CHAPTER 109

  OH SNAP!

  The Mapple district was bathed in soft lanternlight, the air rich with the scent of spice, grilled meats, and the occasional trace of arcane smoke drifting from enchanted stoves. The city never really slept, but here, it dined.

  Theodred walked behind the others, cloak pulled slightly tighter than usual. His golden hair was tied back now, ears hidden under the hood. He wasn’t exactly famous, but too many eyes lingered too long on strangers who looked like him.

  The group made their way through the narrow stone-paved alleys until they reached the place.

  Silverleaf Restaurant

  A subtle, two-storey building nestled between a high-end potion bar and a silk merchant’s corner. The entrance was coloured in moon-tinted fabric, and faint elven runes glowed around the frame — mostly for prestige, not protection.

  They stepped inside.

  Candlelit. Quiet music. Half the tables were filled with wealthy merchants or bored nobles pretending to have taste. The host didn’t even blink when Allynna walked in, just guided them to a private booth upstairs.

  Food came fast.

  Dumplings. Spiced wildroot noodles. Skewers of blue-glazed game meat. Artisan bread, each roll marked with family seals. It was more of a feast than a casual outing.

  Chris immediately dug into the dumplings like a man on a mission.

  “Okay,” he said, mouth full, “I don’t care what anyone says, this is better than anything the royal chef makes.”

  Riftal was already three skewers deep, offering no argument.

  Theodred didn’t eat much. He watched instead—especially Delimira, seated across from him. Dressed casually, a loose braid over her shoulder, she looked like she didn’t belong in a fancy place... yet her stare at him could still freeze blood.

  “You’re not eating,” she said coldly.

  “I am,” Theodred answered. “Just slowly. I’m not a starved dog like Chris.”

  “Rude, man.” Chris complained, reaching for another dumpling. “Even Hans didn’t go that low and he definitely can, you know.”

  “True,” Delimira muttered.

  “Speaking of truth…” Allynna’s tone shifted. Sweet. Dangerous. “You and Theo looked very cosy today.”

  Delimira blinked. Hard.

  “What did you say?”

  “You know,” Allynna continued, addressing the giant in the room. “The whole prophecy thing. You and him—together, future blah blah fate..”

  Delimira gave her a deadpan glare. “Do you want a beating?”

  “She’s just teasing,” Riftal said, but he was grinning too.

  Theodred raised an eyebrow. “Oh! Now this is an interesting topic.” He pretended not to know about anything and pressed on.

  “Yes, it is.” Allynna said. “It’s in the vision her clairvoyant mother saw in the future.”

  “The future?” Hans laughed hard inside. It was clear that he was enjoying the situation.

  But Delimira crossed her arms, clearly fed up. Her patience had limits.

  Yet Chris jabbed another. “You want to know who she likes?”

  “Say a word and you are a dead man, Chris.”

  Allynna blinked. “Wait—really? Do you have to spell the name? Almost everyone in Concordia knows—”

  Chris cut in. “Yes. Except the dense Hans.”

  Theodred, hearing his original name passed, “Wait, who?”

  “She likes the Parvian Prince.” Chris answered.

  Delimira sighed. “I didn’t know I was walking into an ambush—”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Hey!” Hans broke out in cold sweat. “You are not denying it. Deny it.”

  “Why? What does it have to do with you? Why do you care if I like someone or not?” She was pissed. “I like him.”

  Silence dropped like a blade in Hans’s mind.

  He froze mid-chew. His skewer hung halfway to his mouth. Even the faint lute music downstairs felt like it quieted.

  “You serious?”

  Delimira didn’t blink.

  “I thought Hans was nothing but a cold-blooded, selfish bastard,” Theodred said calmly. “A warmonger who fights for power. Dangerous. Reckless.”

  “You’re treading in some calm fucking waters,” Delimira warned, her tone dropping. “Say one more word, and I’ll showyou what a cold-blooded, selfish bastard actually looks like.”

  Chris whistled low. “Finally, she admitted.” He clinked the glass with Allynna. Both of them were trying to make her confess and had failed till now.

  Hans, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’m dumbfounded.” He said out loud. His glass touching his lips several times.

