The morning after the mixer was worse than the night itself. As Ren walked through the main quad of the university, the air felt thick with whispers. The guys from the party had been busy; by the time the first period bell rang, the story had morphed.
“Did you hear about the Prince? She got invited to a group date and acted like she was too good for everyone.”
“I heard she actually made one of the guys apologize just for talking to her.”
“She’s so arrogant. She thinks because she’s handsome, she doesn’t have to act like a girl at all.”
Ren kept her head down, the collar of her black coat turned up. She felt the eyes on her like needles. She ducked into the cafeteria, hoping to find a dark corner to disappear into, but the room was packed.
The Target
As she grabbed a tray of black coffee and a simple sandwich, she spotted Sora and his friends from the night before sitting at a large central table. They saw her instantly.
"Hey! Look, it’s the Prince!" Sora called out, his voice booming across the room. The cafeteria went silent. "Hey, Takagi! We were just talking about you. We decided that since you’re such a 'bro,' you should join our intramural football team. We need a new linebacker!"
The guys exploded into laughter. Ren froze, her knuckles white as she gripped her tray. She looked for an exit, but the crowd was blocking the way. She felt that familiar, cold hollow opening up in her chest. She was a joke. A spectacle.
"I think," a voice cut through the laughter like a blade of ice, "that your jokes are about as refined as your GPA, Sora. Which is to say... they're failing."
The Golden Arrival
The cafeteria doors swung open, and Kaito Sora walked in. He wasn't wearing his usual "approachable" student council smile. His expression was bored, his eyes sharp and lethal. He didn't look at the crowd; his eyes were locked on Ren.
The room held its breath. Kaito was the "Golden Prince"—the one person whose social standing was untouchable.
He walked straight past Sora’s table without a glance, heading directly for Ren. He stopped right in front of her, closing the distance until she had to look up to meet his eyes.
"You're late," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement that implied they had plans—plans no one knew about.
"I... I am?" Ren stammered, her "Prince" mask slipping in the face of his intensity.
"I've been waiting twenty minutes," Kaito lied effortlessly. He reached out and took the heavy tray from her hands. "Let's go. I reserved a spot."
The Claim
Kaito didn't lead her to a corner. He led her to the most visible table in the entire cafeteria—the one right next to the window where the sun hit perfectly.
As they sat down, Sora tried to regain his footing. "Hey, Kaito! What are you doing? You know she’s just—"
Kaito didn't even turn his head. He leaned across the table toward Ren, his voice loud enough to carry to every whispering student in the room.
"Ren," he said, his voice dropping into a tone of intimate warmth that made the hair on her arms stand up. "I forgot to tell you last night... that color looks incredible on you. It makes your eyes look much softer."
The cafeteria erupted in a collective gasp.
Ren felt her face catch fire. He wasn't treating her like a "bro." He was flirting with her. Publicly. Brazenly. He was treating the "Moonlit Prince" like she was the only girl in the world that mattered.
"Kaito, what are you doing?" she whispered, leaning in. "Everyone is looking."
"Let them look," Kaito replied, a small, genuine smirk playing on his lips. He picked up a piece of her sandwich and offered it to her, his eyes never leaving hers. "If they're busy looking at us, they'll stop looking down at you. Besides..."
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.
"I told you last night. I’m going to show them how wrong they are. Consider this the beginning of your new reputation, Ren. You aren't their 'Prince' anymore. You’re mine."
Ren looked at his hand, then at the stunned faces of the men who had mocked her. For the first time since high school, the weight of the "Prince" label didn't feel like a cage. It felt like a stage—and for the first time, she had a partner who knew the lines.
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