Chapter 4: His Grace, Prince Anthony
1673 Words
Dinner had yet to be settled. Ethan closed his laptop and went downstairs to fix something to eat.
Footsteps followed him, and a couple of “hey”s echoed behind. He ignored them—until the vampire called his name.
“Ethan! Are you deaf or what?”
Lucien’s aristocratic temper flared once more. In his clan, everyone bowed and scraped before him, addressing him reverently as Your Highness.
Yet this human—this infuriating human—had the audacity to disregard him time and again.
“Don’t make noise. I’m busy,” Ethan said flatly.
Don’t make noise? Lucien’s eyes widened. What could possibly be more important? He trailed after Ethan into the kitchen, only to see him setting a pot of water on the stove and pulling noodles and leafy greens from the refrigerator.
Since senior year left him with ample free time, Ethan often cooked for himself. Ryan always complained that his meals were too bland, but Ethan found the food stalls too greasy. A simple bowl of noodles suited him fine.
As the water began to boil, a curious head leaned over his shoulder.
The kitchen air was mild, not pungent with human spices. Lucien peered at the bubbling pot and scoffed, “You humans are so troublesome—constantly eating this tasteless slop. You’ll die if you don’t, won’t you?”
Ethan sliced scallions with deliberate calm. Thinking of the blood he’d lost at noon, he decided a little retaliation was well deserved.
“And you vampires,” he retorted coolly, “are just as troublesome—must drink blood every day, or you’ll die.”
“...” Lucien bristled. “At least I’m not as pathetic as you humans. Besides, I’m not like those inferior vampires. Even if I go a long time without blood, I won’t die.”
Ethan caught the key word. “A long time? How long is that? Half a day?”
That was close—Lucien almost betrayed his noble lineage. Remembering his purpose, he took a seat at the dining table and crossed one leg elegantly over the other. “Tell me what’s interesting in this city. I want to explore.”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said.
“You don’t know?” Lucien frowned, certain the human was toying with him again. “I’ve already had my fill of your blood today. I’m not here to feed, so stop being evasive.”
Ethan stirred the pot, adjusted the broth, and cooled the noodles with a dash of cold water before serving them. When he turned, Lucien was glaring at him from across the table, his dark eyes gleaming with irritation—eyes identical to the little bat’s he’d seen earlier.
Lucien had flown around the city after the rain cleared, but found neither amusement nor new prey. His foul mood worsened when Ethan, now seated before him, still ignored his presence.
“Hey—” he began, but Ethan interrupted at last.
“The zoo’s quite fun. You can just fly in—no need for a ticket. Maybe find a tree and hang there for a while.”
Lucien nearly choked on his own fury. He slammed his palm on the table and pointed an accusing finger. “How dare you mock me! Do you even know who I am? I am—”
Ethan looked up, feigning curiosity. “You are? There’s a bat house at the zoo, you know. No classes tomorrow—want me to take you home?”
“I am not one of them!” Lucien exploded, forgetting his brother’s warnings to conceal his identity. “You insolent human! I am the illustrious Prince Anthony of the noble Blood Clan!”
Ethan blinked. “...Right. I’ll eat my noodles now.”
Lucien: “...”
The private kitchen was spacious, open-plan, with the dining table just steps away.
In the quiet of the night, man and vampire sat face to face—one eating with calm focus, the other fuming in silence.
Lucien seethed at the human’s ignorance, his indifference to the might of the Blood Clan, his blank, expressionless face that begged to be punched.
And yet, as he watched longer, his anger softened. Perhaps he had overreacted. He should have remembered his brother’s and Liam’s warnings. It was Ethan’s mockery that had riled him—and that maddeningly calm way he ate.
Was it really that delicious?
“Ethan,” he said at last, “let me try your food.”
Ethan paused, surprised. So vampires could eat human food after all?
Still, he refused. “No.”
Lucien, unaccustomed to rejection save from his elder brother Leo, flared with indignation. This human was unbearable. He snatched the chopsticks from Ethan’s hand, seized the bowl, and promptly realized he didn’t know how to use chopsticks. Several failed attempts later, he threw them down in frustration and resorted to eating with his hands.
Ethan stared wordlessly. A refugee, truly.
“Tastes awful,” Lucien muttered between bites, glaring at Ethan as if in revenge.
