megutron

Your head fell onto your sketchbook with a dramatic thud. Twenty. Twenty hands. You could barely draw one.

Three days later, your bedroom floor had become a graveyard of crumpled paper. You held your left hand out in front of you, fingers spread awkwardly. It looked simple enough. Five fingers, a palm, some knuckles. Easy.

You looked down at your sketch. “…Why do you look like a bunch of sausages?”

You erased, redrew, erased again. The thumb was too long. Now the index finger looked broken. The wrist somehow disappeared entirely. With an exhausted sigh, you reached for your phone and searched for reference photos.

Perfectly lit stock images filled the screen. They were helpful but they also felt… lifeless. You wanted something real. Unfortunately, asking strangers to let you stare at their hands sounded like an excellent way to get pepper sprayed.

Thursday morning arrived far too quickly. Your general education psychology lecture was thankfully much less demanding than your studio classes, making it the perfect place to mentally recover. You slipped into your usual seat near the middle of the lecture hall.

Only one seat remained empty. Right beside you. Almost on cue, someone slid into it just before class began.

“…Morning.”

It was Megumi Fushiguro.

You smiled. “Morning.”

That was usually the extent of your conversations before class. You weren’t exactly close. Just… seatmates. Somewhere along the semester, sitting together had become an unspoken routine. Neither of you questioned it anymore. The professor began speaking as Megumi quietly opened his notebook.

His handwriting was ridiculously neat. Straight lines, consistent spacing. It somehow matched him perfectly. You tried listening to the lecture. Really, you did for about five minutes.

Then your eyes wandered. Megumi rested his elbow on the desk, absentmindedly twirling a mechanical pencil between his fingers while reading the lecture slides. Your gaze lingered. Long fingers, defined knuckles, slim wrists disappearing beneath the cuff of his hoodie. The tendons shifted beneath his skin every time he adjusted his grip.

Oh. Those were…really nice hands. Artistically speaking. You continued staring without realizing how obvious you were being.

“…What?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?”

Megumi glanced sideways without lifting his head completely.

“You’ve been looking at my hand.”

Heat immediately rushed to your face. “I—I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

“…Okay.” You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. “...I was.”

He waited before finally asking. “…Why?”

You considered lying. Instead, you sighed. “I’m an art major.”

“…I know.”

“My professor assigned twenty hand studies.” You finally rested your hands back on the table, trying to seem calm. “I’ve been struggling all week.”

He looked down at his own hand before looking back at you. “So…”

You swallowed. “…you have really nice hands.”

“…Thanks?”

“No, wait! I don’t mean it like that!”

Your words came tumbling out faster than your brain could stop them.

“I mean they’re proportional! Your fingers are long and your knuckles are really defined and artists like drawing interesting hands and yours just happen to be—”

You took a deep breath. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

“…Would it be weird if…I asked if I could draw your hands?”

Megumi blinked once. “…That’s all?”

“…Yeah.”

“I thought something was wrong.”

“…Why would something be wrong?”

“You kept staring.”

You couldn't help but avert your eyes after the statement. He looked down at his hand again, flexing his fingers once.

“…Sure.”

“…Really?” You turn back to look at him again. His face seeming unbothered. He gave a small shrug.

“If it helps.”

The smile that spread across your face was immediate. “It helps a lot.”

After class, the two of you wandered to a quiet courtyard tucked behind the humanities building. Students passed by every so often, but it was peaceful enough that you could hear birds chirping somewhere overhead. You settled onto one side of a wooden bench while Megumi sat across from you.

He rested one hand on the table between you. “…Like this?”

You looked up from your sketchbook. Then laughed. “You’re so stiff.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“…Whatever this is.”

“You make it sound like I’m conducting an experiment.”

“You kind of are.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Just relax.”

He loosened his fingers slightly.

“There, better.”

You began sketching. The first few lines came easily. His fingers were long, making the proportions much easier to understand than your own. Every tendon became visible whenever he shifted ever so slightly. The tiny wrinkles around his knuckles gave your pencil something interesting to follow. For several minutes, neither of you spoke. Only the scratching of graphite against paper filled the quiet.

“…Does it normally take this long?”

You looked up. “What?”

“Drawing.”

“I’m trying not to mess it up.” You look back at your sketchbook with a small smile.

“…You haven’t looked at me for like… five minutes.”

The corner of your lips twitch a little. “I am looking at you.”

“My hand.”

“…Your hand is attached to you.”

“…Fair enough.”

You laughed. “So impatient.”

“I’ve been holding the same pose.”

“It’s been eight minutes.”

Megumi tilts his head. “…Has it?”

You playfully roll your eyes. “You sound like an old man.”

Megumi leans over the table and rests his head on his other palm. “…I don’t know how to respond to that.”

Your eraser slipped from your fingers and bounced onto the ground. “Oh.”

Before you could bend down, Megumi reached for it. His hand curled naturally around the small white block. The angle made the tendons along the back of his hand stand out. Your eyes lit up.

“Don’t move.”

He paused mid-motion. “…What?”

“That’s a really nice pose.”

He remained frozen, eraser still in his hand. “…Seriously?”

“Mhm.” You hurriedly flipped to a fresh page. “Just… stay exactly like that.”

He sighed. “…Again?”

“I promise this one’s the last one.”

“…You said that ten minutes ago.”

“I know…Please?”

After a brief pause, he nodded once.

“…Okay.”

By the time you finally closed your sketchbook, six pages had been filled. You stretched your arms above your head with a satisfied sigh.

“I think I can actually finish the assignment now.”

Megumi leaned forward slightly. “…Can I see?”

You hesitated before turning the sketchbook around. His eyes quietly scanned each page. Different angles, different poses. Every crease and shadow carefully rendered in graphite. He stopped on one drawing.

“…You noticed that?”

“The scar?”

He looked at the faint line across one of his knuckles. “…Yeah.”

You nodded. “It catches the light. I thought it looked nice.”

Megumi stared at his own hand. “…I forgot I even had that.”

You smiled as you packed away your pencils. At the last second, you looked up again.

“…Can I ask you another time?”

He met your eyes. “For class?”

“Mhm.”

He thought for a moment before giving a small nod. “…Sure.”

Relief washed over you. “Thanks, Megumi.”

“…No problem.”

"This week's assignment," your professor announced, writing Body Studies across the whiteboard, "is about understanding form."

A few students immediately perked up. You, however, felt a headache coming on.

"I don't want polished illustrations," your professor continued. "I want observation. Study the way clothing folds over the body. Learn to see the figure and the way it shapes the fabric."

She smiled. "Ten studies."

A chorus of groans echoed through the studio.

"You all survived hands."

Barely, you thought. That afternoon, you sat beneath a tree outside the library with your sketchbook open. Students walked across campus in every direction. You tried sketching strangers. Someone moved before you could finish the shoulders. Another adjusted their backpack. One person sat down for exactly thirty seconds before getting up again.

You sighed. "...How is everyone so... busy?"

Your pencil hovered over another unfinished page. You needed someone who could stay still. Someone patient. Someone...

"...Megumi."

Your psychology lecture had barely ended when you started gathering your things. Megumi zipped up his backpack beside you.

"You leaving?" You asked quickly.

"Mhm."

"...Can I ask you something?"

He paused. "What is it?"

You suddenly became very interested in adjusting your pencil case. "So..."

"...Another assignment?"

You looked up. "...How did you know?"

"You've got that look."

"What look?" You tilted your head.

"The one you had before you asked to draw my hands."

"...I have a look?"

He nodded once.

"...Oh." You laughed awkwardly. "Well...This week's assignment is body studies."

He waited for you to continue.

"...Would you maybe...be willing to help again?"

"What do I have to do?"

"Mostly just... sit there."

"...Again?"

"Again."

He considered it for all of two seconds. "...Okay."

"You didn't even ask for details."

"You'll tell me anyway."

"...That's true." You give him a grateful smile.

The two of you found an empty corner of the student union. Megumi set his backpack beside his chair.

"What do you want me to do?"

You looked around thoughtfully. "Hmm..."

He watched as you tilted your head.

"I don't know."

He gives you a skeptical look.

"...Can you... lean back a little?"

He did.

"A little more."

He leaned farther into the chair.

"Perfect."

You immediately began sketching. Unlike his hands, drawing his posture felt...different. You found yourself studying the slope of his shoulders. The loose folds of his black hoodie. The way one sleeve bunched around his wrist. How his legs stretched comfortably beneath the table. Every time he shifted his weight, new folds appeared in the fabric.

"...Am I moving too much?"

"No." Your pencil continued gliding across the paper. "It makes the folds on your clothes look more prominent."

"...Is that good?"

"Mhm."

"It looks more alive."

He nodded quietly, as if he understood.

Several minutes passed. "You can blink, you know." He says, trying to break the silence.

"I wasn't trying not to."

"You've been staring at the same page for a while."

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"How hoodies wrinkle...They're surprisingly complicated."

Megumi looked down at himself. "I've never thought about it."

"I can tell."

"What does that mean?"

You just grinned in response. After nearly half an hour, your wrist started to ache. You stretched your fingers before looking over your work.

"...I think I got it."

Megumi stood and walked around the table. His eyes drifted over the page. It wasn't a portrait. There was no face. Just the gentle curve of a relaxed posture. The weight of someone settling into a chair after a long day. The soft folds of a hoodie gathered around bent elbows.

"...That's me?"

"Mhm."

"It doesn't even have my face."

"You don't need one." You tapped the page. "I can tell it's you because of how you sit."

He looked at the sketch again. "...You can tell that?"

"You always lean a little to your left."

"I do?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You also cross your ankles instead of your knees."

He instinctively glanced down. He was. "...Huh."

"You rest your shoulders lower whenever you're comfortable and you tug on your sleeves whenever you're thinking."

He unconsciously released the sleeve he'd been fiddling with. A quiet silence settled between you. Finally, he asked,

"...You notice all that?"

You blinked. "...Artists notice weird things."

