The Crown Prince's Courtesan - Chapter 18
Russell had his own excuses.
‘I can’t let her fall so easily.’
Yes, a person feels the greatest despair only after they’ve climbed high enough to see the view from the top.
There were plenty of sordid Alphas scouted inside the club. She would be sold to one of them, thrown into a hopeless life, suffocating in filth and luxury.
And yet, before he knew it, Russell had already requested a visit to the club himself.
Even his chamberlain had voiced concern back then.
‘Your Highness… There’s no need for you to see it yourself. Just visiting a place like that might invite unwanted rumors.’
It was a fair point. Russell himself found it ridiculous.
Why go out of his way? Why did he want to see her?
Was it simply to confirm the despair in her eyes — to witness how far she had fallen? Was this not another form of unwanted attention? Was he not obsessing over Marie Alphrose far more than he should?
He didn’t want to admit it. But deep down, he knew exactly what his twisted mind wanted.
Russell was the crown prince. If he wished it, no one could stop him.
So he acted on impulse. He went to the club and there, he saw her again.
She was no longer the haughty Academy student. She had become something else entirely.
A courtesan.
A pitiful, expensive mistress.
This was supposed to be the time — the moment he finally saw Marie Alphrose’s despair. He had been expecting it, looking forward to it even.
And yet, Russell let out a slow breath.
Whether it was anger, or something far more insidious, he couldn’t say. But the sensation iced over his chest like frost.
Unintentionally, his feral Alpha pheromones swept across the floor, curling toward the woman’s feet.
She visibly flinched. The Omega had noticed. Russell stared at her back, as if to bore holes through it. A surge of fury — or something close to it — flooded his veins.
Why?
What was it about her?
‘You, why…’
She hadn’t changed. Those piercing golden eyes were still the same — vivid, clear, and untouched by shame or fear. Not a trace of a wound.
A hollow laugh slipped from his mouth.
How much would it take to break her completely? Would selling her, turning her into a courtesan, truly shatter her soul?
Somewhere in his mind, Russell knew this went beyond anger. It was the worst kind of obsession, but he refused to name it. He would see it through. This dogged determination to witness her collapse with his own eyes — he would follow it to the end.
He would buy her.
Keep her by his side.
Become the master of that Omega, and push her off the edge himself.
If he could do that — if he could watch her soul rip to pieces, see her crumble, beg, regret the past — then, maybe then…
He’d be at peace.
‘That’ll be the day I finally sleep.’
His mother and his beloved fiancée would find peace, too.
“Still, Your Highness, are you certain she’s a dominant Omega?”
“She is.”
“What a coincidence. I suppose that means that woman is a match to Your Highness’s pheromones. Are you truly all right with that? If her scent happens to be compatible with yours…”
“…”
The concern in his aide’s eyes was unmistakable.
Dominant Omegas were exceedingly rare — as rare as an ultra-dominant Alpha like Russell himself. Which was precisely why bonds between such pairs were dangerous and utterly unbreakable.
And yet, knowing full well the source of the man’s unease, Russell’s thoughts drifted back to that moment in the club.
‘When her pheromones hit me.’
It had been utterly, disturbingly wrong.
He was the Crown Prince — raised and trained from birth to master his impulses, to suppress even the smallest ripple of emotion.
And yet, when Marie Alphrose unconsciously released her scent, he felt like a starved hound and had all but licked the pheromones off the floor. His mind had snapped.
‘It wasn’t like me.’
His body, cold and unmoving like a slab of stone, had lurched into motion. It was as though instinct itself had screamed at him to close the distance — go to her. His stomach burned with hunger, the kind he had never known before. It was as if prey had stepped willingly into the lion’s den.
A chilling certainty whispered in his bones.
That woman, the daughter of his enemy, was, revoltingly enough, perfectly matched to him. It was as though a lost piece had just slotted into place…
Russell’s lips curled into a cold sneer.
So what if she was?
No matter what value her body might hold, Marie Alphrose could never and would never become a noble jewel. Not in his eyes.
“Besides, don’t her eyes remind you of…”
Russell’s composure fractured. He could bear no more.
No, it hadn’t been love but when he was young, his betrothed had been dear to him — A sister-like presence, warm and precious.
And now someone dared suggest that this woman had eyes like hers?
Russell glared at his chamberlain, not fully aware of why his discomfort had flared into something so visceral.
The loyal old man stiffened under his master’s gaze. Why is he so angry? he seemed to wonder, silently.
“Y-Your Highness…”
“Steward. How long must I indulge your insolence? You’ve been overstepping all day.”
“…Forgive me, Your Highness. I was out of line with my concern. Please pardon the discourtesy. I shall not mention her again.”
Russell clenched his jaw. There was only one outcome. That woman would be dragged through hell. And he would watch her break. Slowly. Thoroughly. With satisfaction.
That was enough.
Between her and him, there would be nothing else.
