CHAPTER 102: THE GOLDEN GOOSE! 2

The Royal Palace: Caspian’s Chambers

Sunlight streamed into the crown prince’s chambers, scattering golden flecks across polished wood and towering stacks of parchment. Caspian Von Veyne, hair like molten gold tied into a low ponytail, hunched over his desk, drowning in documents. His quill scratched steadily, signing decrees and reviewing reports, his brow furrowed with concentration.

The steady rhythm was broken by the wet crunch of someone biting into an apple.

"Really?" Caspian sighed, setting his quill down. He didn’t even turn, his voice tinged with exasperation. "You’re going to hover and eat in my ear?"

In front of him, lounging against a velvet chair like he owned the place, was his cousin, Darien. Dark-haired, smirking, with juice dripping down his chin, Darien took another loud bite, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You’re too serious, cousin. Live a little," Darien said through a mouthful of apple, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

Behind him, clad in polished armour, Lucien Vortellion stood watch, his posture rigid as a statue. His sharp grey eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation, though his face remained impassive. As a knight in the prince’s guard, he was used to Darien’s antics by now, but the man’s careless attitude wore his patience thin.

Caspian lifted his head finally, one eyebrow raised.

"You look... excited. That’s dangerous. Tell me, what mischief have you dug up this time?"

Grinning ear to ear, Darien practically bounded to the desk. With a dramatic flourish, he produced a gilded card from his pocket, waving it like a trophy. "Feast your eyes on this!"

Both Caspian and Lucien gave him equally blank stares.

Darien’s grin widened, undeterred.

"Don’t tell me you two don’t recognise this!"

"No," Caspian said flatly, leaning back in his chair.

Lucien didn’t even blink, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt.

Darien slapped the card on the desk, its gold edges catching the sunlight.

"It’s an exclusive invitation to the most famous brothel in the capital!"

Lucien rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt, his jaw tightening. Caspian, meanwhile, leaned forward, feigning mild interest.

"You waste your allowance on..."

"Not waste!" Darien cut in, his face glowing with excitement. "Invest! Only ten per cent of people ever get these cards. It means you’ve spent more than five million gold coins there."

Caspian nearly choked, his eyes widening. "Five... million?"

Darien puffed out his chest, grinning like a cat with cream. "And once you’re in that tier, you qualify for the Golden Goose’s choosing."

"The... what choosing?" Lucien asked dryly, his voice laced with barely concealed disdain.

"The Golden Goose," Darien said, his voice dropping reverently, as if speaking of a god. "Every so often, he picks one guest. The choice is random... a knife thrown at a board of cards. If your card is struck, he spends the night with you."

Lucien’s face remained impassive, but his hand flexed against his sword hilt, his knuckles whitening. Caspian burst into laughter, the sound sharp and incredulous. "You’re desperate to sleep with a courtesan? There are plenty of them around, Darien."

"He’s not just a courtesan!" Darien’s voice sharpened suddenly, a dangerous edge cutting through his usual playfulness. His eyes darkened, flashing with a possessive hunger that sent a chill through the room.

The sudden shift startled both Caspian and Lucien. Even Lucien’s grip tensed on his sword, his instincts flaring.

"You don’t understand," Darien said, his voice low, trembling with something close to obsession. "The Golden Goose isn’t just an omega. He’s the Omega. Once you see him, you’ll know."

He turned on his heel, leaving without another word, leaving behind the gilded card lying on the desk.

The silence he left behind was heavy, thick with unease. Caspian sat back, his brow furrowed, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair.

"Since when does he glare at me like that... over an omega? Omegas aren’t supposed to make Alphas like that," he muttered, half to himself.

Lucien’s jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the card. Something stirred in his chest... a flicker of suspicion, a memory of silver hair and defiant eyes. But he pushed it down, his voice steady as he said, "He’s always been reckless. This is just another obsession."

Caspian’s lips curved into a slow, curious grin. "Maybe. But now I’m curious. Let’s go. Two days from now... We’ll see this Golden Goose with our own eyes."

Lucien’s eyes flickered, a storm barely hidden beneath his calm exterior. He wanted to refuse, to stay far from the Pleasure District and its temptations. But duty chained him, as always. He bowed his head, his voice tight.

"...As you command."

As Caspian turned back to his papers, Lucien’s mind lingered on the card, his mind racing. The Golden Goose. An omega who commanded such loyalty, such obsession. Could it be...? No. He shook his head, forcing the thought away. Rin was gone, lost to him two years ago. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at him like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

.

.

The Brothel...

The air in Lirien’s office was thick with incense, the smoke curling like serpents around her desk. She sat poised, her hair like polished obsidian swept into an elegant knot, her sharp eyes glinting like knives in the lamplight. Her pipe rested between her fingers, a faint trail of smoke rising as she reviewed a ledger, her expression unreadable.

A knock came at the door, sharp and deliberate. A guard entered, his face stern, holding a gilded envelope.

"A gift, Madam," he said, bowing slightly. "From the Vortellions."

Lirien’s eyes sharpened at the name, her grip tightening on the pipe. She nodded, waving him off.

"Leave it."

The guard set the envelope on her desk and retreated, closing the door behind him. Once alone, Lirien turned the envelope over in her hands, the gold leaf catching the light. Her lips pursed, her brow furrowing. She could open it, read the words meant for the brothel’s master, but something stopped her... a gut feeling, a whisper of instinct.

"This isn’t for me," she muttered, setting the pipe down. "I should give this to Rin."

She called for her assistant, a young woman with nervous eyes and a habit of fidgeting with her dress.

"You called, Madam?" the assistant said, bowing as she entered.

"Yes, I did," Lirien said, her voice calm but firm. "Where is Rin?"

The assistant’s eyes wavered, her fingers squeezing the fabric of her dress. "Madam, Rin isn’t here. He stormed out of his chamber earlier."

Lirien’s pipe clattered against the desk, her face going pale.

"Stormed off? Where?"

Before the assistant could reply, a sharp crack split the air... a gunshot, loud and unmistakable.

Lirien froze, her eyes wide, her hand tightening around the pipe until her knuckles whitened. Smoke curled around her like coiling serpents as her heart thundered.

"...Rin," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear.