There Was No Other Choice

Isac froze.

Not because of the cameras.
Not because of his aide’s phone vibrating nonstop in his pocket.
Not even because of the brief report he had just received about the morning news climbing relentlessly to the top of every trending list.

He froze because of the woman sitting in front of him.

The same woman who had always met him with defiant eyes, a cold tone, and words sharp enough to cut—
was now crying silently.

There was nothing dramatic about it.
No sobbing. No wailing. No desperate sound meant to draw attention.

And somehow, that made it hurt far more.

Sera sat on a gray leather sofa in the hospital’s private waiting lounge. Her shoulders trembled faintly. One hand covered her mouth, as if she feared that if even a single sound escaped, she would completely fall apart.

Isac had never imagined this sight.

In his mind, Sera was the type of woman who—despite being stubborn and irritating—always seemed resilient. Cheerful, in her own way. Tough. Someone who had built a rough but effective survival instinct. Not someone who would sit still and let her tears fall without protest.

Reality proved him wrong.

And that realization left an unfamiliar discomfort tightening in his chest.

“I’ll take care of it,” Isac finally said, his voice lower than usual. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Sera did not answer right away. She merely nodded faintly and wiped her face quickly, almost ashamed to be seen in such a fragile state.

Deep down, she already knew.

There was no way back.

Her boarding house—the small place she shared with Mika—was surely swarming with reporters by now. Every corner of her life had become public property. Even if she forced herself to return, she would only drag Mika into deeper trouble… and endanger her mother, who was still lying weak in a hospital bed.

There had never truly been a choice.

“What about Mika?” Sera asked quietly. “She hasn’t come back from the restroom.”

“I’ll have the royal guards handle it,” Isac replied.

---

Isac had just ended a call when one of the bodyguards approached him, his expression tense.

“Your Highness,” he said carefully, “the young woman who came with Miss Sera… her face was captured clearly by several cameras.”

Isac stopped walking.

Mika.

He exhaled slowly, then raised a hand, signaling for the surrounding guards to gather closer. His voice shifted—cooler, sharper, fully controlled.

“No one is to touch her,” Isac ordered. “She’s not part of this scandal.”

“But the reporters—”

“I know,” Isac cut in sharply. “That’s exactly why I won’t leave her alone.”

He turned to his aide. “Where is she now?”

“Still within the hospital area, Your Highness. She appears panicked. She’s trying to avoid the press.”

Isac clenched his jaw. “Leaving her like that would be idiotic.”

He issued his instructions immediately, precise and efficient.

“Two bodyguards. Go get her now. Use an unmarked vehicle. Take her somewhere safe—the secure apartment in the eastern sector.”

The aide nodded swiftly. “I’ll accompany her.”

“Yes,” Isac said coldly. “You will. Make sure she’s not alone for even a second.”

One of the guards hesitated. “What if she refuses, Your Highness?”

Isac paused briefly, then answered flatly, without unnecessary emotion.

“Tell her this isn’t a request. It’s protection.”

—

Meanwhile, Mika nearly broke down the moment the car door closed behind her.

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. Her phone buzzed incessantly—messages, unknown calls, social media mentions she hadn’t even dared to open.

She was just a boarding-house girl. An ordinary college student. Nobody important.

And yet, that morning, her face had appeared on national news.

At first, she thought it might be exciting—something unbelievable, something temporary.
But when distorted rumors began spreading, twisted far from the truth, fear crept in.
And seriously—what was with these huge, intimidating men built like mobsters surrounding her?

“Please stay calm, Miss,” one of Isac’s bodyguards said from the front seat, deliberately softening his tone. “You’re safe now.”

“I—I’m just Sera’s friend,” Mika’s voice cracked. “I don’t know anything… I don’t want to be in the news…”

“We know,” the aide replied. “And His Highness has made sure you won’t become a victim.”

That title—His Highness—made Mika fall silent.

“Prince… Isac?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

Tears finally fell. Not just from fear, but from relief. At least someone had thought about her.

“How is Sera?” she asked shakily.

“Miss Sera is with Prince Isac. She’ll be fine. He will protect her.”

Mika let out a quiet breath.
Maybe that problematic second prince wasn’t as terrible as people claimed.

---

The black car with tinted windows drove away from the hospital. Inside, silence stretched thick and suffocating—far too heavy for two people who had just endured the most chaotic morning of their lives.

Sera sat stiffly in the back seat, her hands folded on her lap. Her gaze stayed forward, though her thoughts were scattered everywhere.

