🌌 The Cursed Prince Forbidden Love

Chapter 7:His Past

Chapter 7 – His Past

Kaia has begun her training under Uncle Wonie, pushing her body to the breaking point so she can one day face the cursed prince again. Meanwhile, Reino remains chained in the darkness of the cave. His body may be bound, but his mind drifts into memories he cannot escape—the memories of how he became the man the world calls cursed.

(Reino’s Memory)

I was never the prince they wanted.

When I was born, my legs were twisted, my bones fragile. I couldn’t walk without help. The moment my father laid eyes on me, I knew I was a disappointment.

“Why were you born?” he spat, his voice sharp as steel. “You are nothing. You can do nothing for this palace.”

Sometimes he laughed when he saw me stumble, but there was no kindness in it.

“Even to walk, you can’t. If it weren’t for your mother, I would have thrown you outside the gates the day you cried your first breath.”

Once, he confessed that he had been proud when my mother carried me in her womb. He dreamed of a strong heir to lead armies. But when he saw me, all his dreams turned to ash.

It wasn’t just him.

The servants averted their eyes when I passed, their pity heavier than chains. The nobles whispered of me in shadowed corners. My stepbrother, Prince Korsfy, carried his hatred like a crown—angry every time our paths crossed, furious that I existed at all. I was the king’s son, yes, but a reminder of his betrayal to the late queen.

So I lived in my room, a shadow of a prince. My only light was my mother. She brushed my hair, held my hands, and whispered, “You are my son. That is enough.”

But nothing lasts.

The night the kingdom fell, the sky burned red. Drums thundered, walls shook, and the banners that surged through our gates bore not foreign emblems—but our own crest.

It was my uncle.

My father’s own brother.

He stormed the palace with steel and fire. I was there when they dragged my father into the great hall and forced him to kneel. I saw the sword swing down. I saw his head fall upon the marble floor.

My mother screamed. They did not kill her, but they stripped her crown, her dignity, her voice, and threw her into the prison beneath the palace.

The loyal servants who once carried food to my chamber were dragged away. Many of the women became toys for soldiers drunk on power, their cries echoing in the dark. The men who resisted became slaves; those who fled were hung at the gates for all to see.

The streets, once filled with music, turned silent graves.

And me?

I did nothing. I could do nothing.

Locked in my chamber, I pressed my hands to my ears as screams rose from the dungeons and soldiers laughed in the halls. My tears scalded my skin, my throat raw from sobs. I cursed my useless legs. I cursed my father’s hatred. I cursed my uncle’s greed.

And in the darkest hours, I looked upward and cried out, “Why, God? Why did You make me like this? Why let me live only to watch everyone I love be destroyed?”

No answer came.

Only silence.

Only the taste of salt from my tears.

From that night on, I stopped believing anyone would save me.

The people whispered that I was to blame.

“If the prince could fight, this would never have happened.”

“If he weren’t so weak, the king would still live.”

That day, I was not just the boy who could not walk.

I became the prince who could not save anyone.

And a prince without power is worse than no prince at all.

The memory of my brother’s death is burned into me like fire.

He dared rise against our uncle, fighting for freedom when no one else would. Brave. Foolish. Noble. For that courage, he was sentenced to die.

I can still see the square, the silence heavy as chains dragged across stone. My brother knelt before the people—our people—while we stood helpless. I wanted to save him, to take the blow in his place. But how could I? I couldn’t even run to him.

The sword fell. The crowd gasped. And my brother’s body hit the ground while soldiers laughed.

That was the man my uncle was.

Afterward, I was stripped of my title and cast from the palace. Sent to the farmlands to live among cattle and pigs, a prince no more.

It was there that I met Mara.

The daughter of the man who tended the livestock. She had kind eyes, a gentle smile, and she never looked at me with pity. For the first time, I thought perhaps I could be happy, even in chains. Perhaps love could grow in the cracks of my broken world.

But good things never last.

One day, my uncle came to the farm. His gaze fell on Mara, and hunger twisted his features.

“I like her,” he said.

I stepped forward, trembling but defiant. “No. You can’t take her.”

He laughed. His soldier struck me so hard the world spun.

Mara’s parents begged me to protect her, but what could I do? My body was weak. My hands were empty.

Still, Mara was braver than me. She slapped my uncle across the face and tried to flee. He caught her easily, rage boiling in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you for this,” he snarled.

“No!” I cried, my legs screaming in pain as I stumbled forward. “Please, don’t hurt her!”

He smirked, releasing her arm.

“Fine,” he said coldly. “You may choose who to save instead.”

Two soldiers dragged another figure forward.

My mother.

Bruised. Beaten. Barely able to stand.

“Choose,” my uncle said. “The girl… or your mother.”

I froze. My heart tore in two.

I could not breathe.

They laughed at my silence.

They always laughed.