Today, Alex had promised his friend Michael a trip to the supermarket to help him pick out better clothes—a decision he was already starting to regret.
As Alex looked through Michael's current wardrobe, everything suddenly made sense. Every shirt seemed worse than the last. It was either covered in half-naked anime girls or featured exaggerated, ridiculous expressions. And when Michael felt like "switching it up," he'd go for something just as questionable—like a shirt with a barely clothed anime guy.
Standing there now, Michael eagerly browsed through more options, completely absorbed in his choices. Meanwhile, Alex lingered behind him, growing more and more uneasy with each item Michael picked up. A quiet sense of despair settled in as he realized this shopping trip might be a lot harder than he thought.
Alex grabbed Michael by the shoulder and turned him slightly.
"Michael, I need to ask you something."
Michael glanced back, confused. "What is it?"
Alex gestured toward the pile of clothes in his hands. "Just… look at what you're picking. Don't you see anything a little weird—or off—about your taste?"
Michael paused, actually considering the question for a moment. His expression turned thoughtful.
Then he nodded. "You're right."
Alex felt a brief spark of hope.
"I've only been picking T-shirts and pants," Michael continued. "I should get some accessories too. I wonder if they have anime ones here?"
Alex's hope died instantly.
He grabbed Michael by the shoulders. "No, that's not what I meant!" he burst out. "I mean—look at your shirts! They all look like something a total creep in a movie would wear right before he starts stalking the heroine!"
Michael blinked at him, unfazed.
"Look, Alex, I get that you're trying to help But I'm not going to let you humiliate my taste."
he said proudly "This is a style I've refined over years of my life."
looking at his colleague Alex, start to feel headache
Alex stared at him for a second, then sighed.
"So this is the style you've been developing your whole life?" he said. "Has it helped you get into a single relationship?"
Michael went quiet.
Alex pressed on, gesturing at the clothes. "Look, wear whatever you want at home—I don't care. But if you're going out, meeting people, hanging out with normal friends… you can't show up wearing this stuff."
Michael didn't back down. "But if I don't show my real self to people, isn't that basically lying?" he argued. "And if they can't accept me the way I am, then isn't that not real friendship?"
Alex stared at him for a moment, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"No, it's not lying—or fake," he said flatly. "You don't have to shove your interests in everyone's face the second you meet them. That's not honesty… it's just a lack of awareness. What you're looking for is called respect."
Michael opened his mouth to argue, but Alex didn't give him the chance. He grabbed him by the collar and dragged him along.
Every time Michael reached for something questionable, Alex immediately stopped him, pulling his hand away or shoving the item back onto the rack.
"This one—no."
"Absolutely not."
"Put that back right now."
Michael kept trying, undeterred, but Alex stayed relentless, blocking every terrible choice before it could make it into the basket.
While Alex was out shopping with Michael, Catherine had returned to the mansion.
She didn't attend school that day, as she had been in a meeting with her father, the King. Together, they discussed the country's current problems, the challenges it was facing, and what should be prioritized moving forward.
In the end, they decided that the martial arts tournament would become a key priority.
At the same time, Catherine handed her father a list of martial artists who would be arriving soon—individuals she intended to monitor, evaluate, and potentially recruit.
At the same time, her father reassured her that he would send a unit of special forces to search for the secret realms. If they discovered any leads, he would inform her immediately.
With that, their meeting came to an end.
Afterward, Catherine headed straight back to the mansion.
Sitting in her limousine, she stared out the window, a mix of sadness and frustration building inside her. She felt irritated thinking about the coffee dates she had missed with Alex—time she could have spent with him if she hadn't been tied up with her responsibilities.
When she returned to the mansion, Catherine immediately asked the maids where she could find Alex.
The head maid stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Your Highness, Sir Alex asked us to inform you that he is currently out shopping with a friend."
Hearing the words "going out" and "shopping" in the same sentence, Catherine couldn't stop herself.
"Is this friend a guy or a girl?" she asked quickly, her voice tightening.
The moment the possibility of another girl came to mind, her expression shifted.
A sharp, burning irritation rose in her chest.
Two days. She had only been gone for two days, and now some unknown girl was suddenly spending time with Alex?
Her grip tightened slightly at her side as her thoughts spiraled, frustration and jealousy mixing together. Whoever this girl was—real or not—Catherine already disliked her presence in Alex's life.