For a brief moment, Megumi didn't answer. He simply looked at the sketch again before quietly saying,

"...I think that's kind of nice."

Your heart skipped for reasons you chose not to examine too closely. Instead, you closed your sketchbook with a smile.

"So..." You slung your bag over your shoulder.

"Same thing next assignment?"

The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "...Yeah."

He wasn't sure when helping with your homework had become something he looked forward to but as the two of you walked across campus together, he found himself hoping your professors would keep giving you impossible assignments.

"I'm proud of your progress."

The studio fell suspiciously quiet. Whenever your Professor sounded pleased, it usually meant she was about to make everyone's lives significantly harder. She smiled.

"I think you're all ready."

A few hopeful murmurs spread across the room.

"Ready for muscles."

The room collectively deflated. She uncapped a marker and began sketching a simplified arm on the whiteboard.

"Don't worry," she said with a laugh. "I'm not asking for medical illustrations. I want you to observe how muscles affect the body's surface. Where does the triceps create volume? How does the shoulder change when the arm is lifted? How does the back move when you stretch?

She underlined three words.

Arms and Back

You stared at your notebook. Then at the board. Then back at your notebook.

"...I'm cooked."

The student beside you nodded solemnly. "So cooked."

It was one of the hottest days of the semester. Even before your afternoon lecture, the campus seemed to shimmer beneath the sun. Students had abandoned hoodies in favor of T-shirts. Windows were propped open despite doing very little to help. You stepped into the lecture hall, grateful for the faint breeze from the ceiling fans.

A familiar voice came from beside you. "...Hey."

You smiled. "Hi."

Megumi dropped into the seat next to yours. For a second, your brain stopped working. He's wearing short sleeves. It wasn't a dramatic change. Just a plain black T-shirt instead of the oversized hoodies he usually lived in. But now his forearms were exposed.

His elbows...the line of muscle that shifted whenever he reached into his backpack. You immediately looked away.

Be professional. You're observing anatomy. Nothing weird about anatomy.

"...You okay?"

"Hm?"

"You've been staring."

"I have not...Maybe a little."

The lecture dragged on and unfortunately for you, Megumi took notes diligently. Every movement of his hand made the muscles in his forearm flex beneath his skin. You tried to focus on the professor. You lasted maybe three minutes. Your eyes wandered again.

The muscles tightened as he wrote. His wrist rolled slightly whenever he turned the page. Your artist brain lit up like a Christmas tree.

Those shadows...That tendon...

"...What?"

You blinked. "...Sorry."

"My arm?"

"...Your arm."

He glanced down at it. "...What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing!" You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck.

"My assignment this week is muscles."

"...Ah." He nodded once. "...Makes sense."

After class, the two of you walked toward the student union together.

"So..." Megumi said. "This week's homework?"

You sighed dramatically. "I swear my professor is trying to make my life difficult."

"What is it?"

You opened your sketchbook and handed him the assignment sheet. He scanned it quietly.

Observe major muscle groups without the cover of fabric this time. Include arms and back for anatomical variety. Focus on surface anatomy and the way individual muscles connect and overlap.

"...Without the cover of fabric," he read aloud.

"...Yeah." You let your head fall onto the table. "I was hoping I'd be able to get away with drawing over hoodies."

"I guess not." Megumi read the note scribbled beneath the assignment.

Use a live reference if possible.

"...That's pretty specific."

"I know." You sighed again. "I've been trying to figure out who to ask all day."

He looked up from the paper. "...Do you need help?"

You hesitated. "...Maybe."

He waited patiently.

"It's just..." You scratched the back of your neck. "...This assignment is a little more awkward."

"Because of the shirt?"

You nodded. "I can't exactly ask someone, 'Hey, can you take your shirt off so I can draw your back? That sounds insane."

"You weren't going to ask me."

"I absolutely wasn't."

He looked back down at the assignment for another moment. "...If that's what the assignment requires..." He handed the sketchbook back. "...I don't mind."

You blinked. "...Megumi."

"What?"

"I wasn't fishing for that answer."

"I know."

"I would've found someone else."

He shrugged lightly. "You already know how I sit still."

"...That's your reasoning?"

"It worked the last two assignments."

You couldn't help but laugh. "You're way too calm about this."

"I don't really see the problem."

"You don't?"

"It's for class."

He met your eyes with the same straightforward expression he always wore. "...You're not looking at me. You're studying anatomy."

For some reason, hearing him say it so matter of factly only made your face feel warmer. The Fine Arts building was unusually quiet by the time the two of you arrived.

Most of the studios had emptied out for the evening, leaving only the faint smell of graphite, acrylic paint, and drying clay lingering in the halls.

You peeked into one of the classrooms. "Looks empty."

Megumi glanced inside before nodding. "This works."

You set your sketchbook, pencils, and kneaded eraser across one of the large wooden tables. For some reason...your heart refused to slow down. It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd helped you. He'd sat for your hand studies. Your posture studies.

This wasn't any different...Right?

"Where do you want me?"

His voice pulled you back to reality. "Huh?"

"You look like you're thinking."

"Oh." You laughed nervously. "Sorry."

You looked him over for a moment before pointing toward one of the stools near the windows.

"Could you sit there?"

He did without question. The afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows, outlining one side of his figure in warm light. Your artist brain immediately approved.

"Can you... roll your sleeve up a little?"

He folded the sleeve of his T-shirt once.

"A little higher?"

He rolled it again until it rested near the top of his upper arm. "There?"

You nodded. "Perfect."

He rested one arm across the back of the stool. "Like this?"

"Mhm." You opened your sketchbook.

The moment your pencil touched the paper, everything else disappeared. The nervousness. The awkwardness. Even Megumi sitting a few feet away. Your focus narrowed to lines, shapes, and shadows. The gentle curve of his shoulder. The subtle definition where muscle shifted beneath his skin whenever he adjusted his fingers. The way the light caught along his forearm. Every few minutes, you'd mumble something almost absentmindedly.

Megumi quietly followed every instruction. Neither of you noticed how much time had passed. Only when your wrist began to ache did you finally lean back.

"I think..." You flexed your fingers. "...I got it." You turned the sketchbook toward him. "What do you think?"

Megumi leaned closer. His eyes lingered on the page longer than you expected. "...Huh."

You shifted nervously. "Good 'huh' or bad 'huh'?"

He looked down at his own arm before returning to the drawing. "...I didn't know my arm looked like that."

You laughed. "What does that mean?"

He looked from the drawing to his own arm. "I don't know." He flexed it experimentally before glancing back at the sketch.

"I'm not exactly..." He searched for the word. "...Built."

"You don't have to be." You tapped the page. "I'm not drawing how strong someone is I'm drawing how everything fits together. The shape, the light, the way your muscles move when you're holding yourself up."

Megumi looked back at the drawing. "...It's kind of cool."

A smile spread across your face. "I'm glad you think so."

You flipped to a fresh page. Then your smile slowly faded. "...Right."

"What?"

"...The next study."

He glanced at the page in your hands.

Upper back.

Another beat of silence passed.

"Oh."

"...Yeah."

You laughed once, the sound thin with nerves. "This is where it gets awkward." You rubbed the back of your neck. "I can always ask someone else if you're uncomfortable."

He shook his head almost immediately. "I'm not."

"You don't have to say yes just because we've been doing these assignments together."

"I know...I still don't mind."

Your fingers tightened around the edge of your sketchbook. "I appreciate it."

He glanced around the empty studio. "I'll turn around."

"Hm?"

"So you don't have to look at me while I'm..." He gestured vaguely toward himself. "...doing this."

Your eyes widened. "Oh."

"You looked like you were trying to figure out how to ask."

"...Was it that obvious?"

"A little."

Despite yourself, you laughed. "...Sorry."

"No need."

He picked up the stool and carried it toward the center of the room before turning it to face the tall windows.

"There." He looked back over his shoulder. "Better?"

"...Yeah."

He smiled, a small, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth. "Good."

With his back to you, he reached for the hem of his shirt. Your gaze immediately darted toward the floor. The wooden floorboards suddenly became incredibly interesting. You heard the soft rustle of fabric. Then silence.

"...Okay." His voice was calm. "I'm ready."

You inhaled slowly before forcing yourself to look up. For a split second, your thoughts scattered. Not because there was anything dramatic in front of you. Just because the situation suddenly felt very real. You had spent weeks studying his hands, his posture, the way he carried himself.

The sight of his bare back in the warm afternoon light made your pulse stutter. The clean, strong lines of his shoulders, the subtle curve of his spine, the way shadows pooled along his muscles, it was exactly what the assignment needed, but being this close felt dangerously intimate.

Your artist's instincts and your self consciousness collided all at once. You forgot to breathe and several seconds passed.

"...You still with me?" His voice carried a hint of amusement.

You blinked rapidly. "O-oh." You cleared your throat. "Yeah." You pause. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"I think my brain stopped working."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "I noticed."

You covered your face for a second with one hand. "This is so embarrassing."

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying very hard to be professional."

"And?"

"...It's not going great."

Megumi's smile widened just enough that you could hear it in his voice. "I think you're doing fine."

You let out one slow breath, lifted your pencil, and finally allowed your eyes to settle, not on the awkwardness of the moment, but on the shapes, the planes, and the light that every artist learns to see. The graphite touched the page and little by little, your heartbeat found its rhythm again.

You sketched for a while, but the lighting on his upper back still wasn’t quite right. You stood up and moved closer, leaning carefully over his right shoulder from behind to get a better view of the shadows.

Your face hovered just inches from the side of his. You could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the faint scent of his shampoo, and hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Don’t move," you whispered, voice barely audible.

Megumi stayed perfectly still but then slowly turned his head toward you, just enough to check if the pose was okay.

Your faces were suddenly dangerously close.

His dark eyes met yours. Time seemed to slow. Neither of you pulled away. The tip of his nose nearly brushed yours. Your gaze dropped involuntarily to his lips, then back up. His breath ghosted across your mouth.

The air between you crackled. For one heart stopping moment, it felt like the smallest movement from either of you would close the gap completely. Your could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Megumi’s eyes darkened slightly, his lips parting just a fraction. You were so close.

