HIS PRINCESS | K.TH

Smoke and Lemon

AERI

"Dang it." I mumble quietly under my breath, my fingers tightening around the straps of my backpack as I kick at a pebble on the ground.

"Dang it."

I want to cry.

I'd studied so hard for that test. I'd stayed up late every night for the past month just to study, and get a grade that my parents would be proud of.

But stupid, stupid Mrs. Yoon.

She'd taken off five points because I'd forgotten to write my name.

Five entire, flipping points.

Because I'd forgotten to do the one thing that had nothing to do with the actual test itself.

I bite my lip, eyes stinging with tears.

I'd really wanted to get a perfect score. And I would've, if it wasn't for stupid Mrs. Yoon.

Then I smell a whiff of something thick and smoky. It hangs in the air like a gray fog— and at first I think it's the smoke from the factories.

But it isn't.

My eyes trace the wisps of smoke to a tall, dark silhouette in a narrow alley between the local fruit store and the laundry place.

I squint, blinking at the cigarette balanced between his slender, pale fingers. I can't see his face because of the angle of the light— only the thin, white smoking stick. And it was getting dark too.

My brows crease.

He was smoking.

Smoking is bad.

Shoving the crumpled test paper into the pockets of my cherry pink dress, I make my way over to the tall man. My arms are crossed firmly over my chest.

"Hey mister."

He doesn't turn to look. Was he ignoring me?

I raise my voice.

"Hey, mister!"

Finally, his gaze turns. And I can see his face better, even though it's still a bit hard under the dark hood he has pulled over his head.

I hear him sigh, as he tilts the cigarette in a different angle between his fingertips.

His voice is husky with smoke.

"What do you want, little girl?"

Little girl?

"I'm not a little girl. I'm actually twelve years old." I clarify for him, slightly annoyed. I might be small for my age, but I was definitely past the little girl stage.

He closes his eyes, before opening them again.

"Okay."

"And?"

"I just want to tell you that— that thing you have," I start, pointing up at his cigarette. "It's actually really bad for your health. I heard it makes your lungs go all black and you won't be able to breathe anymore. It also—"

"I can breathe just fine." He says, cutting me off.

I frown. Didn't he get it?