The Prince is awake 1
913 Words
The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow across the small guest room. The man lay still on the narrow bed, his face now cleaned of dirt and dried blood.
Even in his weakened state, he was strikingly handsome, young, with a strong, muscular build and sharp, well-defined features. His nose was straight and even in his unconscious state, his chapped lips were tightly pressed together, suggesting a rather stubborn personality.
Suddenly, he gasped awake from a nightmare, his chest heaving. “Mom…” The word slipped out before he could stop it.
His piercing green eyes snapped open, instantly alert and cold, scanning the unfamiliar room.
The moment he heard footsteps approaching outside the door, he tried sitting up, but a low groan escaped him as he clutched the wound in pain. His other hand turned into a tight fist at his side as he glared at the door with murderous intent, every muscle tense and ready to strike.
When the door creaked open and Anna stepped in, his dangerous expression softened, but only slightly.
His cold gaze locked onto the young woman standing before him.
Anna froze for a moment, staring in shock at the beautiful stranger in front of her. ‘Lily was right… he really does look like a prince,’ she thought.
Not at all embarrassed that she was caught staring, she calmly asked, “You’re awake?”
It was such a weird question, considering he was, and the man didn't respond.
His green eyes remained hard and suspicious, watching her like a predator assessing potential prey.
Noticing how severely chapped his lips were, Anna assumed the pain and blood loss had made speaking difficult. “Would you like some water?” she offered gently.
He studied her for a long moment, finally deciding she posed no immediate threat, so he relaxed and finally spoke, “Did you save me?”
His voice was deep and hoarse, definitely fitting his handsome face.
Anna moved to the small table and poured water into a simple cup while he tracked her every movement, still on alert.
She handed it over, saying, “I found you unconscious on the path not far from here and brought you to safety. But it was actually my neighbor, Mr. Thompson, who truly pulled you back from the brink of death.”
She paused, then added, “You’re currently staying at his house. He used to be a medic in the military.”
The man struggled to sit up straighter, wincing, and the hand that took the cheap cup was covered in various scrapes and abrasions with hardly a patch of uninjured skin visible.
After a few sips of water, he covered his mouth and began to cough softly. His disheveled dark hair fell forward, revealing an even paler, sharper jawline.
“Drink slowly,” Anna said worriedly. “You’re clearly not from around here. It’s pretty obvious. Since I didn't know where you lived before, I didn't report this to the authorities. Were you attacked by robbers? That’s what Uncle Thompson thought must have happened.”
He stopped coughing and lowered his gaze. “My… name is Viktor Merlin. I was just traveling and was suddenly ambushed by a group of masked men. I stumbled here after being shot by them. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up here.”
Her eyelids twitched as she felt like he must have gone through a lot to have everything taken away from him and was still shot.
These robbers, aren't they passing their boundaries?
Good thing he survived.
Her parents didn't have the same luxury.
Then she asked, “Do you have any family left?”
Hearing this, the man’s fingers gripping the cup turned white from the pressure, but he held himself back, controlling his dark emotions.
After a long silence, he hoarsely uttered a few words. “They’re all gone.”
Indeed, his family had died.
Anna, having experienced the pain of losing her parents, understood his current state of mind.
She pressed her lips together and said softly, “I’m sorry.”
The young man’s sharp green eyes scanned the small, dilapidated room with clear disdain. The old wooden walls, simple furniture, and flickering candlelight were a far cry from anything he was used to.
He turned his gaze back to her, his voice low and demanding.
“Do you have a phone?”
Anna raised an eyebrow, then gave a small, rueful chuckle. “A phone? Not everyone in Willow town can afford one.”
His lips pressed into a thin, irritated line, genuine shock flashing across his face for a brief second.
He looked away, muttering under his breath, “Willow town…”
“Yes,” Anna nodded innocently. “You’re in Willow, a small, peaceful town in Montana. We don’t have the luxuries people enjoy in big cities like Vesper City.”
The man exhaled deeply, his tone flat and unimpressed. “Interesting.”
“Do you have someone you need to contact?” she asked. “Madame Hart runs a small call center in town. I can take you there once you’re stronger, or…”
“It’s fine,” he cut her off curtly.
Almost immediately, another violent coughing fit seized him as if blood had caught in his throat.
His coughing grew more severe and he couldn’t hold on to the cup which shattered on the ground.
It seemed as though he might cough up his very lungs.
- Writer
