I found myself outside again, this time seated on the open balcony of a quaint little café on the second floor.
Ah, this is something I've missed—going out, writing my stories in a different atmosphere, observing people from a distance, watching passersby as they go about their day, and simply enjoying the weather. Only this time, I am without my laptop and notes.
However, as much as I'd love to romanticize this moment, I am not enjoying myself in the slightest.
I know, I know—I keep telling myself I want to change. Be more sociable. Step away from the old me who preferred solitude. But there are moments when I crave company, and moments when I absolutely do not.
And this? This is definitely one of those moments when I do not.
The first time I ran into him, my heart did a little flip—an innocent reaction to an unexpected encounter. Back then, I brushed it off as a charming coincidence. But now? That charm is wearing thin.
In fact, I'm not even sure it was a coincidence at all.
When I bumped into him yesterday while strolling along Brooke Street, I thought, Cute. A little romantic, even. That was coincidencenumber two. But today?
Today, he's sitting right in front of me. Again. With that ever-present, dazzling smile of his.
If he weren't graced with the empire's most treasured face, I swear I would've punched it by now.
I already woke up irritable, thanks to my period, which is precisely why I left the manor—to escape the incessant nagging of Sebastian, my ever-dutiful butler, and Amparo, the head maid.
"You should host a tea party soon, my lady. It is customary upon coming of age," Amparo reminded me, her tone as composed as ever. "Days have already passed since your debut, yet no preparations have been made. Even the gifts sent for your birthday remain unopened and unattended."
"It is the duty of a duke's daughter and the only lady of the house," Sebastian added pointedly.
"You must solidify your standing and relationships," they pressed in unison, their persistence unwavering.
I get it, I really do.
As one of the highest-ranking noble ladies in the empire—closely tied to the royal family, no less—I understand my responsibilities. It's not as if I've been neglecting them.
I attend parties, send thank-you letters to those who gifted me on my birthday, and make certain my presence is acknowledged while promenading. I am fulfilling my role.
But for once, I just wanted a little peace.
To sit here, sip my tea, and simply space out while enjoying the scenery.
Spacing out is an elegant hobby, you know? A delicate art one must master.
And now, instead of peace, I have him sitting across from me, grinning like he hasn't just single-handedly ruined my moment of indulgence with yet another piece of nonsense.
And yet—ugh, it pains me to admit—he's just too good-looking. It's unfair, really.
I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him. "What do you want?"
"Let's go on a date," he replies effortlessly.
"Ha-ha!" I scoffed, letting out a mocking laugh before taking a sip of my tea.
My thoughts wandered to what happened yesterday, on Brooke Street. I was on my way into a boutique to browse for new dresses when, without warning, he suddenly appeared and decided to tag along—no, demanded to tag along.
Thankfully, there were no other customers present at the time when we walked in.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, eyes widening as I noticed two black-hooded figures silently guarding the entrance. His knights, no doubt.
"Are you picking dresses? I want to see you pick one," he announced, completely unfazed.
"No, you can't do that."
"I'm an excellent judge of beauty and style. Why don't I choose for you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Stop. Please. Can you just go?"
He hummed, clearly ignoring my plea. "If you say you'll go out with me, I'll leave."
"...Go out?" My brain stalled for a moment. Was he talking about—
"Will you go on a date with me?"
Ah. Haha. That's what he meant.
"As I told you several days ago," I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose, "I do not want to be seen with you in public."
It wasn't that I didn't like him—I did. A little. But I wasn't ready to handle the weight of being seen at his side.
Ignoring my refusal, he strolled into the center of the boutique and made himself comfortable on the waiting lounge's long chair. Before I could react, he reached up to lower his hood.
Panic seized me. I lunged forward and yanked it back over his head so forcefully that it nearly swallowed his entire face. His golden locks disappeared in an instant, the hood now draped so low that only his neck was visible.
"Don't. You. Dare. Show. That. Face!" I hissed, punctuating each word with firm authority.
He peeked out from beneath the hood, just enough for me to catch the glint of his mischievous eyes. And then, as if he hadn't just given me a heart attack, he smiled—wide, amused, entirely too smug.
"Got it, Aerin."
The memory made me sigh. That "shopping trip" had somehow turned into me trying on dresses one after another while he lounged with a cup of tea, leisurely approving or dismissing each outfit with a contemplative touch to his chin.
It was exhausting.
I had only planned to browse the boutique's catalog, yet somehow, I had ended up as his personal entertainment.
Now, back in the present, I blinked out of my thoughts to find him still sitting across from me, he's speaking about something I hadn't quite caught. Not that it mattered.
"You have a lot of free time, don't you?" I deadpanned. "Don't you have important duties to attend to? You know, things that actually benefit the empire?"
He leaned back, a maddeningly innocent smile on his lips. "I'm on a break."
I glanced at the clock. "You've been here for more than an hour. Break time is over. Go back."
He exhaled dramatically, stretching out his long legs before crossing them at the knee. "I requested an extension due to..." he thought for a while then added, "...indigestion."
I narrowed my eyes. "...Excuse me?"
