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Chapter One

I scan the library, searching for the elusive prince, but the surroundings seem devoid of any peculiar characters. It appears his apprehension is bordering on paranoia.

Moments later, a swarm of paparazzi storms into the library, their frenzied cries of "Prince Rex!" filling the air with chaos.

Approaching him cautiously, I notice his wide-eyed expression, and he instinctively shushes me with a finger to his lips.

Knowing the library intimately, I guide him discreetly to secluded areas, shielding him from the paparazzi's intrusive lenses.

In hushed tones, I reveal, "I know a place where you can hide. Follow me."

Surprisingly, he trusts my lead, and together, we find refuge in one of the library's abandoned rooms. The question lingers: How does a prince of his stature place trust in an ordinary girl like me?

I turn the dusty knob, unlocking the door to what was once a study room in the library. Initially designated for private study, it had been closed off due to inappropriate use by couples, yet curiously, it was never locked.

"You can stay hidden in here until they leave," I suggest, observing him as he takes off his sunglasses. His eyes, more captivating in person, hold my attention even before he looks up at me.

As his hood falls, revealing disheveled brown hair cascading onto his forehead, he finally meets my gaze, offering a subtle smile. It's no wonder girls are drawn to him.

‘You have a boyfriend, Violet.’ I think.

I am still waiting for him to thank me, but all he does is nod at me.

“You’re welcome,” I bite my bottom lip as I slightly raise my eyebrows in irritation.

“Thank you,” he acknowledges with a slight bow. It seems like he rarely uses the two words.

"Sure," I nod.

Prince Rex stands tall, towering over me, and I, despite being considered tall, estimate his height at 6.1 feet. His jawline is strong and sharply defined. I blink, tearing my gaze away, and shift my focus to the floor. "Okay, I am leaving."

"No!" he protests.

"What?" I laugh slightly, still processing the unexpected turn of events. “Why are they following you into a library?”

"Do you not know who I am?" Prince Rex asks, eyebrows furrowing. "I am Prince Rex, the crown prince of Spain."

I roll my eyes. "And I thought Prince Rex was nice, especially to those who help them."

Prince Rex sighs. "I apologize sincerely, but this week has been tough. I can't run anywhere without being chased by paparazzi, fans, or anyone else, and it's so frustrating."

I look at him with a frown. Living like that is undoubtedly challenging, and I can only imagine how he must feel. Living your entire life as if you're born to please the world doesn't sound good.

I pull out a chair, settling into it, contemplating the intricacies of politics. Acknowledging its complexity, I recognize the significant portion that unfolds behind the scenes, hidden from our awareness.

Consider the burden he carries, the weight of a life spent following orders. While I empathize with the challenges he faces, it doesn't justify treating people unequally.

It's disheartening that those in power aren't actively contributing to a better world. If leaders fail to instill change, what's the point of educating their successors on ending wars and eradicating poverty?

"How did you recognize me?" Prince Rex inquires, settling into the seat across from me. "I thought my disguise was pretty convincing."

"I keep up with the news and have a keen eye for details," I respond with a smiling raise of my eyebrows. "While you were scanning the area, I noticed your distinctive jawline. Just as you glanced the other way, I realized that you-" I pause, avoiding sounding like a stalker.

Observing Prince Rex, I've noticed that when he's deep in thought, he absentmindedly fiddles with his fingers, occasionally forgetting about the ring on his index finger.

I observed numerous details, but for now, I'll refrain from mentioning them all to avoid coming across as intrusive.

Prince Rex shifts his attention to his phone, dialing a number. "Hola, te llamé para avisarte que llegaré tarde a la entrevista de hoy. ¿puedes cancelarlo?”

I catch myself biting my lip, captivated by the allure of his voice speaking Spanish.

After concluding the call, he places his phone on the table and directs his gaze toward me. "Sorry, I had to cancel an interview; I'm certain I'll be running late."

"So, your travels are mostly for interviews and events?" I furrow my brow. "Don't you ever have fun?"

