The Prince Pretends to Be Poor for Love

Jonathan went to the hospital alone every time secretly so that I could get some rest after work.

At that time, I just hated that I was incapable of alleviating Jonathan's pain instead.

Now, I felt like a clown, a buffoon to be played with by anyone.

Jonathan wouldn't let me accompany him to the hospital just because he was afraid of revealing himself.

From everyone's compliments, it wasn't hard for me to guess that Jonathan's identity was either rich or noble.

It was obviously well-heated in the private room, but I felt extremely cold, and my entire body shivered as if I had fallen into a freezing cellar.

“The girl with the mask, you're pretty blind. Why don't you hurry up and offer Mr. Davis a drink? You're such a piece of trash, and you deserve to work for someone for the rest of your life.”

After I came back to my senses from the memories, I poured the drinks for these rich guys nervously.

As I passed Jonathan, smelling his familiar scent, I was momentarily distracted and accidentally spilled my drink on him.

The woman beside him immediately got up and angrily pushed me to the ground, pointing at my nose and cursing me.

“Are you blind? Mr. Davis is wearing a shirt that is worth half your life.”

Was it worth half my life?

I braced myself in panic and wiped Jonathan's wine stains with a tissue on the side.

I was slapped brutally by the woman, who contemptuously poured wine all over my head.

“Don't you see what you look like? You're ugly and out of shape, and you're not even comparable to those whores. Are you still trying to seduce Mr. Davis?”

Everyone laughed, and I was so embarrassed that I wanted to find a place to hide.

The purple wine slid down my cheek, blurring my vision.

I saw the man in the center of the booth seem to smile happily and softly.

I was someone who had a strong preference for sound, so I loved the way Jonathan sat on the balcony holding a guitar and sang love songs to me.

At this moment, however, the familiar sound of laughter was particularly jarring.

I was about to carry the tray out the door when I heard Jonathan's cold voice ring out.

“Stop. You messed with me, but you want to leave, right? Will I agree to that? If you finish this drink, this will be over.”

Saying that, Jonathan pushed a glass of wine with an alcohol concentration of 45% in front of me.

The bright color of the wine was like poison in my eyes.

I stood still and never took the glass of wine.