"Heeey!"
A man who looked like he'd just stepped off the cover of a fantasy romance novel waved at us. He was a celebrity for perfect genes, but what really got me was the glow. Not a metaphorical glow, but a literal, blinding, I-think-I-need-sunglasses kind of light. It was like he had his own personal film crew with a high-end ring light following him around, making his every feature pop like a celestial beacon.
Is this his power? To simply be… extra?
"I saw what you did there," he teased, and my heart dropped into my stomach. My mind raced, picturing him exposing my little prank for all the world to see, a public shaming for my moment of mischievous revenge.
"That was hilarious!" he added, laughing a warm, genuine laugh. My brain sputtered. Hilarious? My petty act of revenge was not meant to be funny. It was a statement.
"Huh?" I blurted out, my confusion a thick cloud in my mind.
"That's just right for rude people, right?" he chuckled, his smile so wide and infectious it was like a lost puppy who had just found its owner and a whole bowl of treats. He had a dog-like energy.
"Uhh, sir?" I managed, trying to sound as un-starstruck as possible.
"Yes?" He finally stopped laughing, his bright, glowing presence still radiating at full power.
"We're kinda busy, so... see you next time!" I gave a quick, awkward wave, hoping to make a clean escape, but he was faster. His hand shot out and gently grabbed my wrist, a move that would have been romantic in a movie, but in real life just made me want to shake him off like a disgusting cockcroach that landed on me.
"I'm sorry," he said, releasing my hand. "But... don't you remember me?"
"No, not really," I replied, maybe a little too quickly. My brain, already on high alert, was not in the mood for memory games.
"Hmm—" His face scrunched in thought, and then a literal light bulb seemed to flicker on above his head. No, wait, that was just his glow intensifying. "How about this?"
In a blink, he was gone, a shimmering afterimage the only proof he had ever been there. A millisecond later, a gust of wind ruffled my hair, and he reappeared directly behind me, his voice a playful whisper in my ear.
"Let's play!" he exclaimed, his words a jarring echo of the night before the tournament, a night I had been trying to forget.
"Ahh..." I nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a horrifying realization. I turned my head to face him, the slow turn of a horror movie villain. "So, it's you...?" I coldly asked.
"Yep!" he said proudly, his blinding smile back at full strength.
My scowl was immediate and vicious. Without a second thought, I delivered a sharp, satisfying punch to his stomach, a move he was clearly not expecting. He doubled over with a loud "oof," coughing and wheezing. He probably thought I'd be delighted to finally recognize him. He was wrong.
"You scoundrel! You played with me that night!" I shrieked, my fist already cocked back for a second round, but a hand suddenly appeared between us. It was ate Clydelle, looking less-than-thrilled.
"Hey, calm down." She put her hand up, a small but firm barrier. She was clearly bothered by the fact that our little drama was starting to attract a crowd.
"But he's the one who harassed me first!" I yelled, my anger a simmering pot ready to boil over.
"He harassed you?" Ate Clydelle's eyes narrowed, a cold glare directed at the man who was still nursing his stomach.
"Harassed?" he exclaimed, his surprise a perfect echo of hers.
"Yes, you did, you madman!"
"Sari, let's just leave; this isn't the place to fight him."
"No, what if we never crossed paths again?" I stated firmly. My fist was still itching for another swing.
"We can't do anything right now because he's a prince from the Eclipse Kingdom," ate Clydelle said, her voice a low warning.
"That explains his foolish attitude! What's wrong with me defending myself?" I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest in a defiant pose.
"Of course it's wrong; we can't do anything if you assaulted a member of the royal family," she replied, her patience wearing thin.
"She's right, and execution is the punishment for what you did to me," the man said, his voice suddenly serious, the glowing puppy-dog energy gone in an instant.
"Huh?" My gut clenched in disbelief, a cold dread washing over me. "You will have me executed just for punching you in the gut?"
"Yeah." His voice was flat.
I stared at him for a long moment, my mind racing. A slow sarcastic smile spread across my face. "Then I guess all royalties must be pitiful and weak losers."
"W-what?" he gasped, taking a step back as if I had just sprouted a second head.
"You heard me correctly; how weak of you to let me die because I punched you? If punching you means ending my life, then should I just kill you now?" I was bluffing, of course, but the look on his face made it all worth it.
"Uhh...?" He was completely stunned, his royal confidence shattered. But just as we were about to turn and walk away, a loud, booming laugh burst from him, echoing through the courtyard.