Feeling the shift in the air, the maids began to panic. The head maid quickly responded, "Your Highness, he is going out with his friend—a boy he studies with. I think his name is Michael."
Hearing that, she relaxed slightly. "So, he is only with a friend…"
Still, she didn't like Michael. He felt strange to her, awkward in a way she couldn't quite explain. She worried he might influence Alex in ways she wouldn't approve of.
But hearing that Alex wasn't with a girl made her relax. Still, she felt a little angry that Michael was taking up her time with Alex. She wished she could be the one having a coffee date with Alex, or just relaxing in front of the beach with him.
Anyway, she decided she would wait for him to return.
She turned to the maid and said, 'Prepare my bath.'
As Catherine waited, her thoughts began to drift. Maybe this really was her chance to surprise him—to do something he wouldn't expect, something that would make him stop, smile, and think only of her the moment he saw her. The idea lingered in her mind, growing a little stronger with each passing second, as if the waiting itself was quietly shaping a plan she hadn't fully formed yet.
At the store, Alex and Michael were still there
they stood in front of a small pile of clothes—items Alex had personally approved. They were simple, normal… but still had just enough style and detail to hint at Michael's personality without screaming it at everyone around him.
Michael looked at the pile, then back at Alex, clearly unconvinced.
But Alex ignored him, and they finished their shopping.
Afterward, Alex got on his motorcycle and drove Michael home.
Once that was done, he headed back toward his own place—the mansion.
On the way, as he passed through an empty stretch of road, something felt off. For no clear reason, a quiet sense of unease settled in his chest.
He kept riding, but became more cautious, his senses alert the entire way back.
Still, nothing happened. No movement, no sound—just the empty road and the hum of the engine.
By the time he reached the mansion, he couldn't shake the feeling. Was it just in his head… or had there really been something there, just out of sight ?
Catherine stood in a deep crimson royal gown that flowed gracefully to the floor, its rich fabric catching the light with every subtle movement. The dress was perfectly tailored to hug her body, accentuating the elegant curve of her waist and the gentle swell of her hips, while a tastefully low neckline offered a teasing glimpse of smooth, porcelain skin. Gold embroidery traced delicate patterns along the edges, enhancing rather than overpowering her natural allure and giving her an air of quiet, seductive nobility.
Her long white hair cascaded softly over her shoulders and down her back like liquid silk, a few strands slipping forward to brush against the swell of her chest. Her black eyes held a calm, mysterious depth that felt almost intoxicating—inviting yet unreadable. A faint, knowing smile played on her full lips, adding a quiet sensuality to her expression.
She didn't need extravagance. The way she carried herself—poised, confident, and effortlessly graceful—filled the room with a magnetic, undeniable royalty that was impossible to ignore.
Alex stood there stunned, unable to close his mouth. He had always known Catherine was beautiful, even in simple things—she never really tried to look glamorous. Most of the time she wore her school uniform or plain, casual clothes, and somehow she still looked effortlessly good in them.
But now… this was on another level. The Catherine standing before him looked like something out of a dream, like a goddess carved from elegance itself. There was something almost unreal about her presence, the kind of beauty that felt ancient—like the type people in old stories would worship without question.
He let out a quiet gasp before forcing himself to speak. 'So, Catherine… you've returned.'
His own voice surprised him. He was nervous—more than he wanted to admit. But then again, anyone would feel that way standing in front of her like this.
Catherine felt his eyes on her and, for a brief moment, found it hard to move. Then a soft smile formed on her lips as she thought to herself, Yes… it's going as planned.
After realizing she had feelings for Alex, she had decided—carefully, almost cautiously—that she needed to be honest with him in her own way. She wasn't used to expressing emotions openly, so she relied on what she knew she could control: her presence, her actions, the way she carried herself.
She understood that her appearance might draw his attention first, but that was only the beginning. What she truly wanted was to be closer to him—to be seen beyond just how she looked. To show care in small moments, to stay near him, to understand him better… and, over time, to let him see who she really was.
And maybe, if she did everything right, he would come to feel the same way too.
She smiled softly and said, "Do you want to eat? Everyone is asleep—you returned late today."
Alex gave a small smile in response, trying his best to avoid staring at her. "I was helping a hopeless friend… well, helping him was harder than I expected."
Seeing him standing there, Catherine's heart swelled with quiet joy. She glided toward him, the rich crimson fabric of her gown whispering against the floor with every step. Without hesitation, she reached out and slipped her hand into his, her fingers warm and soft as they gently intertwined.
