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Chapter 3

WHEN I WOKE UP all I could think was, oh god, my head hurts. Until I placed my palm on my head only to feel some kind of liquid and a sharp pain from a certain part of my head.

I struggle to open my eyes, feeling unreasonably tired, what the fuck just happened?

Late... Falling to the ground... Pain... Dark... Literal darkness...

I suddenly snap open my eyes as I remember what had happened and look around me. This is not the mansion. This is definitely not the mansion.

It looks like a living room, there was a TV, a shelf of books, a fireplace. I notice the soft sofa where he or most probably anyone had laid me on. There were multiple doors visible, but not one looked like a door to exit and there were absolutely no windows, how could you even live here?

I look over my palm, blood. He must have hit me. But who the hell does that?

“You’re quite fucking pathetic, aren’t you?” A voice booms around the living room and I snap my head to the source.

The oxygen seemed to leave my lungs and I was almost unable to breathe as I take in the man walking his way towards me. Dark. Damien Alexander Americus Dark Erasthai King. Dark. Prince of Mystic Kingdom.

He takes a chair and drags it with him, until he reaches right in front of me, he places it there and takes a seat. He looks directly to my plain black irises, “Do you feel special?” He asks, which I furrow my eyebrows to in confusion, “Five thousand students of King University, you, out of all people, get to see the country’s prince. You, out of all people, sees Dark,” he adds.

I gulp, to say that I am intimidated and nervous is an understatement, there were three things I felt, astonishment, bewilderment, and lastly, fear.

“You hit me on the head,” is the only thing I was able to utter, to let out, still looking back at him with my widened eyes. He chuckles, and no, it wasn’t an amused chuckle, or because he found something funny. It was dark.



“I hit you on the head, so?”

I could only gape at him. He must be fucking sick! I open my mouth, close it, and open it again, no words escaping my past my lips. “You look like a pathetic fish out of the water,” he says in disgust, eyeing me. It was like a slap in the face, his statement.

I frown, “Why did you bring me here?”

“What the bloody hell did you expect? You’d be in a hospital and after that you’re going to tell everyone that you saw me and I hit your head?” He suggests, glaring daggers at me.

"I wouldn’t have told anyone!" I protest, argue.

“Because waiting for hours on end on that staircase would give me that impression,” he remarks sarcastically. He leans in to me, our nose touching, lips centimetres apart, “I’m not fucking stupid,” he hisses and walks away.

“Wait!” I nearly shout in attempt to stop him, he stops in his tracks, “Can you please at least give me a first aid kit?” I ask, wanting to stop the bleeding on my head, only to have him walking away again like he hadn’t heard a thing.

God, this man has no empathy.

I let out a sigh of frustration and fish my pocket for my phone, only to find that there was nothing but my wallet inside. I furrow my eyebrows, in search for my bag.

I stand up, ignoring the pounding and sharp pain emitting from my head and look around the living room, under the chairs, under the table, behind the sofa, on the corners of the room, but it was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell could he have put it?!

“Looking for something?”

I jump slightly when I heard his voice, startled and clutching my chest. I glare at him fiercely, forgetting who exactly the person I was glaring at was. I was beginning to hate myself for somewhat admiring him before.

“Where’s my phone? And my bag?” I ask him accusingly, the suspicion was obvious. Even I can hear it dripping from my voice.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Now why would I tell you? Even more so, why would I give it to you?”

“Because they’re my things!” I yell at him out of frustration, stomping my way over right in front of him, breathing hard. Imagine how red I look due to so much anger.

And for some twisted ass reason, he was smirking. “Haven’t you heard of personal property?!” I yell once again, pushing him with my index finger, “Huh? Haven’t you?”

He doesn’t budge, he just watches me, smirking to himself, and goodness, did that irritate me more than anything else!

“You’re being dramatic—”


My eyes widen, looking at his tilted face from the impact of my slap, a mark of my small hand was already forming on his pale skin, and my hand started shaking. Oh god. Oh god. I slapped him. I slapped him, holy shit.

This man could snap my neck any moment.

Should I start praying now? I wonder if I end up in heaven? Nah, probably in hell. Ha-ha.