His grin widened, utterly shameless.
"Too many sweets at lunch," he added casually, as if that somehow justified his entirely unhinged existence.
I stared at him. Then at my teacup.
It was taking everything in me not to hurl it straight at his face.
He's even gone so far as to deliberately alter his appearance, dyeing his hair black with magic in an attempt to be less recognizable. But his eyes—those unmistakable, vivid gems—gave him away instantly. No matter how much he tries to blend in with his simple yet absurdly well-tailored noble attire, the sheer quality of his clothing alone screams high-ranking aristocrat.
Compared to the last two times I encountered him—when he shrouded himself in black robes for his so-called incognito outings—this was… at least a slight improvement.
The first time, he shamelessly hitched a ride in my carriage. The second, he conveniently "bumped into me" while I was out shopping yesterday. And now?
Now, he's up spouting nonsense. Again.
And every single time, without fail, he insists that we go on a date.
The reason behind his sudden change of disguise? Oh, that's because he took it very personally when I told him I didn't want to be seen outside with him. And instead of respecting my words like a normal person, he took it as some sort of challenge.
I have to admit, his commitment is both impressive and unsettling—disturbing, yet somehow… cute? Quite the contradiction.
Even I don't know how I feel about it anymore.
On one hand, I kind of like this ridiculous, flirtatious game we're playing. It's fast-paced, thrilling even. A part of me is tempted to stop pretending and just admit that I enjoy his company. Maybe if I do, it'll lead to some grand, romantic moment straight out of a novel.
On the other hand, I can't shake the nagging thought that he's an enormous red flag and that I should run while I still have my dignity intact.
So here I am, completely torn—should I be flattered or frustrated? Should I smile and secretly enjoy the attention, or should I just… punch him?
I tilt my head, considering the latter option. This thought is still the same as earlier.
"If I punch you right now, would I be arrested?"
He chuckles, completely unbothered. "Try it, so I can have an excuse to lock you up myself."
Oh, for the love of—
I exhale sharply through my nose, gripping my teacup tightly as irritation bubbles to the surface. It's bad enough that I'm on my period, which means my patience is already hanging by a thread. But this? This man and his insufferable teasing?
My head tingles as if my brain itself is vibrating from sheer annoyance.
"Please, have some conscience and do your job," I say, rubbing my temple. "How about you go back and plan war strategies?"
He leans back, tilting his head as if deep in thought before a smirk tugs at his lips. "The empire and the neighboring kingdom are at peace. Unless…" He pauses, eyes glinting with mischief. "Would you like me to conquer a kingdom for you?"
I let out a sharp sigh. "Haaaah! No!" I glare at him, knowing full well he's just testing me. "Then how about handling diplomacy?"
He leans in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "Hmm. All done. Just here for you."
My eye twitches. "Sounds like a waste of time."
"On the contrary," he grins, "I consider it time well spent."
I roll my eyes, deciding to ignore him and focus on my tea. Maybe if I pretend hard enough, he'll disappear.
But no such luck.
He lets out a dramatic sigh. "You wound me, Aerin. I changed my entire appearance for you, and yet you remain cold."
"Yeah, about that—why black?" I glance at his hair with mild amusement. "Were you trying to look mysterious? Because honestly, you look like a brooding side character who dies in chapter twenty-one."
He gasps, clutching his chest as if I've personally stabbed him. "How cruel! And here I thought I was the charming male lead."
I deadpan. "That role is still up for debate."
His laughter is warm, rich—like he's thoroughly enjoying how much he's getting under my skin. "If I have to prove myself, then so be it. How about we go on another date?"
"How about no?" He really wouldn't stop.
"An evening at the opera," he bargains. "Just one. You don't even have to call it a date. Think of it as me giving you the honor of my company."
I let out a slow breath. "I swear, if you don't leave in the next five minutes, I will make that black hair of yours match the bruises on your face."
His lips twitch, clearly holding back a laugh. "Violence, is it? My, my. I do love a woman with spirit."
At this point, my head actually starts to ache. He's like an unshakable pest, a persistent itch I can't scratch. And worst of all?
Despite every rational thought telling me to be irritated, I can't ignore the way my lips threaten to curve into a smile.
I hate him. I hate that he's amusing.
He's an absolute fool of a prince.
"Haaa!" I sighed.
Then, without warning, he stands up.
I heaved another sigh of relief. Finally! He's going to leave—
But before I could even finish that thought, he was suddenly in front of me, moving so fast I barely had time to react. In one swift motion, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my lips.
I froze. My mind went blank.
And just as fast as he did that, he was gone. Vanished.
Teleportation magic?
I blinked—once, twice, then frantically glanced around, heart pounding like a war drum. Had anyone seen that? Were there witnesses to my absolute humiliation?
Only after confirming that no one was looking up—nor was there anyone inside the second floor who could've possibly caught that scene—did I finally allow myself to breathe. The large decorative plants shielding this area from view were my saving grace.
I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers against my lips, still reeling.
That man.
He is way too much to handle.
I feel like I'm burning up. Literally burning from the inside out.