The Ritualist Prince's Love.

Michael Smith woke with a heaviness that didn’t feel human. It felt as if something deep inside him—his very soul—was being torn apart. His chest throbbed, his skull pounded with a violent ache, and a bone-deep exhaustion gnawed at every fiber of him. This wasn’t his room. The curtains were unfamiliar. The scent was unfamiliar. The sheets were crisp, cold… too sterile to belong anywhere he knew. A hotel room. His heartbeat quickened. Where am I? What happened? Then last night crashed back into his mind. The business dinner. The endless toasts. The burning liquor sliding down his throat again and again. The billion-dollar deal that would crown him the richest man in M Nation. And the one thing he ignored— Henry and Willis telling him to stop drinking, to stay alert, to protect himself. He hadn’t listened. That single mistake had cost him everything. Suddenly, memories of shadows gripping him, dragging him, flashed violently in his mind. Three masked men. Silent. Strong. Moving with deadly precision. He had tried to fight, but his body had been too heavy from liquor. Not even Willis—trained for war—had sensed the attack. Not even Henry—sharp and paranoid—had realized their boss had disappeared. He had been taken right from under their noses. Michael’s hands trembled. How? Why? Who? --- Meanwhile, at the banquet hall… Henry paced anxiously, panic tightening his throat. “Where is he?” he whispered, scanning every corner. Willis stood stiffly beside him, guilt clouding his eyes. “He never came back from the restroom.” Henry’s voice rose. “Weren’t you supposed to protect him?” “I was watching the perimeter,” Willis replied quietly. “Looking for outside threats—after last time, with the guns. I didn’t expect an attack from inside.” Henry clenched his fists. His mind replayed every guest from the dinner, every handshake, every forced smile. None of them seemed capable of abducting the Smith family heir. Except… the old man from the Powers Family. He had signed the contract with Michael last night. But would he risk kidnapping him? Or was someone else hiding in plain sight, waiting for the perfect moment? Henry’s stomach twisted. Whoever did this had planned it carefully. Studied Michael. Tracked him. Struck when he was weakest. And now—every second they wasted increased the danger. --- Back in the hotel room… Michael pushed himself up, but dizziness slammed him back onto the mattress. His vision wavered. The air felt colder, thicker—almost suffocating. Something was wrong inside him. A strange, ancient pain stirred beneath his skin, crawling through his veins like fire. “What… did they do to me?” he whispered, fear cracking his voice. The lights flickered. A chill swept through the room. A shadow shifted in the corner—slow, deliberate. Michael froze. He wasn’t alone. And as dread coiled in his chest, a terrifying truth dawned on him: He hadn’t simply been kidnapped. He had been chosen. For something dark. Something dangerous. Something no ordinary human could survive. The fate of the M Nation’s youngest business titan hung by a fragile thread. And the nightmare had only just begun.