“Are we going to the palace?” she finally asked, her voice flat.

“No,” Isac answered shortly.

She turned to him. “Then where?”

“My residence.”

That answer did nothing to ease her.

—

What Isac called his “residence” turned out not to be a grand palace with open gates and fluttering flags. The building was hidden behind high walls, heavily guarded, far from anything official.

A private estate.

Quiet. Too quiet.

As soon as the car door shut and the iron gates closed behind them, something tightened in Sera’s chest.

Trapped.

Not physically.
But by circumstance.

She was given a spacious room—clean, immaculate, almost sterile. Large windows covered with thick curtains. A private bathroom. Every facility meant to provide comfort.

And yet, that was precisely what unsettled her.

She couldn’t leave without permission.
She couldn’t contact anyone freely.
Her phone—left behind at the boarding house—made her completely cut off.

“Is this a prison?” Sera asked bluntly.

“This is Prince Isac’s private residence, Miss Sera.”

“For how long?”

“For the time being,” the aide replied diplomatically.

For the time being.

A phrase too often used for situations with no clear end.

Sera sat on the edge of the bed, staring at herself—empty-handed, displaced. She had always lived lightly, able to move with little attachment.
So why did everything feel unbearably heavy now?

Her vulnerability had never been clearer.

She turned when Isac entered without knocking.

“I have classes,” Sera said suddenly.

Isac stopped. “What?”

“I already missed my morning lecture,” she repeated, looking straight at him. “And I’m not missing tomorrow.”

“That’s not possible.”

The answer came too fast. Too absolute.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Sera snapped. “This is my life.”

Isac exhaled, clearly restraining his patience. “I know. But you can’t go out right now.”

“Why?”

“Because reporters are everywhere.”

“I can wear a mask. A hat.”

“It won’t be enough.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“And you’re severely underestimating the situation,” Isac shot back. “Do you think they care whether you attend class or not? They may not enter campus grounds, but they have countless ways to stalk you!”

Sera stood up. “That’s not an excuse to lock me up.”

“I’m not locking you up.”

“Then let me leave.”

Isac stared at her for a long moment, his jaw hardening. “No.”

Sera let out a bitter laugh. “That’s exactly what being locked up means.”

Silence fell between them—heavy, uncomfortable.

“At least temporarily,” Isac continued more calmly. “Until things settle. My aide has arranged your academic leave. You won’t be marked absent.”

Sera went quiet.

It was… logical. Reasonable. And that was precisely what made her angrier.

“You planned everything without asking me,” she said softly.

“I did what was necessary.”

“For whom?”

Isac didn’t answer immediately.

“For you,” he said at last.

Sera shook her head. “No. That’s for your peace of mind.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Isac replied. “You’re not foolish enough to misunderstand the situation.”

She said nothing.
Because he was right.
And she hated that the best option still left her powerless.

—

Isac was summoned that same afternoon.

An emergency meeting. A call from his father. A tone that allowed no refusal.

Sera watched him leave with a cold expression and hurried steps. Only then did she realize—behind all this chaos, Isac was under immense pressure himself.

The meeting room was cold, formal, filled with judging eyes.
His father—the king.
The Crown Prince, his older brother.
Royal advisors.
And the elders who had always irritated Isac beyond measure.

“You are thirty minutes late, Second Prince,” someone remarked sharply. “You made the king wait. You should know better.”

“My apologies,” Isac replied casually. “It’s been a busy day.”

The disapproval in the room was palpable.
Isac didn’t care.

The discussion began—yet another scandal bearing his name.

The news had spread too far. Far worse than his previous reckless acts.

Secret girlfriend?
A bar server?
Pregnancy?
Abortion?

“This is no longer local gossip,” one advisor said. “Foreign media outlets have picked it up.”

“There are several options,” another added calmly, cruelly. “The woman can be relocated. Silenced.”

Isac clenched his fist.

“Or,” another voice continued, “made official. Otherwise, the damage will be irreversible.”

“She is not a tool to neutralize a scandal,” Isac cut in sharply.

Silence followed.

“This is the first time you’ve spoken like this,” his father said quietly.

Isac stood. “And this is the first time I am asking the honorable King of Vaelmont—”

The room went still.

“Do not interfere with my decision,” Isac continued, his voice cold yet firm. “No matter what happens, she is under my protection.”

Shock rippled through the room.

Because they all knew one thing:

Isac had never protected anyone but himself.

And true to form, the problematic second prince walked out of the meeting without another word—leaving behind a room full of headaches.