The Problematic Second Prince & The Commoner Girl

The morning news siren wailed again from the tiny hospital-room TV, blasting the same name for what felt like the thousandth time—a name that made the entire Country Z collectively shake their heads.

“Breaking News. Second Prince Isac Lucent Vaelmont has caused another disturbance. The prince reportedly crashed into a road barrier last night on the protocol route. Royal police stated—”

“Him again,” Sera muttered flatly, spooning porridge into her mother’s mouth without looking at the screen.

Seraphina Angela Smith, a seventh-semester college student, was caring for her sick mother, Michella Smith.

For three years, her mother had been bedridden due to systemic lupus that damaged her kidneys. And for three years, Sera had watched bad news about Prince Isac. Her life rhythm was bizarre: hospital, bar, campus, Prince Isac scandal. Repeat. And repeat again.

Even the nurses joked that Channel 33 would die without the prince’s madness.

But Sera knew one thing: She was long past being surprised. These headlines were too frequent for shock.

“Seraphina…” her mother whispered weakly. “The news… has nothing to do with you, dear.”

Sera smiled softly, patting her mother’s frail hand. “I know, Mom. But if he weren’t a prince, I’d have squeezed his face and tossed him straight into the trash can by the hospital gate.”

Her mother clicked her tongue, though a tiny smile formed. “My daughter… if you talk like that, be careful you don’t end up in jail.”

“Mom,” Sera leaned in and whispered, “If I go to jail, at least my living expenses decrease. Free meals—wait, no! No jail! Who would take care of you?”

Her mother laughed weakly, but the laughter broke into a painful cough. Her chest heaved, her face pale. Sera quickly propped her up and gently patted her back.

“Does it hurt, Mom?”

“A little… a burning feeling on my side.”

Sera sighed. “Tomorrow is dialysis day again. You have to stay strong, okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart…”

The TV continued rambling in the background:

“Before the crash, witnesses reported seeing the prince constantly checking his rearview mirror, as if someone was following him.”

Sera glanced over. Incredible. Usually the news only blamed him.

“Prince Isac never gets tired of causing trouble, huh? He really fits his title—The Problematic Second Prince.”

“Hm, so you do care about him?”

“I don’t care, Mom! I just don’t like people like him. He’s royalty, rich, privileged, the second prince—what else could he possibly want? Zero gratitude!”

“Sweetheart, don’t judge too quickly. What you see may not be the full story. Something could’ve been intentionally left out from the news.”

Michella looked at the TV screen, watching the young prince’s photo displayed there. She thought about how much he’d grown up.

“Mom, sure, some things can be hidden from the news… but in his case? Even if they tried to hide it, he causes trouble too often! Twice a week sometimes!”

“Well… you have a point,” Michella grimaced slightly.

“See??”

After making sure her mother was stable, Sera stood and straightened her black jacket—the special one her mother sewed for her when she was still healthy.

“I’m heading to work now, Mom.”

“Another night shift?”

“Yeah…”

“Because of me, you have to live like this…”

“There you go again. Mom, listen… it’s not ‘because of you.’ This is my devotion to the woman who risked her life to give birth to me. This isn’t repayment—no amount in the world could repay a drop of your blood.”

Michella gazed at her only daughter, pride shining in her tired eyes. “My daughter is very good with words.”

Sera grinned. “I take after you… Oh! If you dream about treasure, please call me in the dream, okay? Who knows, maybe we’ll move up the social ladder.”

Her mother laughed again—cut short by pain. Sera always knew how to make her smile.

Sera kissed her mother’s forehead. “I’ll be home after my shift. If anything happens, press the call button, okay?”

“Yes… be careful on the way, my love…”

Sera jogged out of the hospital. The night streets of Country Z were damp, neon lights glowing across the pavement. She pulled her jacket tighter and hurried toward the bus stop heading to the entertainment district.

The entertainment district?

Yes—Sera worked at one of the city’s most popular bars, Night Bloom.

---

Night Bloom was usually lively, but tonight the vibe was chaotic. One of the waitresses was crying while clutching her shaking hands.

“I’m not going into VIP 7 again! He almost threw a glass at me!”

The bar manager, a stressed-out bald man in his forties, spotted Sera like she was a four-leaf clover.

“Sera, you’re late. Go change and take over VIP 7.”

“VIP 7?!” Sera stiffened. “Manager, I have human rights!”

“Reject it and you can go home—and never come back.”

Sera raised her hands in defeat.

“Fine. But if he acts rude, don’t blame me if I accidentally smack his head with a tray.”

The manager patted her shoulder. “If it were a regular customer, I’d cheer you on. But… he’s not a regular.”

“…Who is it?”

He swallowed hard. “His Highness, the Second Prince.”

Sera froze.

Then hissed sharply.

“Oh God… that walking scandal?”

The manager nodded in suffering. “Yes. So please… don’t make him cause another scandal.”

As if that were possible. We’re talking about the Second Prince!

The Problematic Second Prince.

Sera massaged her temples. “Manager, with his reputation, he should be the one afraid I might cause a scandal…”

This was definitely her unlucky night.

She rushed into the changing room, took off her jacket, and slipped on the waitress uniform: black skirt, white shirt, and apron.

In the mirror, her face looked exhausted. Her black hair tied up messily. But her eyes stayed sharp.

“Come on, Sera. You need the money. Mom needs to survive.” She exhaled. “And you must not hit the prince with a tray, no matter how satisfying that sounds.”

Sera knocked on VIP 7’s door.

