Chapter 5: A Hateful Encounter

At the mere mention of her status, Velvetiana's eye twitched and spun with unmasked fury.

God, not this again!

She bit back the urge to cuss him out like a street rat and forced her lips into a razor-sharp smile. "Well, congrats! Now you've seen one. That means you're no longer an emo in a cave or an ignorant frog in a well."

Though she couldn't curse him directly, that didn't mean she couldn't be sarcastic!

Only, the man chuckled lightly. His laugh drifted through the air like an enchanting sea breeze—but the way his gaze pinned her down, burning into the back of her neck, felt more like a blistering summer heat wave.

Velvetiana's frown deepened. A strange discomfort slithered beneath her skin, but she couldn't quite pinpoint where it came from.

"You're a funny one, I see..." His feral red eyes narrowed into crescents beneath his hoodie. "Now that I've seen you personally, I'm beginning to like you more, Little Dot."

Velvetiana's eyes narrowed weirded out by his mere words.

Just who the hell is he calling Little Dot?

"Don't worry. You're more ridiculous but I don't like you."

Once again, the man brazenly chuckled. He shrugged; the motion so languid it was infuriating.

"My, your words are too cruel, Little Dot," he said, voice slow and eerily calm. "I'd feel hurt, but…" His eyes glinted with quiet malice. "I really don't care much about how you think. When I like you, you just have to consider yourself special," he mouthed arrogantly as though it was her privilege to grab his attention.

And right there, her mind screeched to a halt. Flabbergasted was an understatement.

"HUH?!" Her face gravely contorted in between shock and wanting to claw his haughty smirk.

She flickered from red to green before settling on a dark shade of pissed-off. She dragged a hand through her hair with a frustrated groan.

"Whoa, what an entitled asshole!"

She forced a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Well, excuse me, but the feeling is mutual. Except I don't like you, and when I do, you just have to consider yourself arrogant and abnormal. That's just part of the reason why..."

The man's smile sharpened, his eyes still glued on her.

"My, my. Are you my stalker? How did you know I'm above any normal person? Should I feel… creeped out?" 

It was a mellow voice but it made her anything but calm. Velvetiana's breath hitched despite herself. She was too engrossed in wanting to kick his ass, rendering her unable to hear half of his words.

"Ah, what can I do?" His voice softened into something sensual like silk sliding fluidly over her flawless skin.

He inhaled slowly while lifting his fully covered arms to his face as if savoring a scent only he could detect. "You smell really, really sweet and enticing. I can barely stop myself from wanting to pick your budding petals." His feral eyes glinted with possessiveness as he gazed through her glowing unblemished nape. "Damn, what should I do with you, Little Dot? You're showing too much skin, it's tempting me to wanna take a bite."

Still oblivious, a vein throbbed at her temple and her nails curled into her palm.

AHH! He's so hateful!

Why am I even entertaining this weirdo?! For some reason, she was so ticked off.

First, she was triggered by Hansel's words and now some asshole stepped in to pile up her frustration. She flicked a glance toward his smug, condescending smirk and pursed her lips. Her fingers itched to sock him in the jaw but she reconsidered.

No way was she blowing her nonexistent savings on his medical bills.

'God, I hate being broke!'

She gritted her teeth. "Don't you have anything better to do aside from snooping around like a stray dog?"

"Stray dog?" His chuckle was dark, amused. "Haha, Little Dot, you sure have an interesting vocabulary."

If it were someone else calling him that, who knows if the person still be breathing the next second?

She pursed her lips while trying to tone down her welling-up fury.

'Why does this jerk keep calling me Little Dot?!'

The young man pushed off the wall with a lazy stretch, his hands sliding into his hoodie pockets. "Just a guy with excellent taste in drama."

Velvetiana's eyes narrowed. "Drama?"

He pointed lazily toward Hansel.

"Mr. Fancy Gloves over there." His smile widened, the kind of smile that made you instinctively check your pockets. "Don't worry. I'm sure he's used to being slapped by other people."

Velvetiana's gaze darted toward Hansel. His expression didn't change but she saw it. The slight stiffening of his shoulders. The faint tension in his jaw.