Then your phone alarm blared from the desk.

You both startled apart. You stepped back quickly, face burning. Megumi faced forward again, the back of his neck visibly flushed. The charged silence lingered for another second.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, voice a little rougher than usual as he reached for his shirt and pulled it on.

You nodded, still trying to steady your breathing. "For the assignment."

Megumi paused at the door and glanced back at you. That small, shy smile returned to his lips, softer this time.

"Try not to lean in so close next time," he murmured, almost teasing, but his eyes were warm.

Lady Rika lowered her gaze respectfully. "I thought it might be unwise for her to meet His Majesty immediately after her altercation with the Tenth Prince."

Queen Okkotsu nodded in understanding. "I suppose you're right." A small smile touched her lips. "Though I had been looking forward to seeing her."

Just then, another group rounded the corner. Queen Geto. Several attendants followed a respectful distance behind her. The three women stopped. Queen Okkotsu smiled warmly.

"Queen Geto."

"Queen Okkotsu."

They exchanged polite bows. Queen Geto's eyes drifted toward Princess Mei Mei and Lady Rika before returning to Queen Okkotsu.

"It must be nice having daughters to keep you company."

Queen Okkotsu chuckled softly. "I could say the same about having sons."

The two queens laughed together. Anyone passing by would have thought they were the closest of friends.

Queen Geto turned to Princess Mei Mei. "You should come visit me sometime. My son barely visits these days."

Princess Mei Mei smiled politely. "I'm afraid my stories won't be very entertaining."

Queen Geto waved a hand dismissively. "I'm sure they'll be entertaining enough."

"I'll be sure to stop by."

"I'll look forward to it."

With one final smile, Queen Geto continued toward the banquet hall with her attendants. The moment she disappeared around the corner...every smile vanished.

Princess Mei Mei let out a quiet scoff. "She's as fake as ever."

"Princess," Lady Rika warned gently. "You shouldn't say things like that out in the open." She glanced around the corridor. "Someone might hear."

Queen Okkotsu nodded. "Lady Rika is right." She looked toward her daughter. "And next time..." A faint smile returned to her face. "...try not to look so bothered before she walks away."

Princess Mei Mei sighed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Together, the three women continued toward the banquet hall as the sound of music echoed through the palace.

Outside the palace walls, the town was alive. Children laughed as they chased one another through the streets, their laughter blending with the sounds of musicians and merchants calling out to passing crowds. Painted lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm glow over the festival as evening slowly settled in.

You couldn't help but smile. "This is amazing."

Yuki laughed as you pulled her toward yet another food stall. "Miss, you've already bought three things."

"So?" You held out a skewer toward her. "You have to try this one too."

She accepted it with a helpless smile. "You really do love food."

You grinned. "I don't know what I was expecting..." You took another bite before your eyes lit up. "...but everything is so good."

The two of you wandered from stall to stall, trying whatever caught your eye. Sweet pastries, grilled meat, warm rice cakes, every vendor seemed to have something new to offer.

For a little while you almost forgot you were living in a different time. As you continued walking, something overhead caught your attention. You looked up. Your heart nearly stopped.

"...No way."

There it was. The lantern you had painted. Hanging among hundreds of others. You almost dropped the skewer in your hand. Yuki immediately noticed. 

"Miss?" She looked at you with concern. "Is everything alright?"

You quickly forced a smile. "Y-Yeah." You turned away almost immediately. "I'm fine."

Just then, a little boy pointed up at your lantern. "That one's weird!"

Another child looked up before bursting into laughter. "It looks funny!"

You looked anywhere but above you. "...Let's keep walking."

Yuki tilted her head, confused, but nodded anyway. "As you wish."

As the night grew darker, the festival became even busier. People poured into the streets until there was barely room to walk. Someone brushed past your shoulder. Then another. The crowd surged forward.

"Yuki?"

She was gone. The sea of people swallowed every familiar face. You stood on your toes, searching. Nothing.

"I'll just..." You took a cautious step away from the crowd. "...find somewhere quieter."

As you wandered away from the noise, something caught your eye. Movement. Quick. Someone running toward the bamboo forest. Curiosity got the better of you so you followed. The sounds of the festival slowly faded behind you. The deeper you walked into the bamboo grove, the quieter everything became.

Then you heard voices. You froze. Carefully, you stepped behind one of the thick bamboo stalks and peeked through. Several masked figures knelt on the ground. Perfectly still. Standing before them was a man dressed in a dark burgundy robe.

His back faced you. You couldn't see his face. Without saying a word...he raised one hand and with a single wave, blood splattered. The kneeling men collapsed one after another. Your eyes widened. You instinctively covered your mouth before a gasp could escape. Your heart pounded so loudly you were certain someone would hear it.

Run. You had to run. You took a step back. Then another and  moment you were far enough away, you turned and ran. Branches whipped past your face. Your breathing became uneven.

You only had one thought. Get back to the festival. Get back to people.But you suddenly slammed into someone. Strong hands caught you before you could fall. You looked up and saw a mask. Before you could scream, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders while a blade pressed against your neck.

You held your breath. The cold steel dug into your skin. Prince Satoru emerged from the darkness. His expression didn't change. Not even when he saw the blade against your throat.

The masked man tightened his hold. "One more step and she dies."

Prince Satoru simply looked at the two of you through his sunglasses. Then, without a hint of hesitation.

"Go ahead."

Your heart stopped.

"Kill her." His voice was cold. "You think I care?"

Your stomach dropped. The masked man instinctively stepped backward, dragging you with him. The blade shifted and a sharp sting spread across your neck. Warm blood trickled down your skin.

"P-Please..." Your voice shook. "Please save me..." Your eyes desperately searched Prince Satoru's face. "He's going to kill me..."

A tear slipped down your cheek. For one long moment.Nobody moved. Your pulse thundered in your ears. Then, you bit down as hard as you could on the masked man's hand. He cried out in painand loosened his grip. You shoved yourself away, stumbling onto the ground.

The world blurred. Before the man could grab you again, a knife cut through the air. The blade buried itself deep into the man's forehead. His body crumpled instantly.

Dead.

Prince Satoru's eyes shifted past you. You turned. Standing beyond the trees was Prince Yuta. Palace guards surrounded him, swords already drawn. Prince Satoru's gaze returned on the lifeless body. Then, slowly turned toward you. Before you could react, he grabbed the front of your kimono and yanked you to your feet.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

You stumbled forward. "I-I..."

His grip tightened. "That was my only hostage."

Your breathing became uneven.

"You let him die."

You stared at him in disbelief. Your hands trembled.

"I was trying not to die!"

The words came out much louder than you intended. Prince Satoru's expression didn't change. He simply glared at you. The bamboo grove fell silent. Prince Yuta stepped forward and pointed his sword directly at Prince Satoru.

"Let her go."

Prince Satoru didn't even spare him a glance. "No."

The palace guards immediately tensed. Prince Yuta remained calm.

"Lady [Name] is Lady Rika's cousin." His grip on his sword never wavered. "She is a guest of our household. If she returns injured because of this, Lady Rika will have every reason to question why we allowed it."

Prince Satoru did not respond. Prince Yuta continued.

"The hostage is already dead." His voice stayed steady. "Interrogating her here will not change that."

Neither prince moved. Then Prince Satoru clicked his tongue. His fingers released your kimono. You nearly stumbled backward. Only then did you realize you had been holding your breath. You inhaled sharply. Before either of them could speak again, you hurriedly pointed deeper into the bamboo grove.

"I saw something."

The two princes looked at you.

"There were people." You swallowed. "A lot of masked men. They were kneeling and..." Your voice shook. "They were all killed."

Prince Yuta and Prince Satoru exchanged a brief look. "Show us."

You nodded immediately. You hurried ahead with the palace guards following close behind. You reached the clearing and froze. Nothing. The bodies were gone.

"No..." You looked around frantically. "They were here." Your breathing quickened. "I swear they were here." You pointed desperately toward the ground.

Prince Satoru looked at you from behind his dark glasses. His silence somehow felt more accusing than words. Panic settled in your chest.

"I'm not lying. I saw them. I really did."

Prince Yuta crouched beside one of the bamboo stalks. "Brother Satoru."

He brushed his fingers against the green stalk before holding them up. Blood. Small crimson droplets stained the bamboo. He looked around carefully.

"She's telling the truth."

The guards immediately searched the surrounding area. Prince Yuta stood. "The bodies were moved."

Prince Satoru glanced over the bloodstains before letting out a quiet scoff. "...They're good."

Prince Yuta nodded. "We'll continue searching tomorrow." He looked toward the dark forest beyond. "It's too late to pursue them tonight."

Prince Satoru didn't answer. He simply turned around and walked away without another word. The moment he disappeared into the darkness, the strength left your legs. You collapsed onto the ground. Everything that had happened finally caught up to you.

Your shoulders shook. Tears spilled freely. Prince Yuta quietly walked over before crouching in front of you. His expression softened. Without saying anything, he gently patted your back. You tried to steady your breathing. Instead, the words tumbled out between sobs.

"H-He..." You hiccupped. "He said..." Another tear rolled down your cheek. "He said, 'Go ahead and kill her!'"

Prince Yuta blinked. For the first time that night his composed expression cracked.

"...That bastard." You said with conviction.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He quickly looked away, trying to hide a laugh.

"There, there." He continued patting your back gently. "It's over now."

That only made you cry harder. By the time you and Prince Yuta returned to the palace, the festival had long since ended. The palace gates opened immediately at the sight of the Crown Prince's younger brother.

"Miss!" Yuki came running toward you.

The second she saw the blood on your neck, all the color drained from her face. She nearly stumbled in her haste to reach you.

"Oh no... oh no..." Her eyes quickly filled with tears. "I'm in so much trouble."

She began rambling, barely stopping to breathe.

"I lost you at the festival, and now you've come back injured. This is all my fault. Lady Rika is going to punish me. I should've stayed closer. I—"

"Yuki." You gently grabbed her hands. She stopped talking.

