CHAPTER 106: A DANGEROUS COURTESAN!

The air in the private chamber was thick with tension, the candlelight flickering wildly as Rin bit his lower lip, annoyed at the way Caspian’s bare chest pressed against his back, the heat of him suffocating. The prince rubbed himself shamelessly, his hardened length brushing Rin’s robes as though the very thought of restraint was foreign to him. The scent of his arousal was cloying, mixing with the faint incense that clung to the room, and it made Rin’s stomach churn.

Rin’s crimson eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. Disgusting.

DING!

[System Notification: Danger Level Rising - Caspian Von Veyne is attempting physical dominance.]

"I said," Rin hissed, his hand tightening on the golden doorknob, his voice low and sharp, "move."

Instead, Caspian’s hand shot out, pinning Rin’s wrist to the door, his grip iron-strong. The crown prince leaned in close, his golden hair brushing Rin’s cheek, his hot breath ghosting his skin.

"You’re mine tonight. I don’t care what mask you wear, or what title you use. You’re the Golden Goose. You’ll spread your legs when I tell you to."

Rin’s lips curved—not into fear, but a smile cold enough to freeze blood. With a sudden twist, he pulled free, shaking Caspian’s hold off like breaking a twig. His movements were fluid, almost effortless, his demonic strength surging just enough to make the prince falter.

Caspian froze, his eyes widening, his breath catching. An omega... broke my grip?

Rin turned, bowing mockingly low, his white robe flowing with the movement like liquid moonlight. His voice was clear, biting, yet laced with velvet.

"Greetings... Imperial Prince Caspian Von Veyne."

The air stilled, heavy and taut. Caspian’s smirk faltered, his pupils dilating as he stared at Rin, his confidence cracking.

"...How do you know my name?"

Rin straightened slowly, his smile sharp as a blade, his crimson eyes glinting beneath the half-mask.

"Oh, everyone knows of the imperial prince. But I, personally, cannot bring myself to sleep with royalty." His tone dripped with mischief and disdain, each word a calculated jab. "I’m far too filthy for a man like you."

Caspian chuckled low, recovering his arrogance, though his fingers twitched, betraying a flicker of unease.

"Filthy? I don’t mind. I’ve had plenty of courtesans before. Adding you to the list won’t change anything."

Rin opened the door with a deliberate slowness, the hinges creaking softly. His lips curved into a polite smile, utterly fake, as he stepped back.

"Then forgive me, Your Highness. But I don’t wish to be a name on your list."

And with that, he slipped out, his robe whispering against the polished floor, leaving only a faint trace of his scent in the air.

When Caspian gathered himself and stepped into the hallway, Rin was gone.

No footsteps.

No scent.

No pheromones.

Caspian’s brows furrowed, his hand lingering on the doorframe.

How...? He shut off his pheromones like a faucet.

He touched his chin, his body still painfully hard, his pride burning hotter than his desire. And then... he smirked, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face.

"This Golden Goose is more interesting than I thought."

Pulling on his robe, he strode back to the VIP chamber where Lucien waited, his mind racing with the challenge Rin presented. An omega who could defy a prince, vanish without a trace, and wield power like a weapon—Rin was no ordinary courtesan. Caspian wanted him now, not just for lust, but for the thrill of breaking something so untouchable.

Lucien sat with perfect stillness in the VIP chamber, his sword resting across his knees, a cloth in his hand as he polished the steel with methodical precision. The faint clink of metal filled the quiet room, the only sound besides the distant hum of the brothel’s festivities. He didn’t look up when Caspian entered, his grey eyes fixed on the blade, but his senses were sharp, catching the shift in the air.

"You came out too quickly," Lucien said evenly, his tone sharp but flat, a hint of mockery beneath his calm. "Perhaps the Golden Goose isn’t as great as they say."

Caspian let out a bark of laughter, tossing his mask onto a nearby table as he poured himself a glass of wine from a crystal decanter. The red liquid glinted in the candlelight, matching the flush on his cheeks.

"On the contrary. I was rejected."

