Cold. Steely. Enigmatic.
Those are everything that this hooded figure is right now.
Though most part of his face is being veiled by his cape as well as the layering dimness of that alley, the imposing and powerful aura he's emanating can't be kept hidden. His presence alone is striking enough to earn the deference of even the vilest of the underworld –
Such as everybody else who is present there at the moment.
"What a pleasant evening we're having, gentlemen. Thank you for meeting me tonight…"
Thieves, killers, and other types of crooks – they're all now gathered around him in the dead of the night.
Though outnumbered, he is nowhere near frightened. He is self-possessed and assertive – reminding them that the underworld is still part of his domain even though they live in two completely different universes. It's a mismatch, in fact. Though he is the next Emperor, he is there together with the outlaws.
His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince of the glorious Empire of Caelestis.
It's just as people kept saying –
He's the ruler of both earth and hell.
"Now then, shall we get to business? Bring me to the underground as promised," he ordered like they were his subjects.
And they obliged.
---
The Crown Prince is known to be not interested in anything but the throne.
That's why when he finds himself in an underground pub and surrounded by many beguiling beauties in revealing garments, he doesn't react much. He appears apathetic, almost straight-faced the whole time.
"Oh, what an eye candy you are~"
"Very handsome indeed!"
"Wanna join us tonight, hot stuff~?"
"It's not everyday we see a fine-looking gentleman like you."
"Come on, let us keep you company~"
These women can entice him with sweet talks and flirty touches all they want. He isn't giving them the response they desire from a man. Even when they're practically pinning him down on his seat right now, he doesn't care.
"You're no fun, Your Highness. I know you're in a secret mission and everything, but all these pretty girls are all over you. How can you remain indifferent? Mess around for a bit!" his companion whispered from beside him, earning a menacing look from him.
"Stop calling me that. Want me to cut your tongue off?" he taunted with a peeved tone, glaring at him.
"I can no longer be your messenger if you do that-"
"Quit trying to blow our cover, then. Being toyed by coquettes is already vexing enough-"
That's when he suddenly notices a commotion from a distance, making him cut himself off.
He turns away from his companion and watches the scene with a flummoxed expression – which eventually contorts into a disdainful one the moment he realizes what's going on. Apparently, a lone girl is in the middle of being confronted by three burly drunkards.
Silky smooth light brown hair, a pair of incarnation pink irises, a freckled frame, and a dainty figure - her features are fairly average. Neither ugly nor pretty. Yet in this place, beauty standards are everything, and she doesn't seem to be as attractive as the other ladies here.
At the moment, not only is she outnumbered and physically overwhelmed, but her sheer clothes also make her look like one tiny prey. She appears so defenseless and fragile. But despite that, nobody is coming to her rescue.
Then again, this is an underground pub, and any woman who comes to work here should already be prepared to entertain their customers – 'however' they want them to, that is.
"Call your manager or something! Why the hell did they give me an ugly little girl like you?! Can you even please a man…?" one of her infuriated clients hollered as he shoved her shoulder away.
"Ugly wench!"
His companions join in and continue insulting her.
At this point, everyone in that place is watching the uproar. With how harsh their words are, they are expecting that the girl is going to break down in tears or run away.
What they didn't know was that she was cursing her offenders in her head.
'Ughhh… Annoying bastards...'