CHAPTER 449: ROSE WITH THORNS (10)

Afternoon – 1:54 PM

Rose pressed her hand to her forehead as she stepped out of the elevator, feeling strangely weak and nauseous. She had left the office early, unable to focus, her body feeling heavier with each passing hour.

Something was off today.

As she unlocked the door to her apartment with the spare key in her bag, her fingers trembled slightly. She didn’t know why—maybe it was the dizziness.

Dragging her feet slowly, she walked past the kitchen and headed toward the living room, her safe little corner. But just as she reached the edge of the sofa, she stopped.

Her heart jumped.

There was a cat.

Sleeping peacefully, its body curled gently into the cushions as if it had always belonged there.

Rose’s breath caught.

It looked... just like him.

Black fur, long tail... but bigger. Fuller. The same ears. And those tiny silver specks on his left paw—just like her old cat used to have.

No. No, that’s crazy, she told herself. Loki must’ve brought in a cat without telling her. That’s all. That’s probably it. Maybe a new cat. Maybe it just looked like him.

But her heart didn’t listen.

She didn’t even realize her cheeks were wet until she lifted her fingers and felt the tears soaking her skin. They slipped silently down her face as she stared.

"No... way..." she whispered under her breath, slowly stepping closer, as if afraid it would vanish if she blinked.

She sat on the edge of the sofa, eyes wide.

Am I dreaming?

The mere sight of him sent a tremor through her soul.

Her hands trembled on her lap. She didn’t dare reach out, afraid to startle it.

But as she stared, the cat suddenly shifted. Its ears twitched. And then—its golden eyes opened slowly, glowing like sunlight on molten gold.

Their gazes locked.

Time froze.

Rose’s lips parted, her heart beating fast as silent tears continued to fall down her cheeks.

The cat looked at her—sharp, alert, and far too intelligent.

"Sparkle..." she breathed, her voice breaking as the name fell from her lips.

She didn’t know why she said it. It came from a place beyond logic, from the hollow part of her heart that had never truly healed.

And in that single moment, as his golden eyes watched her—she swore the cat’s pupils widened.

Her hand hovered for a moment, unsure... but her heart couldn’t resist.

Slowly, gently, she reached out—her fingers brushing lightly against the top of his head.

So soft.

The fur was unbelievably soft, like velvet warmed by sunlight.

Her breath hitched. "You feel the same..." she whispered, more to herself than anyone.

The cat blinked, his golden eyes watching her, not moving away.

Encouraged, Rose let her fingers move again, stroking his head gently.

A soft purr rumbled from his chest.

Her lips parted in shock, and then—she smiled. The kind of smile that trembled a little at the corners because it held so much memory behind it.

"You’re not scared of me?" she whispered, stroking behind his ears now, like she used to. "You really let me pet you..."

The cat leaned into her hand, closing his eyes halfway, that low purring continuing like a quiet lullaby.

Rose laughed softly. It was a small sound, but full of disbelief and warmth. Her other hand reached out without thinking, cupping his furry cheek.

"You’re just like him... Even your purring. You used to do that when I cried..."

Her fingers moved along his neck, then gently down his back.

The cat stretched slightly and nudged his head into her palm like a spoiled prince demanding more attention.

She giggled softly as she continued petting the cat’s head, scratching just behind his ears. "You’re still so soft," she murmured. "Just like before... still so cute."

That word—cute—was the final blow.

The cat froze. His tail twitched. His golden eyes narrowed slightly like he’d been personally insulted by the universe.

Cute?

Still??

He was the Demon Prince of the Cat Clan. He had trained in a flaming realm, defeated beasts the size of houses, commanded legions of shadow cats, and now had shoulders broad enough to break hearts and bricks alike.

And she dared... she dared... to call him cute?

With a flick of his tail and a quiet, elegant stretch, the air around him shimmered faintly with heat. Before Rose could even process the shift in atmosphere, it happened—

Poof.

Gone was the cat.

And in his place, sitting smugly on her pale blue sofa—completely, absolutely naked—was a tall, toned young man with black tousled hair, sharp jawline, and very golden, glowing eyes.

And unfortunately, Rose’s hand was still stretched out—now pressed against his very muscular abs.

"AAAAAHHH!!"

Rose screamed so loud even the potted plant on the table trembled.

She jumped back so fast she nearly fell off the sofa, arms flailing, face turning the deepest shade of red humanly possible.