No answer.

She pushed it open slightly. Dim light washed over the room. The soft blue ceiling lamp cast a cold glow. And on the black leather sofa sat a man with his head hanging low, hand gripping a half-empty glass. His hair was messy, shirt half undone, eyes sharp yet vacant—

Prince Isac Lucent Vaelmont.

Sera almost swallowed her tongue. This was the second prince of the Vaelmont royal family, founders of Country Z.

He was far more handsome than on TV. Far more.

Like an A-list actor given an unlimited film budget. Actually—no. He looked better than that. His vibes were different.

But that dark, chaotic aura… was intense.

He looked like someone who escaped from hell and stopped by for a drink.

Sera inhaled deeply, forcing professionalism. This was going to be rough.

“Good evening, Your Highness. How may I assist you?”

Isac slowly lifted his face. His eyes stared straight at her.

And Sera instantly knew—he was drunk.

He lifted his head again. His eyes were red, but his gaze still pierced through her.

“… You’re late.”

Sera blinked. “I—I just arrived—”

“You waitresses are all the same, huh?” His voice was hoarse, cold, but threaded with frustration. “Always late. Always ruining the mood.”

Sera bit her lip. She was exhausted, but this wasn’t the time to argue—especially with a drunk prince.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” she said politely. “I’ll pour—”

“Vodka…” he muttered.

“You’re already drunk. You shouldn’t drink more. It’s bad for your body.”

“Who are you to tell me that? GET IT. NOW.” Isac snapped.

Sera decided to play it safe and nodded. His anger was genuinely frightening. She poured a glass of vodka and placed it on the table.

Suddenly—BANG! Isac swatted the table, nearly knocking the glass over. Sera gasped.

“Your Highness!” She saved the glass before it shattered. “W-What—?!”

Isac stared at her—gaze hazy yet piercing, as if trying to remember something… or someone.

“… A necklace.” His voice was barely audible. “Where… is the necklace?”

Sera frowned. “What necklace?”

But the prince closed his eyes, swayed, and then—

—vomited.

Right onto her.

Sera froze.

She stared at the stain.

Then at the prince’s ridiculously handsome face collapsing onto her shoulder.

And internally said, in the flattest tone imaginable:

“If you weren’t a prince, I would’ve thrown you into the dumpster behind the bar… in one motion. For God’s sake, this is disgusting.”

While still supporting the prince’s body, which felt like half the royal palace in weight.

This. Was. The worst night.

Isac swayed again, nearly collapsing entirely.

Instinctively, Sera grabbed his arm. “Sit—! Your Highness, careful!”

Strangely, the prince obeyed. Almost like a tired child.

Sera exhaled deeply. “I’ll… I’ll get water and a cloth to clean you. Wait here.”

When she returned, Prince Isac was already half-asleep on the sofa. Peaceful. Nothing like the headlines.

Sera muttered, “You really are troublesome.”

She couldn’t leave him alone, and her manager would absolutely make her handle this. She had no choice.

So she called a taxi and hauled Prince Isac out of the bar.

She didn’t know his address. He couldn’t speak clearly. And she couldn’t send him to Vaelmont Castle—that would be an instant national scandal. She wanted none of that.

So the safest choice:

A nearby motel.

Breathless, Sera dragged the completely wasted prince into the cheap motel room closest to the bar.

“Come on, Your Highness… just a little more,” she grumbled, struggling with the weight that felt like two semesters’ worth of textbooks.

She finally dropped him onto the bed and patted her chest in relief. But one second later, he stirred—and vomited again, this time thankfully on the floor instead of on her.

“… God… why is my life like this?” Sera stared up at the ceiling.

She had to clean it up. She also had to remove his filthy shirt. His bare skin was immediately exposed to the cold room air—glowing like another problem.

His skin was flawless, chest toned. Like a male lead in a Japanese anime.

Sera whipped her eyes away. “This is only for hygiene, okay? Not for anything else…”

Then she realized—he wasn’t just drunk. He was burning up!

The sweat was pouring down his skin.

“I’m sorry for being presumptuous; I need to clean your face. It’s for your own good… excuse me…”

As she wiped his face, he suddenly grabbed her wrist.

“Hana… don’t leave me…” he whispered.

His tone was soft—aching—filled with longing.

Sera froze.

“…Hana? His lover? Why does that name sound familiar…? So even the problematic prince has his own painful story, huh? Who would’ve thought. No wonder he drank himself stupid tonight.”

Sera formed her own theories in silence.

The prince slept peacefully afterward, like a baby—after causing a disaster the size of a cruise ship.

“I smell horrible. I need to change.”

She removed her uniform, now soaked in vomit, and was left with only a thin tank top. She felt embarrassed wearing it in front of the prince, but he was dead asleep. He wouldn’t wake up till morning anyway.

Sera collapsed onto the tiny sofa in the corner and grabbed the motel blanket.

“I’m a broke college student… not a royal babysitter…” she mumbled before passing out.

Sera woke first, her body sore as if she’d lost a war. She glanced at Prince Isac—still sleeping like the most expensive sculpture in a royal museum.

With her clothes still damp and smelly, she wrote a short note and stuck it on the table.

'Sorry, I borrowed your jacket. My clothes were dirty because of your vomit. Don’t misunderstand—I’m not a thief, i'm a bar server.'

She quickly fled the motel before the prince woke up.

Unfortunately, she didn’t know someone had taken photos of them…
Since last night…

And that would explode into a huge scandal.