On Earth, it was just another ordinary day…
at least for those who called this world home.
The morning sun cast a golden hue over the sprawling cityscape, touching everything from ancient stone temples to sleek glass skyscrapers.
A typical day here…
it meant the ordinary and, by some standards, the extraordinary blended seamlessly.
Market vendors called out to passersby, showcasing their goods in bustling open-air bazaars tucked between towering brick buildings and, here and there, gleaming steel structures.
Monks in flowing robes strolled alongside businesspeople tapping away at sleek holographic tablets, their lives converging on the same vibrant streets.
The crisp air carried an unusual blend of rich spices and tangy exhaust, while high above, bullet trains streaked past colossal statues, their weathered faces suggesting they had stood watch for countless centuries.
It was a world where the past and modernism coexisted, a place called Earth, but not quite as most would picture it.
The year was 2027, yet the world had never known of countries or the familiar continents…
this was Earth as it might have been if the earliest civilizations had never vanished.
Here, Kingdoms, Empires, and Dynasties thrived, each with their own unique form of “government,” shaping a reality unlike any other.
—- As the city came alive, massive skyscrapers punctuated the skyline, rising above ancient citadels and marble forums.
Cars glided silently along wide boulevards lined with digital billboards, while street musicians played traditional lutes beside subway entrances.
Everywhere, people moved in a dance of old and new…
with some families lighting incense at ancestral shrines before stepping into driverless taxis, children chasing pets through cobbled squares.
Amidst this strange beauty, the Continent of Eden rose as the height of influence, famous worldwide for its political and economic power.
Its cities soared with glass spires and sun-lit avenues, planes streaking across the sky above ancient amphitheaters and stone bridges.
Yet even from the heart of the metropolis, the distant silhouettes of four massive kingdoms encircled a grander, older one—the Kingdom of Arden.
The contrast was striking…
bustling airports beside sprawling palace grounds, electric trains rattling past city walls adorned with banners from dynasties founded centuries ago.
—- Inside a sleek black sedan, the world outside spilled in through the tinted windows.
Golden light shone across polished leather, shadows from passing banners rippling over the young man seated in the back.
Neon Heart rested one elbow against the door, fingers lightly brushing the cool glass as he watched his reflection shimmer over the scenery.
He tilted his head slightly, letting the angle catch the sharp line of his jaw, the pale glow of his skin, the soft fall of short white hair that framed his face with effortless precision.
His red eyes narrowed with a faint, self‑satisfied glint as he studied himself, the corner of his mouth lifting in a quiet, conceited exhale.
‘Honestly… It’s unfair,’ he thought, watching the reflection of those red irises flicker with the passing light.
‘I don’t think anyone should look this good…
especially without trying.’ Neon was an eighteen-year-old young man who could be described in countless ways, depending on who you asked.
If you spoke to any woman, she might say he was the most incredible man ever to walk the face of the Earth.
But if you asked any man, their opinions might tell a very different story.
This divide had existed ever since he hit puberty, and he never truly understood it himself.
One thing was for sure—he was, without a doubt, the most handsome man in the entire Kingdom of Arden.
He shifted, brushing a nonexistent wrinkle from his neat, understated blazer; he wore nothing flashy, just the kind of quiet fashion that whispered wealth without ever needing to announce it.
His fingers toyed with the edge of the fabric for a moment before drifting back toward the window…
Towering palace gates loomed ahead, their massive iron bars throwing long, crooked shadows across the road.
Neon’s face lost what little expression it had left.
‘Being friends with the King… well, that’s certainly a perk,’ he thought, letting out a slow, drawn-out sigh that clouded the glass before a passing breeze whisked it away.
‘I just hope that damn princess is not around.’ Up front, the driver’s eyes flicked briefly to the rearview mirror.
There, he caught sight of Neon once again, entirely absorbed in admiring his own reflection.
A quiet sigh escaped him, soft but heavy with weariness.
‘Young Master Heart… when will you ever grow into someone truly worthy of inheriting the House of Hearts?’ he wondered, his grip tightening around the steering wheel.
‘The Patriarch built everything from the ground up in just fifty years… fifty.
But why do you insist on spending your days toying with hearts—women’s hearts?’ A small shake of the head, subtle enough to go unnoticed, followed before he straightened his posture as the car glided to a smooth halt before the palace gates.
The guards bowed their heads as the massive iron doors groaned open as if they were already expecting Neon’s arrival.
Without pause, the driver stepped out, making his way toward the back door.
He reached for the handle—only for it to swing open first, Neon stepping out with the effortless grace of long-practiced habit.
“Old man,” Neon said, adjusting his blazer with a small flick of his wrist, “Didn’t I tell you?
There’s no need to do that every time.” The driver chuckled softly, dipping his head in a small bow.
“Young master, it’s my responsibility.” He said, “Also…
you really ought to start making proper use of your position… instead of carrying on the way you have all these years.” Neon’s red eyes flicked toward him, unreadable for a beat, before he shook his head and strolled past with an easy, unhurried stride.
His shoes tapped softly against the stone, each step deliberate, almost lazy.
“Whatever you say, old man…
and no need to wait,” Neon said with a casual wave, not bothering to glance back.
“I’ll walk home and be back by dinner.” The man watched him leave, the sunlight glinting off Neon’s white hair as he neared the towering gates of Arden’s Palace.
‘He really is something,’ the man mused, letting out a slow breath through his nose.
‘But…
maybe not exactly what the Patriarch was hoping for.’ The gates kept opening, their shadows spilling long and dark across the courtyard as Neon Heart stepped inside.
—- The guards noticed Neon the instant he stepped beneath the sweeping shadow of the palace gates, their rifles rising in one fluid motion as they straightened to attention.
Morning sunlight spilled across their shoulders, softening the sharp lines of their uniforms, and each man’s face eased into a warm smile—the kind not offered to nobles or high-ranking officials.
Still, to someone who had crossed these grounds so many times, he felt like a piece of the royal family itself.
“Morning, Neon!
It’s been a while,” one called, shifting his weight as he rested a hand on his hip, eyes bright with familiarity.
Another leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the butt of his spear.
“How’ve you been, lad?
Still enjoying life?” Neon met their warmth with a slow smile, his red eyes softening as he gave a nod, keeping his hands casually in his pockets while strolling along.
“Exactly…
you know me, as always.
Just enjoying life.” The guards burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the palace walls.
“He truly never changes,” one muttered as Neon drifted past, his steps light, almost lazy, as though the palace belonged to him as much as it did to the royal family.
He approached the massive palace doors, their carved wood depicting centuries of Arden’s history, and without pausing…
without waiting for any ceremonial greeting…
He pushed them open and walked inside as if he were entering his own home.