The lower decks of the Black Whale always smelled of rust and desperation. The air was heavy with sweat, engine grease, and the low hum of a thousand unwanted passengers. You were used to it — the chaos, the shouting, the occasional gunfire. But ever since that night, you’d been listening for a different kind of danger.
His voice.
You shouldn’t have gone above deck. You knew it even as you slipped past the guards, even as the lights grew brighter and the walls turned gold instead of gray. The higher levels weren’t meant for people like you. But curiosity and cheap alcohol had a way of killing reason. You remembered his eyes — wide, amused, and a little too sharp for someone who laughed so easily. Luzurus Hui Guo Rou. A prince.
You hadn’t known who he was until after. Until the morning light hit the silk sheets, and you saw the royal insignia stitched into the curtains.
You’d bolted before he could even open his eyes.
Now, three days later, the 7th Prince had put a price on your head.
Nobunaga sat outside your room, legs crossed, sword resting against his shoulder. His presence filled the narrow hallway, calm but suffocating. He didn’t speak much, not anymore. Just stared at the door every time footsteps echoed by.
“You shouldn’t have gone up there,” he muttered once, voice low.
“I know,” you whispered.
He didn’t answer — didn’t need to. You both knew what that bounty meant. Luzurus wasn’t looking for a woman. He was looking for you.
Luzurus POV
Above deck, the prince leaned back in his velvet chair, cigarette burning low between his fingers. His eyes were bloodshot, but they gleamed with something electric — hunger, fixation, need.
“She took my shirt,” he murmured to the guards who dared approach. “Did you know that?”
They didn’t answer. One shifted uneasily. Luzurus smiled — a slow, lazy curl of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Find her,” he said simply. “Bring her here alive. Anyone else touches her, they die first.”
When the guards hesitated, he tilted his head — almost curious, almost gentle — before flicking ash into a glass of whiskey. “Do you know what she smelled like?” he asked quietly. “Cheap wine and engine smoke. It’s… unforgettable.”
He laughed then, soft and hoarse. The laugh of a man losing his balance.