Fishpond Crash

: Wrong Name

2

'What do you do when you're a Devotee but called your god by the wrong name? Waiting for answers online, it's urgent.'

The Campus Prince grabbed my hand. The Hangover Remedy Soup in the spoon splashed all over him. The AC was on in our private room, but it was hot. He was only wearing a thin shirt, and a large patch on his chest was soaked through. It should have been a tantalizing sight, but alas, I was in no mood to appreciate such a beautiful view.

"Who is Ron Rivers?" the Campus Prince asked, his teeth clenched.

How could I possibly dare to speak?

That's right, I'm a Devotee. But I'm not just the Campus Prince's Devotee. I'm devoted to many guys at once, all of them top-tier. I fully embrace the philosophy: be devoted to one guy, and you're a Devotee; be devoted to ten, and you're an Alpha.

But in this situation, facing the Campus Prince's thunderous expression, I couldn't help but sigh in despair. 'It's foolish to hang yourself from a single tree, but sometimes, setting up ropes on too many trees means you just spin a cocoon for yourself. Now every rope on every tree wants to hang me.'

After a moment of silence, his group of friends immediately erupted into a commotion, whispering amongst themselves nonstop. Suddenly, someone had an epiphany.

"Isn't Ron Rivers that 6-foot-2, tan, muscular guy with a buzz cut from Aethelgard Sports Academy next door? I knew that name sounded familiar."

"Hahahaha, well, um..." I was panicking inside, and nonsense just started spilling from my mouth. "Why don't you guys keep chatting? I just remembered—I haven't fed the gas at home, and I didn't turn off the cat. I have to go, right now."

I turned and ran, but just as I got out the door, the Campus Prince caught up and grabbed my wrist.

The Campus Prince was so furious he actually laughed, forcing the words out one by one through his teeth. "Aethelgard Sports Academy... 6-foot-2... tan... buzz cut... muscular?"

I took a deep breath. "He's 6-foot-4 with shoes on."

'I'm a Devotee! It's my duty to maintain my gods' public image! Especially their height—that's something a man would have carved on his tombstone! The only reason I'm not giving it to four decimal places is out of respect for the current mood!'

"Is that all you have to say?" The Campus Prince looked like he was about to faint from anger. He was breathing heavily, and since he was dressed so lightly, the cold wind had whipped a flush across his cheeks. Every breath he exhaled formed a faint white mist. His gaze, tinged with drunkenness and resentment, was utterly captivating—so much so that he almost looked... wronged. "Don't you have anything else you want to explain?"

I was torn between getting lost in his devastating good looks and being terrified by the Melodrama unfolding before me. My brain had all but lost its ability to think. "Explain? Hahaha, right, I should explain... What should I explain..."

"How about you let go first? I'll get back to you with an answer in, say, three to five business days?"

As I was wracking my brain for an escape, the Campus Prince's grip tightened. I felt like my wrist was about to be crushed.

Suddenly, another hand reached out and pried the Campus Prince's fingers off mine.

"Senior, making a scene in public like this isn't very gentlemanly, is it?"