"Some interviews are entertaining; there's always that person who stutters, not funny because of the stuttering, but the constant apologies bring a smile to my face," he explains. "I attend more meetings than events, supporting my dad in his career and duties. Public and charitable events are also on my list."

"So, you don't truly live?" I inquire.

"No, I believe I do," he chuckles. "At least, sometimes. Being the crown prince means constant competition on how to outshine everyone, how to develop the country into the most powerful, how to be both feared and loved."

"Oh, I get it," I nod cautiously, avoiding revealing too much.

"See, it's all politics," he shrugs. "But that's life. Not everyone's good; there are bad people out there."

I sigh, acknowledging the undeniable truth in that statement. Despite our insistence that people are inherently good but capable of doing bad things, it's not entirely fair. How can we label a murderer as a good person who simply does bad things? Vincent Gillis and Jeffrey Dahmer serve as stark examples.

Can someone like Vincent Gillis or Jeffrey Dahmer truly be considered good people when their actions involve heinous crimes? I argue that true goodness lies in acknowledging wrongdoing, apologizing, and learning from those mistakes.

“You’re the only person who says that, and I respect you too much for it,” I admit with a smile, expressing a belief that goes against the notion that everyone is inherently good despite their actions. In the U.S., we often hear disturbing stories about serial killers who never seem to learn their lesson and meet tragic ends in prison.

“Some don’t even have sad childhood experiences,” Prince Rex adds, shaking his head in disbelief.

I gasp, pointing at him in agreement. “Exactly!”

Prince Rex cast a glance at the basket on the floor, inquiring, “What are you getting from here?”

“I’m purchasing a book for my sister, who’s obsessed with royal families,” I explained. “That’s why I chose this book.”

Retrieving the book, I presented it to him. “It's about a princess falling in love with her bodyguard. Please refrain from asking me questions about it, as I'm not familiar with the content.”

Prince Rex chuckled, taking the book from me and scanning the pages. “Your sister has a fondness for royal families?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “If she discovers I'm here with you, she'll be thrilled, especially since I invited her to join me. Interestingly, she believed the event held yesterday was scheduled for today.”

I recounted the mix-up, and he threw his head back in laughter. “That's genuinely adorable.”

"If she were five," I grinned, "What about you? How did this library catch your eye, and how did you end up getting trapped here?"

"We arrived in the States two days ago for the 'SOP' event. Once it concluded, my brother wanted to meet up with a friend he had met earlier. His friend used to live here but now resides elsewhere. Planning to visit family, he suggested Fairbanks as a meeting point."

While they were strolling around, Prince Rex got lost and ended up being chased by a group of people. Spotting the library, he assumed it was deserted, humorously commenting that, according to him, who still reads? (Not that I'm offended, by the way.)

Surprisingly, people followed him to the library, revealing that, contrary to his initial belief, people do still read.

"Now, I'm stuck here, missing an interview," he pauses as his phone rings. Excusing himself, he answers, "¿dónde estás? estoy en la biblioteca."

"No sé. La gente me perseguía, ¿qué crees que debería haber hecho?" From his tone, I sense his growing frustration, and I nervously fidget with my fingers.

Though I can speak Spanish, not fluently, I decipher that he's asking the person on the other end, "Where are you? I am at the library." Then he adds, "No. People were chasing me," and mentions other details I can't quite grasp.

He ends the call and rises, questioning, "Can you join me there?" Glancing at his phone, I see it's downtown and nod in agreement.

Standing up, I cautiously open the door, ensuring the coast is clear before signaling him to follow. Taking my basket, he trails behind. Glancing at it, I grin, "I'll retrieve these later. Don't worry, leave them here."

"No, don't let me hinder your book retrieval," he insists.

"We're short on time; they're after you, not me," I remind him. Prince Rex suggests paying for the delay, but I refuse, urging him to follow.

Exiting, we overhear some girls speculating about his whereabouts. Reacting swiftly, I press him against the wall and kiss him. He reciprocates, turning the tables until I am the one against the wall.

His hands cup my cheeks as he deepens the kiss, and reality hits: "I have a boyfriend."

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