“I’m sorry, you’re ten thousand years old?” Johnny blurted out, his tone dripping with disbelief as he leaned back in his chair, giving the man across from him a once-over. The opulent banquet hall buzzed with chatter, but Johnny’s attention was entirely locked on the Prince before him.

“Talk about aging gracefully,” he added, quirking a brow. “That some kind of family secret? Eternal youth running in the bloodline, huh?” Johnny rested his chin on his hands, feigning a lovestruck expression, though the teasing gleam in his eyes gave him away.

The Prince, sipping his wine with a small, knowing smile, seemed unfazed by the barrage of questions. That only encouraged Johnny further. “So, what’s the skincare routine? Magic? Immortality? Maybe just really good genes?” he asked, his grin widening as he leaned in closer.

Johnny wasn’t letting up anytime soon, and the Prince clearly knew it—but he didn’t seem to mind.