[ESTELLE]
Stalking Damien in Frizkiel wasn't just difficult—it was an Olympic-level event.
Forget scaling mountains or swimming across turbulent seas; tailing that man through the busiest city in the kingdom required unparalleled patience, stealth, and, apparently, the ability to look like a complete lunatic.
First of all, Frizkiel was massive, a labyrinth of twisting streets, bustling markets, and alleys that seemed to exist solely to confuse me. And Damien? He was fast—annoyingly fast. One second, he was casually walking along a cobblestone street, and the next, he'd duck into some obscure shop buying crystal lizard hats or something equally bizarre. How did he even find these places?
To blend in, I decided to go "incognito." A long cloak, a scarf wrapped around my face, and a pair of oversized goggles (don't ask where I got them).
Did I look suspicious? Absolutely. Did it help? Not at all. At one point, a street performer mistook me for a fellow entertainer and asked if I wanted to join their act.
But the worst part? Damien seemed to have a sixth sense for being watched. Every time I thought I was closing in, he'd stop abruptly and glance over his shoulder. Cue me throwing myself behind barrels, carts, and once—regrettably—a cabbage stand. The vendor was not pleased.
"Miss, are you planning to buy something, or are you just here to crush my dreams?" he huffed as I tried to pretend I wasn't covered in squashed cabbages.
"I'm, uh, browsing," I stammered, peeking out to see Damien disappearing around another corner.
This continued for hours. HOURS. At one point, I considered giving up and letting fate handle it, but no. I was Estelle Fay Johnson, and I never give up. I was committed. Even if my feet were aching, my dignity was in shreds, and I smelled faintly of cabbage.
The funniest (and most humiliating) moment came when Damien suddenly doubled back. I panicked and dove into the nearest doorway, only to realize too late that it was a bakery. The aroma of fresh bread hit me like a truck, and my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.
Damien walked past, glanced briefly into the shop, and smirked. Did he know I was there? Was that smirk for me? I clutched a loaf of bread like it was a lifeline and tried to look inconspicuous. Spoiler alert: I failed.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted, starving, and questioning all my life choices. Stalking Damien wasn't just difficult—it was like playing chess with a master while blindfolded. But as I watched him finally settle at a quiet café, his expression softening as he sipped his tea, I couldn't help but think it was worth it.
Because Damien wasn't just a man. He was my forever. And I, Estelle, was determined to solve him—even if it meant smelling like cabbage for the rest of my life.
Finally. After hours of sweat, tears, and the lingering smell of cabbage clinging to my cloak, I had my chance. My once-in-a-lifetime, perfectly staged yet totally-not-staged romantic encounter with Damien!
There he was, sitting in a quiet café on the corner of Frizkiel's busiest square, sipping tea like he wasn't the most irritatingly mysterious—and frustratingly handsome—man in the city. The golden glow of the setting sun highlighted his sharp features, and for a brief moment, I forgot why I was hiding behind a suspiciously large potted fern.
This was it. Showtime!
I emerged from my hiding spot with all the grace of a cat caught in a bath, nearly knocking the fern over in the process. With a quick pat-down of my cloak to ensure I didn't look like I'd just rolled out of a cabbage cart (even though I had), I sauntered—yes, sauntered—over to him. Casual, like I just happened to be in the neighborhood.
"Oh! Damien? Is that you?" I exclaimed, throwing in a wide-eyed look of surprise for good measure. "Wow, what a coincidence!"
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Estelle."
His tone was neutral, but I wasn't deterred. I plopped down in the chair across from him like I owned the place. "Fancy seeing you here! Small world, isn't it?"
Damien set his cup down, studying me with that infuriatingly calm demeanor. "Frizkiel has a population of over two million."
"Exactly! What are the odds?" I waved my hand dramatically, nearly hitting a passing waiter, who glared at me. Undeterred, I leaned in with what I hoped was a dazzling smile.
"You know what?" I said, snapping my fingers as if the idea had just come to me. "Let me buy you something! Anything you want. My treat." Enjoy exclusive chapters from My Virtual Library Empire
Damien's eyebrow climbed higher. "Why?"
"Because . . ." I paused, fumbling for a reason that didn't scream I've been stalking you all day. "Because couples do nice things for each other! And you, Damien, are my . . . future husband to be."
I could feel my soul cringing, but I powered through.
Damien stared at me for a long moment, and I braced myself for rejection. But then, he smirked—a small, barely-there curve of his lips that sent my heart into overdrive. "I don't know about the husband part but I will take you up for the free threats. I'll have the most expensive item on the menu."
My confidence faltered. "The most expensive . . . ?"
He picked up the menu, flipping it open with the precision of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. "They have a truffle-stuffed pheasant dish here. It's . . . 300 gold."
Three. Hundred. Gold.
"Not dollars?"
Damien's lips curled into a small, almost smug smile as he leaned his head against his hand, clearly entertained. "Frizkiel is rich in gold and precious stones, so sometimes, we pay in gold here."
"I-Is that so?" My voice wavered slightly, but I quickly forced a cheerful tone.
He raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident. "Is that a problem?"
I swallowed hard, maintaining the brightest, most confident smile I could muster. "Of course not! Nothing's too expensive for my—uh, future hubby!"
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Damien blinked, and his smile widened into something dangerously close to a grin. "Future hubby, hmm?"
I beamed. "That's right. You and I are destined for each other. If you say yes right now, we can get our marriage certificate."
Damien didn't reply, but his eyes sparkled with mirth as he gestured to the waiter.
Meanwhile, I did a quick mental inventory of my jewelry pouch. I had a few gold pieces and some semi-precious stones—surely enough to cover a meal, right? Surely.
This was fine. Totally fine. Nothing like casually betting my financial stability on impressing Damien. I have all the money in the world. What could possibly go wrong?