Chapter 11
990words
"As for this young lady," I turned to Lorelei, completely ignoring her tearful expression as I addressed the council steward who had come to investigate the disturbance, "her Clan Emblem is forged. Please remove her from the premises."
After saying this, I flexed my wrist slightly and picked up a fresh glass of wine. "My apologies to everyone for disrupting the evening. Please accept this toast as my way of making amends."
I drained the glass in one elegant motion.
Having dealt with those two parasites, I had no desire to remain.
In our world, connections are built on first impressions and mutual benefit. Immortals are even more pragmatic than humans.
As long as you deliver value, partners will always be available.
I bid farewell to my friends, ignoring their shocked expressions.
They'd only ever seen me as Karen's accommodating partner—gentle as a lamb, never raising my voice.
As I headed for the exit, a familiar voice called my name.
"Alicia."
I turned to see a handsome yet somewhat unfamiliar face that gave me a moment of déjà vu.
"…Prince Alaric?"
I ventured uncertainly. He smiled warmly, his regal posture somehow comforting rather than intimidating—like a fresh spring breeze.
Alaric had been my childhood neighbor. Before my parents became clan leaders, he'd often looked after me.
Our families had been business partners and powerful allies for generations. As an only son, he'd always had a particular passion for human arts.
When my parents were consumed with expanding our business empire, I'd often escape the empty castle, and he would take me on adventures across the continent.
But after my parents ascended to clan leadership and we relocated, we'd lost touch.
"It's been too long," he said warmly. "Let's catch up somewhere quieter."
His gentle smile transcended time, overlapping perfectly with my memories of that artistic young man with his ever-present sketchbook.
A reunion with an old friend.
I smiled genuinely for the first time that evening. "Only if you're buying, Your Highness."
And so, after publicly humiliating Karen, I walked out arm-in-arm with a vampire prince, feeling the weight of every stunned gaze on my back.
The gossip spread through noble circles like wildfire.
My phone exploded with messages—some concerned, others gleefully dramatic—the notification icon blinking frantically.
I glanced at it once, then powered off my phone entirely.
Just like that, the world fell blissfully silent.
"What's troubling you, little Alicia?" Alaric asked, steering one-handed while reaching into the glove compartment. He pulled out a bottle of classic root beer. "Have a drink to calm your nerves, then tell me everything."
The sight of that root beer flooded me with memories, though it clashed hilariously with his luxury sports car and my formal evening gown.
"I never would have guessed," I teased, "that such a high and mighty prince still drinks this stuff."
"Hmm?" He looked genuinely confused. "Wasn't this your favorite?"
He shook his head with a self-deprecating smile. "My mistake! I forgot our little Alicia is all grown up now. What does Alicia prefer these days? I'll take you anywhere you like—it has been far too long…"
A warmth spread through my chest. "That depends on what Prince Alaric can afford. How could I, as your humble guest, make demands?"
"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" His handsome features relaxed into genuine amusement. "Fine! I know just the place!"
He took me to an exclusive restaurant with a private chef that normally required months of advance booking. I'd heard of the place but never managed to secure a table.
"What's that look for?" he asked with a smile. "I'm ancient now—can't compete with those young bucks chasing you these days."
"Hardly," I countered with a smile. "You're barely a few centuries old—must be the most eligible bachelor in the supernatural world."
His expression suddenly darkened. "I ended up taking their position after all. I broke my promise to you, Alicia. I never became an artist."
He stared at his hands—still beautiful and slender, still an artist's hands.
With those same hands, he'd once held a brush and promised a little girl he would become a great and powerful artist someday.
When we'd entered this restaurant—one that required princely connections to access—I'd already guessed the truth.
I struggled for words, but before I could speak, he continued: "My father is gone."
The simple statement hit me like a physical blow.
"The Prince…"
"Died in battle."
"And the Queen?" I asked softly.
His mother had been a gentle, soft-spoken woman with kind eyes.
"My mother couldn't bear the loss. She fell into hibernation and passed away three years ago."
My heart constricted painfully. I had no words.
My connection to his parents had been limited to a few childhood encounters. They had been busy rulers, and though I knew Alaric well, I'd only met them a handful of times.
After so many years apart, I couldn't claim to be devastated, yet I felt an unexpected sense of loss.
What happened next was painfully obvious. With both parents gone, Alaric had been forced to abandon his dreams, bearing not only his grief but also the weight of an entire kingdom.
I couldn't imagine how he'd survived it all, let alone managed everything so capably.
And three years ago, what had I been doing?
I reflected bitterly. I'd been obsessing over Karen's attention, fretting about Lorelei's influence.
While in corners beyond my sight, others were facing true tragedy—losing parents, shouldering kingdoms, sacrificing dreams.
We talked for hours that night. Mostly I rambled about my troubles while he listened, touching only briefly on his own hardships.
But I knew the pain in his heart ran deeper than any ocean.
After dinner, he walked me to my door. Before leaving, he asked simply: "May I have a hug?"
I smiled, stepped forward, and wrapped my arms around him. "Everything will get better," I whispered.