"It's okay." You smiled reassuringly despite everything. "I won't let anyone do anything to you."

Yuki stared at you. "...Miss."

Her eyes shimmered.

"The physician is waiting." Prince Yuta spoke. He looked toward you. "Let's have your wound treated first."

You nodded. The palace physician carefully cleaned the blood off your wound. He examined the cut in silence before reaching for a fresh roll of bandages.

"Fortunately," he said, "the wound is shallow."

He gently applied ointment. "It shouldn't leave a scar."

You let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"However..." He began wrapping the clean bandage around your neck. "You must keep it clean. If it becomes infected, the wound could worsen."

"I understand." Once he finished, you bowed politely. "Thank you."

The physician returned the bow.

"It is my duty."

You excused yourself and began walking back toward your room. The palace corridors had become unusually quiet. As you rounded a corner, you stopped. Prince Satoru sat alone beneath the wooden eaves outside. One leg lazily bent. One arm resting against his knee as if he'd been waiting. His blue eyes followed you as you walked past. You stared back.

"...What?" Your voice carried more irritation than you intended. "What do you want?"

He slowly stood. Then walked toward you. Instinctively, you stepped backward until your back met the wall. You were cornered. He stopped only a short distance away.

"Why were you there?" He asked.

You frowned. "I told you.I got lost."

"You always seem to get lost." His voice remained calm. "You also have a habit of ending up where you shouldn't be."

You folded your arms. "I really was just lost."

He remained silent. His gaze never left yours. "Did you see anything else?"

Before you could answer, Prince Yuta approached from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Brother." He rested a hand on Prince Satoru's shoulder before gently nudging him back a step, giving you room to breathe.

"That's enough."

Prince Satoru looked at him. "I was asking a few simple questions."

Prince Yuta glanced toward you. "You've questioned her enough for one night."

Then something flashed through your memory.

"There was someone."

Both princes looked at you.

"There was one man."

You frowned, trying to remember.

"I couldn't see his face but...he was wearing..." You paused. "A wine red kimono."

The atmosphere changed instantly. Recognition flashed across Prince Satoru's face. He looked toward Prince Yuta. Prince Yuta met his eyes. Then gave a small nod. Prince Satoru turned back to you.

"Who else knows about this?"

You sighed. Growing tired of all the questions. "...You're the only one who's been questioning me."

Prince Yuta's expression softened. "For your own safety..." He spoke gently. "Don't tell anyone what you saw tonight."

He hesitated. "In fact...It would be best if you forgot you saw any of it."

Prince Satoru nodded once. "Right.Forget everything you saw tonight."

With that, he turned to leave. You watched his back, something was bubbling in your stomach. Then, before you could stop yourself,

"What's so wrong with trying to survive?"

He stopped walking. For a long moment, he said nothing. 

"Survival isn't something people praise in the palace." He said without turning around. "It's the least that's expected of you." His voice was quiet.

He resumed walking and soon disappeared around the corner. You stared after him.

"...Jerk."

The word slipped out before you could stop it. Your eyes widened. You immediately covered your mouth and slowly turned toward Prince Yuta. He was already looking at you. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"...Sorry," you mumbled.

Prince Yuta chuckled softly. "It's alright."

He gestured down the corridor. "Come. I'll walk you back."

For the first time that night, you didn't feel quite as alone. The walk back to your room was quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just... quiet. The palace had settled into the stillness of the night. The lanterns lining the corridors flickered softly as you and Prince Yuta walked side by side. Every now and then, you caught him glancing toward the bandage around your neck.

"You should try not to turn your head too much," he said gently. "The physician said the wound needs time to heal."

You smiled sheepishly. "I'll try."

A few more steps passed before you sighed. "...Today was exhausting."

Prince Yuta let out a small laugh. "I can imagine."

"I almost got lost."

"You did get lost."

"...Right."

"I almost got killed."

"...You did almost get killed."

You looked at him with mock offense. "Whose side are you on?"

He looked genuinely surprised. "Yours."

The answer came so naturally that you stopped walking. Prince Yuta took another step before realizing you weren't beside him anymore. He turned back.

"...Did I say something strange?"

You blinked. "No." You smiled. "I just wasn't expecting you to answer that so quickly."

"...Oh." He cleared his throat.

The two of you continued walking. Eventually, you reached your room. The lantern outside your door swayed gently in the night breeze. Prince Yuta stopped.

"We're here."

You turned toward him. "Thank you for everything."

He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me."

"I do." You smiled warmly. "You saved my life."

Prince Yuta looked away for a moment. "...Anyone would have done the same."

You thought back to the bamboo forest. To blue eyes.

Go ahead. Kill her.

"...Not everyone," you murmured.

Silence settled between you. Prince Yuta seemed to understand exactly what you meant.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You must have been frightened."

The concern in his voice made your eyes sting all over again. You laughed awkwardly instead.

"I think all the crying I had in me is already gone."

That earned a soft chuckle from him. "I hope so."

He reached into his sleeve before pulling out a small cloth pouch. "I almost forgot."

He held it out to you. You accepted it curiously.

"...What's this?"

"Sweet rice candies." He smiled. "I thought they might help after... everything."

You carefully opened the pouch. Inside were several small candies coated in a light dusting of sugar. Your face lit up.

"I noticed you liked sweets."

Your smile grew. "You noticed?."

Prince Yuta nodded. "It wasn't difficult."

You laughed.

"I'll make sure to eat them."

"I'm glad."

He took a small step back. "You should get some rest."

"You too."

He inclined his head.

"Goodnight, Lady [Name]."

"Goodnight, Prince Yuta."

Your cursed energy reinforced your legs as you bounded from an air conditioner unit onto the awning, then to the roof in a practiced series of movements. You dropped into a crouch.

The black sniper rifle fit effortlessly in your hands. Unlike your family's traditional cursed tools, katanas, spears, and bows, you forged modern weapons. Firearms. Something your clan had once mocked.

"A sorcerer should fight with honor."

"Guns are for weaklings."

Until they saw what your cursed bullets could do. The rifle rested comfortably against your shoulder. You peered through the scope and panned towards Yuta.

He was speaking to the frightened girl. You shifted slightly. Behind him floated Rika, towering protectively over both of them. Satisfied, you continued scanning.

The street...Abandoned cars...Collapsed storefront...

Then, you saw movement. Your eye narrowed. A lone sorcerer sprinted around the opposite corner. Not toward Yuta. Toward the little girl. His expression twisted into something desperate.

Your finger settled on the trigger. Yuta couldn't sense him yet. Neither could Rika. The sorcerer was too far for them. But not for you.

Slow inhale.

The world shrank to the circle inside your scope. The crosshair rested perfectly between the man's eyes. You squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

The sound cracked through the colony like thunder. The sorcerer's head snapped backward. He collapsed before taking another step. Kogane appeared beside you.

"Player[name] has earned one point."

You let out a quiet breath. "Thanks."

Below, Yuta instinctively stepped in front of the girl. His eyes searched the rooftops. They landed on you. You stood from your crouch, slinging the rifle over your shoulder. With a sheepish smile, you lifted one hand in a tiny wave. Yuta stared for half a second. Then he laughed. Relief more than amusement.

By the time you climbed back down, the little girl was staring at your rifle with wide eyes.

"You..." she whispered.

You smiled gently.

"The bad person won't hurt you anymore."

Yuta walked over.

"That shot..."

"About six hundred meters."

"...That's really far."

"I've hit farther."

He chuckled. "I don't think I'll ever get used to watching you do that."

You nudged his shoulder. "And I don't think I'll ever get used to watching you run toward danger."

The civilians slowly gathered around the two of you. Yuta looked between them.

"We should keep moving."

You nodded immediately. "I'll take point."

"I'll stay in the back."

"Same plan as always?"

"Same plan."

You bumped your fist lightly against his. "Let's go."

The procession moved carefully through Sendai. You walked several meters ahead, rifle resting across your shoulders. Every rooftop. Every window. Every alley.

Your eyes swept across them with practiced precision. Nothing escaped your scope for long. Behind you, Yuta quietly encouraged the exhausted civilians, occasionally carrying children when they became too tired to walk. Whenever someone stumbled, he was there. Whenever someone panicked ,you heard his calm voice settle them.

It reminded you why you loved fighting beside him. You protected from afar. He protected up close. The two of you fit together naturally.

Night settled over the ruined city. The group eventually found refuge inside another convenience store. The shelves had mostly been emptied long ago, but there was enough space for everyone to rest. Some people cried quietly. Others fell asleep almost immediately.

You leaned your rifle against the wall before checking every entrance. Satisfied, you returned to find Yuta standing near the front windows. His eyes weren't on the civilians. They were fixed on the massive stadium in the distance.

You walked over. "...Everything okay?"

He looked at you. Then back toward the stadium. "Dhruv's territory."

You followed his gaze. "...You're thinking about going."

He nodded. "If I defeat him...the stadium becomes safe."

"It'll be big enough to shelter everyone."

Silence settled between you.

"I need to go now."

Your chest tightened. "I'll come with you."

He slowly shook his head. "No."

You frowned. "Yuta"

"I need you here." He glanced toward the sleeping civilians. "If another player finds them while I'm gone...they'll need someone strong enough to protect them."

You looked away. You already knew he was right. That didn't make it easier.

"...I don't like this."

"I know."

"I should be fighting beside you."

"I know."

He stepped closer. Your protests faded before they even reached your lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. You instinctively rested your hands around his waist.

He leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. "I'll come back."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"You can't promise things like that."

"I can try."

You closed your eyes. "...I hate when you're reasonable."

A soft laugh escaped him. "I've learned from you."

You sighed. "...Fine." Your voice came out much quieter than you intended. "I'll protect everyone until you get back."

"I know you will."

You finally nodded. "...Okay."

His smile softened. "I'm counting on you."

He took his forehead from yours and a gentle kiss landed on your forehead.

You immediately frowned. "...Really?"

"Hm?"

