Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes-Chapter 126: Charming

Chapter 124

Jack

Today is my introductory ball.

My official debut as "His Royal Highness Prince Jackson Carter Albrecht the Third," which sounds less like a name and more like a tax bracket I have no business being in.

Apparently, my etiquette lessons, speech rehearsals, posture corrections, and hours of "stop glaring like a criminal, Your Highness" have finally paid off.

I am now deemed "acceptable for public display," which feels a lot like being a well-groomed show dog.

It’s exhausting, but I endure it.

I endure the stiff collar trying to strangle me, the perfectly tailored suit that fits a little too well, the thick crowds of nobility who bow too low and smile too wide.

I endure the useless small talk, the empty compliments, the political undertones hidden behind every word.

A gangster—no, a former gangster turned loan shark—standing under chandeliers worth more than my childhood house.

If someone had told me ten years ago I’d be shaking hands with nobles instead of beating loan dodgers with pipes... I would’ve laughed in their face.

Life really doesn’t give warnings.

I walk through the gilded corridor leading toward the grand ballroom, trying not to show how much I’d rather be home with my family.

The air smells like polished wood, citrus oils, money, and the kind of expectations that crush people if they stand still too long.

My mask is firmly on.I’ve worn so many masks inmy life that this one fits like a glove.

The charming prince.

The polite royal.

The perfect image they want me to be.

If there’s one talent I’m confident in, it’s acting.

The enormous double doors open as if the whole ballroom is exhaling in anticipation. Music swells. Hundreds of eyes turn toward me.

I step inside with grace I absolutely do not feel.

I circulate the room, exchanging practiced greetings, offering polite laughs. Every second feels like ten minutes.

Then I spot them,a news crew, cameras already aimed, the reporter bright-eyed and perfectly poised.

She steps forward with a practiced smile.

"My lady," I say with a smooth dip of my head.

She actually giggles and offers a small curtsey in return.

"Your Highness," she says, cheeks flushed. "Might you spare a few moments? The citizens of Solmere are quite curious about you."

"I’d be honored to answer," I reply, letting my lips curve into the effortless charming smile I’ve been rehearsing for weeks.

"And it’s hard to refuse when a beautiful woman is the one asking."

Her blush deepens; the camera light catches the faint tremble of excitement in her hands.

"You flatter me, Your Highness," she says breathlessly.

The reporter tilts her head, smile bright, voice perfectly modulated for the camera.

"Well then, Your Highness," she says, "everyone has been waiting to hear from the newest member of the royal family. Prince Jackson, how does it feel to be presented to the public tonight?"

"I am beyond honored," I say, letting the words roll out like silk. "The reception is impeccable. It feels like a grand welcome home. Truly, I’ve been shown more grace than I deserve."

She beams.

"And what has surprised you most about palace life so far?" she asks.

I lean slightly closer, lowering my voice as if we’re sharing a secret between old friends.

"Oh—the sheer number of forks."

A dramatic sigh.

"I still don’t know what half of them are for, but I’m pretending I do, so please don’t tell anyone."

She laughs immediately, a practiced, tinkling sound. Its honestly not funny, but that’s my role the down-to-earth prince, the charming one, the relatable one.

She regains her composure. "Apart from your dashing good looks and charm, what do you hope to bring to Solmere in your new role?"

What I want to say:

Home. Stability. A future my family can breathe in. Protection they can actually rely on.

What I say instead, voice gentle but firm:

"I hope to serve Solmere with sincerity and dedication. To listen to its people, understand their needs, and work alongside my family to ensure prosperity and peace."

"Well said, Your Highness," she praises. Then she adds with a grin, "Or at least, that’s what I’m supposed to say."

The playful jab earns another round of polite laughter. I match her energy.

"But truly," I add, shrugging lightly, "I still have no idea what I’m supposed to do here, aside from pretending I know which fork is correct. So please,cut me some slack."

More laughter. They love that. They always love a prince who pretends he’s just as lost as they are.

She switches cards, eyes gleaming. "Are you aware, Your Highness, that since your arrival you’ve shot up to the kingdom’s most desirable alpha? Surpassing even the dukes? How do you feel about that?"

I place a dramatic hand on my chest.

"Me? Little old me? I had no idea. But I’m happy to serve. After all, that’s what royalty is for."

I wink.

The reporter actually fans herself. "Your Highness—you tease! Getting everyone’s hopes up. Is there a lucky partner in your life?"

I soften my expression, let my smile shift into something wistful.

"As much as I would love to fulfill all your desires," I say smoothly, "I’m afraid you’ll have to do nothing but watch... because I am not available. And I even have a son."

A collective gasp. The reporter’s eyes widen.

"Oh my."

"Yes," I say lightly, "tragic, isn’t it? Having me officially off the market. But I’m happily taken, and happily a father."

She gives a breathy laugh. "Suppose it makes sense, looking at you, Your Highness."

I give a small bow of my head, all polite charm and theatrics.

The interview drags on with a handful of generic questions—my thoughts on diplomacy, what dishes I’ve tried in the palace, what hobbies I’ve picked up etc

Eventually, the reporter thanks me, the cameras stop rolling, and the crew disperses.

Finally.

I turn away from the lights, slipping back into the hum of the ballroom. Music swells from the orchestra—elegant, old, the kind of melody made for swirling gowns and polished shoes. The chandeliers drip light like glittering rain, the marble floors gleam, and nobles chatter behind decorative masks of etiquette.

I mentally exhale.

It’s going to be a long night.