelves full of gadgets, devices, and jars containing various bugs lined the other.
A large desk, cluttered with monitors and a complex setup for his AI, dominated the room all over the place.
Home sweet home...
He took a deep breath, letting the strange sensation of returning settle over him.
The contrast was almost jarring—the buzzing magic of Silvarion Thalor compared to the cold, artificial hum of his tech-filled world. He wasn't sure what to think about it.
Mikhailis walked over to his desk, he absentmindedly run his fingers along the surface. His mind wandered back to Elowen and her offer.
Becoming a prince consort, huh...? It's a road I've never imagined before, seriously...
A part of him felt excited, intrigued by the opportunity to be part of something so… fantastical. But another part of him wondered if this was the right decision.
Could he really leave everything behind?
Was it wise to get involved in royal politics of a world he barely understood?
And what about his family?
His kingdom?
The thoughts buzzed in his head like a swarm of agitated bees. He slumped down in his chair, staring blankly at one of the screens.
"Is this really the right thing?"
he murmured to himself, unsure if he was talking to himself or to Rodion, his ever-present AI.
But more importantly, there is something that he need to do urgently.
"Yes. Rodion, you there?"
<Yes. Is there anything I could help, your highness?>
When you're going to be the prince consort of such a gorgeous queen, there is one thing you need to do!
Yes!
It's research!
"It's a research of porn!"
<...Yes? Are you perhaps drunk, your highness?>
He could feel Rodion's bewilderment.
"No! I'm not! I'm going to marry a high-class busty brown-skinned beauty with beautiful silver hair and pointy ears, Rodion! Come on! Search for me, forsake those blocked website with our freshly made VPN, and download all videos with women similar to what I've just described!"
There is no way a virgin like me would be able to satisfy her with pure instincts alone!
"Yes! I need research! This is not an affair as we're not married yet! And with this, perhaps I could get a hint of her weaknesses and-
He didn't get the chance to get excited for long. A sharp knock on the door broke the silence.
"Mikhailis? It's time for dinner." His mother's voice came through, soft but firm.
Dinner.
Right.
He could swear he heard the voice of Rodion letting out a relieved sigh.
No, I guess I misheard it.
Mikhailis had almost forgotten how mundane life here was.
Pushing himself up from the chair, he gave one last glance around his room before heading downstairs to the dining hall.
The hallway felt cold, sterile compared to the warmth of Silvarion's wooden halls. He could already feel the tension building as he approached the grand dining room.
It's not a comfortable atmosphere around here.
Dinner at the Palace of Volkov was always a formal affair, but tonight felt especially tense.
As Mikhailis stepped inside, he saw his parents already seated—his father, King Yaroslav IV, looked as stern and dignified as always, while his mother, Queen Sofia, gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
A family dinner that seems more like a charade.
And there was Dimitri, his older brother and heir to the throne. Dimitri's expression was neutral, as usual, but there was a heaviness in the air between them, something unspoken yet all too familiar.
Mikhailis sat down, resisting the urge to break the silence with a joke or some light banter.
His mother poured herself a glass of wine, while her eyes flickered briefly between him and Dimitri, as if searching for something.
"You're late," Yaroslav said, not even looking up from his plate.
"Yeah, sorry about that, father," Mikhailis replied, giving a lazy wave.
"Got a little caught up with… work."
His father grunted but said nothing more just as usual.
The clink of silverware and the quiet shuffling of servants filled the air, but the tension remained thick and suffocating. Enough to make him want to gulp and munch down everything and leave.
But he couldn't.
Because he's a 'royalty' that need to keep up appearance, even when they are alone.
Mikhailis knew this atmosphere all too well. It was the same every time they sat down together. His parents, particularly his father, had long hinted that they believed Mikhailis was the one more suited to lead Ruslania.
He had the brain, the charm, the unpredictability that could shake things up, or so they said to him.
And the most important thing is he got the charisma that the king should have.
But that was the last thing Mikhailis wanted.
The crown was Dimitri's, not his, and yet… his parents seemed blind to the toll it was taking on his brother.
Dimitri cut into his steak with mechanical movements. Mikhailis couldn't help but glance at him as he could feel the unspoken burden his brother carried.
The crown was meant to be his, but their parents had never really given him the full support he needed.
Mikhailis loved his brother—he always had—but ever since that rumor started, their relationship had become strained.
Or rather, it became awkward, and he couldn't bear looking at his brother's stressed state.
He knew it wasn't fair. Dimitri had always done his best, always tried to live up to the expectations of the throne. But it was obvious—his brother wasn't happy. The pressure had crushed something inside of him, and no one in their family seemed to acknowledge it.
No one except Mikhailis.
But I guess I'm the last one he wanted to recognize his efforts, I guess?
"So, Mikhailis," his mother said, breaking the silence. "How is your research going? I hear you've made quite the breakthrough."
Mikhailis gave her a nonchalant shrug.
"Yeah, you could say that. Found something pretty rare, actually. Might change a lot of things in the field in the future."
His father finally looked up, narrowing his eyes. Mikhailis always hated those eyes that filled with greed and ambition.
