Lee's cheek stung like he'd been slapped by a brick, the sharp burn lingering as he rubbed it, his jaw practically on the floor. The girl, his sister?, stormed out, her footsteps echoing like gunshots on the polished wooden floor.
Sister? Since when did he have a sister? His mind was a blender, thoughts spinning into a chaotic mess. Last thing he remembered, he was slipping off a rain-soaked ladder, his neck snapping like a twig, blood pooling under him as the world went dark. Now he was here, in some fancy-ass room on a bed softer than anything he'd ever slept on, with a girl who looked like she belonged on a magazine cover calling him a perv. None of this made sense.
He blinked, taking in the room for the first time. It was huge, like something out of a Netflix period drama, with high ceilings and walls draped in deep blue velvet curtains. A chandelier hung overhead, crystals glinting in the soft light, throwing rainbows across the room. The bed was massive, carved from dark wood, with silk sheets that felt like they cost more than his mom's car.
Wherever this was, it wasn't his cramped house with its leaky roof and secondhand furniture. He shifted, the mattress molding to him like a hug, and for a second, he wondered if he'd hit his head and was dreaming all this. But the sting on his cheek felt too real, and so did the pounding in his chest.
The door creaked open, and Lee's head snapped up. A woman stepped in, older but drop-dead gorgeous, like she'd walked out of a royal portrait. Her hair was swept up in an elegant bun, streaked with silver that only made her look more regal, like a queen in a fantasy novel.
Her dress was all flowy silk, deep emerald green, catching the light as she moved. But her eyes, soft, warm, and brimming with something heavy, like she'd been sad for days, locked onto him, and Lee felt his throat tighten. She called him "my son" in a voice so tender it made his chest ache, then rushed forward, enveloping him in a hug that smelled faintly of jasmine and something expensive, like old-money perfume.
"Lee, oh, my sweet boy," she murmured, her arms tight around him, her cheek pressed against his hair. "I was so worried. You're awake, thank the gods. I thought I'd lost you."
Lee froze, his arms hovering awkwardly before settling on her back. He kept his lips firmly shut this time, no way he was risking another slap. Son? Son? His mom was back home, probably still at the hospital, not this regal lady who looked like she belonged in a castle.
But the way she held him, like he was the most precious thing in the world, made his heart do a weird flip. He wanted to believe her, to sink into the warmth of her embrace, but his brain was screaming that something was seriously off. Was this a prank? A fever dream? Had he actually died and ended up in some alternate reality?
He pulled back slightly, searching her face for answers. "Uh… what happened?" he asked, his voice cracking like he was 13 again. "Like, how'd I get here? What's going on?"
The woman, his mom, apparently, frowned, her perfectly arched brows knitting together. "You were poisoned, Lee," she said softly, her voice trembling like she was reliving something awful. "We don't know who did it, not for certain. The healers worked day and night to save you. You've been unconscious for days."
Lee's jaw dropped, his mind reeling. Poisoned? He wasn't some medieval noble; he was just a high school kid who couldn't even get off the bench! Before he could respond, another voice cut through the room, sharp and defiant. "Oh, we know who did it," said a girl standing in the doorway, her tone dripping with attitude. "It was the queen. Everyone's knows it."
Lee's head whipped toward her, and his breath caught. She was a straight-up bombshell beauty. Her hair was a cascade of dark curls, her eyes fierce and glinting like she was ready to throw hands. Her outfit was some kind of leather-and-metal getup, like a fantasy warrior crossed with a runway model, hugging curves that made Lee's face heat up. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her expression a mix of annoyance and confidence that screamed she didn't take crap from anyone.
The woman, Lee's supposed mom, gasped, her face paling. "Lara, hush!" she hissed, her voice low but urgent. She sprang to her feet, moving with a grace that didn't match the panic in her eyes, and hurried to the door.
She glanced down the hall, then shut it with a soft click, her hands trembling slightly. "That's treason to say out loud, child. You know better than to speak such things where anyone could hear."
Lara rolled her eyes, unfazed, and sauntered further into the room. "Treason?" she scoffed, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "It's also treason for the queen to poison the prince, but nobody's calling her out, are they?"
Lee's brain short-circuited. Prince? Did she just say prince? His heart was doing backflips now, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He was a prince? And someone, some queen, tried to poison him? He stared at Lara, then at the woman who called herself his mom, trying to piece it together. And who the hell was this girl, anyway? She was standing there, all fire and attitude, looking like she could bench press him and still have energy to slay a dragon. He needed answers, stat.
"Uh, hold up," Lee said, his voice shaky as he pointed at Lara. "Who's she?" He cringed at how dumb he sounded, but he couldn't help it. His head was spinning, and this girl was way too hot to be standing there casually while his whole world turned upside down.
The woman, his mom, tilted her head, her expression shifting from worry to confusion. "Lee, are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with concern. "Did the poison affect your memories? That's Lara, your personal guard. She's been with you since you were a boy."
Lee let out an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh, maybe the poison messed me up a bit," he mumbled, his face burning. Personal guard? This goddess was his guard?
He stole another glance at Lara, his eyes trailing over her, those curves, that confident smirk, the way her leather armor hugged her like it was custom-made.
His gaze lingered a little too long on her chest, checking out her jiggly melons and he immediately regretted it when he caught her staring back, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, and Lee's face went nuclear, his blush probably visible from space.
"S-sorry," he stammered, looking away, his heart pounding like he'd just run a sprint. Lara's lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile, but she didn't say anything, just crossed her arms tighter, making her, uh, assets, stand out even more. Lee forced his eyes to the ceiling, praying his new "mom" didn't notice the vibe.
The woman, oblivious to the awkward tension, sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Lee, you must be careful," she said, her voice low and serious. "As a prince, you're in a delicate position. Being my son, a concubine's son, makes you a target. The queen and her supporters… they don't look kindly on you. They never have.