Chapter 6
The Bob-Haired Prince Is the Worst
Zarel’s heavy footsteps came to a halt with a thud.
The place he stopped at was… their school. The same school they went to every day.
“See? I knew it — it’s the school,” Ai muttered.
Without hesitation, Zarel strode through the gate and entered the campus.
At this hour, only a few club students and some teachers were still around.
“Where’s he going?”
“Shh!” Yoko pressed a finger to her lips.
The four of them crept after him.
Zarel walked as though he knew the place well, heading around the back of the main building.
After glancing around carefully, he crossed the covered corridor and slipped into… the janitor’s room.
“Hey! He went in there! That’s off-limits to students. Isn’t that where the old janitor lives?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Whatever, let’s go,” Kawahara said, taking the lead.
He slid open the door and peeked inside.
There stood Zarel, still holding the beautiful boy in his arms.
The old janitor glanced up from where he sat cross-legged on a tatami mat, drinking tea. His wrinkled face twisted in a grimace.
“What’s this now? Don’t tell me you dragged these kids into it?”
The old man’s tone was dry, but not surprised.
“Don’t just stand there — get in here! Let him rest.
But… what do you plan to do about them?”
By “them,” he clearly meant Ai and her friends.
“Let’s go in. Excuse us!”
“Pardon our intrusion.”
They stepped into the earthen entryway, shut the sliding door behind them, and watched.
Zarel gently laid the boy down, muttering quietly:
“She has the stone.”
“What? You still haven’t taken it back?!”
A sharp, irritated voice rang out.
From the small kitchen emerged another boy — about their age — holding a can of juice.
Ai immediately wilted in disappointment.
He had pale skin and straight, bobbed blond hair, almost like a bad wig.
Round face, blue eyes, and just a bit pudgy — he could have been cute… if not for that smirk.
Just one glance told her everything: selfish, spoiled, and mean.
Ugh. Even if he really is a prince, hard pass!
And what was that outfit?!
A frilly white shirt with lace spilling out of the sleeves, a blue vest embroidered with gold and silver birds, and light blue fluttery pants.
He looked like a walking costume party.
You stand out way too much — and your fashion sense is a crime!
“So that outsider has the stone? Why haven’t you retrieved it yet?!”
He barked at Zarel like an angry little lord, but Zarel ignored him and quietly removed the red-haired boy’s coat.
Underneath was a worn white shirt and white shorts — pure white from head to toe, except for the short brown boots on his long, graceful legs.
Ai couldn’t help but stare; even asleep, his furrowed brows looked heartbreakingly beautiful.
Thud, thud, thud — the blond boy stomped toward them.
“You there! Return the stone! It’s a sacred relic, not something for the likes of you!
Hand it over now, and I might overlook your insolence.”
That did it.
Excuse me?!
He made it sound like she’d stolen it!
That smug tone made Ai’s blood boil.
“Hey! What kind of education did you get, talking to people like that?!”
“‘The likes of you’— who do you think you are?!”
“Wha— you insolent women! Don’t you know who I am? I’m a prince! The first in line to the throne!”
“Yeah, right! Of where, exactly? If you’re the king, I’m dying of laughter already!”
Ai slapped her stomach and pretended to laugh.
Meanwhile, the old janitor began examining the unconscious boy’s condition.
“Hmm… He’s overexerted himself since coming here. This world requires twice as much energy to channel power.
Careless use could cost him his life — and he should know that well enough.”
The old man glanced at Zarel, who lowered his eyes, then looked toward the “prince.”
“I cannot disobey an order.”
At that, the prince’s face twisted with outrage.
“Are you saying it’s my fault?! I’m the prince!
A servant’s job is to obey!
If something happens to me while he’s sick, my father will never forgive it!
And my mother—”
“Silence!!”
The old man’s single bark of command froze everyone in place.
Even the self-proclaimed prince clamped his mouth shut instantly.
The old man turned his eyes to the four students still standing awkwardly at the entry.
“You lot. Go pick some flowers.”
“Eh? Flowers? What for?”
“Just do it! Fill that basket over there! And I mean flowers! Go on, get moving!”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Clutching a wicker basket, the four of them stumbled out of the room in a flurry of footsteps.