Dimitri is far more king-worthy than him.
"You should be focusing on more important matters. Your brother can't handle everything alone, you know."
There it was.
The thinly veiled suggestion that Mikhailis should be doing more, should be preparing for a role he didn't want.
He caught Dimitri's slight frown, and the way his grip tightened around his fork.
Stop it already, old man.
"I'm not really interested in ruling, Father," Mikhailis said, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it. "Dimitri's got everything under control."
Dimitri said nothing, but Mikhailis could feel the tension radiating off of him.
The unspoken words between them, the weight of their parents' expectations—Mikhailis knew this dinner was like so many others, full of hidden pressure and unresolved conflict.
A troublesome piece of daily routine.
The meal dragged on, and Mikhailis found himself growing more restless. He hated this atmosphere, hated seeing his brother like this. It wasn't fair. And yet, he knew there was nothing he could say or do in this moment to change things. The only way forward was the path he'd already started to walk.
Only a fool would say it could all be resolved by talking things out.
If it's true, there wouldn't be war in this world, guys. Wake up.
As the dinner came to an end, Mikhailis stood up, with delicate care he avoid his chair scraping against the floor.
"Thanks for the meal," he said with a quick nod before making his way out of the room.
He needed to get away, and he need to think.
Back in the quiet of his room, Mikhailis felt his resolve solidify. He knew what he had to do.
<Back to watch the porn, your highness?>
"No, not that one,"
This world, with all its complications and burdens, wasn't for him.
Silvarion Thalor… that was where his future lay.
Perhaps there, he could live more freely and enjoy it better.
Perhaps he could have an adventure that he has been dreaming about?
But I guess... Farewell is needed as basic courtesy.
Later that night, Mikhailis made his way to Dimitri's chambers. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear the soft rustling of papers inside.
He knocked lightly before stepping in.
Dimitri was sitting at his desk, poring over documents, as usual.
Hard worker as always, aren't you now?
His expression was tired, weary. The crown prince looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Mikhailis? What are you doing here?"
Mikhailis leaned against the doorframe, of course, his usual grin is in place.
"Just thought I'd drop by. You know, catch up."
Dimitri looked at him skeptically but didn't protest.
"Alright. What's on your mind?"
It's his usual stare.
Mikhailis could feel the care of his brother, despite the pressure weighting on him, he still cared and was concerned for what was in his mind and what was troubling him.
The reason why he could pursue his dreams, learn as an entomologist, freely watch his anime, going to concerts, it's all because of him.
'Your life is only once, live it without having no concern for tomorrow, Mikhailis'
For a moment, Mikhailis hesitated. He wanted to tell Dimitri everything—to explain the bizarre, magical world he'd found himself in, the offer he'd been given. But he couldn't. Not yet. Instead, he settled on something simpler.
"I just wanted to say… I'm proud of you, you know?" Mikhailis said, his voice softer than usual.
"I know things haven't been easy for you, and… I know I haven't exactly been around to help."
Dimitri's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Mikhailis gave a small shrug as his eyes flicking away.
"Just… wanted to say it. That's all."
There was a pause.
Dimitri stared at him for a moment as his eyes searching the hints from Mikhailis's face.
"This sounds an awful lot like a goodbye."
Mikhailis forced a chuckle.
"Nah, I'm not going anywhere. Just felt like saying something meaningful for once. Just like how you did before I decided to pursue my hobbies, brother,"
Dimitri shook his head, a faint smile on his lips.
"You're a strange one, brother. But I guess that's what makes you unique,"
"Yeah, well, we have the same blood running with us, you know? Perhaps it's from father?" Mikhailis shrugged.
"Father would blast your heads off if he heard it, you know?" His brother laughed, for once after a quite while.
"You know? I'll try," Mikhailis suddenly started.
"Hm?" Dimitri raised his eyebrow.
Try not to drag you down, and try not to make you sad, brother.
"I'll try my best in doing what I want and live my life to the fullest, just like what you told me before,"
The conversation drifted after that, but Dimitri could feel it.
Something was different.
There was a finality in Mikhailis's words, as if this was the last time they'd speak like this.
He wanted to ask, to question where is his little brother that always brings trouble wherever he goes wants to go.
But he didn't press further.
Somehow, Dimitri know that he shouldn't.
As Mikhailis left Dimitri's room, he felt a heaviness in his chest.
Saying goodbye—without really saying it—was harder than he thought. But he knew he was making the right choice.
This is for the best.
Silvarion was calling him, and he was ready to answer.
Back in his room, Mikhailis began to gather his things. The small stone given to him by Elowen lay on his desk, its surface smooth and faintly glowing.
According to the beautiful queen, all he had to do was utter the words, and anything he touched would be brought with him to Silvarion Thalor. But before he could pack, he had to make sure everything was set.
He wasn't just going to leave. No, he had a plan.
Mikhailis rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a vial of liquid he had stashed away. It was something he'd been working on for a while—a formula designed to simulate the effects of a drug overdose. It wouldn't actually harm him, but it would be enough to convince anyone who found him that he had died.
A perfect cover.