"Well," she said softly, her voice like velvet, "knowing you were away for so long, I decided to make you something special."
She gave his hand a gentle tug, drawing him closer until their bodies were only a breath apart. The faint scent of her skin—warm vanilla and something faintly sweet—filled the space between them.
He could feel the heat radiating from her. Her long white hair brushed lightly against his arm, and the elegant curve of her neck and the soft swell of her chest rose and fell with each calm breath. She was dangerously close now, far too close.
He couldn't bring himself to look at her. If he did—if his eyes met those deep black ones, or traced the way her crimson gown clung to her figure—he knew he would be lost. Her presence alone was already weaving its spell around him, pulling at every thread of his self-control.
Alex's POV
Catherine's hand tugged him toward the seat with surprising confidence, and before he could even think, she was sitting right beside him — so close their thighs pressed together through the thin fabric. The deep crimson gown clung to every curve of her body like it had been painted on, the slit along her leg revealing smooth porcelain skin that made his mouth go dry.
She leaned in, her long white hair spilling over his shoulder like liquid silk, brushing teasingly against his chest. The faint scent of warm vanilla and sweet skin wrapped around him, making his pulse spike. When she picked up a piece of food with delicate fingers and brought it to his lips, her black eyes locked onto his with an intensity that felt almost dangerous.
"Open," she whispered, her voice low and velvety.
He obeyed without thinking. As he took the bite, her free hand settled on his thigh, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles that sent heat rushing straight through him. Every stroke felt deliberate, maddening. She leaned closer to offer the next piece, and the soft, full swell of her breasts brushed against his arm, the low neckline giving him a tantalizing glimpse of porcelain skin and gentle cleavage. Her body was warm, dangerously close, and every small movement made the rich fabric of her gown whisper against him.
God, she looked like sin wrapped in royalty.
"Does it taste good?" she breathed against his ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down his spine. Her hand slid a little higher on his thigh, the touch light but possessive, making it impossible to focus on anything else.
He was completely losing control, and she hadn't even tried that hard.
Catherine's POV
Catherine was using the romance novels as her only reference to flirt. She had been so sheltered her whole life, and in her last life she had been far too busy surviving the apocalypse and following her master's orders to ever learn these kinds of things. Desperate for guidance, she had asked one of her maids for advice. The maid had enthusiastically recommended romance novels, telling her, "We girls want the guy to do to us what happens in the female romance novels… and the reverse is true for guys — they want to be treated the same way in the male romance stories too." That explanation had convinced Catherine this was the correct approach.
She tugged Alex toward the seat, trying to make the motion look smooth and seductive instead of something she had googled at two in the morning. As she sat down, she scooted right up against him until their thighs touched. She reminded herself that the forum had said no personal space meant maximum tension.
Her heart was hammering so loudly she wondered if he could hear it.
She leaned in dramatically, letting her long white hair fall forward the way the heroines always did in the novels. "I made this for you," she murmured, lowering her voice in an attempt to sound like velvet. She picked up a piece of food with fingers that shook just a little and held it to his lips.
"Open," she said, aiming for a mysterious and commanding tone. It came out softer than she had intended.
The moment he took the bite, she placed her hand on his thigh exactly as the article had instructed — slow, teasing circles. She began drawing little patterns, thinking that one… two… was this too high? The novel had said higher was better for tension. Panicking slightly, her hand jerked back an inch before she bravely slid it forward again, pretending she had meant to do that all along.
While explaining the food in her best sultry voice — "I used fresh rosemary… like the elegant ladies do…" — she leaned forward to give him another bite. Her chest accidentally brushed against his arm. She wondered if that had been too much. The book had said accidental contact was lethal, but what if it wasn't accidental enough?
She froze for half a second, then quickly recovered by leaning closer and whispering near his ear, "Does it taste good?" Her nose bumped his earlobe a tiny bit. She thought it was anything but smooth.
Her hand kept tracing the circles on his thigh, now moving slightly faster because she was starting to panic. She wondered whether he hadn't moved away because it was working, or if she was simply giving him an overly enthusiastic thigh massage. The internet had said this worked, after all.
On the outside, she looked like a breathtaking, confident beauty in that flowing crimson gown, body pressed close, feeding him with soft smiles and lingering touches.
Inside, she was a complete mess. She reminded herself that she was running out of moves from chapter twelve and desperately hoped this was working.