CHAPTER 445: ROSE WITH THORNS (6)

After showing that strange and rude man to the guest room, Rose finally returned to her own. The moment she stepped inside, she felt her shoulders drop. All the tension, fear, and confusion of the night weighed down on her chest. She shut the door behind her and didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. The moonlight coming through the curtains was enough.

She walked slowly to her bed and collapsed on it face-first. Her body sank into the soft mattress, and she let out a quiet sigh. Her hand reached blindly toward the side table, feeling for something familiar. Her fingers curled around a photo frame.

Rose turned it toward her and sat up, holding the frame gently in her hands.

There it was.

Her favorite photo—her smiling, younger self with Sparkle nestled in her arms. The cat’s fur was glossy and soft in the picture, and the little pink collar with a heart-shaped bell still hung around his neck. She had taken that photo on the morning of her birthday, just a week before he died.

Tears slipped quietly down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.

"I miss you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. She hugged the photo to her chest tightly, curling over it like a child holding a teddy bear.

Every time she remembered what happened... it felt like a fresh wound. That day still haunted her.

Sparkle had run into the road to save her. She had been frozen, lost in the storm of her emotions. And he... he bit her leg to snap her out of it. That sharp sting of pain had made her stumble back to safety.

But he hadn’t followed her.

The moment she fell away, the car hit him instead.

Her hands tightened around the frame, and her tears soaked the edge of her pillow. After that day, she had promised herself she’d never adopt another cat. It would feel like replacing him. Like betraying him.

But she loved cats more than ever. Every month, half of her salary went to shelters. Whenever she passed by stray cats, she couldn’t stop herself from feeding them, even if she was late for work. Sparkle had taken a part of her heart with him and he had filled the rest with love for every other abandoned cat.

Her breathing steadied after a while, and she slowly wiped her tears away.

Then her thoughts drifted—annoyingly—to that rude, arrogant stranger who had saved her tonight.

She frowned and rolled on her back, staring at the ceiling.

What kind of person shows up with that attitude and just barges into your life like a storm?

He didn’t even tell her his name! She’d forgotten to ask in all the panic and shock. And his attitude—ugh! So smug. So lazy. So demanding. Who even calls someone "pheasant girl"?

She pulled her blanket up and snorted.

But still... her mind refused to let go of his face.

The way the moonlight had reflected off his strange golden-brown eyes. The sharp line of his jaw. His dark hair falling just slightly over his forehead. His voice had this... lazy confidence to it. Like a purring cat who knew he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it.

He was... annoyingly attractive.

Her thoughts spun in circles and she covered her face with the blanket.

In her mind, the most handsome man in the world had always been her older brother. Then maybe her favorite actor, from that drama she cried over last winter.

But now...

That stranger had taken the second spot. Just like that.

She huffed.

He lost first place because of his attitude. Thinking about him, she fell asleep.

****

Morning, Sunday.

Rose had planned to sleep until noon, wrapped in her warm blankets and dreaming of peaceful, coffee-scented mornings.

But of course life had other plans.

Knock knock knock.

"Ughhh..." she groaned, rolling over and burying her face deeper into her pillow.

Knock knock knock knock knock knock!

"WHO is knocking like it’s a police raid!" she shouted, finally kicking off the blanket. Her hair was a bird’s nest and her hoodie looked like it had lost a battle with the blanket.

She dragged herself to the door, looking like a grumpy marshmallow. With a big yawn and an even bigger scowl, she flung the door open—

—and instantly regretted it.

There he was.

That rude, ridiculously pretty man from last night. Still wearing the same dark clothes. Still looking smug and very comfortable for someone who barged into her life uninvited.

Loki tilted his head, golden brown eyes shimmering innocently. "Pheasant girl, I’m hungry."

Rose blinked. "What."

"I said I’m hungry. Feed me something."

"...You woke me up—for food?!"

"I don’t know how to cook,"

Rose narrowed her eyes. "The kitchen is right there. Full of food. Go make something."

"But I don’t know how to cook," he said again, pouting this time like a five-year-old prince who lost his spoon. "What if I burn your house down?"

Rose stared at him like he had two heads. Her brain was buffering.

He even had the audacity to blink sweetly at her.

"Please?" he added. "I’m wasting away."

Rose clenched her jaw, looking up at the ceiling as if asking the universe why her.

"Fine!" she snapped. "But this is the only time!"

Loki immediately perked up, following her into the kitchen with the energy of a spoiled cat getting treats. He even sat on one of the chairs with his legs crossed, watching her like she was some sort of cooking show.

"I like my toast golden," he said casually.

Rose pointed a spatula at him. "You’ll get what I make and you’ll eat it quietly."

Loki grinned. "Yes, chef."

Rose sighed again. It was going to be a long Sunday.

After breakfast, Rose finally sat down with her cup of coffee, watching the strange man eat like he hadn’t had a proper meal in years. His plate was spotless—no crumbs, no drops left behind. He even licked his fork like it owed him money.

She narrowed her eyes. "You seemed... satisfied."

Loki leaned back in the chair, hands on his stomach, letting out a very pleased sigh. "If you cooked like this every day, I’d consider forgiving you for being such a loud human."

Rose rolled her eyes. "You’re unbelievable."

"And handsome," he added with a grin.

She ignored that part and sipped her coffee. Then, after a pause, she looked up at him seriously. "You know my name. Rose. What’s yours?"