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Classy ✧ Kai (S)

Prince Butrint Imeri of Kosovo.

Prince Yangyang Liu of Germany.

Prince twins Dolan of Italy.

Prince Felix Lee of Australia.

Prince Shen Ricky of China.

Prince Yuta Nakamoto and his step brother Yuto Adachi of Japan.

Prince Allen Ma of Taiwan.

Prince Joel Pimentel of Mexico.

Prince Mark Tuan of the United States.

Even Prince Mark Lee of Canada — in case the Canadian Mark was different.

Did you count?

14 princes.

Think the list is long? That's not the whole list, I'm just too tired to remember the rest. They weren't memorable anyway.

I now think you understand why my father would be desperate enough to go as far as letting his youngest daughter get married first. Anyhow, my little sister got to meet their heir, Jongin Kim, this afternoon and developed a liking for him a little too quick. He was known as a spoiled prince with all the pictures of him doing ridiculously expensive activities for no valid reason. Last week he burned stacks of money so he could have a 'pleasant' background for a picture.

From the moment I met this so-called prince I knew he wasn't worthy of being with my sister. I mean, the first seconds of him appearing, his father already scolded him. Jongin had had the audacity to wear casual clothing — which consisted of items from the upcoming Gucci collection that hadn't been released yet — in front of my family, knowing he'd meet my sister.

Rude.

If you're going to meet your future wife, who is a freaking princess of a great empire, the least you can do is put on formal attire and bow — it's called basic manners.

But the last straw was now. I couldn't bring myself to sleep and went out to the guest room's balcony. He had been in his balcony.

Accompanied by someone.

A lady whose face I recognized as one of the maids.

The two were standing a little too close to each other.

"Wear this for me," I heard him say.

He held up a collar.

How pathetic! Dominating one of the maids — where was the class in that? He's supposed to be a prince! This is not the man my sister should marry. I'll have to teach him how to behave. Quickly, I put on a nightgown — in case I run into someone in the hallway — and walked past dozens of doors until I saw one with light shining under the small crack between the door and floor. I knocked on the door as lightly as I could while still making enough noise for Jongin to hear all the way from the balcony — I'm a guest and don't want to wake anybody up, because I have manners as well as empathy for people with sleep deprivation.

I heard a few hushes and some rumbling behind the closed door. After a few seconds I heard steps nearing the door and he opened it. "Oh, it's you. What are you doing here?"

"To the side," I said and pushed him to the side so I could get in his room. It was huge and decorated with classy details and adornments. Didn't match his personality at all. He was panicked. I wasn't supposed to be in his room and especially right now. He didn't care if anybody spotted us together in his room — he'd put the blame on me. What he was worried about was the maid.

After wandering my eyes all over the place I found what I looked for. Gracefully I made my way to his prince-sized bed and sat down on the mattress made of clouds. He gulped. What was I doing? Let me tell you. Without breaking eye contact for a second, I put my hand on his bedside table and grabbed the leather collar. "What's this?" I asked cluelessly.