Ethan couldn’t help a laugh. “I never said it was good. Why steal it, then?”
Lucien’s pride twisted his ears; he devoured the rest out of sheer spite—soup and all—leaving not a single noodle behind.
“Burp.”
Ethan sighed, picking up the fallen chopsticks. “Didn’t you say it was disgusting?”
“It was,” Lucien said airily. “But since you were eating so slowly, I knew it couldn’t be that good. I helped you finish it—no need to thank me. Consider it a fair exchange. Tomorrow, you’ll satisfy me again.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Ethan replied. “No exchange.”
“You—”
“Tell you what.” Ethan rose, handing him the bowl and chopsticks. “Wash these, and tomorrow I’ll consider your request.”
Lucien froze.
Seeing that stunned expression, Ethan suddenly felt curious about this foolish vampire—this so-called Prince Anthony. It was almost theatrical.
“Your Grace, Prince Anthony, was it?” Ethan said, lips quirking. “The dish soap’s the white bottle. Make sure they’re spotless—I’ll inspect later.”
The insolent human!
Lucien clenched the chopsticks and silently vowed vengeance. Once he found a new blood source, he’d make Ethan pay.
After resting a while upstairs, Ethan returned to find the kitchen empty. Lucien had vanished, but the dishes were on the counter, slick and slippery to the touch. Not clean—but washed nonetheless.
He smiled faintly, rinsing them properly. So the noble blood prince washed dishes for a sip of blood. How quaint.
Changing into a vest and sweatpants, Ethan began his nightly exercise routine.
A bit of movement before bed helped him sleep—especially after a sleepless night and a midday bloodletting.
He slept deeply, peacefully. The next morning dawned clear and bright. Unsure when the foolish vampire might return, Ethan stayed home to work on his thesis.
By noon, Lucien still hadn’t appeared.
Running errands at the supermarket, Ethan passed the snack aisle and thought of the vampire who could eat human food. He tossed two bags of chips, some beef jerky, and a can of soda into his basket—if Lucien didn’t eat them, Ryan surely would.
Speak of the devil—Ryan’s call came through.
He was already at Ethan’s place, using the spare key.
Ethan regretted giving him that key instantly. If Lucien showed up now, trouble would follow. “Go back to campus first,” he said quickly. “I’ll come find you later.”
Ryan protested, “Man, you’re heartless! It’s freezing out here—I nearly turned into a popsicle on the way!”
“Stay downstairs,” Ethan said. “I’ve got a friend coming over.”
“Oho, secretly making friends now? Guy or girl?”
“I’ll tell you later. I’m checking out.”
He hurried home, uneasy. With Lucien’s temper, if he ran into Ryan, fists might fly—and someone might not survive it.
Luckily, when Ethan arrived twenty minutes later, the house was quiet. Lucien hadn’t returned.
But then—noise came from the guest room. Ryan’s voice, and another startlingly familiar one.
“What the hell!” Lucien shouted, pounding the keyboard. “I died again! No—I’ll avenge myself!”
“Dude, calm down! Can you not smash my keyboard?” Ryan groaned, pushing him aside. “Just practice more. Watch me—this round’s mine.”
Lucien’s eyes burned. “Let me kill something! One more turn, please?”
“You’re terrible,” Ryan said, laughing. “If you play again, my teammates will flame you. Go download your own game.”
Lucien frowned. “Download? What’s that?”
“Wait till I finish this match.”
Ethan stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the absurd scene before him. What on earth happened in twenty minutes?
Lucien noticed him and immediately bounded over. “I want to play his game. Help me download it.”
Ethan: “...”
In just two days, Lucien had fully internalized the principle of equivalent exchange. Fearing Ethan’s refusal, he added hastily, “I’ll wash your dishes again!”
Ethan: “...”
“Say something!” Lucien demanded. “I want to play!”
As the tide of the game turned, Ryan relaxed and glanced toward them. He pitied the clueless Lucien—never played a game before, still helping with chores. What a poor guy.
“Let him use your computer, Qinghe,” Ryan said. “I’ve got a spare account. Lucien, it’s yours—it even has skins.”
Lucien brightened instantly. “Oh! Thank you.” He decided then and there not to make Ryan his blood servant.
Ethan dropped the snacks on the table and turned to leave. “Upstairs,” he ordered.
Lucien grinned and trailed after him like an eager puppy.
- Writer
