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The Princess and The Bad Boy

After her mother dies, Daphne Lane has to go with her father and stepmother who is a queen to Luisa Island, a small (fictional) island that is very prosperous. To become a member of the royal family, she is taken to a mansion in Los Angeles (Twin City of the capital of Luisa) to be taught manners. During the debriefing, she was mentored directly by her stepmother and got a private tutor. In an instant, Daphne's free life begins to be restricted by rules. A set of rules that become a habit should not be broken. Like it or not, Daphne must follow the rules that apply in her life. Transferring to a new school, Daphne immediately becomes the spotlight there as the Princess of Luisa. Although many are queuing up to become her new friends, Daphne prefers to befriend the children who are members of the "Dumped Students" to avenge the crimes of the popular students' club led by Trixie Marshall. Despite being known as a trouble-provoking and a school bouncer, no one knows how Daphne has felt since losing her mother and having to live under the same roof as a stepmother who upholds manners and often compares her to Christabel. Her stepmother and even father also began to make her feel alienated in her new environment. Daphne tries to escape by tricking the security. But unfortunately amid her attempt to escape, she actually 'meets' with Justin Lancaster, an annoying guy who is a troublemaker at school. So her journey to the place of contemplation was again interrupted by the boy's presence.

MinAera · 若者
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50 Chs

Pretty Smile (b)

"Not." I shook my head quickly. "I'm not afraid of getting dirty. Dirty is a part of art."

He pouted, nodding his head. Suddenly, his dirty hand touched my cheek, leaving a stain of oil paint there. "Now you're full of art."

I rubbed my cheek, finding traces of oil paint on the palm of my hand. My lips are open. Then let out a laugh. "You dirt me." I moved nimbly to the table with the palette still covered in oil paints, ran back to Marcel, then poked the blue paint on his nose. "We're full of art."

Unwilling to budge on me, he retaliated against me again by dabbing yellow on my face. I backed away from the other colors that were about to be poked at me, laughed amusedly, and did my best to reply with the same. In about a few minutes we got into a fight with oil paints. We both excel. Not only our faces and hands but our uniforms and alma mater were also covered in oil paint stains.

I ran away from him, circling the canvas and laughing. But my steps and laughter stopped when I saw a painting of a girl on the canvas, which also changed my expression to a gloomy one. Marcel painted a girl with pastel brown hair and blue eyes. It's definitely not me.

And I was too confident because he drew me the other day. Looking at the painting in front of me, it felt like I was stricken with 'Broken Heart Fever'.