The lights in the landlady's office glowed brightly, as if expecting them. As before, it was empty.
Jennifer's plan—crafted while leading her new guest up the stairs—was simple: find the original landlady or call her once in the office. She even imagined the scenario of knocking, finding the door locked, and very naturally saying, "Oh, she's not in. Let me call her."
Except the office tricked her. The door was ajar, planting false hope that the landlady had returned. She barely knocked before it swung open on its own.
"You should be more careful," Adrian admonished gently. (Why was he here?) "Even with a wolf warrior on guard, you should at least lock your door."
Yes. Except this wasn't really her office.
The tenants believed she was the landlady. The deed was in her name. The sales agreement too.
And yet she still felt like a substitute teacher covering for someone who was just on indefinite leave. Just the substitute.
Ah! She must really be mad.
But the most maddening thing? The fancy inbox paper tray on the landlady's desk was, once again, empty.
Jennifer even forgot about the young prince and sexy band manager accompanying her. (Didn't he say he didn't have time for this?)
She went straight to the desk, checked the empty tray, and then pulled open the filing cabinet labeled "Leases."
There it was: Damien Darkfall's signed lease, stamped PAID in red.
She flipped to A, where Adrian's lease had magically been processed and filed earlier. Still there.
But there was no lease with Angus' name.
The prince, tiptoeing over her shoulder, suggested helpfully, "You might want to check under H."
Ah, of course—H for His Royal Highness. His high school records had also filed under H.R.H. Prince Angus. Perfect. If this were a half-baked webnovel.
And there it was. The lease, magically prepared, now in her hands. She wordlessly handed it to the golden-haired prince.
Jennifer studied the eighteen-year-old skeptically. Like the idol boys in her building—and the Young Alpha starting college—Prince Angus looked far too young. They could all be kindergarteners, as far as she was concerned.
"Did you come alone?" she asked. For some reason, she was talking to him like she would a kid in her class.
"I came with Nimbus." He had seated himself in the landlady's chair and was still preoccupied with the lease document, so he didn't seem to notice he was now being treated like a kindergartener.
Where was Sebastian, his personal butler? Aside from the standard-issue butler name, Jennifer had painstakingly crafted him with obsessive attention to detail.
Silver hair. Grey-flecked eyes. Silver-rimmed spectacles. Black gloves. Crisp manners.
The whole impossibly loyal, devastatingly competent package.
At least Prince Angus was reading the lease. The Young Alpha Damien had simply flipped through the pages, signed, and transferred the money via mobile phone. Not that Jennifer was one to say anything. She had not even checked if the transfer was received. How could she? It wasn't like the money was going into her bank account.
Anyway, Prince Angus was taking his time to read the lease. He had a slight frown when he started, but it had since deepened.
Thinking about it, the letter Angus had shown her had sounded like a family invitation. She wasn't judging the landlady, but why make the "Dearest Prince Angus" sign a lease?
"This is preposterous!" the prince declared when he finished the last page.
Jennifer nodded. She would have felt cheated too.
"How can I stay without paying a single cent?" He dropped the papers on the wide table. "I object."
"But…" Jennifer protested on the landlady's behalf, "since your godmother invited you, you shouldn't have to pay."
"It's insulting," the prince said.
"Yes," Adrian agreed, settling on the table next to him. "You are quite right, your highness."
Uh-oh. Jennifer recognized Adrian's negotiation mode immediately.
"Ah, it's fine. Think of your godmother's feelings!" Jennifer tried to stop whatever Adrian was about to do. "She would be hurt if you did not accept her hospitality."
"That's true too," Prince Angus said, rubbing his very hairless chin. "It would be cruel to disappoint her."
"I see." Adrian wasn't ready to let it go. "What a predicament. What should we do?"
"What predicament?" Jennifer demanded. Why was Adrian complicating things?
"Well, how can we choose between a prince's pride and a kind lady's heart?" Adrian drawled. But the look he gave her made it feel like he was talking about her heart.
Jennifer physically stepped back.
"Well…" She struggled to keep her wits about her. It was hard when Adrian was perched on the desk across from her like that, but Adrian should not be wringing money out of kids half his age.
"I'm sure she wouldn't want your money!" she managed. Good job, girl.
Adrian smiled. Goodbye, wits.
"There are other ways to contribute to this building," he suggested, "And a thoughtful and non-monetary contribution would carry more sincerity."
"Go on," Prince Angus said, crossing his arms.
"For example," Adrian continued, "the young alpha on the first floor assigns warriors to provide security for the building."
"Oh… so I could offer some kind of service in lieu of the rent?" Prince Angus asked.
"That's a brilliant idea," Adrian cooed. He was the devil.
Jennifer tried to gather her wits again.
"All right," Prince Angus said, "how might I contribute?"
"It shouldn't be too much," Adrian advised. "Just a token of your gratitude."
Prince Angus considered this. "But I can't give any less than warrior-level security. I am a prince, after all."
"Oh. I stand corrected," Adrian bowed. "You are right. Your highness is the crown prince, after all."
"What about just cleaning up after your own horse?" Jennifer asked tiredly. That would be a big help.
"That's true," Adrian agreed. "It must be hard for one woman to maintain the whole building."
"There are no servants?" Prince Angus was aghast.
"I'm afraid not," Adrian shrugged. "I haven't seen any cleaning staff since moving in."
Oh—Jennifer had not cleaned outside her own apartment at all. She had never seen cleaning staff in twenty years either. How did the elderly landlady manage it?
"Our landlady is kind by nature," Adrian explained. "I doubt she collects enough rent to cover maintenance costs."
"Yet the building and yard are meticulously cared for," the young prince marveled.
"She even works weekdays, just to support herself," Adrian added, resting a hand on Jennifer's shoulder.
The young prince looked moved. He seemed to forget entirely that the landlady was supposed to be his godmother, not Jennifer.
"Kindness is a virtue in beautiful women," he quoted, as taught in that half-baked royal webnovel, "but I see now how cruel the world can be in reality."
Do you? Really?
"Now that I know this, how can I look the other way?" Prince Angus declared. "Never fear. I will have this building staffed adequately. You will never have to live in hardship again."
Jennifer had stopped living in hardship years ago.
"I will assign staff to this building," Prince Angus promised.
"It might be difficult to oversee so many staff," Adrian cautioned.
"I'll also ensure a butler and housekeeper manage the estate," Prince Angus said.
There was no "estate." Just a building. Possibly self-cleaning, self-fixing… Jennifer side-eyed the filing cabinet. Self-filing too, apparently.