"That's it?"

He blinked innocently.

"You kissed my forehead."

"I did."

You crossed your arms. "I've risked my life with you all day."

"Mm-hmm."

"I landed a six hundred meter headshot."

"You did."

"And that's all I get?"

He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was light enough that a few sleeping civilians stirred.

"So demanding."

"I think I've earned it."

"You definitely have."

He slipped one hand behind your neck. Then kissed you properly. Slow. Warm. Deep. His tongue brushed against yours, teasing, tasting, drawing a soft sound from your throat. You snaked your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer as his hand on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your skin through your clothes, molding your body flush against his.

The kiss lasted long enough for you to forget, if only for a moment, that the Culling Game still surrounded you. When he finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his once more. Both of you breathing slightly heavier.

"There," he whispered. "Better?"

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "...Much."

"Good." He gave your waist one last squeeze before reluctantly stepping back. "I'll be back soon."

You watched him turn toward the exit. "...You better."

Without looking back, he raised one hand in acknowledgment before disappearing into the darkness toward Dhruv's stadium. As soon as he was gone, you picked up your rifle, took position near the store's entrance and kept watch until he came back.

The first rays of sunlight spilled over the ruined skyline of Sendai.

You let out a slow breath.

The stadium had been in your scope all night.

You hadn't slept.

Every so often, one of Dhruv's massive shikigami would emerge above the walls before disappearing again. Each appearance was followed by the distant sounds of buildings collapsing, concrete cracking, and cursed energy colliding.

Every time you saw movement, your finger hovered over the trigger. Every time...You stopped yourself. The fight was too close. Too chaotic. One missed shot would be all it took.

So you waited. Eventually the rumbling ceased. Silence settled over the city. You focused through the scope one last time. Nothing. No shikigami. No movement.

You closed your eyes. Dhruv's cursed energy...It was gone. A shaky sigh escaped your lips as the tension finally left your shoulders.

"...He did it."

Your sniper slipped from your shoulder as you sat back against the wall outside the convenience store. Only then did you realize how heavy your eyelids had become.

The civilians had already packed their belongings by the time footsteps echoed down the street. You looked up. Yuta. Dust covered his uniform. Small cuts lined his face and arms.

His breathing was steady, but the exhaustion was written plainly across his expression. The moment his eyes found you his shoulders relaxed.

You smiled. "There you are."

Instead of answering, he walked straight over to you. His gaze lingered on your face.

You tilted your head. "What?"

He slowly raised a hand. His fingertips brushed beneath your eye.

"They're pretty bad..."

You blinked. "...Hm?"

"Your eyebags."

His thumb gently traced beneath one eye. "...You didn't sleep?"

You looked away for a second. "...No."

His expression immediately tightened. "You should've rested."

"I was fine."

"You watched the whole fight, didn't you?"

"...Maybe."

He sighed.

You gave him a small grin. "I'm okay."

"You say that, but—"

"Besides..." You leaned a little closer. "...At least this way we match now."

He blinked. "...What?"

"You have eyebags, so do I. We're matching."

For a full second, Yuta simply stared. Then the realization hit him. His ears turned pink.

"...You..." His eyes darted away. "...That's not..."

You bit back a laugh. "You're blushing."

"I just got done fighting."

"Mhm." You smiled triumphantly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, completely defeated. "...You're impossible."

The moment was interrupted by nervous murmurs from the civilians gathering nearby. Yuta straightened.

"We should move."

His voice became firm. "The stadium's safe now."

Everyone quickly began following him. Just like before, you naturally took the lead. Yuta stayed behind to make sure no one was left alone.

The stadium entrance loomed ahead. Something...Felt wrong. You slowed. Your hand instinctively rested on your sidearm. The hairs on the back of your neck stood.

"...Yuta."

"I know."

He'd felt it too. The civilians began filing through the entrance one by one. Almost everyone had made it inside. You heard a terrified scream from the distance. You whipped around.

One of the civilians was sprinting toward the entrance. Behind him was a black cloud surged through the streets. No. Not smoke. Bugs. A writhing swarm poured over abandoned cars and shattered pavement like a living tide.

Someone screamed. "They're coming!"

Yuta immediately stepped forward. His eyes met yours for only a split second. He gave a single nod. You understood immediately.

"I've got them." You spun around.

"Everyone! Keep moving! Don't stop! Further inside!"

The civilians hurried deeper into the stadium as chunks of broken concrete rained down from the entrance. You stayed beside them until the last child was safely behind cover.

A roar echoed outside. Your heart lurched. You turned. Rika stood nearby, staring toward the entrance. Her massive frame blocked falling debris from reaching the civilians.

You ran over. "I'm going up."

She looked at you.

"I need a vantage point. If I can see him...I can support him."

Rika gave a firm nod. "Protect."

"I will." You smiled faintly. "Take care of everyone while I'm gone."

She thumped her chest. "Leave it to Rika."

The instant Rika manifested beside him, Yuta let out a breath of relief.

"Rika..."

She immediately moved to shield him as Uro and Ryu closed in again. The first thing out of his mouth wasn't about the fight.

"...I hope [name] didn't see what I did."

Rika blinked. "She was actually—"

A granite blast tore through the air. Yuta grabbed his sword again. The conversation ended there.

Much, much later...

The battlefield had finally gone quiet. Broken buildings smoldered around them. The morning sun had climbed higher into the sky. Yuta sat heavily on the cracked pavement beside Ryu. His uniform was torn. His body ached.

Every muscle screamed at him to lie down and never move again. But despite everything, a small, satisfied smile rested on his face.

Then he heard footsteps. His head immediately turned. The exhaustion melted from his expression. A bright smile spread across his face. You walked toward them with your sniper slung over one shoulder.

Ryu noticed the change instantly. "...Is that your girl?"

Yuta couldn't take his eyes off you. "...Yeah."

His voice came out softer than intended. He'd spent the entire fight wondering if you were okay. Now that you were standing in front of him, all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms. Forget the Culling Game. Forget the colony. Just hug you until he fell asleep.

You looked between him and Ryu. "...So." You tilted your head. "Is this the part where you two kiss now?"

"...HUH?!" Both men shouted in perfect unison.

Their jaws practically hit the floor. You folded your arms.

"Apparently we're all just going around kissing everyone and everything nowadays, huh?"

Yuta froze. His face slowly turned red. "...Honey, it was—"

"Save it. Your mouth has been contaminated with bug juice."

Ryu snorted.

"So you're not allowed to kiss me anymore."

Yuta's shoulders visibly slumped. He looked like someone had just told him puppies weren't real. Ryu pressed a fist against his mouth. His shoulders shook. He was trying, very unsuccessfully, not to laugh.

You nodded to yourself. "Since you're disqualified..." You turned toward the towering shikigami standing behind you. "I'll go kiss Rika instead."

Rika's eyes lit up instantly. "Really?!"

You smiled sweetly. "Wouldn't you like that, Rika?"

"Yes!"

She leaned down eagerly. You rose onto your toes.

"...Come here."

Rika happily lowered her face toward yours.

Yuta's eyes widened. "...Wait."

You were centimeters away.

"So cute..."

"...WAIT."

Two hands suddenly grabbed your cheeks.

"Hm—"

Before you could react, Yuta's warm lips crashed against yours.

"Mmph?!"

Your eyes flew open. You immediately tried pushing him away.

"Mm!"

Yuta didn't budge. One hand stayed cupping your face. The other wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping you against him. He wasn't letting you escape. Not this time. Only after several long seconds did he finally pull away. You stared at him in complete disbelief.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU KISSED ME WITH THE SAME MOUTH THAT KISSED KUROURUSHI!"

Your voice echoed across the ruined streets. Several birds took off from nearby buildings. He slowly looked at you with the most pitiful expression imaginable.

"I couldn't..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "...let you give my kiss to Rika."

You blinked. Ryu completely lost it.

"PFFT—HAHAHAHA!"

He doubled over laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach.

"You—" He pointed at Yuta. "You're jealous of your own shikigami?!"

Yuta's face somehow became even redder. "...She's not just any shikigami."

Rika's smile disappeared. She looked between the two of you. Then she pointed at herself.

"...Rika wanted kiss too."

Everyone froze. You looked at Rika. Yuta looked at Rika. Ryu looked at Rika.

She puffed out her cheeks. "...Not fair."

Yuta buried his face in both hands. "...Please don't make this any worse."

You didn’t let him finish. That was all it took. Then your hand moved before your thoughts caught up. You hit him.

“Are you insane?!” you snapped.

Yuji stumbled back. “WAIT—WAIT—THIS IS A MISUNDERSTANDING—”

“It looks like a very clear misunderstanding to me!”

Another hit landed. He ducked. “STOP HITTING ME!”

“I WILL NOT!” You raised your hand again.

But before it could land, someone stepped between you. A hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Enough."

You stopped breathing. Prince Satoru stood between you and Prince Yuji. Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away with little effort. You stumbled back a step.

Prince Yuji quickly dusted himself off. For a moment, no one spoke. Prince Satoru didn't look at you. He didn't look at Prince Yuji either. Without a word, he released your wrist and turned to leave. You stared after him. Then looked down at the faint redness forming where he'd grabbed you.

"...Hey." He didn't stop. "Hey!" Still nothing.

Your irritation boiled over. "You can't just walk away after that!"

Ignoring Yuki's worried calls behind you, you hurried after him.

Behind you, Princess MeiMei’s voice drifted in, amused. “How disappointing,” she said lightly. “I was curious how far she would go.”

He continued walking as though he hadn't heard you.

"You know," you huffed, finally catching up to him, "for someone who's supposed to be a prince, you have terrible manners."

No response.

"You don't grab a lady like that."

He finally stopped. You folded your arms. "Well?"

He glanced at you over his shoulder. "I don't know you."

"...What?"

"I don't know who you are." He turned fully toward you. "So why are you following me?"

You blinked. "I..." Then you straightened your posture. "My name is [Name]."

He stared. "...Who?"

"Me." You pointed at yourself. "I'm [Name]."

