Crimson Inheritance

Chapter 1: The Prince of Mount Seraint

In the distant land of Welenova, under the cover of night, I had endured a grueling seven-hour drive up the winding paths of Mount Seraint. At last, I arrived at my destination—a charming two-story building perched atop the hill. The mountain air was icy, and a dense mist swirled around, adding an ethereal quality to the scene.

The building, with its classic European architectural grace, stood as a beacon of timeless elegance against the darkened sky. The ground floor housed a cozy restaurant, its wide awnings sheltering an array of outdoor seating. Potted plants added splashes of greenery, while large, arched glass windows invited the glow of the warm interior to spill out, creating a welcoming embrace in the midst of the cold.

The upper floor featured picturesque balconies, each adorned with a cascade of vibrant flowers that lent a charming, residential feel to the structure. The intricate brickwork of the building was complemented by a gently sloping roof, a harmonious blend of rustic and refined elements. Softly glowing lamps hung beneath the overhang, casting a gentle light, while four streetlights at the corners bathed the surroundings in a warm, inviting glow.

As I took in the scene, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the restaurant. It felt like a haven in the wintry night, and I was grateful that Hannah had invited me to this enchanting place.

***

I checked my watch, 6:30PM; Hannah should have arrived by now. With that thought, I made my way to the entrance, where a charming sign read "Alpine Bistro" in elegant, script lettering. Stepping inside, I scanned the cozy interior. The restaurant, intimate in scale with only four tables, exuded a warm, inviting ambiance.

I chose a seat by the window, eager to take in the mountain's breathtaking panorama through the large glass panes. As I waited, the minutes ticked by—20, then 30, then a full hour. Hannah had yet to arrive. I found myself checking my watch repeatedly, feeling the weight of my solitude. You might wonder why I didn't just use my phone to contact her. The truth? I had managed to forget it in my rush—truly a blunder on my part, especially since I couldn't recall her number by heart. But I wasn't about to give up so easily.

I turned to the other diners in the restaurant, hoping to borrow a phone. My pleas were met with polite refusals; they were all cautious, needing to conserve their batteries for the descent down the mountain. Despite my assurances that it would only take a moment, their hesitations remained firm. For those few who did agree to lend me their phones, fate seemed to conspire against me. Calls connected only to be marred by crackling voices, no signal, or worse—dead batteries. Desperation mounting, I dialed every number I could remember—my father, his assistant, even his assistant's assistant, my driver, who I had convinced to let me borrow the car and had also given an unofficial day off.

But each attempt was met with the same frustrating response: "No Network. Try calling later."

With no other options, I sat there, eyes scanning the road for any sign of Hannah's car. Instead, every vehicle that passed seemed to mock my patience.

Just then, a waiter approached. "Miss, it's been an hour, and you've occupied a seat without ordering. Could you please move if you're not planning to order anything?" His deep, resonant voice was strikingly attractive, making me want to look up and meet his gaze. However, I knew that doing so would only lead to a surge of embarrassment. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, my face turned away. "Just get me some iced tea," I said quickly without thinking, my voice betraying a hint of frustration as I tried to conceal my discomfort.

"Anything else?" His voice, still as sultry as ever, cut through the hum of the restaurant.

"No, thank you," I replied, my gaze stubbornly fixed on the window.

Within minutes, he returned with my iced tea. I was so flustered that I downed the entire glass in one hurried gulp. My nerves were frayed from the waiting, and as the minutes stretched on, I lost track of time. After another half hour, the waiter reappeared. "Miss, could you—"

"Repeat it," I cut him off, keeping my eyes firmly on the window.

***

Hours dragged by, and though I wasn't exactly keeping track, I must have downed at least seven iced teas—each one colder than the last. Yet, there was still no sign of Hannah. My head began to spin from the chill of the ice, and in sheer frustration, I crossed my arms on the table and rested my forehead against them.

The waiter approached once more, but this time he remained silent, simply standing close by. I could sense the warmth of his presence, a stark contrast to the icy tea that had been my only solace. I knew he was likely preparing to address my lingering presence, so I spoke first, my voice muffled against my arms. "I know, just get the bill."

He went to fetch the bill, and I gathered myself, rifling through my purse to find the money. I placed it into the sleek black leather folder he held. As I finally looked up, I was taken aback. Before me stood the most striking man I had ever seen. His side-parted chocolate brown hair was impeccably styled, and his thick eyebrows framed deep blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. His perfectly sculpted features, fine baby pink lips, and sharp jawline rendered me momentarily speechless. He wore a crisp white shirt, the top button casually undone to reveal his collarbone, and it clung to his muscular build. Black pants concealed his long, athletic legs, perfectly balancing his broad shoulders and narrow waist, to which he had neatly tied his apron. Not to exaggerate, but he looked like a real-life prince.

Noticing my stunned expression, he raised an eyebrow and asked, "Uhm—What are you looking at?"

I was jolted out of my daze. "Uh, nothing. I was just saying—uhm—thank you," I fumbled, feeling my cheeks flush.

"It's closing time, Miss. I would really appreciate—"

"I know. I'm leaving. Sorry for the hassle," I said, lowering my head.

He smiled warmly. "No worries, Miss. But if you don't mind me asking, you seemed pretty tense throughout your time here. And forgive me for mentioning this, but you drank seven iced teas, in this freezing cold mountain air. Is there something bothering you? I can call for help if you need it."

His concern and the warmth in his voice melted my composure. "Oh...No, I'm fine. I was just expecting someone who didn't show up and I forgot my phone, so I kind of panicked. That's it. I know it sounds really stupid."

"That's not stupid. Mistakes can happen to anyone. It's just one of those days. That certainly doesn't mean you're stupid." He smiled reassuringly. "Though communication is difficult at this altitude—network towers sometimes fail due to weather or height—there's a telephone booth three hours down the road. I can call a cab service for you if you'd like."

"No, don't bother. I've already troubled you enough today. I have my own car. I'll drive down. Thank you," I replied with a smile.

"Pleasure is mine." His baby-pink lips curved into a warm smile.

"Can I have your name?" I asked politely.

"Ethan Miller," he responded warmly.

"Ethan. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Evelyn Beaumont." I extended my hand for a handshake, which he took. The warmth of his hand against mine was electrifying. His grip was firm yet gentle, and I nearly lost myself in the prince fantasy again. I pulled myself together and continued, "You know, Ethan, I must say, you're one of the sweetest people I've ever met. Thank you so much for caring for me tonight. I hope to visit again soon."

"Please do, Miss. I'll be happy to serve you iced tea again," he chuckled lightly.

"Yes, definitely," I laughed along with him. I then took my leave, stepping out of the cozy warmth of the restaurant into the biting cold. I headed to my car, planning to drive to the telephone booth and call that traitor Hannah.