Royal Trash の小説・ストーリー

Unknown POV These kings really think they’re smart. It’s almost cute. The security around this palace looked impressive at first glance. Warriors everywhere. Guards rotating constantly. Patrols circling the grounds like they were protecting some damn treasure vault. Yet it only took me a few hours to figure out exactly where they were hiding Traci. A few hours. That was it. People always underestimated how easy it was to blend in when everyone around you believed they were untouchable. Arrogance made people sloppy. And these royals? They practically drowned in arrogance.

He was talking about Royal. "Royal has a very low tolerance for filth," Ripley said. He dropped onto the seat next to Philip and leaned back. The scar cutting through his left eyebrow made his smirk look even more jagged and mean. "He prefers to stay away from stinking trash. He is actually the lucky one. He doesn't have to look at your face." Ripley shifted his gaze to the two men standing like statues behind Riley’s shoulders. They were his sworn mate brothers. They looked just as smug as he did.

I wasn’t done. “What is wrong with you?” I asked. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you treating me like I am trash?” “Because you are trash,” he took a step forward. “And you have no say before the Alpha. Your mother was the only thing linking you to royalty. From now on, you are nothing. Now get your hideous disgusting face out of my face.” The words hit my heart like a bullet. If anyone had told me that Roman would utter those things to me, I would never believe it, not even in a million years.

He couldn’t deny the fact that there was an actual tragedy happens and a threat as well that may catch him up in a trap that they just intend to execute him when he was young. Thirteen years ago, the royals are busy chitchatting in the grand hall with each other while making an exchange peck on each of their cheeks. The dresses they wear are made by an expensive silk and every women’s hair are designed with beaded pearls. Everyone’s entertained with the lovely music that are played by an orchestra.

Elian Thorne—the Prince of the Trash—stood at the center of the bridge, his new scavenger-gold armor reflecting the unnatural light of the Publisher’s Flagship hovering above. "Royalty fees?" Elian’s voice was deeper now, vibrating with the "Noise" of the millions of souls his father had just archived into the city’s foundations. "The only thing my father ever paid for in this city was a divorce he didn't want. I’m not paying you a single cent."

I tossed and turned in my king-size bed and gazed up at the ceiling, unsure if I had picked the right choice. I didn't want Whithold to be involved with something they hadn't dealt with before. Two years ago, I destroyed the operation and ensured Happy Dust was no more. But it has resurfaced and involved the royal family of Whithold. If not destroyed completely, they will have it spread all over the world. I let out a frustrated groan. Pull up the sheets over my chest and try to sleep. But my eyes sprung open when I felt an uneasy presence entering my open balcony doors.

Confidence sparkled in those luminous eyes. Her energy infected Barry. He chuckled, turned, and went to change. He was curious to see exactly how she planned to persuade Nick’s partner. Royal No. 1. Benjamin brought Amanda here for dinner. Royal No. 1 was vast—a luxury complex with everything: dining, entertainment, leisure. Its mysterious owner was known only as Master Ninth. Everyone had heard of him, but no one had ever seen his true face. Reaching the top floor, they were greeted with sweeping views and dazzling lights. The city stretched beneath them in shining rows, the beauty of its prosperity seemingly veiling the filth of human greed, leaving only splendor.

The music was loud and the women were everywhere. “Your Highness, dance with me.” “Oh, no, he promised me the next dance.” “Atlas, look at me. I wore this gown just for you.” Prince Atlas Mavros smiled politely while three noble daughters fought over his arm like cats over fresh meat. The royal ballroom glittered with gold chandeliers and people gorgeously dressed up. It was a grand celebration at the palace. But to Atlas, it felt like a trap.

My face stayed blank as I tossed it straight into the trash. "That one was hand-knit by my mom. This piece of crap doesn't even come close." Elmer frowned when he saw the scarf in the bin, then sat down beside me. "I know. But the dead won't come back, Moira. What's gone is gone. Risa didn't mean any harm, and it was you who pissed her off first, wasn't it? Come on, don't be mad." He reached out like he always did, trying to pat my head.