Prince Satoru looked at you with a small smirk. "...Who asked?"

Silence. Before you could even process what he'd said, he turned around and continued walking as though nothing had happened. You stood there. Completely speechless.

"...Did..." You watched his figure disappear down the corridor.

"...Did he seriously just say that?"

You weren’t sure how long you had been walking. Your feet had simply taken you somewhere quieter. Somewhere older. The palace changed here. The stone pathways were less polished. The air felt heavier. Less lived-in.

You stopped when you saw her. Rika, standing alone by a tall mound of stacked rocks. 

“I heard of what you did.” she said after a moment, “You used to be so gentle. What happened?”

Your face filled with guilt. She pointed to a mound of rocks. 

“That one is yours.” 

“M-mine?” 

She let out a small smile. “Your mother used to come here with my mother when we were little. She came every day to pray when you got sick with the plague.” 

Her eyes were glassy as the wind blew on her hair. Rika finally looked at you.

“You think you don’t belong here,” she said.

You took a shaky breath. She gave a small, knowing smile.

“So did I.” Then, in a softer voice, “You need to try harder.”

You give her a solemn look. Her gaze steadied.

“For both our sakes.”

She started walking away while you stayed behind, your gaze lingering on the small stack of stones your mother had once piled for you. Slowly, you sank to the ground in front of it. The mention of your mother brought it all rushing back. Home. Tokyo. The life you had left behind.

“I want to go home…”

The words came out softer than you expected, almost swallowed by the wind. Tears welled in your eyes before spilling down your cheeks. A heavy feeling settled deep inside your chest. Until now, you had been too busy trying to survive. Trying to remember names. Trying to understand palace rules. Trying to convince yourself that this was temporary.

You hadn't allowed yourself to think about what you had lost. But now that you finally stopped moving, the reality crashed into you all at once. Your family. Your old life. Everything familiar. Everything gone. You lowered your head, clutching your robes tightly in your fists.

“…I really want to go home.”

When you finally stood, the palace felt different again. Not louder. Not quieter. Just… unfamiliar in a new way. Like it had shifted while you weren’t looking. You weren’t sure where you were going when you started walking again. Only that you didn’t want to go back yet.

The corridors narrowed the farther you went. Fewer servants passed here. Less noise. More sky. Eventually, you stopped. Above you stood a structure you hadn’t seen before. A tall, quiet observatory. Stone and wood wrapped together like it had been built to watch the world instead of live in it. The doors were slightly open. You hesitated.Then stepped inside.

“…Hello?”

Your voice echoed softly through the observatory. Nobody answered. Only the faint creak of wood , and the distant hum of wind pressing against stone. You took a careful step forward. Then another.

The room was filled with star maps and celestial charts with carefully inked lines mapping a sky you could only  somewhat understand. Everything felt precise. Controlled. Like the heavens themselves had been organized into something human hands could read.

You shouldn’t have been here. That thought came too late because as you turned between two tall shelves, you collided with someone. A sharp impact. A sudden breath caught in both of you. You stumbled back immediately and so did he. For a moment, neither of you moved. You looked up and froze. Prince Satoru stood right in front of you. No sunglasses. No barrier between his face and the world.

Just him and his eyes. Unnaturally blue. Like the sky had been pressed into something human and forced to stay. The moonlight reflected onto it so perfectly that for a moment, your breath stopped completely. So did his...but for a different reason. Shock flashed across his face the instant he realized you were looking directly at him. Not away. At him. He quickly turned his face away and used his hand to cover his eyes.

“…You saw.”

His voice was low. Immediate.

You didn’t answer fast enough. That hesitation was enough. His expression changed. The surprise vanished. Replaced instantly with something colder.

“…Did you see?” he repeated, voice lower now. He’s now looking at you coldly through his fingers.

Your throat tightened. “…Y-yes.”

Silence dropped heavy between you. The air in the room felt different now. Dangerously still. Prince Satoru didn’t move.

“Forget what you saw.” he said, voice icy cold. 

You swallowed. “I didn’t mean to— I just walked in—”

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he interrupted flatly. “Forget what you saw.”

Your fingers curled slightly at your side. You nodded quickly.

“I didn’t see anything.”

Then he stormed out of the observatory, putting his sunglasses back on quickly. You hear a faint sound.

clink

Something dropped behind him. You flinched slightly and turned your head. A hairpin lay on the floor.

Gold. Delicate.

It must have slipped from his sleeve without him noticing. So you Quickly picked up the fallen hairpin and never looked back.

By the time you returned, the moon had risen even higher. The 8th Prince’s residence was lit with moving lanterns. People were shuffling left and right at the steps and through the open doors. You stopped. Rika turned first, then Yuki, then the servants. Relief hit the room immediately.

“[Name]!” Yuki rushed forward, nearly stumbling in her relief.

Rika followed close behind, exhaling sharply like she had been holding her breath for hours.

“Where have you been?” Yuki’s voice cracked slightly. “We looked everywhere for you—”

Rika stepped closer, eyes scanning you quickly. “You left without a word.”

You blinked. “…I was only—”

Your voice faltered. Because you realized, they weren’t just worried. They had been afraid. Prince Yuta stood a few steps behind. He hadn’t spoken yet but his gaze was already on you. Relieved but carefully restrained.

“…You’ve got dust all over you.” he said finally.

You looked down. Only then realizing how long you had been gone and how far you have wandered.

“I didn’t realize,I’m sorry.” you admitted softly.

Rika exhaled again, gentler now.

“You’re safe now,” she said.

The words should’ve felt simple but they didn’t. Not after earlier. Not after the observatory. Not after the way someone had looked at you like your existence itself was a mistake. Yuki gently grabbed your sleeve.

“Come inside,” she said quietly. “You’re home.”

That word made you pause. Home. You looked at her, at Rika, at Prince Yuta and something in your chest tightened. Not painfully, but strangely. Like something unfamiliar trying to settle into place.

"I'm home."

Yuki sat behind you, carefully brushing through your hair as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Your mind kept replaying the same thing over and over again. White hair. Blue eyes. Before you could stop yourself, the question left your mouth.

"What is the fourth prince like?"

The brushing suddenly stopped. Yuki froze. You watched her reflection in the mirror as her eyes widened. She immediately started to panic.

"Miss..." she said, leaning closer. "Did you bump into him while you were wandering around alone?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly shook your head.

"No." The lie slipped out easily.

Almost instantly, Yuki relaxed. "Oh..." She let out a relieved sigh.

Then her expression became serious. "Please avoid the fourth prince at all costs."

You frowned. "Why?"

Yuki lowered her voice. "Everyone at the palace says that the fourth prince is cursed."

You turned to look at her. "What?"

She nodded seriously. You looked away for a moment. People in the past really did believe in such things so easily, even when there was proof that it wasn't true. Yuki continued.

"On the day he was born, his mother, Queen Gojo, gave birth to him during severe thunder and lightning. The winds were so strong that a lot of the poor people's houses got blown away." She paused.

"But the worst part... Queen Gojo died giving birth to her son who had strange blue eyes that nobody has ever seen before."

Yuki scooted closer to you and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Some people even said that Prince Satoru is not His Majesty's son because he looks nothing like him."

You tilted your head, baffled by the rumor. "Does he look like the queen?"

Yuki nodded. "He does, but their eyes were different." Then she grabbed your hands. "But that's not the only thing, miss."

She looked around before whispering again. "The rumors of him being cursed have gotten so bad that they say if you see his blue eyes, he will kill you."

Your eyes widened slightly.

"You will die." She squeezed your hands. "So please avoid him at all costs."

You nodded your head. "Okay."

That seemed to reassure her. She smiled and returned to brushing your hair. But your mind wasn't focused on her words anymore. Only one thing was stuck in your head. You saw his eyes. Yet...he didn't kill you. Why?

The next morning, you found yourself unable to stay inside. Too many thoughts crowded your mind. The fourth prince. His blue eyes. Yuki's warnings.

The following morning, you could still feel suffocating feeling from the observatory. You needed air. The morning gardens were quiet as you wandered along a stone path lined with blooming flowers. Most of the palace had yet to fully wake. For the first time since arriving, you felt almost at peace.

Almost.

Footsteps approached from the opposite direction. You looked up. A man dressed in a dark green kimono was walking toward you. You immediately stepped aside.

"Sorry."

The prince stopped. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then his eyes shifted downward to your wrist. Instinctively, you pulled your sleeve lower. Too late. He had already seen it. The bruise stood out clearly against your skin. A reminder of the fourth prince's grip from the day before.

The prince's gaze lingered for only a second before lifting back to your face. He didn't ask what happened. Didn't demand an explanation. Didn't even comment on it. You appreciated that.

"Good morning Lady [Name]." he said quietly.

His voice was calm and gentle.

"Good morning..."

An awkward silence followed.You searched your memory.

"...14th Prince Megumi."

You were fairly certain that was his name. He looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he simply nodded. Then continued down the path. The encounter lasted less than a minute. Yet somehow it stayed on your mind long after he disappeared.

Meanwhile, on another side of the palace grounds...Prince Yuji sat slumped dramatically across a pavilion bench.

"This is unfair."

Across from him, Prince Choso sighed. Beside him, Prince Kokichi looked seconds away from laughing. The two of them had spent the last several minutes staring at the faint bruise forming on Prince Yuji's cheek.

He pointed at it accusingly. "Look at this."

Neither of them responded. He frowned.

"What did I even do wrong?" Still nothing. "Why would she hit me?"

Prince Kokichi finally lost the battle against his amusement. A snort escaped him. PrinceYuji immediately pointed at him.

"Don't laugh!"

"I'm trying not to," Prince Kokichi replied "Besides, you really just let a girl beat you up like that?"

Prince Yuji immediately sat up. "I didn't let her—"

Prince Kokichi raised a brow. "You didn't exactly stop her either."

Prince Yuji crossed his arms, defensive. "A good man would never hit a woman."

Prince Choso glanced at him. "...You could have dodged."