That finally made Lucien pause. His hand stilled on the blade, his fingers tightening around the hilt. His nostrils flared, catching a faint, familiar scent clinging to Caspian’s robe. His head lifted sharply, his grey eyes darkening with something wild, unsteady.

"...Whose scent is that?"

Caspian chuckled, swirling his wine, his smirk widening as he leaned against the table.

"Ah, I suppose I should have told you. He wouldn’t take me. Said he doesn’t spread his legs for princes. Pity. I was curious."

Lucien rose suddenly, dropping the cloth and sword onto the table with a soft clatter. His grey eyes burned as he moved closer, inhaling deeply, his chest rising and falling with barely controlled intensity. The scent was faint, but it was there—sweet, intoxicating, achingly familiar. His voice came out sharp, almost desperate. "Who was it?"

Caspian tilted his head, feigning innocence, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. "I never saw his face. He was wearing a half-mask and a white flowing robe. Everything about him was a mystery. He only left me with one thing." He smirked wider, watching Lucien carefully. "I didn’t even catch his name."

Lucien’s heart clenched, a painful twist that stole his breath. "His name? This scent... It belongs to... Rin."

"Rin?" Caspian echoed, his tone light but his eyes narrowing with interest. "Isn’t that...?"

Lucien’s world cracked. His chest seized, his veins burned with a mix of hope and rage. He shoved past Caspian, his boots echoing against the polished floors as he stormed down the hall, his voice raw with desperation. "Rin!"

Caspian watched him go, his smirk fading into something colder, more calculating. He bit his lower lip, his mind turning over the name Rin. He’d heard it before—whispered in the palace, tied to the Vortellions’ obsession, to Lucien’s quiet torment. The Golden Goose wasn’t just a courtesan. He was a spark, a danger, and Caspian wanted to know why.

The grand hall still buzzed with life, though the game had ended, and the crowd was thinning. Red lanterns swayed overhead, casting a warm glow over tables littered with empty glasses and scattered coins. The scent of perfume and wine lingered, but to Lucien, one scent cut through it all—sweet, fleeting, Rin’s. It was faint, fading fast, but it was enough to drive him forward, his heart pounding.

He pushed through the crowd, his grey eyes darting, searching desperately. His hand trembled as he brushed against a velvet curtain near the stage, his fingers catching on a thin piece of fabric abandoned on the floor—a strip of white silk, torn from a robe. He lifted it to his face, inhaling deeply, his throat tightening as the scent flooded his senses.

"...Rin..." he whispered, his voice breaking.

Caspian arrived behind him, slower, calmer, his arms folded as he frowned. That name again—Rin. He’d heard the whispers, the madness that overtook the Vortellion heir and his father whenever the name was spoken. So this is the one. The one they lose themselves over. And he rejected me. His eyes narrowed with interest. He didn’t want Rin for lust anymore—he wanted him because Rin was dangerous, a puzzle to be solved, a prize to be claimed. Maybe a way to get rid of the Vortellions.

Lucien clenched the fabric in his fist, his eyes wild, his breath uneven. "He was here."

But before he could move further, the brothel guards appeared, their faces stern, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. "Out. Both of you," one barked, his voice gruff. "Causing more trouble or resisting will blacklist you."

Lucien’s hand twitched toward his sword, his instincts screaming to fight, to tear through the brothel until he found Rin. But he forced himself still, his jaw tight. If Rin were here, he would be under protection—Lirien’s protection, the brothel’s ironclad rules. A wrong step would push Rin further away, make him vanish again. He couldn’t risk that.

The guards shoved them into the night air, the cool breeze a sharp contrast to the brothel’s heat. Lucien stood under the moonlight, the white silk still clutched tightly in his hand, its scent fading but searing his heart.

Caspian smirked, his voice low and taunting.

"Forget him. He doesn’t want you. Lead me home, Lucien."

Lucien’s jaw tightened, his grey eyes burning with a storm he couldn’t unleash. He said nothing, but his silence was louder than any words, heavy with resolve. He wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t stop.