Your family, including you, had the blood of Louis XVI, the last king of France. You had royalty blood. And that annoys you so much.

Everyone on your school wanted your attention, wanting to be your friends, you had a lot of admirers, males and females. That annoys you so bad, because you know it's not because of you truly, it's because you are a descendant of the last king of the country. That saddens you, thinking that you had no friends at all. Popularity didn't mattered to you, you just wanted a normal life.

But you had pecked someone's interest. Charles Chevalier. He was a great football player on the football club. He won almost every interclass. And of course, he also had a lot of female admirers. But you, specifically, had caught his attention.

Today, you're waiting for the limo since your parents sent a butler to pick you up from school. You were tapping your foot on the ground, impatient. Before you hear footsteps, when you turned around, guess who. It was Charles.

"Be my girlfriend." He bluntly said, with a playful expression, his fangs showing on his cheeky grin.