Chapter One
"My love, you are all I desire in this world. Would you please be mine? It would make me so happy."
-Of course I will! It makes me happy also.
-I am sorry, Miyabi, but my love is pledged to another.
Renge Houshakuji hovered over the options on the screen, as the majestic face of her animated love gazed back at her. Her heart ached at the look in his eyes, as the fringe of his unkempt locks molded against his glasses. Her fingers danced above the A button of the controller, savoring the moments before their inevitable conclusion to the epic romance saga they had shared arrived. In the back of her mind, reality reminded her that the next game would not be available for many more months. She had known this before, had even attempted to ration her use of the game, but fell victim to her love's gaze once again. She could do it though, she decided: wait many months for her love.
No sooner had her thumb pressed the trigger than her door let loose a low creak. Renge leapt back from the introduced sound, flinging an innocent bystander of a doll at the door. It bounced harmlessly off the surface, suffering a crushing of its limbs as the instigator walked through the door. Renge huffed in her irritation upon recognition of her visitor. A silently laughing girl entered without a word. She glided over to the bed and sat down at the foot, careful to be on Renge's right side. It was Renge's best if one were to ask her.
"Hello, Roseline. Might I ask what you are doing here?" Renge flicked an auburn lock from her face. Her hair was frizzed, her eyes dulled a red colour from the screen exposure, and her skin was daubed in empty ivory. Roseline stared fondly, flicking her gaze to the sim dating game on the television.
"Renge, it's high time you got a bit of rest."
Renge ignored her, fixated once again on the man declaring his everlasting passion on the screen. He had dark hair and glasses, a sincere little smile on his face. His replicas were strewn about the room, in plushy, poster, and picture form. Roseline sighed heavily, scooting forward on the bed to place her hand over the controller. With one swift movement, one that she had rehearsed for many a night like this, she swiped the controlled from her mistress's hand and set it on the floor. Renge looked about to object, before her face was caught in a two handed embrace.
Roseline stared Renge deep in the eyes, trying to estimate the amount of hours that Renge had been awake. None of her guesses were in the least an acceptable amount.
"Go to sleep, Renge. You're tired." Roseline insisted, swiping her thumbs across the drained expanse of Renge's skin.
Renge nodded almost imperceptibly, and Roseline returned her hands to her lap. Without a spoken agreement, but an agreement present nonetheless, Roseline helped her mistress dress in her nightgown: a replica of one showcased in a live action remake of the game still flickering on the television. Renge slipped beneath her covers, a neatly tied pink ribbon still in her hair. Roseline looked protectively upon her, cruelly deciding to leave it there for her mistress's discovery in the morning. True as Renge was, some tough love was required for her.
Roseline crept back out the room, propping the victim of her entrance against the wall. She sent a quick word over her shoulder.
"Your father should be returning in some few hours. I'll tell him you wish to have breakfast with him."
In the expanse of hallways, Roseline moved swiftly and smoothly about the turns. The pictures on the wall watched her go, as they always did and will do, smiling sincerely and less than at her, depending upon the nature of their arrival. Roseline's personal favorite was a picture of Renge and her first cousin, Riche, holding one another as children do when forced to. They were dressed in identical white frills, hers in dress form and his in button up styling.
Come the end of the corridor, Roseline was twisting her ankles in an attempt to lift some pressure. Thanking her lucky stars that her room was near the mistress's, Roseline stepped within her own luxurious realm. The bed was one of her purchasing, completely out of place with the rest of the furnishings and trimmings along the walls. Still, she did not regret its arrival. Feather beds were the bane of her existence, and a simple box spring had never killed a man to her knowledge.
She shook off her own garments, much nicer than the strict uniforms of the staff, but servant's garments nonetheless. Her nightshirt rested against the back of a decorative chair. Without hesitation, she slipped it over her head and nearly groaned at the feeling of all her muscles loosening at once. Her hands skillfully undid the braid in her hair, hissing at the feeling of the strands returning to their natural places. Striding across the room, she expected to find herself in her covers within minutes. Sadly, she was mistaken.
