The Devil's Betrothed

The red-faced man crawled back to his feet. Arlan stood up as well, but the next moment, he saw that man fall back to the floor, ugly crying with tears and snot on his face.

"Ahh!!!"

Oriana had kicked that man between his legs with all her strength and had him rolling on the ground. Then, she pumped a fist in the air, causing the crowd around them to cheer and let out more boisterous laughter.

"Good job, young hero!"

"Admirable, admirable!"

"Cheers to the young hero!"

"Hey, I bet the boy would win. Give me five coppers—"

It appeared some even made a bet about the brawl. Her drunken self took the support of the table and roared, "Oi, old man, since I made you win, you have to buy me a drink from your winnings!"

Arlan was torn between laughter and tears. This woman was so brave and mercenary—she didn't need to be protected at all. Was there anyone like her among all the women he had met?

That man's friends saw his humiliation and were about to go to help their friend, but two knights appeared behind them with their swords threatening them and made them sit back. They were Imbert and Rafal. They could have gotten rid of the nuisance, but not only Arlan, even these two were shocked into admiration.

As a person who caught His Highness' eye, that young lad had a promising future indeed. Rafal even wondered if this gutsy boy would also be trained as one of the Crown Prince's trusted aides.

The server approached with a pitcher of alcohol. Oriana got it from him and took a swig straight from it. "You finally came! I was so thirsty!"

Only then did Arlan realize that Oriana was dead drunk. Though her appearance had no real changes, she seemed to have completely forgotten about his presence.

Upon noticing the poor man curled on the floor, she poured the rest of the beer in the pitcher on that man, especially around the area of his waist.

"Mister, are you hurt? You are hurt there badly? Alcohol can numb pain, you know? Here let me help you—" She then stopped as something caught her attention.

Under everyone's curious gaze, Oriana stumbled her way towards the wall which was just a few steps away from their table and grabbed the lantern hanging off a hook.

A brilliantly wicked smile spread across her pretty face as she brought it back towards the drunkard on the floor.

"Alcohol can numb the pain temporarily, but if we remove it, then you will never be in pain permanently, right? And if you don't have your thing, you can save up instead of paying prostitutes. This can also be considered revenge to my poor childhood friend—"

"That's enough, Orian."

Arlan shook his head while removing the lantern from her smaller hand.

It might be fun watching the drunk Oriana cause trouble, but he did not want her to go too far. As the person who allowed her to drink so much, he was responsible not only for her safety but also for her actions under the influence of alcohol. He would not let her do something she would regret once she sobered up.

The prince then gestured at Rafal before turning towards the tavern keeper manning the counter. "Give them a round of drinks, keeper. Everyone's drink will be on me tonight!"

Another round of cheers erupted from the crowd, and just like that, Oriana's little episode was forgotten by the people. Arlan quietly brought her out of the tavern.

The moment they stepped out, Oriana staggered into Arlan's embrace. He asked, "Let me take you back home. Where do you live, Orian?"

Under the dim lights offered by the streetlamps, Oriana didn't answer and instead tried to push him away. Arlan let her go. With her heavy lidded eyes, she stared at him straight in the eye.

"Oh, blue eyes. Why are they deep blue…?" She reached out to cup his face, admiring his handsome looks, only for her lips to curl into a scowl the next second. "You…you brat, I recognize you! You didn't bring my knife?"

She was about to lose her balance when she let go of his face, but Arlan held her by the arm.

She pushed him away. "You spoiled brat do you know how important that knife is? How dare you forget to return it? You bully! You liar! You—"

She didn't seem like she was even aware of what she was doing, but Arlan was sure if she would remember her actions tonight, she would be too embarrassed to show her face again.

"I will give your knife back once—."

"...If I knew you would punish me, I would have stabbed you a hundred more times, you brat of a noble!"

He raised a brow. "You dare?"

"I dare, I dare! Wait, but where is my knife? How can I stab you without my knife? Oh, I know now. You sly fox, you took my knife so I can't stab you, huh?" She then used her finger to poke him repeatedly in the chest. "But you don't know something! I can use my magic, hmph! I can stab you with magic. Like this, like this—"

Oriana continued to jab her finger repeatedly on Arlan's chest. With her brows creased, she looked at her fingers and tried a few more times. At this point, she was slapping her palms over Arlan's muscular chest.

If Arlan didn't know how intoxicated she was, he would have thought she was taking advantage of his royal body.