The Prodigal Prince - vanish into fiction

His hand was stained with red blood.

The simple shirt that embodied refined aesthetics was now blotched with stains. The collar, undone and worn without a cravat, lay pale along his neck like a blade. From beneath the sleeve of his black jacket, a cuff peeked out, soaked in a chilling crimson hue.

Was he hurt? Who had dared to injure someone so precious? Laying a hand on a prince would surely be a grave crime. Yet the way Louis remained utterly calm—as if he’d seen blood countless times—was eerie.

As Louis raised a bloodied fingertip and gestured lightly, those behind him bowed their heads. The gang leader, sensing an incoming attack, suddenly burst into curses.

“You little shit. Think you’re tough?”

Once he raised his voice, the rest followed suit, hurling threats and vulgarities. Though they didn’t dare charge out of the alley mouth, they tried to dominate the air with savage shouts. Their furious uproar pierced the sky, and Enze’s small voice was completely drowned out.

“Your Highness…”

Louis caught the shape of her lips moving and raised one eyebrow slightly. The man standing right behind him lifted his head.

“What should we do with them?”

“Don’t make a scene. Keep it clean.”

The one who obeyed was Karl, Louis’s direct attendant. Inside the palace, Karl always wore immaculate formal attire befitting a prince, but today he was dressed in a somewhat worn black suit.

He stood in the rain with broad shoulders, unbothered. Surrounding Louis were other familiar faces—bodyguards, and even Anya standing boldly at the rear.

Just when Enze worried whether they’d be injured taking on professional thugs, Karl suddenly lunged forward, splashing through a puddle. The rest of the entourage charged in all at once.

From inside Karl’s jacket, a long sword was drawn. Its blade was thicker than the kind most gangs carried. A man who should by all appearances be a mild-mannered servant displayed remarkable swordsmanship.

A fierce battle erupted. The alley was so narrow that only one person could pass at a time, leaving the others to stand guard. Soon, one of the thugs let out a coarse scream and collapsed.

Louis approached, wiping rainwater from his cheek with the back of his hand.

“I told you not to make a mess of things.”

Despite the victory, he scolded Karl in a tone of reproach. Karl, looking sheepish, stepped back.

Just Louis stepping forward was enough to change the atmosphere. Though his tall and lean frame was only half the size of a thug bred for street fights, he exuded the aura of someone born to rule.

Louis’s eyes, which had been comparing the enemy, shifted to Enze behind him. She was drenched, but somehow his amber eyes gleamed with a barren glow, like a dusty sunset. A shadow darkened his sharply cut jaw, adding to the dry, desolate impression.

That fleeting moment of surreal contemplation vanished as he turned his gaze.

Louis carried no weapon. He merely bent his body slightly, assuming a loose fighting stance as he stared down his opponent. That alone made the thug retreat. His gang began backing away in turn.

Unbeknownst to them, Louis’s men had circled around and blocked the other end of the alley. The sound of blades clashing rang out behind them.

In panic, one of the gangsters with hairy hands flailed and grabbed Enze by the back of her neck.

Her small, paper-light body was yanked forward and held up as a human shield. He grabbed her by the collar so she couldn’t move and pressed a sharp blade tightly beneath her chin.

“Everyone back off. Unless you want this bitch dead.”

A flash of deadly light flickered in Louis’s eyes, darkened by the backlight. His tightly closed lips twisted slightly.

He gave no reply. He simply stared intently at the thug. His gaze swept over the blade aligned with Enze’s shoulder, its hilt, and the thick hand holding it. A chilling wave of killing intent washed over the alley.

While Enze stood frozen in fear, the thug blustered on, trying to maintain control.

“I said back off!”

As he raised his voice and shifted his stance, Louis lunged.

A flash passed before her eyes. Even with her eyes wide open, Enze couldn’t process what had just happened. All she saw was hair, slick like a mermaid’s fin, flying through the air—and rainwater spraying by her ear.

By the time she came to her senses, it was all over.

The blade that had stung just beneath her chin clattered against a distant wall. The thug holding her wrist didn’t even have time to cry out as he collapsed, and Louis used the opening to grab her waist and pull her in.

Her light body flew into Louis’s arms.