Chapter Three: The life of A King

Who would have thought a simple jog would turn into an all-out chase across Brașov?

The night air had been crisp, the quiet streets blanketed in a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. He had meant to take a casual run, stretch his legs after a long day, but fate had other plans.

First, the relentless paparazzi. Then, the damn goons tailing him through the winding alleyways. And as if that weren't enough, a girl—beautiful, fierce—had slapped him so hard his cheek still throbbed.

King exhaled as he dropped onto the leather couch, its cushions sighing beneath his weight. The dim glow of the mansion chandelier cast long shadows across the polished marble floors. His fingers brushed absently over the stinging mark on his cheek, tracing the ghost of her palm. How could someone so delicate, so deceptively fragile, strike with such force? He swore he had caught a flicker of red in her eyes. But that had to be his imagination. Right?

Just as he let himself sink into thought, a sharp yank on his ear yanked him back to reality.

"Hey, naughty boy."

King yelped, jerking away. "Grandpa, seriously—"

The old man twisted harder. Pain shot through King's ear as he squirmed. "Ow, ow, ow!" He grabbed at his ear, glaring up at the elderly man standing over him. Mr. Suzuki—his ever-stern, ever-annoying guardian.

"And how, exactly, am I naughty?" King muttered, rubbing his now-burning ear.

"You forcibly kissed a girl today," Mr. Suzuki said, his tone dry as old parchment.

King blinked. How the hell did he know already?

"Poor thing must be traumatized," the old man added, shaking his head.

King raised a brow. "Traumatized? What about me? She hit me so damn hard."

Mr. Suzuki clicked his tongue, reaching out to press a calloused finger against the bruised skin. King winced.

"It was Tashiyuki who sent those men after you," his guardian informed him.

King's jaw clenched. "Of course, it was."

The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. Tashiyuki had been a thorn in his side for too long. It wouldn't hurt to just put a few bullets in his head right?

"I think it's time I teach that man a lesson," he muttered, his voice dark with promise. Then, forcing the irritation from his tone, he sighed. "Anything else?"

Mr. Suzuki studied him for a moment before speaking. "Your mother is still fighting for custody."

King groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. "Not that old witch again."

"She's ever so persistent."

"I'm seventeen," he snapped. "I run an empire, yet the law still sees me as a child, it's infuriating"

Mr. Suzuki sighed. "Which is why I called Alvin. I figured you'd need him."

King rolled his eyes. "You know what I really need? A cup of tea. Please?"

The old man gave him a long, unimpressed stare before turning toward the kitchen. King smirked to himself.

Funny. His own blood relatives didn't care for him half as much as this old man did. The only family member who had ever truly loved him was his late grandmother, Hashimoto Yukina.

Born to a French father and a Japanese mother, King had been abandoned in every sense of the word. His parents had divorced when he was just a baby. By the time he was five, his mother had left him with his grandmother.

It had been three years since he had taken over her business, and in that short time, he had transformed her kingdom into his empire.

King Valeriane Hiro Lust—one of the youngest billionaires in the world.

The door swung open.

A tall lanky man entered, his glasses slightly fogged from the winter air outside. He carried a stack of thick files, the weight of his exhaustion apparent in the slump of his shoulders.

Alvin sighed inwardly. It was one in the morning. Normal people were asleep. But, of course, this brat was wide awake—and had dragged him out of bed, too.

"Sir, you called for me?" Alvin adjusted his glasses.

King leaned back against the couch, studying him. "Did you hear the news?"

Alvin hesitated. If King meant that news, then yes, he had heard it. The internet was already flooded with it. What fascinated him most, however, was the fact that the girl had actually slapped him.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"And have you done anything about it?"

Alvin shook his head. What could he do?

King let out an exaggerated sigh. "Sometimes, I regret hiring you."

Alvin bit back the urge to roll his eyes, or what he really wanted to do, hit so manners into his head.

"Erase everything," King ordered. "Find out who she is."

Alvin nodded.

"Oh, and schedule a meeting with the lawyers tomorrow."

As Alvin turned to leave, Mr. Suzuki returned, carrying a steaming cup of tea. The fragrant aroma of jasmine and honey filled the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Suzuki," Alvin greeted politely before making his exit.

Mr. Suzuki placed the tea in front of King. "Why do you always give him a hard time?"

King smirked, taking the cup in both hands. The ceramic was warm against his skin, the steam curling upward in soft tendrils. He took a slow sip, savoring the heat before setting the cup down.

"I don't give him a hard time."

Mr. Suzuki arched a brow.

King chuckled. "Actually, I was planning to give him a promotion."

The old man sighed. "You are impossible."

King grinned, standing up. "I'm going to bed. I have a meeting in the morning."

Before leaving, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Mr. Suzuki's forehead. "Goodnight, old man."

The old man only shook his head as King disappeared into his room.

---

King changed into his night clothes, then collapsed onto his bed, pulling out his phone.

His fame had skyrocketed since the incident. And thanks to him, that girl had become a hot topic as well.

He scrolled through the photos. Oddly, none of them had captured her face.

Weird.

There had been plenty of people around. How had no one gotten a clear shot of her?

Then, finally—he found one.

It was blurry, but enough.

King stared at the image.

She was beyond beautiful. And in a way… almost inhuman.

His fingers hovered over the screen.

There was something familiar about her.

Her dark hair. Her striking brown eyes.

Had he—seen her before?

No. That was impossible.

But even so, he couldn't shake the feeling.

A slow smile tugged at his lips.

"Who are you, my little rose?" he murmured.

He placed the phone on his chest and closed his eyes.

He would find her.

No matter what.