Walking through the ballroom wearing Prince Cassian's coat was like walking through a minefield while wearing a neon sign that said "Bomb Magnet."
The whispers started immediately.
"Is that... the Royal Velvet?""Why is the valet wearing it?""Is he cold? Or is he... kept?"
Elian kept his head high, clutching the lapels tight. The coat was heavy, smelling of cedar and dominance, and it acted as a physical shield against the daggers being glared at him from every corner of the room.
[System Effect Active: The Prince's Coat.][Charisma: +100. Aggro Generation: +500%.]
'They hate me,' Elian thought, suppressing a shiver of delight. 'They absolutely hate me. This is great. I'm the main character now.'
Cassian walked ahead, cutting through the crowd like a shark parting a school of fish. He didn't look back, but he adjusted his pace so Elian remained firmly within the 5-meter WiFi Zone.
Suddenly, a white blur intercepted them.
"Your Highness!" Ambrose cried, appearing out of nowhere with a glass of red wine in his hand. He looked frantic. His perfect hair was slightly askew. "I was so worried! You disappeared!"
He looked at Cassian, then his eyes snapped to Elian. Or rather, to the coat.
Ambrose's face twisted. It was a micro-expression of pure, unadulterated rage, quickly smoothed over with a mask of concern.
"Oh no," Ambrose gasped, stepping toward Elian. "Player Three... I mean, Elian! You look positively weighed down! That coat is far too heavy for a servant's frame. Here, let me help you take it off..."
He reached out with his free hand to grab the lapel, while the hand holding the red wine "accidentally" tipped forward.
[System Alert: Player 1 attempting 'Wine Spill Sabotage'. Success Rate: 90%.]
'Oh, you predictable little snake,' Elian thought.
Elian didn't step back. He remembered the training grounds. He remembered the dodge.
He pirouetted.
It wasn't graceful—it was more of a frantic spin—but it worked. Ambrose's hand grabbed empty air, and the wine splashed harmlessly onto the marble floor, missing the royal velvet by inches.
"Whoops!" Elian chirped, coming to a stop behind Cassian's left shoulder. "Careful, Ambrose! You almost stained the Prince's property. And me. But mostly the property."
Ambrose stared at the puddle of wine, then at Elian. "You..."
"Clumsy," Cassian finished the sentence, his voice cold. He looked at the wine stain near his boots.
"But—" Ambrose stammered. "He stole your coat!"
"I gave him the coat," Cassian corrected.
[System Notification: Ambrose -5 Hearts (Humiliation).][Current Leaderboard]1. Ambrose: 272. Rowena: 263. Elian: 12
'He's dropping!' Elian cheered internally. 'The gap is closing!'
"Come, Valet," Cassian commanded, stepping over the wine puddle. "The air in here is stale."
They left the ballroom, leaving a fuming Ambrose and a calculating Rowena in their wake.
The walk back to the Royal Quarters was silent, but the air crackled with tension. Elian was acutely aware that the "Cinderella Moment" was ending. They reached the heavy oak doors of the bedroom. The guards opened them.
Cassian stepped inside. Elian followed, hovering in the doorway.
"Close the door," Cassian said.
Elian closed it. They were alone in the dim, candlelit room.
Now came the hard part.
"Your coat, Sire," Elian said reluctantly. He shrugged the heavy velvet off his shoulders. The loss of warmth was immediate and devastating. The smell of cedar faded, replaced by the cool air of the room.
He folded it carefully over his arm.
"I will take this to be cleaned," Elian said, turning to leave. "Goodnight, Your Highn—"
"Stop."
Elian froze. He turned back.
Cassian was watching him. The Prince walked over, invading Elian's space again. He leaned down, sniffing the air around Elian.
"You reek," Cassian stated.
Elian blinked. "Excuse me? I showered! I used soap!"
"You reek of me," Cassian clarified. "The coat. My scent is all over you. You smell like a marked territory."
Elian's breath hitched. 'Marked territory? Oh god, my knees.'
"I... I can wash it off, Sire," Elian stammered. "A quick scrub in the servant's quarters—"
"No," Cassian cut him off. His eyes narrowed. "If you go down to the servant's quarters smelling like the Crown Prince, do you know what will happen?"
Elian shook his head.
"Every unbonded Alpha in the barracks will smell it," Cassian growled. "They will wonder why a valet smells like Royal Alpha. They will think you have been..."
He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
"Used?" Elian supplied helpfully.
"Claimed," Cassian corrected. "And some of them might want to challenge that claim. To see if the scent is fresh."
Elian swallowed hard. The image of the "Meat Market" training grounds flashed in his mind. 'Okay, survival instinct engaged. Do not go downstairs smelling like Eau de Cassian.'
"Then... what do I do?" Elian asked. "I can't sleep in the hallway."
Cassian looked around the room. It was huge. There was a massive four-poster bed, a sitting area with a velvet chaise lounge, and a fireplace rug that looked softer than Elian's old mattress.
"You stay," Cassian decided.
Elian's eyes widened. "Stay? Here? In the... royal chamber?"
"You will sleep on the chaise," Cassian pointed to the velvet couch near the fire. "It is far enough from the bed that you will not disturb me, but close enough that no one will question your scent."
[System Notification: New Location Unlocked - The Royal Bedroom (Night Mode).][Status: Safe Zone. Timer Degradation Slowed (-50%).]
'Oh my god,' Elian thought. 'I'm moving in. It's the couch, but I'm moving in!'
"Are you sure, Sire?" Elian asked, trying to sound hesitant while mentally doing backflips. "It is highly irregular."
"I am the Prince," Cassian said, unbuttoning his cuffs. "Everything I do is regular by definition. Now, help me undress. I am tired."
Elian dropped the coat on a chair and scrambled to help.
The undressing routine was torture. Elian removed the cravat, the tunic, the shirt. He was faced once again with the expanse of royal chest and abs.
'Goodnight, sweet prince,' Elian thought, staring at Cassian's navel. 'And goodnight to my sanity.'
When Cassian was stripped down to his privacy shorts (to Elian's eternal sorrow), he climbed into the massive bed.
"Douse the lights, Elian," Cassian ordered from the pillows.
Elian snuffed the candles. The room plunged into darkness, lit only by the dying embers of the fire.
Elian crept over to the velvet chaise. He curled up on it, pulling a spare throw blanket over himself. It wasn't the bed. But it was warm. It smelled like cedar.
And best of all, he was ten feet away from the Prince.
He checked his timer.
[Time Until Death: 68 Hours, 10 Minutes.][Drain Rate: 0.5 minutes per minute.]
He wasn't gaining time, but he was losing it slower.
"Elian?" Cassian's voice drifted from the bed.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"If you snore, I will smother you with a pillow."
Elian grinned in the dark.
"Understood, Sire. I shall breathe silently."
Silence settled over the room. Elian closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of Cassian's breathing.
'I'm in the room,' Elian thought sleepily. 'Next step: The bed.'
[Current Hearts: 12 / 1000][Current LP: 175]
He drifted off, dreaming of fertility blockers and expensive soap.