I'm Tired of Transmigrating but He's still Obsessed with Me

The banquet wasn't over yet.

Why was the crown prince here?

Weiran forced himself to remain still, keeping his head lowered like any proper servant.

Yet, the Emperor did not move. His golden eyes studied him.

"Who do you serve?"

Weiran's mind raced. Lying was pointless—if the crown primce had stopped him, he already knew something was amiss.

He decided to act the fool.

With a trembling bow, he replied, "T-this lowly one is under the Duke's service, Your Highness."

....

The silence stretched, pinching Weiran more with each passing second.

"Is that so?", amusement flickered in the crown prince's eyes.

F_ck, what does that even mean?

Duke Yin, take responsibility for your servants. Would you?

The moment he took a step forward, Weiran bolted, leaving everybody in fright.

His body had moved on instinct, slipping into the shadows of the corridors, heart pounding like crazy. He knew the routes, knew which corners to take and more importantly, he knew he couldn't outrun palace guards.

But he didn't need to.

He just needed to reach the Duke's carriages.

As simple as that. But for someone who had dropped a bolt from the blue right in front of none other than His Highness himself, making an unobstructed escape wouldn't have been easy.

Behind him, he heard the echo of slow footsteps.

His Highness wasn't chasing him. He was following.

Enjoying this.

Weiran gritted his teeth as he slid past a side gate and ran toward the waiting convoy, only a few more steps, only a few more—

But a shadow moved in front of him.

A firm hand gripped his wrist, twisting him around.

A breath escaped him as he collided into something solid, His Highness.

--

The grip on his wrist was firm but not painful. The crown prince stood too close, his scent a mix of sandalwood and something distinctly sharp, intoxicating.

The chill of the night air contrasted against the warmth of his body.

For the first time, Weiran saw him up close. Golden eyes, sharp jawline, the faintest smirk on his lips.

"I must commend you," he murmured. "You nearly succeeded."

Weiran swallowed hard. He could act dumb, play the victim, claim innocence, but something about those eyes told him it wouldn't work.

Weiran had already danced into his trap.

So instead, he tilted his head and grinned. The same old tactic.

"Well, Your Highness," he sighed dramatically, "a hostage's got to have some entertainment, right?"

The crown prince laughed amusingly.

His grip tightened slightly, and he leaned in, voice low, brushing against Weiran's ear.

"Unfortunately for you," he whispered, "I quite enjoy watching my prey run."

Weiran's breath hitched.

Oh crap-

For a second, he considered thrashing, struggling but that would be frame him using violence against a royalty.

I don't want to be hunted, man. I just want to be free..

Actually no, if he wanted to escape, he needed something smarter.

And so, he did the most natural thing.

He stumbled.

His body suddenly sagged, with a soft, broken gasp, he collapsed backward. His eyes first squinted, then shut close and mouth was agape.

The prince's grip tightened instantly, a sharp inhale slipping past his lips as he instinctively tried to catch him.

But Weiran had planned for this.

At the last moment, he shifted his weight, throwing himself back hard enough that the prince's grasp slipped.

A loud thud echoed through the courtyard as he hit the ground.

He threw himself so hard, that the sound catched the nearby servant's attention and they rushed forward to see someone in the dark.

"W-what happened?!"

"Did the someone… faint?"

Weiran kept his eyes shut, his breathing slow and shallow.

"He's unconscious, Your-your Highness.." a voice whispered in concern.

Another one spoke up, bowing respectfully but firm, "Your Highness, please, let us take care of him. You shouldn't trouble yourself over a lowly servant."

The crown prince's jaw tightened, his golden eyes staring at Weiran's still body to the servants already crowding around him.

Weiran fought the urge to smirk.

Victory.

As they carried him away, he dared to crack one eye open, just for a second.

The prince hadn't moved.

He stood still, arms crossed, the faintest of smirks on his lips.

Golden eyes watching him, amused and unbothered.

Weiran's stomach twisted.

Damn it.

The moment they laid him on a mat in a servant's room, hands started pressing against his forehead and wrist, checking his pulse and temperature.

A guard who had come along, put his own robe around him, guessing he was cold.

"His..breathing is shallow…"

"Someone get water."

"I'm fine," Weiran abruptly sat up, making the servants jump.

One of them gasped. "B-but you just fainted!"

Fainted-?! Hah!

"Ah, I must've been dehydrated." He exhaled dramatically. "I haven't had water in two days."

A chorus of horrified gasps followed.

"T-two days?!"

Weiran ignored them, rushing to the kitchen and grabbing a cup of water. He drank it down in one go purely for the act of course, before wiping his mouth like nothing had happened.

"There. All better." He clapped his hands, flashing a lazy grin. "I should get back to work now."

The servants gawked at him in disbelief.

"Wait, but—"

Too late. He had already left.

Slipping into the hallways, Weiran made his way toward the servants' passageway.

His new disguise—a palace guard's robe hung comfortably on his shoulders.

It had been easy. The guard who carried him earlier had gotten too close. A quick swap of robes, a bold stride, and now…

Freedom.

The cold night air called to him, so close he could almost taste it.

But the joy it brought, he would be one with the wind, free and bold in just next few minutes.

With a calm, measured pace, he walked toward the exit. Not rushing, not hesitating. Just another guard finishing his shift.

Three more steps.

Two.

One—

A firm arm snaked around his waist.

A deep chuckle brushed against his ear, slow and mocking.

"I'll admit…"

The voice sent a shiver down his spine. His poor soul was once again subdued by that deep vocal.

"… that was entertaining."

Weiran froze.

A low hum of amusement rumbled from behind him, golden eyes gleaming at him unblocked.

The crown prince's lips barely brushed the shell of his ear.

"But tell me, little fox…" His grip tightened, pulling him flush against his chest.

"…a servant shouldn't be this disobedient. What should I do with you?"

Weiran's breath hitched.

Shit.

He was in real trouble.