"W-WHAT—?! H-OW—?! WHY—WHY ARE YOU—WHERE DID THE CAT—?!" she pointed wildly, trying to look anywhere but at him.

Loki tilted his head smugly, lounging back on the sofa like he owned the entire room. "Tch. So dramatic. Calm down, Pheasant Human," he said with an elegant sigh, casually brushing invisible dust off his bare shoulder. "You’re the one who called a Prince cute. I had no choice but to defend my honour."

"D-Don’t call me P-Pheasant?!" Rose choked, hiding her face with both hands. "Why are you naked?!"

"I just transformed, what do you expect?" he replied flatly, clearly unbothered. "And honestly, you’re the one who kept touching me. Should I be the one fainting from embarrassment?"

"I was touching a cat!" she shrieked.

"Well, surprise," he said, flipping his hair with a flick. "That cat just so happens to be me. Loki. Prince of the Demon Cat Clan.."

"You—you’re Sparkle?!"

Loki cringed visibly. "Ugh. Don’t call me that. That name was cute for a kitten. I am now a powerful, majestic, extremely handsome demon prince. Use it with respect."

She peeked through her fingers, eyes wide in disbelief. "You’re seriously Sparkle?"

"Loki," he corrected again with a pout. "But yes. It’s me. The one you used to dress in ribbons and baby socks—yes, I remember everything now." His voice dropped low. "The humiliation runs deep."

Rose stared at him, completely dazed.

Then—

Her eyes rolled back.

And she fainted on the spot.

Loki blinked. "Huh?"

He sat up straight. "Wait—what just—she fainted?!"

He stood up (still very naked), waving his hands awkwardly over her. "Hey! Hey, wake up! I’m not even that shocking! I’m handsome!"

When she didn’t stir, Loki let out an exaggerated sigh and muttered, "Ugh, humans are so fragile."

***

"What happened to her?" Loki asked, folding his arms with a frown as the doctor finished checking Rose’s pulse.

"She’s fine," the doctor replied with a polite smile. "Just a little shocked. Nothing serious—her body reacted to stress. Let her rest for now."

Loki hummed under his breath, nodding once. As the doctor left, the demon prince pulled the chair closer to the bed and plopped down with a sigh that was far more dramatic than necessary.

His golden eyes scanned Rose’s face.

"Seriously?" he muttered to himself. "She fainted... just from seeing me? I mean, sure, I wasn’t wearing anything, but it’s not that shocking. I look great."

He crossed one leg over the other and leaned his chin into his hand. "And she calls me the dramatic one," he whispered with a smirk.

His eyes flicked to the IV stand, then the heart monitor. Beeping. Soft. Peaceful.

He rolled his eyes again, remembering how much trouble she had caused him just thirty minutes ago.

"She made me carry her..." he groaned. "All the way here. In my arms. Like some helpless kitten."

And of course—people in the hospital thought she had been hit by a car or something. The nurses ran to help immediately. They rushed her in, handed him forms, even gave him that sympathy smile like he was her stressed-out boyfriend or something.

Loki clicked his tongue.

"This pheasant human..." he muttered under his breath. "Why do you cause chaos everywhere you go?"

He didn’t admit it out loud, but when her body had slumped in his arms, cold and pale, his heart had panicked for half a second. Just half. Not even that much.

Now she was lying there, wrapped in white sheets, her breathing calm.

He leaned closer, his fingers lightly brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His movements softened without even realizing it.

"Next time, try not to pass out just because I’m too handsome, alright?" he murmured. "It’s not my fault I aged like wine."

He paused, then whispered, "...And don’t call me cute again."

***

20 Minutes later...

Rose’s eyelashes fluttered weakly as the late afternoon light filtered in through the pale hospital curtains. Her lips parted slightly, dry and trembling.

"Water... water..." she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Loki, who had been dramatically slouched in the chair with one leg up like a bored prince on his throne, blinked. His golden eyes snapped to her instantly.

"Oh—so now she wakes up," he muttered, pushing himself up with a lazy sigh, though he moved surprisingly fast.

He grabbed the glass of water from the bedside table, poured it carefully, and then brought it close to her lips. "Here. Try not to faint again just because you saw my face," he teased, holding the glass while tilting it gently so she could sip.

Rose blinked up at him, still dazed, as the cool water slid down her throat. Her cheeks flushed pink.

When she finally pulled back, she licked her lips slowly and stared at him.

And stared.

And kept staring.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "What? Are you fainting again? Please don’t. My arms are sore. You’re heavier than you look, pheasant."