HELP! THE PRINCE WON'T STOP FOLLOWING ME!
CHAPTER 59
ANGUS' POV
My fifty-eighth attempt to impress Mia has failed.
I do not understand why.
She ran away when I built her a castle next to PAU. It was closer to campus than the student dormitories. I ensured it included every convenience: two convenience stores, eight vending machines, and a café on the ground floor.
"It's too big!" Mia cried. "It's too much!"
In hindsight, perhaps I should have added the hot sandwich vending machines.
When that failed, I located my late mother's apartment. I never knew her — she passed the day I was born — but she had been a commoner. I thought Mia would appreciate the symbolism.
The apartment was preserved exactly as it had been. Dusky pink wallpaper. White molding along the ceilings. A large bay window overlooking the garden where Nimbus liked to lounge.
It was… modest.
Approximately the size of my bedchambers.
Yet when I imagined living here with Mia, it did not feel unpleasant.
I was certain this would succeed. A few servants. Some tasteful furniture in the lobby.
And yet, this morning—
"I can't take this anymore, Your Highness!" Mia cried.
"Tell me what I must change," I pleaded.
"Everything!" she shouted. "You'll never understand—"
"But my mother was a commoner—"
"There is nothing here a commoner would ever have!" she snapped. "Not an apartment in a building like this. Not an army of servants. Angus, I'm tired. I'm staying at the campus dorms."
And she left.
Just like that.
I have disappointed her yet again.
Today should have been my fifty-ninth attempt to prove that my love was greater than the divide between us.
Instead, I found myself at freshman orientation with the young Alpha of Darkfall.
I am still uncertain how I was persuaded.
The landlady and Sebastian conspired, and before I knew it, Damien and I were wandering the grounds of PAU.
At first, I told myself I was merely walking the landlady's dog.
Damien was the sort of dog that required a leash. Preferably reinforced steel.
He snapped at everything and everyone who approached. Remarkably similar to Nimbus in his youth.
I tolerated him.
Yet before I realized it, I found myself intrigued by campus life.
Commoner life was vibrant. There were forty-eight student clubs — each devoted to some fascinatingly obscure hobby. The cafeteria was also novel.
Damien purchased our lunch.
Unexpectedly considerate.
So when a group of girls invited us out for drinks, I accepted.
The landlady had explicitly encouraged social participation.
And I intended to return Damien's earlier generosity.
I did not anticipate being abandoned outside the third-floor washroom of a KTV lounge.
The smell alone was offensive.
Not all aspects of commoner life were admirable. I wondered if Mia knew this.
Mia…
Curiously, I had not thought of her once today.
While waiting, I observed patrons entering and exiting the private rooms. Several men passed through the corridor beside me.
Then I noticed a young man about our age. His clothing was clean but worn thin. He moved as though attempting invisibility.
"Quintin?"
He froze.
A taller young man clapped a hand over his shoulder. "I can't believe it. When I saw your name on our dorm assignment—"
"M… Mike," Quintin stammered.
Another voice joined in. Mocking. "Small world."
Mike slapped Quintin's back. "Good. Now we've got someone to run errands."
"And do our homework," another laughed.
"N… no," Quintin tried to straighten.
"What was that?" Mike asked softly.
The escalation was immediate.
A shove. A punch.
Quintin fell.
"I didn't hear you," Mike drawled.
One of the others kicked him. Mike stepped on his hand.
Where was security?
"I said no!" Quintin shouted from the floor.
When the stomping began, I intervened.
"Stop."
The three turned.
Mike looked me over and smiled. "We're just playing."
"Your behavior is unsightly," I replied.
His smile vanished. "Do you know who I am? My father is a mayor."
I could have said, And my father is the king.
On any other day, I might have.
Today, I simply punched him.
His companions lunged immediately. Unfortunately for them, I was raised to be a perfect prince. That includes combat instruction.
It required very little effort to disarm and dispatch all three.
They fled.
"The security here is severely lacking," I observed, withdrawing a handkerchief to wipe my hands. I would have washed them, but the condition of the washroom suggested that soap would not improve matters.
Quintin remained seated on the floor.
"Oh. You are still here," I noted.
"I… I wanted to thank you," he said.
"Be so kind as to check the washroom for me," I said pleasantly. "My companion has been inside for quite some time."
Quintin returned moments later, pale.
"There's no one inside."
And then I heard it.
Howling.
Distant.
Familiar.
"Dammit."
The pattern assembled instantly.
Separation.
Diversion.
Bait.
"What is that sound?" Quintin asked.
"The cry of an idiot," I replied, already moving.
We had promised the landlady we would return in one piece.
If that reckless wolf had gotten himself injured—
I would kill him myself.
---
Jennifer was smiling at her screen. Hahahaha.
Oh wait. Was this what happened today? Wth! She quickly scrolled back up.
Her stomach dropped.
She didn't need to read further.
She had already seen the ending.
Damien and Angus stumbling into her lobby, bloodied and bruised.
The metallic smell.
The torn sleeves.
The idiots calling each other idiots again.
Her mouse hovered over PANDORA'S BOX UNLEASHED.
She didn't even need to click.
She could already see how the chapters would unfold.
Angus and Quintin would go after Damien.
They would save him from the rogues.
Then—
Alien portal.
Because they were now running in Quintin's story.
So of course they would have to fight the creatures spilling out.
They would survive the rogues because Damien had already injured most of them. (He was an alpha wolf after all.)
They would survive the aliens because Angus undoubtedly had Shadow Guards trailing him. (What prince ran around unguarded?)
They would survive the Awakeners because the response team would be too focused on the portal to deal with three collateral idiots. (Yes, they were officially all idiots.)
And the Awakeners Response Team.
Yes. ART.
One of the members would drop a Class A – Restoration potion in the chaos.
By accident.
Conveniently.
Because that was exactly how she would have written it.
It would have been thrilling.
Cinematic.
Oh-so-very-exciting!
Her pulse began to pound in her ears.
"But why," she whispered to her empty apartment,
"is it… happening in real life?"