Her foot caught the suitcase of costumes beneath her bed, sending her flying into the ground. Her chin banged painfully against the floor, while white dashed into her vision. She whimpered as she stood, rubbing her jaw furiously against the sting. She blinked back her frustration, slamming her palm into the suitcase. It slid across the floor and banged loudly against the wall. Roseline was struck with the image of Renge trying to sleep in her bed. Inwardly, she cursed furiously. Standing once more, she fell back towards the door.
I swear if I woke that girl, her threat was never finished. Upon stepping into the hallways, she caught sight of Mr. Houshakuji, her employer and foster father by all rights of the word, and the Head Maid. He had Renge's door opened, lights flashing across his face. Roseline rolled her eyes, knowing full well that Renge must be up and playing her game again. Mr. Houshakuji shared words with his daughter and Roseline was put at ease. He would place Renge back to bed, as he knew best how to.
Without a word to either of them, because mornings were a time for words, Roseline turned and fell back into her room. Her bed creaked when she fell upon it, reminding her as it did every night of the quality. For some reason, ironically surrounded by luxury and beauty, the reminded did little to bother her.
Roseline was up bright and early the next morning, though not of her own free will thanks to the Head Maid of the manor. As Renge's personal attendant, it was her duty to...well...attend to her. As such, she woke her, helped her dress, and escorted her down to the second floor dining hall to have breakfast with Mr. Houshakuji. Renge still had the ribbon from last night in her hair, scarcely a wrinkle in it. Roseline tried not to resent her for the obvious lack of sleep she sought.
In the dining hall, Mr. Houshakuji was position at the table, a teacup in his hands and a warm smile on his face. He had perfect form, as did Renge, in everything he did. It seemed that all ladies and gentlemen have prerecorded movements for everything. Roseline was quite fond of Mr. Houshakuji, resulting in her imitating his controlled and graceful actions. Renge visibly brightened at the sight of him, always anxious to hear about his business trips. For some peculiar reason, Roseline suspected this time it was mostly due to the location of his visit. Renge certainly was fond of Japanese things.
"Good morning, Mr. Houshakuji." Roseline greeted warmly, holding Renge's hand delicately until she was completely seated. She had seen him do the same many times before.
"Good morning, Roseline." he returned promptly, eyes fixated on his daughter.
Roseline took a small curtsey, speaking directly to Renge.
"Please, do not hesitate to call me, should you be in need of anything."
Renge watched her from the corner of her eyes, using her hands as a leave to go. As Roseline walked toward the kitchen, a serving boy scuttled past her with Renge's favourite tea in hand. The warm humidity of the kitchens welcomed her, the smell of omelets still in the pan filling the wet, hot air. The Head Maid was propped on a counter, laughing with the Head Chef, Ean. No one said anything, but the entire staff was nearly positive that the two were having an affair on the side. Ean caught sight of her and let out a loud whoop.
"Good morning, fair Romeo!" he cackled at his own joke. Roseline rolled her eyes at the nickname. The joke was a bit of a double pun. It originated when Ean remarked how Roseline was never raised to be a Lady, but would make an excellent Gentleman if her behavior towards Renge was anything to go by. That is what half of the staff thinks the name is for, while the other half is convinced that it is for Roseline's love of theatre: a very, very excessive love of theatre, resulting in her obtaining several Arts Scholarship opportunities.
"Good morning, Ean. I see the night's sleep hasn't done anything for your sense of humor."
The Head Maid, Claire, laughed into her hand. She was most certainly a Lady, the perfect match for Ean and his antics.
Roseline settled herself between the two of them, ignoring the daggers that Ean sent her way.
"What was Japan like, Ean?" Roseline inquired.
He flushed with pride. Being specifically requested to accompany Mr. Houshakuji was one of his badges of honor. He wore quite a few of them: his custard pudding, his request rate upon his false resignations, the women from many countries that supposedly courted him. Roseline hardly believed half of them, besides the ones she had seen for herself. There were not many that she or anyone else had seen for themselves.
