They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System

Chapter 399: | Hate This Club

A queen from the south quietly removed her crown and held it against her chest, her lips moving in silent prayer.

Swhispered in the halls.

“He really showed the king's final moments... just like that.” “I'll never forget the look in her eyes when he took

the blow.” “Obinna’s face... | think I felt his panic in my bones.”

In their rooms, doors shut softly. Fires crackled low. Servants moved quietly, sensing the gravity in the air.

No one slept easily.

Scried.

Srewound the livestream, needing to watch again just to believe.

Sstared at the ceiling in silence, haunted by the question:

Why did the king do it?

Was it just because Nnenna is his daughter... adopted daughter?

And through it all, Lionara’s nechoed across the continent, not for its riches, not for its soldiers, not for its

ancient bloodline...

...but because, that night, they witnessed something few kingdoms ever dared to show:

Raw truth.

The corridors of the palace were quiet now. The warm golden glow of torches lining the walls flickered gently,

casting long, dancing shadows that trailed Somto as he walked.

His steps were slow.

Not from fatigue, but from the weight of everything that had happened.

The banquet. The dance. The confrontation. The video.

And her.

Nnenna.

He clenched his jaw, hands curling into faint fists at his side. He was a man of order. Decisive. Calculated. Every

word, every move, every alliance, carefully measured and weighed.

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But tonight?

He had danced with her.

Held her.

Looked into her eyes and forgot the room around them existed.

Then, against every careful plan he'd sworn to follow, he revealed a part of the footage he promised himself

never to show, not to the world. Not to anyone. A king's downfall shouldn't be showcased to the world.

And yet he did it.

He'd made the decision in the moment... but it didn’t feel like a decision at all.

It felt like instinct.

Like need.

His boots echoed softly on the marble as he reached his room and shut the door behind him with a low click. He

didn’t turn on the lights. He didn’t undress. He just sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, eyes lost in the

shadows.

His voice broke the silence, quiet and strained.

“What exactly is wrong with me?”

The words hung in the air like a secret too ashamed to be spoken louder.

He wasn’t expecting an answer.

But the ache in his chest, the unfamiliar doubt, the storm of feelings he couldn't name... that was answer

enough.

Something was shifting. And the one person he tried to keep out of his heart might already be living there, far

deeper than he wanted to admit. How am | supposed to focus on my mission in this state?

Somto sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand now, thumb hovering uncertainly over his contacts.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for, guidance? Sanity? A way to untangle the emotional mess

swirling in his chest?

One nblinked back at him.

Carl.

It was a strange choice, even to him. But Carl had always been... real. No pretenses. No politics. Just sarcasm,

honesty, and the uncanny ability to call Somto out when no one else dared to.

Arthur was the same, but that dude would obviously be of no help. He's a bigger ice block than me.

And so

He hit the call button.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then

“Yo! His Royal ticness finally calls,” Carl's voice cthrough, light and teasing. “Letguess, you're

calling to cry because the crown itches?”

Somto let out a sigh, but stension slipped from his shoulders at the sound of Carl’s voice. It was familiar,

grounding.

“You'll get your gift soon,” Carl added before Somto could speak. “It's heavy. Like your ego.”

Somto pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling.

“I'm being serious.”

“So am I. | got you a throne shaped mirror. That way you can stare at yourself and remember who you are, your

majesty.”

Somto groaned.

“Carl.”

“What? Coronation over already? Didn't you just get crowned like, thirty minutes ago? Why are you calling me

instead of swimming in gold coins and women throwing flower petals at you?”

Somto hesitated.

This was the hard part.

“What... what does it feel like to... fall for someone?”

Silence.

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A long, weighted pause.

Then

“...Wait. Sorry, hold on,” Carl said. “Did a random court jester steal your phone?”

“Carl—"

“Because | know this isn’t Somto. You mean my Somto? Crown Prince of Emotional Ice? Lionara’s Strategic

Terminator? The sSomto who once said, and | quote, ‘Love is for the idle and foolish?”

Somto’s lips twitched.

“Shut up.”

“Nah, | need a minute. Letcatch my breath. Did you hit your head at the banquet? Do | need to fly in to treat

you? Blink twice if you're being held hostage by hormones.”

“I'm serious, Carl!” Somto snapped, voice cracking slightly.

That silenced Carl.

On the other end of the line, he could probably hear the genuine uncertainty, the tension wrapped inside

Somto’s words.

“...Damn,” Carl muttered, tone shifting. “Okay. You really mean it.”

“I'm not even sure what I'm feeling,” Somto admitted. “It’s like... every tshe’s around, | lose control of my

logic. | break promises | made to myself. | expose secrets | swore to keep. She affects me.”

“Sounds like a girl,” Carl said plainly.

“That's not helpful.”

“Bro, it’s the truth. You've been a wall for years, and now someone’s finally found the chink in your armor.

Welcto the club.”

“I hate this club.”

“You'll survive.”

“I'm used to knowing what | want. What to do. But with her...” Somto shook his head, staring at the floor like it

held answers. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“Maybe that’s because for the first time, you're not doing what you were trained to do. You're feeling. Feeling,

Somto. Look it up.”