107: He Is A Prince?

He Is A Prince?

'The perverted brat is the owner of this palace?! A-A-A genuine prince?! 

'Was I mistaken all this time? To think he isn't some high official serving royalty, but in fact, a royal himself, maybe one of the King's sons…'

Oriana gaped at the man standing in front of her. 

And all at once, it was as if the small pieces of the puzzle began to form a clear image in her head. 

'No wonder the Ahrens are so respectful to him…no wonder he is an esteemed guest of the Wimarks…'

Realizing how during their first meeting, she had stabbed a prince, Oriana felt like one life wasn't enough to absolve her of her crimes.

That pair of blue eyes was looking at her playfully, as if their owner could read her mind, and she was in fact his delicious prey he could swallow anytime. 

"My Lord?" She lowered her gaze immediately. "I mean, greetings, Your Highness."

"You don't seem that happy to see me here," he said in a rather bland tone. 

The other servants who heard those words had confusion and curiosity in their minds. 

'Why is His Highness singling out the new attendant?'

'They seem to know each other?'

'Poor boy, His Highness loves to play pranks from time to time. Only Mister Roman is immune to it. His Highness didn't know how many servants he had spooked into resignation throughout the years.'

The Palace of Thistle was akin to a fort composed only of Arlan's most trusted people. With Arlan's strict management along with his generosity, all the servants had absolute loyalty to the man. Many of them had been serving the prince since childhood, that was why even if a butler like Roman was left to run the household all by himself, no problem would ever occur within the palace. 

At this moment, the royal servants had an attitude of watching a show, wanting to see what kind of character their new colleague was like.

The handsome youth with a headwrap, in their eyes, performed splendidly by falling on his knees.

"N-No, Your Highness. Apologies if I made you feel so. Please punish me!" 

Oriana didn't know what everyone else was thinking, but as a young woman who had survived the cruelty of the outside world, she knew based on experience that flattery and sucking up were a general weakness of all arrogant people.

And among those she met, wasn't this brat the most arrogant?

"Punishment?" she heard him say. "You deserve it for sure." 

Arlan walked towards his residence with two knights and his butler following him.

Oriana screamed inside, 'Wait, that was just lip service. I just said it for the sake of it. Is he really going to punish me? But for what?'

"Orian, follow us," Roman instructed, seeing her not moving from her place. 

"Yes, Mister Roman." 

She quietly stood up, dusted her pants and followed behind Roman. At this point, her thoughts were still in chaos, but she had to temporarily keep her worries aside and focus on work.

"You will observe me and learn. You will be the primary attendant and have to take care of the basic needs of His Highness."

"Yes, Mister Roman."

Meanwhile, the smirk on the handsome face of the Crown Prince of Griven was splendidly wicked. 

'Punishment? Hmm! She sure deserves one. She had broken rules again and again, and caused countless troubles to the lord she served. What a bad servant. I wonder, how shall I punish her?'

Passing through the front door, Oriana caught sight of Arlan pausing in the middle of the spacious foyer, the grand staircase his background, and she realized that…indeed, such an ostentatious palace, it was befitting Arlan's personality. 

Homes were often reflections of their owners' states, and Arlan was a walking, breathing piece of artwork.

A red fur-lined cloak over his broad shoulders, a regal set of black clothes with red and gold linings, a decoration of expensive brooches and medals attached on his lapel, a dignified look that was somewhat softened by his long ashy hair tied in a loose ponytail. Clad in such impressive attire, Arlan gave off an aura of refined elegance, and Oriana could not help herself but wonder how stupid she could be for not noticing it prior.

Noblemen have pride ingrained in their bones, but royalty—no, this prince, he seemed to be pride personified. He had that look where though he appeared cheerful and easygoing on the surface, deep in his heart, he was looking down on the people around him. 