  “Good,” Delimira said coolly. “Now you know. Whatever you think is going to happen between us, or whatever my mother thinks, it’s not gonna happen.” She stressed almost pressing.

  Hans had no words.

  Deli. You and your mother need to have a fucking conversation.” He leaned back, resting one arm on the cushioned booth edge. “I didn’t know.” he repeated softly.

  “Right?” Allynna said, trying to cut the tension. “I mean—when I told Deli I admired Hans too, she almost killed me with the death stare.”

  “I did not—”

  “Oh come on, cousin. Just a little bit.” Allynna winked at Chris.

  “Wait, wait.” Hans blinked. “You admire your enemy?”

  “Didn’t I say?” Allynna shrugged. “He’s the definition of strong. He does what he wants. He follows his own rules. He jumps into fights he shouldn’t win… and still walks out. Grimgar. The Elven War. That mad clash with the Ancients. What’s not to admire?”

  Chris added, “He’s scary. But I get it. The man’s… pure chaos. In a good way.”

  Theodred laughed once, low and dry.

  “You all talk about him like this behind his back.”

  The table went quiet again.

  The dinner was gone with a poof. And the walk back to the palace felt longer than usual.

  Laughter followed them through the alleys, but Theodred didn’t contribute. He nodded here, gave a crooked smile there, but his mind had checked out the moment Delimira said, “I like Hans.”

  He couldn’t remember what dessert they ordered. Or if he even ate.

  His ears were still ringing.

  By the time they reached the palace gates, the stars were high, and even the shadows were sleepy. The moment they stepped inside, Hans veered away from the group without a word.

  He climbed the stairs. Entered his chamber. Locked the door.

  And fell face-first into the bed like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

  “What the hell just happened…” he mumbled into the pillow, muffled and horrified.

  He rolled over, stared at the ceiling, face redder than a fired-up mana crystal.

  “There goes my sleep.”

  His thoughts screamed at him.

  She likes Hans. She likes... Hans.

  He groaned, dragging the pillow over his face.

  “Goddammit, Deli! You just had to say it.”

  Hans had never thought about her like that before. Sure, she was pretty. Okay, more than pretty. Deadly, sharp-tongued, frustrating, bossy. But he never connected the dots.

  Until now.

  Now her voice echoed in his skull like an incantation gone wrong.

  Now her eyes haunted him whenever he closed his own.

  Now her smile—when it rarely happened—was the most dangerous spell in the world.

  He kicked off the blanket and sat up.

  “No. No. Let’s not fall into this trap, Hans. You’re undercover in enemy territory.”

  Slapping both his cheeks hard. He tried to break it down.

  Delimira annoyed him constantly. Always on his tail, always second-guessing him, dragging him around, questioning his every decision like she was born with a personal vendetta against his existence.

  She didn’t listen. She never let him take the lead in anything without arguing first. She made him do so many irritating little things, involved in matters that had nothing to do with him.

  And yet… he paused, arms crossed.

  “If she likes me, why does she act like that?”

  He tapped his temple, as if knocking would restart his brain.

  “She’s... pretty.”

  A pause.

  “...and maybe, kind of, a little bit protective.”

  His voice got quieter with each word.

  “She did throw herself into battle against a god because of me... That’s something.”

  He sat back down.

  “She followed me into Grimgar. Trusted me in the civil war. Almost died—twice—and never backed off.”

  The realisation hit him like a well-aimed mana bolt.

  “Gods, I was the dense one.”

  He buried his face in his hands.

  “She likes me…”

  Then his voice turned to panic.

  “Oh no.”

  “Reina’s going to slit my throat if I slip up.”

  He stood abruptly, hands flailing.

  “Bad thoughts! Bad thoughts! Stop thinking. Don’t fall for her. You’re Theodred right now, not Hans. You’re not even supposed to exist!”

  He spun around and pointed at the mirror.

  “Control yourself.”

  But the reflection stared back — flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and a stupid, lovesick look creeping into his blue eyes.

  “Dammit, Deli,” he whispered.

  He fell back onto the bed, groaning into the mattress like it owed him an answer.

  “Now all I can think about... is you.”