Prince Yuji paused. "...I did try to dodge."

Prince Kokichi snorted again. Prince Yuji muttered something under his breath. The three sat in silence for a moment. Then Prince Kokichi spoke again.

"You know..."

Prince Yuji looked up.

"I've heard some girls hit the guy they like."

Prince Choso immediately closed his eyes.

Prince Yuji froze. "...What?"

Prince Kokichi shrugged. "I said some girls."

Prince Yuji shot upright so fast he nearly fell off the bench. His eyes sparkled. "You think she likes me?!"

He immediately scooted closer. Far too close. Prince Kokichi leaned away.

"Maybe."

Yuji gasped."Maybe?!"

"Maybe not."

The sparkle vanished. Then returned. "Wait, which one is it?"

"I don't know."

Yuji grabbed his shoulders. "Kokichi."

"I don't know."

"Brother Kokichi."

"I literally don't know."

Prince Yuji groaned dramatically. Meanwhile, Prince Choso released another long sigh. The sound carried all the exhaustion of an older brother who had been dealing with this for years. Unfortunately for him, Prince Yuji had already started smiling to himself again. Which meant he had absolutely learned the wrong lesson. Prince Choso considered leaving.

By the afternoon, you were back in your quarters, sitting and chatting with Yuki. She was helping organize your room when a servant arrived carrying a small wooden box.

"For Lady [Name]."

The servant bowed before leaving. You exchanged a confused look with Yuki.

"Who sent it?"

"I don't know."

Yuki carefully opened the lid. Inside sat a small jar of ointment. Nothing else. Or, almost nothing. A folded piece of paper rested beneath it. You picked it up.

The note contained only a few words.

𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆.

There was no signature. No name. Nothing. You frowned.

"Who would send this?"

Yuki looked just as confused. The two of you spent several minutes trying to guess. None of the possibilities felt right.

Eventually, Yuki gave up. "It was probably someone kind."

You stared down at the note.

𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆.

Your thoughts drifted back to the morning. To the quiet prince in the garden. To the way his eyes had immediately found your wrist and how he hadn't asked a single question. Slowly, your fingers tightened around the note.

You glanced over at her. "So Rika is my cousin…"

Yuki immediately nodded. "Yes."

"...And she's married to Prince Yuta."

She nodded enthusiastically again. "That's right."

You looked ahead, trying to memorize every detail. "Okay." You pointed at her. "And you're my handmaid, Miss Yuki." You smiled proudly. "I'm slowly putting everything together."

Yuki stopped walking. The excitement immediately drained from her face. "...Miss?"

You blinked. She gently grabbed both your arms. Then, to your surprise, nearly dropped to her knees. "Please snap out of it."

Your smile instantly disappeared. Oh. Right. That wasn't normal. You weren't supposed to call her Miss. "Ah." You awkwardly scratched your cheek. "That's right." You quickly waved your hands. "Don't worry, Yuki."

You resumed walking before she could spiral further into concern. Yuki hurried to catch up.

She stared at you for a moment before asking carefully, "...Are your memories really coming back?"

You hesitated. The lie sat heavily on your tongue. Not because you felt guilty but because you didn't know how much truth was too much. If you told them you remembered absolutely nothing…Would they believe you? Would they think you were crazy? Dangerous? You swallowed.

"T-they might be." You offered an awkward smile. "I'm a very quick learner, so…" You gestured vaguely. "I just have to remember everything piece by piece."

Silence. Yuki stared at you. Then her shoulders visibly relaxed. "Oh."

Relief washed over her face almost immediately. "That's wonderful."

You internally sighed. That was easier than you expected.

Yuki smiled warmly. "I was worried."

"About?"

"About you."

The answer came so naturally that it almost startled you.

"As soon as you disappeared yesterday…" she looked down at her hands for a moment.

"Lady Rika was terrified." She laughed softly. "I've never seen her run that fast before.She usually doesn't physically exert herself because of her sickly body."

You smiled a little, feeling a bit guilty. Even if it wasn't your life…even if none of this belonged to you…it was nice knowing someone cared.Your gaze drifted upward.The residence was beautiful. Wooden corridors stretched through gardens decorated with flowers. Servants moved around quietly. Everything felt intentional. Like every person already had a place. Except you.

Your steps slowed. Yuki immediately noticed.Following your line of sight, she smiled. In the distance, you spotted Prince Yuta and Rika walking through the garden together. They weren't speaking much.They didn't seem like they needed to. Rika held onto his arm while he slowed his pace to match hers, occasionally turning his head whenever she said something. The two eventually made their way toward a pavilion nestled beside a pond.

You watched for a moment before speaking. "Yuki…" She hummed. "About Prince Yuta…" You smiled sheepishly. "What is he like? I'm sorry, I can't remember."

Yuki's eyes immediately brightened. The two of you continued watching the couple. "He is the best man in all of the kingdom."

You blinked.

"More knowledgeable than any scholar, kinder than any noble, and the most thoughtful of the twenty-five princes."

Twenty-five. You internally paused. Twenty-five princes? That sounded terrifying. Yuki let out a small cough before lowering her voice. She turned toward you until your eyes met.

"Everyone says the title of Crown Prince should've gone to him instead of Crown Prince Kento."

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. "Really?"

She nodded. "Prince Yuta is beloved by everyone."

Her gaze drifted back toward the pavilion.

"He is considerate to servants. Gentle with children. Respected by scholars."

She smiled to herself.

"Even among the princes, he rarely has enemies."

You looked back toward him. He had stopped beside Rika, knelt down and placed her shoe back on her foot that had slipped off. The action was simple. Automatic. Like he had done it hundreds of times before. No wonder everyone admired him.

"Staring at a married couple for so long is rather rude, don't you think?"

You turned. A woman stood a few feet away, dressed elegantly, several servants standing behind her. She had light hair, decorated with ornate hair pins. She was beautiful. There was something sharp about her expression. Something that made you instinctively sit up straighter.

She was looking at you. No. She was judging you.

You blinked. A glint flashed through her eyes. Beside you, Yuki immediately gasped.

She bowed quickly. "Good morning, Princess MeiMei."

You simply stared. Princess. Right. You were supposed to bow. Yuki quietly panicked beside you.

She leaned over and whispered frantically. "Miss, bow."

You kept staring. Yuki coughed. Harder this time.

"Miss."

Finally, she physically grabbed your shoulders and gently pushed you forward. Your body bent awkwardly.

Princess MeiMei smirked and chuckled. "It seems losing your memories also made you lose your manners."

You immediately frowned. Annoyance bubbled up inside you. You had done absolutely nothing. Nothing.Yet somehow this woman was already picking a fight with you. You lifted your head.

"If you don't like me, just say it."

Silence filled the surrounding area. Yuki's eyes widened so much you thought they might pop out. The servants behind Princess MeiMei stiffened. Even the princess looked surprised.

Then she laughed once. "You truly have lost your mind, wench."

Your eyes widened. "Wench?!"

Yuki nearly fainted beside you. "Miss!"

Before either of you could continue, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"What's going on?"

Everyone froze. Yuta stepped out from the pavilion. Rika followed close behind him. Both you and Princess MeiMei immediately turned.

"Brother..." she said.

At the exact same time, you awkwardly averted your eyes.

I'm doomed.

I messed up.

Yuta looked between the two of you. Princess MeiMei standing perfectly composed. You standing there looking guilty. Rika tried not to laugh.

He blinked once. Then smiled softly.

"...Should I be worried?"

Your heart dropped. Yep. Definitely doomed.

Prince Yuta led the way through the residence. You walked a few paces behind him, hands clasped together nervously. The morning air was cool. The sound of birds chirping and distant servants working filled the silence between you.

He finally spoke. "Did you lose your manners when you lost your memories?"

Your shoulders immediately dropped. You bowed your head in shame. "No..." You paused. "...sir."

He stopped walking. You nearly ran into him. He turned around to look at you. There wasn't any anger on his face. Just curiosity.

"You really don't know who I am?"

You looked at him shyly. "I heard you were the eighth prince."

A small smile appeared on his face. "You heard..." He turned back around. "I suppose that's true."

Then he resumed walking. You quickly followed behind him. The two of you eventually entered a large library. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened.

Books. Rows and rows of books. Some stacked neatly on shelves, others piled on tables. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust particles floating lazily in the air. It was beautiful.

Yuta quietly moved toward a table. He pulled out a chair.

"You can sit."

You hesitated but you followed. He sat across from you. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he folded his hands together. "Princess MeiMei is not someone you should openly challenge."

You immediately lowered your head again. "I'm sorry."

"Mm." He paused. "But..."

You looked up. He smiled slightly.

"...'If you don't like me, just say it' was a brave thing to say."

Your eyes widened. "...Really?"

He let out a soft laugh. "I didn't say it was wise."

"Oh."

That earned another small smile from him. For some reason, seeing him smile made you relax. Like your body decided before your brain did that he was someone safe.

You glanced around the library again. "...Did you read all of these?"

He followed your gaze. "Most of them."

You blinked. "Most?"

"Mm."

"That's impossible."

He chuckled. "It isn't."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "How many books have you read?"

He pretended to think about it. Then smiled. "I stopped counting."

Your jaw dropped. He laughed again. The sound was quiet. Gentle. Not loud or attention seeking. Just… pleasant. You found yourself smiling too.

Then you realized something. This was the first time since arriving here that you hadn't been thinking about going home. The realization startled you. You quickly looked down at your hands.

Yuta noticed. "Is something wrong?"

You shook your head. "No."

Then after a moment, you spoke again. "...Everyone talks very highly of you."

He blinked once. Then looked away. "As they should."

The answer surprised you. You stared.

Then he smiled. "...I'm joking."

"O-oh."

He laughed softly at your expression. Your embarrassment immediately surfaced.

"That wasn't funny."

"I thought it was."

You narrowed your eyes. He smiled again. And somehow without realizing it. The prince everyone admired stopped feeling like a prince. He simply started feeling like Yuta and that frightened you a little. Because becoming attached to this place felt dangerous. Yet sitting here with him, in a library bathed in sunlight. It felt easy. Too easy. And maybe that was the beginning of it all.