"Do you think I'm joking?" I asked, completely bewildered.
"No, I took it seriously, and it amazed me to the point where it made my heart flutter," he said with a creepy grin.
"What exactly do you mean?" I asked, my confusion now mixed with suspicion.
"Well, it's my first time meeting such a reckless girl who has the guts to threaten me after I told her about the consequences of messing with royalty, and what's more remarkable is that she's not afraid to tell her opinion in this life and death situation." He smiled and patted my head as if I were a particularly feisty kitten. My cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading across my face that had nothing to do with anger.
The nerve of this guy! Am I in the enemies-to-lovers trope kind of story?
"Hmph!" I exclaimed, whipping my head away from him. Why did his actions fluster me so much? It must be because I'm annoyed.
Yeah, that's it. I'm just incredibly annoyed.
"Don't worry, I won't execute you. My goal isn't to kill a mortal from Earth. Honestly, I just wanted to be friends with you." He smiled, extending his hand, but I ignored it completely.
Ate Clydelle, meanwhile, was doing something more productive. "Telepathy mode: Activate," she instructed her wristband. She was probably calling my brother, Frank, and our cousin, Tyler.
"Where are they?" I asked, trying to ignore the man reaching for my hand like a spoiled child begging his parents for a toy.
"They're engaged in a fight."
"What?!" I exclaimed in surprise, my voice so loud it made the prince jump back.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his curiosity now fully engaged, but I just rolled my eyes at him.
Frank and Tyler could avoid a fight, and Ate Clydelle and I cannot. And it's always like this: Frank and Tyler initiate the conflict, so they're 90% at fault for starting the fight in the first place. But they're also 10% at fault for the reason they got into the fight.. Do you get it? Like basically, their enemy ain't the suspect here, the enemy is the victim of Frank and Tyler's stupid foolish provocations.
We rushed toward the direction of Frank's voice, the prince trailing behind us like an obedient, glowing puppy.
"Please, I hope it's not a serious one, tell me it's not—"
"You fancy weird-looking guy, you're underestimating us!" Frank's voice was loud and obnoxious, like a particularly aggressive goose. It was immediately followed by Tyler's equally loud and obnoxious insult.
"Yeah, don't call us ugly when you're the one who's hideous wearing those pajamas!"
"I told you it's not a pajama! This is the most expensive limited-edition jumpsuit in Zeraschia! You can't have this when you're that poor!" the other guy shouted back, as if it's price will give justice to his fashion sense.
We rounded the corner to find them just as they were about to walk away. Frank and Tyler, smug and self-satisfied, were ignoring a man in a blindingly bright jumpsuit who looked like a human-shaped neon sign about to short-circuit.
"Uh— let's go?" Tyler said, a look of profound boredom on his face.
"Sure, let's go look at the pool area," Frank replied, as if the dramatic shouting match had been an appetizer and they were now ready for the main course of chilling out.
"H-hey! Aren't we gonna start a fight? Losers!" the man in the jumpsuit screamed after them.
Frank scoffed. "Nah, you're utterly pathetic."
Tyler, with all the cutting wit of an elementary kid added, "Yeah, right. You're ugly."
"Excuse me?! How dare you mock me!" the man shrieked, and a low, rumbling of hot air filled the air. I watched in slow-motion horror as his hands became engulfed in angry, crimson flames. The jumpsuit was suddenly making a lot more sense, it glows much brighter now with his ability, and how it's not getting burned. The material used is fire ressitant.
"H-hey! What do you think you're doing!?" I yelled, sprinting toward my brother and Tyler, my arms outstretched to push them away from the clearly unhinged man. This was a classic "I told you so" moment, except instead of a lecture, it was likely going to involve third-degree burns. The guy, completely enraged, saw me coming and, in a fit of rage, aimed his now-flaming hands directly at me.
"Fire Magic: Blast Grenade!" he chanted, his voice a mix of fury and insanity.
My eyes widened in terror. A massive ball of fire, a searing sun of pure heat and light, came hurtling toward me. My brain, completely unprepared for a situation that involved a homicidal man in a jumpsuit, simply shut down. I was a deer in the headlights, frozen in place by pure, unadulterated shock.
All I could think was, I'm about to become a human baked potato, all because my idiot brother insulted a man's questionable fashion choices. This was not how I had pictured my day going. But hey, at least I could look forward to draining their allowance for the rest of their life. I'd bring this up every single day. Every time he asked for money, I'd just have to remind him of the day I saved him from becoming a crispy, human-shaped coal.