He was killed after saving someone, then transmigrated. He swore never to trust anyone again.
After becoming a prince, he had planned to enjoy a leisurely life, chasing chickens and teasing dogs.
His fourth and fifth brothers joined forces to cause trouble and exile him to the frontier?
No problem. He could turn this bitter, freezing wasteland into his own paradise lost.
But how could this be?!
Just as he was starting to enjoy the good life, you lot, you troublemakers, started causing problems, dragging me back to clean up your mess.
I'm clearly the troublemaker here. Why is it so hard for me, a prince, to slack off?
Damn it!