You were sitting on the floor of the pavilion with Princess MeiMei and Rika, surrounded by sheets of paper lanterns in varying stages of completion. The air smelled faintly of ink and dried wood.

It should’ve been calming. It wasn’t.

You stared down at your lantern. Then at your brush. Then at the uneven line of paint that curved far too much to the left. You clicked your tongue. Yuki, kneeling nearby, immediately leaned in and quietly poured you tea.

“You’re doing fine, Miss,” she said gently.

You took the cup but the moment your brush touched the paper again, the line went crooked. Worse than before. Another click of your tongue. I should've taken more art classes instead of arithmetic back in school. You thought.

The clicking sound made Princess MeiMei glance over immediately. She leaned slightly to see your work and let out a small snort.

“…That’s your idea of fine work?”

You froze.You could swear you heard crickets. Rika, seated beside you, frowned slightly.

“Princess MeiMei, that’s not very kind.”

The princess didn’t look away from your lantern. “I’m simply stating a fact.”

Her tone was light but not soft. Your fingers tightened around the brush. Rika leaned toward you slightly, voice quieter, a little hoarse.

“She might still be recovering from the accident,” she said carefully, as if trying to defuse the situation.

You immediately coughed. Not from illness but from being caught completely off guard.

Princess MeiMei raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Her gaze shifted to you. “You’re unwell?”

You straightened quickly. “No, I’m— I’m fine.”

Rika blinked at you, concerned.

Princess MeiMei tilted her head. “If you’re not feeling well, then leave.”

You paused. Then shook your head quickly. “No. I want to stay.”

Rika looked slightly relieved. Yuki, however, stiffened. Princess MeiMei’s eyes sharpened just a fraction. A glint. Subtle but dangerous.

“…Is that so?” She leaned back slightly then smiled. “Then why don’t you help with something more useful?”

You brightened immediately. “Okay.”

Yuki visibly went pale. Rika’s hand paused mid-motion. Princess MeiMei continued casually.

“Yuki show her the paint binder.”

You blinked. “…The what?”

She pointed toward the edge of the pavilion where servants were carrying large containers.

“The mixing process for the paint we're using.” Then she smiled. “You wanted to help, didn’t you?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

Yuki’s teacup stopped midair. She tried to shake her head to signal you to decline. Rika slowly turned her head toward Princess MeiMei. But it was already too late.

A few minutes later, you were outside. Standing over a massive iron pot. Stirring. A giant wooden stick barely manageable in your hands. Thick smoke drifted upward in heavy waves, stinging your eyes and throat. Your shoulders ached from the weight alone. You leaned your whole body into the motion.

“…This smell is definitely something,” you muttered under your breath.

You stirred again.Harder. " I chose an office job so I didn't have to physical labor yet I'm currently doing physical labor..."

“Princess MeiMei is insane…” You mumbled.

Another cough ripped through you. You turned your face away quickly but the smoke followed anyway. Your eyes watered. You coughed again, harsher this time.

“Whose job is this even in the first place?”

Another stir. Your arms were starting to shake. You had no idea how long you had been doing this. Minutes? Hours? Time felt wrong here. You leaned closer to the pot, trying not to inhale and immediately regretted it.—cough! You stumbled slightly, gripping the stick tighter.

“…I’m going to kill her,” you whispered hoarsely.

Another cough. You bent forward slightly, trying to recover then froze. Out of the corner of your eye. You see someone standing near the edge of the courtyard, watching.

You straightened immediately. It was 8th Prince Yuta. Of course it was. He was looking at you calmly, expression unreadable, as the smoke curled around you like a bad decision. Your brain panicked. You quickly forced a laugh. A little too loud. A little too fake. Hoping he didn't hear your last comment.

“Haha…” You waved slightly, still coughing between breaths. “…This is actually… really funny…”

Another cough slipped out. You smiled harder. Like that would fix it. Prince Yuta didn’t move. He just watched you. Quietly. He tilted his head like he was deciding whether to intervene.

You immediately turned back to the pot and stirred again with way too much enthusiasm.

“…HAHA— I’m fine!” Another cough.

The smoke continued rising straight into your face and you had a sinking feeling that he absolutely did not believe you. Prince Yuta stepped a little closer, still watching you stir the pot like your life depended on it.The smoke drifted between you, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.

“…You’re coughing,” he said simply.

You straightened immediately. “I’m not.”

Another cough betrayed you right on cue. Prince Yuta blinked once.

Then, very faintly, he smiled. “You’re terrible at lying.”

Your grip on the wooden stick tightened.

“I’m not lying,” you insisted, voice hoarse. “I’m just… aggressively fine.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him. It was brief and soft. Not something he gave easily.

You paused mid stir. “…Was that funny?”

“It was a little funny,” he admitted.

You narrowed your eyes. “Rude.”

His smile stayed. Then he glanced at the pot again. “You should stop before your arms give out.”

“I can handle it.”

“You said that already.”

You hesitated. “…I did?”

He nodded. A moment of silence passed between you. The smoke curled upward again, and you coughed—this time turning your face away quickly like it would help. Prince Yuta sighed quietly, stepping a little closer. Without asking, he reached down and adjusted the cloth near your face, just enough to keep the smoke from blowing directly toward you.

You froze.

“…You don’t have to do that,” you said, quieter now.

“I know.” Everything felt still. “But you also don’t have to suffer through it.” He said softly.

Your eyes flicked up to him. He had already pulled his hand back, like it was nothing. Like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t just made everything a little easier for you.

You swallowed. “…You’re nice,” you said before you could stop yourself.

That made him pause. Then he gave a small, almost embarrassed smile.

“I’m just observant.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is to me.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. Prince Yuta looked toward the residence behind him.

“I have somewhere to be for a moment.”

“Oh.” You blinked. “…Okay.”

He turned slightly, then hesitated again as if remembering something. “You’re not in trouble.”

You stared at him. “…I feel like I might be.”

That made him actually laugh this time. Short and warm.

“You’re not.” He paused. “Just don’t challenge Princess MeiMei again.”

You avertd your eyes. “…Too late.”

His smile softened. “Then survive it.”

You squinted at him. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s advice.”

You watched him step back toward the path. Before he left fully, he looked over his shoulder once more.

“Try not to burn yourself.”

You lifted the stirring stick slightly. “No promises.”

That earned one last faint smile from him. Then he turned and walked back toward the building. The smoke didn’t let up. It curled in thick waves above the iron pot, drifting into your eyes and throat no matter how you tried to turn away. Your arms were starting to feel like they didn’t belong to you anymore. 

"Oh my god..."

Each stir of the wooden stick sent a dull ache through your shoulders.

“…This is definitely torture,” you muttered hoarsely.

You coughed again, harder this time, stepping back just enough to catch your breath before forcing yourself forward again. Behind you, somewhere far enough that it might as well have been another world, Princess MeiMei’s voice rang out faintly, laughing with one of the attendants. Of course she was gone. Of course you were still here.

“ugh…”

A shadow fell over the edge of your vision. You didn’t notice it at first. Not until the noise around you shifted slightly. Not until someone nearby stopped talking mid sentence. Not until the air itself felt… different.

You hesitated. Then turned your head slightly. A figure stood just outside the smoke line.

White hair.

Sunglasses.

Watching.

Fourth Prince Satoru.

For a second, your brain refused to process it. Why was he here? You straightened immediately, instinctively pretending you were fine. Too fast. Too obviously. Another cough betrayed you right after.

“…” Prince Satoru tilted his head slightly. Like he was assessing something mildly inconvenient.

“You’re still here.” It wasn’t a greeting. Just a fact.

You blinked through the smoke. “…Your Highness?”

He ignored the title completely and stepped forward.

His gaze flicked from your face, to your shaking arms and to the massive pot you were barely managing.

“…Is this punishment?” he asked.

You hesitated. Then quickly nodded. “Yes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “…By choice?”

Your mouth opened then closed. You thought of Princess MeiMei’s smirk smile.

“…Kind of.”

That earned a faint hum from him. “You’re doing a terrible job at dying quietly.”

You choked. “…I’m not trying to die.”

“Mm.” He nodded like he didn't fully believe you. “It looks like it.”

Another cough escaped you. You glared at him. “Are you here to help or criticize?”

That caught him slightly off guard. “Neither.”

“Then why are you here?”

He blinked. Then answered immediately. “I was walking.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

“…So you stopped to judge me?”

“…Yes.”

You sputtered a laugh. “What a strange hobby.”

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. “Stranger than willingly stirring paint binder for an hour?”

“I was tricked.”

“You're still doing it.”

You looked down at the giant pot. Then at him. Then back at the pot.

“…That's true.”

Something shifted in his expression.

You frowned. “I said I wanted to.”

His gaze narrowed slightly, like he was trying to understand your answer.

Then he stepped closer. “Then choose something less stupid.”

You stared at him. “…Is that advice?”

“It’s observation.”

You let out a strained breath that was almost a laugh. “You're very rude, Your Highness.”

“You're still talking back while inhaling smoke,” he said.

You coughed immediately afterward, proving his point.

“You just proved me right.”

Before you could respond, he sighed. Then stepped beside the pot.

“Move.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I said move.”

Before you could protest, he walked toward a wooden screen positioned beside the fire pit. With one hand, he shifted its angle slightly. The smoke immediately diverted away from where you were standing.

You blinked. “…There was a solution this whole time?”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him.

“Then why did nobody tell me?”

“Because nobody was paying attention.”

“…Oh.”

Then you laughed. A real one this time.

“That's annoying.”

Something in his face softened. Just barely. “That's what people usually say.”

You tilted your head. “Then maybe you're the problem.”

He stared at you for a second. Longer than before. Like he was trying to figure out whether you had actually just said that to him.

“You're interesting.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “…Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He hummed. Then turned to leave.

“You'll ruin your hands from working like that.” he said over his shoulder.

You blinked. “…What?”