The Prodigal Prince - vanish into fiction

Her throat choked, Enze could no longer even scream.

“……Urgh.”

“You sure ran away in style,” the man mocked as he tightened his grip without hesitation.

“Come on, time to beg and get your punishment.”

Enze’s lips turned bluish as her face drained of color. Oxygen deprivation made her dizzy, and sheer terror consumed her whole body.

If she got dragged away like this, she was as good as dead. She couldn’t believe she had been caught so easily. There were countless roads around the train station. Even if they had been lying in wait, no one could stand guard day and night forever. And yet, they’d run into her as if by fate—fate that clearly wasn’t on her side.

“If you make a sound, I’ll knock you out!”

As the grip on the back of her neck released, tears streamed from her eyes like rain.

The thugs who worked on the field didn’t care about anything except loyalty to their organization. They didn’t care why she ran away or what would happen to her once they brought her back. Their only concern was completing their task and being recognized by the gang.

They must have been instructed that violence was permitted, because the hands that shoved her were brutal. At this rate, it seemed they wouldn’t hesitate to deliver a chop to the back of her head and knock her out.

They lined up and walked down the alley in single file to reach the broader street on the other side, with Enze positioned in the middle. Her steps, dragged helplessly, felt heavy like they were sinking into mud.

Just then, a shadowy figure appeared at the end of the alley.

Several well-built men stood facing the gang. They weren’t few in number, and something about their atmosphere felt off. The yellow-toothed thug holding Enze spotted them and muttered in a gravelly voice:

“What the hell… who are those guys?”

A rival gang, maybe? Was a street fight about to erupt?

Heat surged back into Enze’s frozen hands. A brawl would be better than being dragged away like this. A vivid image of getting stabbed in the side flashed across the shadowy alley. Even if her wounds reopened and bled again, she didn’t care—as long as she could use the chaos to escape.

The blurry silhouette through the rain slowly came into focus. A tall, slender man stood with one hand in the pocket of his suit trousers. His blazer was unbuttoned, yet the cinched waistline stood out sharply.

Blinking in disbelief, Enze slapped a hand over her mouth.

‘Louis.’

She didn’t dare speak his name aloud. Even though their eyes met, it felt too unreal. This was not the kind of place a national prince should be in. And yet here he was, standing in the rain, facing off against gangsters with a loose stance.

Water trickled from his sleeve as he brushed back his thoroughly soaked hair. Had he been in the rain for a while? Unlike her, with just her bangs wet and stuck to her forehead, Louis’s entire shirt clung to his chest, soaked through.

An eerie sense of disbelief crept through her again. She had only just been captured, so there was no way he’d been here waiting this whole time.

“Miss Swatson, we meet again.”

Louis narrowed his eyes lazily and greeted her like he was sipping tea in a palace drawing room. His relaxed tone felt absurdly out of place in this cold back alley, but every word rang sharply in her ears.

“Why do you always seem to be in some kind of trouble? Do you need help again?”

His teasing tone didn’t bother her at all. To Enze, he was nothing short of a savior descending through the rain. Not only had he realized her danger—he was offering help.

She shoved away the hand clutching her arm and, eyes full of hope, clasped her hands together.

“Please help me.”

He lightly shrugged his shoulders.

“You seem to be racking up quite the debt to me.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious, but it didn’t worry her. Even if she owed him her life, she had a vague sense that things would work out. Last time, the prince had mentioned a price for his help but never even showed up again, let alone demand anything.

This time, she was the desperate one. If she could just escape the clutches of these thugs, she was ready to agree to anything Louis asked. Surely it couldn’t be anything too serious.

He narrowed his brows and glanced sideways at her with a dissatisfied look, then kicked the pavement sharply with the heel of his shoe. Enze remembered his earlier warning not to make promises lightly and grew tense, her clasped hands turning white.

Louis took a deep breath that made his chest rise. He stepped forward, pulling his hand from his pocket.

“This… I’ll make sure to settle this.”