Now, what the hell is this annoying guy on about?

Velvetiana's brows furrowed. What nonsense! Who gets used to being slapped? Not even the thugs in the slums would pretend it didn't hurt when they got stabbed or nailed.

Before she could demand answers, Hansel's voice cut through the air.

"Sir," Hansel said, tone dangerously calm, "if you have business here, I suggest you state it plainly."

"Nah." The young man shrugged. "Just passing through."

He turned toward the exit, but not before flashing Velvetiana a quick smile. "See you around, Red."

He paused mid-step and glanced back. "Hmm, on that note… should I start calling her my feisty pudding? Hmm, baby girl doesn't sound bad either. I kinda wanna see her reaction," he mumbled while flashing his sharp canine in a grin.

Velvetiana's jaw dropped. "What the—hey! Who the hell are you?! How do you know my name?!"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he slipped through the automatic glass doors. Just before disappearing into the crowd of travelers, he stuck out his tongue.

A bright red flash hinting a sultry invitation. The shameless man licked his lips like a beguiling fox spirit, giving her a sudden shiver down her spine.

Velvetiana was both flustered and dumbfounded. Her hands curled into fists but her gaze tracked his hand as it lifted lazily into the air, swirling with something vibrant red.

'Wait… isn't that my…'

Her hand instinctively flew to the back of her head with her eyes wide open.

"My hair tie!" she whispered in a gasping pitch. "When the hell did he take my hair tie?!"

Panic spiked through her chest when she remembered something. "Oh no! Daddy gave me that scrunchie! It was so precious that I've only worn it on special days!"

Hansel's gaze followed the man's disappearing figure, his mouth pressed into a thin line with a brooding expression. Velvetiana was already halfway toward the door when Hansel blocked her path.

"My lady," Hansel said, stepping beside her with quiet urgency. "It would be unwise to engage with people of... questionable origin."

Velvetiana shot him a sharp side-eye, fueling her irritation further.

"You mean poor commoners?"

Hansel's jaw twitched. He shut his mouth tight, his expression stony. To Hansel, the girl was akin to a resentful goblin—haunting him at every opportunity.

"Damn it!" Velvetiana hissed. "I lost that thieving asshole! Ahh, my scrunchie!"

She dragged her hands down her face and exhaled sharply. "Shit! What now? Daddy's going to be devastated if he finds out I lost his present. He made that thing personally!"

That means she cannot replicate that thing, even if she earns a big bucket of money. It will be inevitable, making her Pops sad. Velvetiana bemoaned and let out another crisp curse. Perhaps it was a blessing she'd be away for a while.

"It's all that weirdo's fault." Her eyes darkened as she ground her teeth. "Pray to your ancestors that we don't see each other! When I see you again, you're dead meat. By that time, I'll have money—even if you sue me for cutting off those thieving damn hands, argh! So hateful!"

She wasn't sure why, but something about that guy—the way he moved, the way he smiled—felt… off.

Not dangerous. But not safe, either.

Her fingers brushed against the worn edge of the ticket in her pocket. A sigh escaped her lips, sharp and thin as a knife's edge.

"Hah…" she exhaled deeply as if trying to purge the irritation coiled tight in her chest. "Good grief, I haven't even hopped into that flying machine and met my 'good' father but I already feel mentally drained."

How much more stress does she have to get before reaching that damn place?

"And they say traveling makes one refreshed. I'm cooked, damn it."

Velvetiana grumbled and turned toward the man beside her.

"Hey, Hansel! Go get these tickets refunded."

Without warning, she stuffed the tickets into his hands. Hansel recoiled, his brow twitching as though she'd just handed him a severed limb.

"This is…" Hansel's eyes flicked over the crumpled, battered paper with an unpleasant gaze. A rush of indignation tightened his jaw.

"My lady, I don't think it's still possible to get a refund. More importantly, the money you would probably receive isn't worth the trouble or wasted time. Please reconsider. I don't think it's necessary to—"

"Then will you pay me?"

"Pa... Pardon?"