Swish!

Thuk!

Prince Arlan mused, his brow furrowing. "Hmm, it seems I've missed the shot."

"Missed? That's impossible," a well-built man on horseback, a knight, exclaimed in astonishment. "Your Highness, your arrows never stray from their mark!"

Arlan's ocean-blue eyes fixated on the spot where his arrow had landed. He, the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Griven, a man known as Arlan Cromwell, smoothly drew another arrow from his quiver. With effortless grace, he readied his longbow, the muscles beneath his clothing subtly defined. His dark eyes flickered as a gentle breeze tousled his long, ash-brown hair.

Swish!

Thuk!

"Missed again," Arlan said, a sly grin forming on his initially serious face. "It seems someone is toying with my hunt, Imbert."

"Daring to interrupt His Highness's hunt?" Imbert Loyset, the knight, clenched his teeth and drew his sword. "Your Highness, I'll deliver that trespasser's head to your feet."

"No need," Arlan replied calmly, evoking a perplexed look from Imbert, a loyal knight who awaited his liege's command.

"Someone is redirecting my arrows," Arlan continued, his smirk growing wider as he kept his gaze fixed on the arrow's landing point.

'Someone is playing games with me. This hunt has become quite entertaining. I have a new quarry on this hunting ground, it seems. How intriguing.'

"We cannot let this person go, Your Highness," another knight commented, his fury evident, his hand gripping the horse's reins, poised to act at his liege's signal.

Arlan raised his hand to halt him. "You two, wait here," he whispered, his horse stepping forward, his keen ears straining to detect the elusive movements of his quarry in the dense forest.

"Your Highness..." the second knight started, his concern evident, but Imbert cut him off.

"Don't fret about the Crown Prince. He's more than capable of looking after himself. You know as well as I do, Rafal, that His Highness's orders are unwavering."

"Yes, Commander Imbert," Rafal acquiesced, his gaze following his liege's horse as it galloped deeper into the woods.

Arlan delved further into the thick forest, his focus entirely on tracking down his escaping quarry, a rare prey in this case, not a creature, but a mischievous intruder who had dared to disrupt his leisurely hunt.

This forest was part of the Wimark estate, overseen by his elder sister, Alvera, the Duchess of Wimark. She had long instructed her staff to clear this area of the forest to provide Arlan with a place for his recreational pursuits.

Yet, an intruder had appeared, someone who had dared to breach the Duchess of Wimark's private forest, repeatedly interfering with her brother's tranquil hunt on a ground that should have been empty.

The intruder was undeniably courting danger. They moved with remarkable agility; had Arlan been an ordinary human, the trespasser might have eluded him completely.

In no time at all, Arlan reached the forest's heart. The trees here were densely packed, and the absence of any clear path forced him to dismount and continue his pursuit on foot.

Countless twigs, rocks, and fallen leaves littered the forest floor, but the prince's steps were soundless. He moved like a shadow, his towering form gliding between tree roots, his keen but mischievous gaze locked onto the vague silhouette he'd long detected concealed among the branches.

An eerie silence hung in the air—

Swish!

In the next instant, a dagger materialized in his grip. His throw was so swift and precise that the dagger sailed through the air like a freshly released arrow. This time, Arlan was certain he'd hit the mark.

Rustle!

Rustle!

Thud!

A figure tumbled from the tree to his left. The intruder, clad head to toe in dark attire, their lower face masked in black, resembled more a rogue assassin than a hunter.

Arlan surveyed the figure on the ground. "Shall we continue our game of chase, young man?"

The trespasser sprang to their feet, seemingly unharmed by the fall. The only visible part of their concealed form, a pair of hazel eyes, burned fiercely in Arlan's direction.

Arlan responded with a knowing smile and sauntered closer.

The trespasser brandished a short knife defensively.

The prince arched an eyebrow. "Why the hostility? I thought we were having quite the enjoyable time together. Didn't you relish thwarting my hunt?" He gestured towards a short bow and a few scattered arrows that had fallen when the intruder tumbled earlier.

"I must commend your archery skills," Arlan continued. "It's no easy feat to intercept my arrows in mid-flight."

In response, the trespasser edged backward, the short knife pointed at the prince, gloved hands gripping it tightly, poised for an attack should Arlan venture too close. However, the hazel eyes darted nervously, seeking an opening to escape.

Arlan could easily read the desperation in those eyes. "I don't believe there's a way out for you, young man—"

Just as Arlan took another step forward, the masked intruder raised their other hand. A white, mist-like substance was hurled at Arlan's face with an unexpected burst of wind that caught him off guard.

he trespasser took advantage of this momentary distraction and rapidly turned around to run away but…it was nothing but a wishful thinking. Before the trespasser could manage to take a step away, Arlan's larger and calloused hand grabbed that knife-wielding hand, restraining that delicate wrist. His arm wrapped across trespasser' throat in a chokehold, capturing that short body in a strong grip as the slender back of the trespasser pressed against his muscular chest.

A pair of lips laughed from behind, causing hot breath to brush against the trespasser's cloth-covered ear.

"Looks like I win again. Did you tire yourself out, or are you ready for the next round?"

The trespasser didn't struggle, instead looked in grave shock.

'Why didn't my magic work on this man? It has always worked on every other human I've used it on. Who is he? Let me try another spell… Ugh! I can't... How can he be immune to my magic?'

"Hmm? You're shorter than I anticipated," Arlan continued nonchalantly, unaware of the turmoil inside the trespasser's mind. "As for my reward for winning, how about you explain why you disrupted my hunt, shorty?"

This jolted the trespasser back to reality, screaming internally, 'Danger! This man is dangerous. I need to break free.'

"You're avoiding my question, Shortie. I don't have much patience."

The trespasser's response to Arlan's taunt? A swift attempt to trip Arlan's leg, hooking onto his ankle.

Arlan didn't underestimate the trespasser's strength. As a skilled swordsman, he maintained a firm center of gravity, which was why he didn't react to the attempt to unbalance him.

'Eh?'

However, to his surprise, Arlan found himself teetering.

In contrast, despite successfully throwing Arlan off balance, the trespasser couldn't escape his grasp either. Both of them crashed to the forest ground, with Arlan landing on top of the trespasser, his larger body weighing down the smaller figure.

The trespasser's struggle became increasingly frantic and tried to push Arlan off, but the tall man was as unyielding as a boulder.

Sensing that supple, wriggling body beneath him, not to mention the faint, alluring scent emanating from her, Arlan froze in astonishment.

'It's a woman?!'

Only then did Arlan get a proper look at those captivating hazel eyes. Despite the anger in her glare, Arlan felt no real threat. Instead, he found her defiance endearing, like a kitten trying to act fierce, thinking itself a tiger.

'Such beautiful eyes, befitting a feisty young lady.'