But… did the System really have to handle things in such an absurdly awful way?
It was like it was trying to make the Crown Prince hate him—while still forcing them to grow closer. Was the Main System suffering from some kind of split personality?
“I apologize, Your Highness,” Chi Zhan said at last. “I didn’t think it through.”
Zhou Yanxing tossed the bill aside and glanced at Laiyi, who was watching the spectacle with far too much amusement. A single look was enough to send him away.
Laiyi grinned.
“He’s just a student, Your Highness. No need to be so harsh. Wouldn’t want to make him cry.”
“Mind your own damn business,” Zhou Yanxing said coolly.
Laiyi shrugged and shot Chi Zhan a helpless look—that universal expression of “you’re on your own now, good luck.” He added with a smirk, “The Crown Prince’s nickname in the military is pretty infamous, you know. They call him Demon King Zhou. No one’s ever walked away from one of his lectures without crying. Guess that’s what happens when an old Alpha stays single too long—those hormones have nowhere to go!”
He rattled it all off in a single breath and made a quick getaway before Zhou Yanxing could react.
Once Laiyi was gone, Zhou Yanxing remained silent. Chi Zhan had never been good at easing tension, and Laiyi’s parting joke only made things feel even more off—like they’d somehow wandered into an awkward matchmaking setup.
“Do you understand what you did wrong?” Zhou Yanxing asked at last.
Chi Zhan answered earnestly, “I shouldn’t have gotten into a fight.”
“Wrong. If he threw the first punch, hitting back was the right call.”
“Then… maybe I shouldn’t have caused damage to the bar? Destroyed too much?”
“If someone’s trying to provoke you, who gives a damn about property damage?” Zhou Yanxing’s voice was icy. “Put him in the ground first. We’ll worry about the bill later.”
“Then…” Chi Zhan faltered, clearly lost. After a pause, he asked, “Would Your Highness please tell me?”
“First,” Zhou Yanxing said, “drinking with strange men in a place like this—what if he tried to get you drunk? What if he had other intentions?”
Chi Zhan thought silently: Wasn’t I the one trying to get him drunk? Did he mix us up? But he still nodded obediently.
“Second,” Zhou Yanxing continued, “when something like this happens, why didn’t you contact me? Did you think you could handle it alone?”
“I didn’t have your… contact info,” Chi Zhan replied truthfully.
Zhou Yanxing arched a brow.
“You didn’t check the matching system messages?”
Chi Zhan had only skimmed them. He opened his system interface and, sure enough, found an unread message sitting in his inbox—the Crown Prince’s personal contact, sent by the Central Matching System.
Apparently, this was standard: since most matched AO pairs were strangers, the system allowed both sides to exchange personal details for easier communication.
But as a Beta, Chi Zhan had no clue about any of that. He’d missed the second message entirely.
Zhou Yanxing looked like he couldn’t believe he’d been brushed off. He pressed his fingers to his temple, the picture of exasperation.
Chi Zhan glanced at him, then hesitantly voiced the question that had been weighing on his mind.
“Your Highness, aren’t you… surprised? That the one you matched with isn’t an Omega?”
“This isn’t some blind date. Why should I be surprised?” Zhou Yanxing leaned back, resting one arm along the chair. “This match wasn’t based on pheromone compatibility. It was decided based on mental fortitude, decision-making ability, and intelligence. If it hadn’t been you, then I’d be surprised.”
“……”
“It was supposed to be announced the day the match was confirmed. But since you’re not fond of grand displays, no one will know until after you graduate. Enjoy the rest of your school life. Once it’s over, you’ll be stepping into a very important role.” Zhou Yanxing’s voice was relaxed, unbothered. “I hope you’re ready. And I hope you’ll be the only secretary I ever need—for life.”
For life…
Those two words struck Chi Zhan like a thunderclap.
But… a lifetime?
Impossible.
Since Laiyi had left, the Crown Prince’s mood had noticeably eased. That murderous aura from earlier had vanished, and he no longer looked like he was seconds away from tearing someone apart. A server silently placed a bottle of infamous liquor before them—rumored to be so potent that a single sip could knock a man out for three days.
Zhou Yanxing didn’t bat an eye. He took a light sip, showing no sign of intoxication, and said, “Add my contact info now.”
“Yes, sir,” Chi Zhan replied obediently.
Only then did he notice that Zhou Yanxing was dressed in formal military dress uniform—clearly tailored for high-level banquets. The luxurious material was unmistakable, the cut accentuating his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and well-defined chest.
He was… ridiculously handsome.
Clink. Zhou Yanxing tapped his glass against the table.
“You do know the royal secretary must remain single, right?”
“I… do,” Chi Zhan said, hesitating.
He’d memorized the Royal Secretary Code back when he first applied.
The royal selection process was infamously strict. Candidates were evaluated on their personal qualifications, family background, social behavior. They had to remain single, avoid messy entanglements, maintain clean friendships, be free of debt, disciplinary actions, or any record of assaulting Alphas or Betas—
The list went on and on.
Ironically, the royal family itself was no stranger to scandal, and many had ridiculed the double standard.
So why bring it up now—something so unrelated?
A strange sense of foreboding settled in Chi Zhan’s chest.
Unfortunately, his instincts were rarely wrong. Whenever this feeling hit… it usually meant trouble was coming.
“Very good,” Zhou Yanxing nodded. “Then next—we need to settle another matter.”
Is this still about the fight? Or the damage? But the Prince had already said those weren’t issues.
Then what was it?
“As for…” Zhou Yanxing’s lips curved into a slow, ambiguous smile as he fixed his gaze on Chi Zhan. “That little romantic fling you seemed to have with my fourth brother—care to explain?”
