Chapter 14
============================================================
============================================================
Chapter 15: Does This Even Count as a Date?
The delicate, fluttery mood that had been building around Classie evaporated the moment the door swung open. An intruder marched in, shattering the atmosphere. It was always this particular individual who managed to ruin the timing.
Kishin didn’t immediately send him packing, which left Classie feeling a pang of irritation. She couldn’t understand why he allowed Dernick to stomp into his private office so freely, even if they were close. However, since the master of the room didn’t seem to mind the intrusion, Classie felt it wasn’t her place to demand his exit. Suppressing her annoyance, she looked at the newcomer.
“What brings you around? Planning to walk off with something else today?”
“I didn’t come to take anything,” she replied, masking her sour mood. “Actually, I brought something.”
Dernick let out a solitary, mocking laugh. “You mean that pile of weeds?”
Classie glanced toward Kishin, silently pleading for him to eject the pest, but Kishin had buried himself in his paperwork the second Dernick crossed the threshold.
“Why the delivery? A gift for Kishin? That’s a change of pace.”
Dernick was the only one fueling the conversation.
Classie felt trapped in a frustrating spot. Had they been alone, she would have relished telling Dernick exactly what was happening—that Kishin had sent those flowers, she was here to secure a romantic evening, and he needed to vanish immediately. But with Kishin sitting right there, she felt too self-conscious to bring up the bouquet or the prospect of a date. She worried Kishin might prefer to keep their private business quiet.
“The flowers came from me.”
As if he could sense her internal struggle, Kishin spoke up, offering the truth at the perfect moment. Classie’s expression brightened instantly as she turned her attention to him. Kishin finally set his pen aside and rose from his chair.
Dernick’s curiosity only sharpened. “Why?”
“Because I acted with poor judgment and lacked manners,” Kishin explained.
“Tsk. You really shouldn’t behave that way,” Dernick teased.
“That applies to you as well.”
Kishin ignored his friend’s smirk and reached for a long gray coat hanging on the rack. The moment he slid it over his shoulders, he looked like the definition of a refined gentleman. Classie found herself staring in awe. While he was striking in his military uniform, the coat gave him an entirely different, sophisticated allure. His fashion sense was flawless.
When Kishin offered his arm to lead her out, Classie shook off her daze and her annoyance with Dernick. She moved to his side, resting her hand against him.
Dernick, however, wasn’t finished. Despite his constant questioning, he had received nothing but cold shoulders, and his frustration was beginning to show in his arching brows. As they moved toward the exit, his mischievous streak took over, and he began trailing them like a shadow.
“Explain why the lady who sells weapons is here and why you’re sending her dead plants, or I’m following you the whole night.”
“Be my guest,” Kishin replied, completely unfazed by the threat.
“Seriously? You don’t care if I tag along?”
Dernick seemed thrilled by the challenge and forced himself right between the two of them. The sudden shove disconnected Classie from Kishin’s arm, sending her stumbling toward the door frame. She blinked, leaning against the wood in a daze, trying to figure out what had just occurred.
Before she could recover, Dernick grabbed her hand to steady her and—incredibly—offered his own arm as if he were her escort.
“I have no clue what’s happening, but this is a blast. Where are we heading?”
Classie looked from his hand up to his face, then past him to Kishin. Kishin looked annoyed, his brow furrowed, but he made no move to physically remove the man. Disappointment washed over her. She had envisioned a romantic outing, but this was turning into a farce. This was no date.
She shot a sharp look at Dernick. The man was a total buffoon. He reminded her of a male version of Merran, sticking to them like glue for no reason at all.
Eventually, the trio arrived at Kishin’s preferred coffee house. The staff greeted Kishin with the warmth reserved for a regular, but their eyes widened when they saw his companions. They recognized Dernick, but seeing Kishin with a woman was a rare event. As they were led to a table, the barista looked like they were bursting with gossip, desperate to tell the rest of the staff that Kishin had arrived at night with a stunning companion.
Instead of his usual small corner, Kishin requested a larger table to accommodate the group. They were seated in a spot where the evening glow cast a pleasant light over everything. However, the seating arrangement quickly became another source of stress.
The moment she and Kishin tried to sit, Dernick slid into the seat directly beside her. Classie, who had been smoothing out her dress, stopped and stared at him, her mouth agape.
“What are you doing sitting there?” she blurted out.
“If I sat across from you, it would just make things awkward, right?” Dernick answered with total confidence.
“Absolutely not!”
Classie wanted to tell him that he was nothing more than a nuisance—a human leech. She didn’t care where he sat, even if he decided to dangle from the rafters. She bit back the harsh words, not wanting to cause a scene in front of Kishin.
“Look at this,” Kishin said, sliding the menu toward her and giving Dernick a pointed look to move. Dernick simply ignored the cue.
Classie suddenly realized why Merran had seemed interested in this man. They were cut from the same cloth. They were both parasites.
Trying to ignore him, she focused on the food. “I’ll take the soft crab.”
The parasite couldn’t help but chime in. “Lady Dealer, that’s a spicy one. Can you even handle the heat? I heard you don’t like spicy food.”
Classie narrowed her eyes. “Who told you that?” She wondered if Merran had been talking behind her back.
“But look at your other choices,” Dernick said, pointing to the milder items she had been considering.
Classie gripped the menu, realizing the man was uncomfortably observant.
“I actually enjoy spice,” she said, her voice dropping an octave. “I just avoid it in public because I struggle with it.” She ended up switching her choice to one of his suggestions anyway.
As they waited for the meal, the two men began discussing matters involving the capital guards. Classie started off sulking, mourning the loss of her private time with Kishin. She had hoped for meaningful glances and soft conversation, all of which were now impossible.
But as the talk continued, her curiosity about Dernick grew. She couldn’t figure out if he was actually a guard. His clothes, his flippant attitude, and his past behavior didn’t fit the mold, yet his knowledge of their inner workings was extensive.
“Are you in the guard as well?” she asked.
“No,” Kishin said.
“Yes,” Dernick said.
They answered simultaneously. Naturally, she believed Kishin, but she kept her eyes on him for a follow-up. She knew Dernick was a natural liar and wanted the truth from the source she trusted.
Surprisingly, Kishin went quiet. He took a napkin and began folding it with meticulous care, casting a strange, unreadable look at his friend. It felt as though he was waiting for Dernick to explain himself.
Classie felt a chill of uneess. Why the hesitation? Kishin had denied he was a guard, but now he wouldn’t say who the man actually was. Was his identity a secret?
Classie came from the House of Kalashi—a noble family with a respectable history. If Kishin felt he couldn’t reveal a friend’s identity even to her, something was wrong. She remembered how Dernick had once pretended to be a high-ranking officer and faced zero repercussions. Even for a friend, that kind of protection was extreme.
A sudden, terrifying thought struck her. Could this man actually be royalty?