Arlan entered the first drawing room, the nearest reception room from the foyer, and leisurely sat down on the long couch, his body sinking into the soft double-padded cushions, leaning back as Roman attentively took off the fur-lined cloak from him.

A servant brought refreshments for him which he accepted while everyone else stood on the side waiting for Arlan to finish his drink. As he put back the glass on the tray held by the servant, Arlan's gaze moved towards Oriana who had her head lowered. 

"Your Highness, this is your newly hired aide, Orian." Roman informed him.

'So obedient she looks, but only I know how cheeky and rude this village girl is. Such a deceiving innocent face. She will pay for taking advantage of my body and making me use my powers again and again.'

"Your Highness, how did your work go?" Roman asked. 

Arlan glanced at his butler. "You ask me about my day like a good little wife. Why don't you marry me and be my princess, Roman?"

The man lowered his head. "If that is Your Highness's wish, then this servant can only fulfill your demand of making me your wife. However, that can only happen once His Majesty changes the current laws about marriage. Shall I pen a new bill and submit it for the legislation to approve?"

Oriana was taken aback by Roman's behavior. Arlan's words sounded like a sarcastic remark, a jest made in passing, but she dared not laugh seeing how solemn the butler looked, as if… as if the moment Arlan nodded, Roman would start preparing for their marriage. 

Arlan looked unperturbed. No, in fact, everyone else in the room but Oriana did not react, already used to such exchanges. 

"If you were a woman, would you have loved to marry me?" Arlan asked him.

"Of course, Your Highness."

Arlan looked at Oriana. "You?"

'Is he asking if I want to be his wife if I am a woman? I am a woman, and no sane woman would ever want to marry an arrogant spoiled brat who likes men.'

"I didn't hear you," Arlan said.

"Of course, Your Highness." Oriana cleverly copied Roman. Since the butler acted like this, that meant this was how things should be. In order to survive in the palace, Mia warned that it would be deadly to stand out. She would just go with the flow. "Which sane lady would decline marrying you? It is their honor to be allowed as your companion."

Arlan could clearly see through her fake words. 'It hasn't even been a day since she met Roman yet he had already influenced her. Tsk.'

A servant entered and whispered to Roman. The butler nodded.

"Your Highness, you must be famished. Your meal is ready. Shall we head to the dining hall?"

Arlan nodded and stood up, but he remained in place, not moving. Oriana wondered why when Roman fortunately reminded her, "Orian, remove His Highness's coat." 

As quick as a squirrel, she approached the prince and began to unbutton the tailcoat with trembling hands. 

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, his mood visibly lifted. 'Strange. Her scent seemed better than I remember. This guarantees I can sleep well tonight, though I won't spare her just because of it.'

Arlan noticed her hands and lifted a brow. 

'Is she honestly scared of me now or just an act? If it is an act, then I applaud her for being a good actress.'

She helped him remove the heavy coat, and another attendant—the same attendant who gave her her uniform— approached and took that coat from her. 

'What to do now?'

Fortunately, Roman led the way. Given it was her first day at work, Oriana planned to stick by the butler's side like a little chick to a mother hen. 

The two escort knights excused themselves, leaving to have their meal at the separate dining hall meant for knights.

After Roman pulled out a chair for Arlan at the head of the long table, one servant handed a water jar to Oriana. "Huh?"1

"His Highness needs to wash his hands," Roman explained. 

She immediately got the water jar and approached their silent master. As she poured water on his hands, the other servant held a brass basin below. Once he was done, another servant approached and gave Oriana a soft white cloth. This time she understood what she needed to do. She gently wiped his hands dry. 

'Spirits be damned, no wonder there are about twenty servants wearing the same uniform as me. Attending to this brat's needs is too tiresome! For every movement he does, one person has an assigned role. I can't… I'm dying of laughter… no wonder he grew up spoiled…People will do everything for him. He only needs to lift a finger, no, not even, the butler can even do the speaking for him. He only needs to sit down and wait…'

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