Everything happened quite fast from then, one moment I was standing right in front of him, shaking lightly. The next, my body was already slammed pressed against the wall and his hand was wrapped around my neck, gripping it tightly and stopping the air from entering my lungs. His veins started to grow even more visible on his arms. I look at him with my widened eyes, full of fear.

He leans in, “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to, princess,” he hisses against my ear, “I can snap your neck and kill you,” he says, “Right... this... moment,” he says, tightening his hold with every word, just as I thought I was going to pass out, he lets go of my neck and I fall on the carpeted floor, coughing harshly until my vision turned blank.

I woke up on the same carpeted floor, in the same place, I could see his feet, one resting on the table and the other on the floor. My first instinct was to stand and run, looking for an exit.

Only, that didn’t work well.

The moment I was able to stand, everything started spinning until black clouded my vision and I fell to the floor, once again. But before I lost all consciousness, I saw him stand to his feet, walking towards me.

When I woke up for the third time in the same place, I was on a bed, in a room, and a beautiful one at that. I decided it would do me no good if I forced myself too much and accepted that I wouldn’t be able to leave this place owned by a psychotic man that easy. So instead of running for my life, I slowly sit up and I felt everything all at once.

The pounding pain on my head, my dry and sore throat, my neck stung and I felt drained of energy.

Someone snickered from the corner of the room.



“Your fucking majesty”


“What the hell do you want?” His voice sounded stoic, void of emotion.

“The fucking first aid kit,” I answer him.

“I’m not your maid, get it yourself,” he replies, making me clench my fist in annoyance.

“I would if you would tell me where the fucking hell it is!” I snap at him.

“Watch your mouth princess,” he sang, tauntingly. I turned to glare at him, he sat on the corner of the room, sitting there, painfully relaxed and had no emotion to show at all. Stupid, stop provoking him.

“Where is your first aid kit, your majesty?” I ask, the sarcasm was so audible in my voice, all the while forcing a wide smile. “No,” was all that he said. I furrow my eyebrows together, “What do you mean ‘no’?” I almost shrieked in response.

“I’d rather you feel the pain you brought upon yourself.”

My jaw drops, I brought upon myself?! Is he fucking serious?!

“Don’t complain,” he says before I could even say anything. “You should be grateful, actually, I could have just left you on that floor — yet here you are, in the room and laying on the bed of the woman I’m supposed to marry,” he continues, looking longingly on the bed. Though what he said surely seemed true, this bedroom looked beyond ordinary, something a Queen would be in — the expression he had didn’t look convincing.

Fucking douchebag.

“I didn’t ask you to put me here,” I snap, looking away. He only chuckles in response, but I could feel the warning in it.

“How long do you plan on imprisoning me here?” I ask, turning back to him, only to see the seat empty and him halfway out the door.

“Who said that I wanted to chitchat with you?” He says harshly and slams the door close.

I didn’t know whether to be grateful or to feel more tortured to at least have a clock inside the room. I was too scared that I might break or damage anything in the room that I didn’t even look around anymore.

But it was around nine o’clock when my stomach started grumbling in hunger. I groan out, didn’t he even think about at least giving me something to eat? Or was he doing this on purpose? Suddenly, the door opens and I looked too quickly, expecting to see him. Surprisingly, it wasn’t him. It was a woman dressed in a servant’s uniform.

“Miss, please follow me,” she says, I stand to my feet, making my way to her and we leave the room. We stopped in what looked like a kitchen, finally.

She makes me sit on a chair with an unfamiliar dish in front, I look at it in wonder, “What dish is this?”

“I didn’t ask them to put poison on it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says out of nowhere, my body jerks in shock.

"Jesus Christ!”

“Far from it”

The woman bows, “Your majesty,” she says and turns to leave.

“Wait,” he stops her, still leaning on the door frame, “Keep an eye on her, I don’t want to waste my time on her.”

Fucking asshole, I wish you get run over by a fucking truck and die.

“Not going to happen, princess,” he says before leaving all together. Did I say that out loud? I turn to the woman and she looked like she hadn’t heard anything.

“Did- did you hear what I said?” I ask her.

“What do you mean, miss?” She asks.

“You didn’t hear me saying I wish he dies?”

Her eyes widen, “H-how could you wish such thing, miss?”

If she didn’t hear what I said, then how did he?

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