The morning of the Crown Prince's birthday ball arrived like a storm.
The brothel was in chaos. Omegas darted around with ribbons, hairpins, and perfumes, shouting over one another as if Rin himself were royalty. Lirien stood in the centre, sharp-eyed as she ordered everyone around.
"Not too much powder... he doesn't need to look like a ghost!" she snapped at one of the younger ones dusting Rin's face.
Rin sat there in silence, propped on the chair like a doll. His lips twitched into a faint smirk.
"You know, if you keep treating me like I'm fragile porcelain, I might just crack for real."
"Shut it, Rin," Lirien muttered, fussing with his collar. "This isn't the time for your nonsense. You're walking into a ballroom filled with nobles who bite harder than demons. If you make even one mistake, they'll rip you apart with gossip."
Rin rolled his crimson eyes. "Tch. I'll survive. I've been through worse."