"Japan is gorgeous during this time of year. The weather is absolutely exquisite, the people are friendly, and the culture is fascinating. But," he spun dramatically, "the food is where I must call upon the poet inside me."
Claire fanned herself with a decorative dish elevator. She shot a cheeky grin at Roseline, mouthing "Poet?"
Ean continued without the notice of his interruption. "We toured many fine dining establishments. All local's favorites fret not, as though we would dine upon mere tourist's cuisine. The best dishes, however, were served at Mr. Houshakuji's supplier's home. In the manor, we were served all manner of delicacies. I have never seen Mr. Houshakuji eat so much in a single sitting. Ah well, I tip my hat to the esteemed Ootori family chef. Worrisome for him, I will soon take it upon myself to master such dishes and serve them on a regular basis here at the Houshakuji Manor. Our culinary skill will be known from every corner of the world!"
Claire smiled, staring fondly at Ean. She swiftly jumped to her feet, ringlets flying about and landing on her freckled skin. Roseline was not one to pry, but even she noticed that Ean was staring too long for a so called acquaintance. Regretfully, Claire didn't seem to notice as every other person in existence did. Roseline and half the staff watching sighed in frustration at yet another moment that the two of them had completely botched. Their skinny love was downright infuriating at times.
The silence broke with a high pitched sound. A shrill cry came from the other room. "I'm going to marry the boy in this photo!"
"What the hell?" Ean whispered. Everyone muttered about his or herself, worried about where the cry might have originated from. A chill went down Roseline's spine. She would know that voice if she hadn't heard it for a lifetime. It seemed to have dawned on the others too, when they began to move towards the door, but Roseline was already there, throwing it open and flying through.
"Renge?" she could hardly mutter the name. Her heart was in her throat with worry. Renge was standing above her father, a suitcase already in hand (where did she get that so quickly?). A grin that took up half her face erupted, her big, brown eyes as bright as Roseline had ever seen them. In place of her ribbon, she had found her purple hat that she wore only on travelling occasions. Was there something in the schedule that Roseline had missed? She always accompanied Renge on her trips, why would she not be informed?
"Roseline! Excellent timing; pack your bags, we're going to Japan."
The words flew past Roseline, missing her ears and fluttering about her head. Renge took off past her in a blinding flash, shoving the suitcase into Roseline's unexpectant hands. She had to fumble in order to retain a proper grip on it. Roseline gawked at the object in her hands, as though she had never seen one before. She turned towards her mistress, only to see Renge fly up the stairs, giggling breathily to herself.
"Load my things onto the private jet, Roseline. And then come upstairs, I have to be beautiful for my prince!"
Roseline stared wide eyed and open mouthed at the stairs, then slowly turned to send a look of complete confusion toward Mr. Houshakuji. He had a mirrored expression on his face, before standing abruptly and wiping his face. He took off down the hall, crying out.
"Renge!"
Roseline stared uncomprehendingly at the luggage in her hands. Did Renge really say prince?
Once all of Renge's things were loaded onto the jet (Renge had a lot of things), Roseline set off to help her dress. Confused as she may be, and familiar as the two may be, she was Renge's attendant for better or worse. The hem of her dress began to drag on the ground as she ran, nearly tripping her up several times. It was high time she had it fixed or replaced. At the top of the steps, she almost took a flying face dive over the railing. The hem caught behind her, a loud ripping sound filling the halls.
Roseline looked down to see half the skirt in disarray, the other half hanging on just enough to cover her modesty. She flushed crimson all the way to her ears as she darted in Renge's room, not thinking about anything but hiding her shame. A gasp caught Roseline's ear. She looked up and saw Renge, half dressed and looking at her with upmost horror and pity in her eyes. Not even considering her own amount of skin showing, Renge dropped her choice outfits down and fled to Roseline's side.
"Roseline, what has happened to you?" Renge looked as though she might laugh or cry. Roseline would not put either past her.
"The hem has been torn beyond repair, I'm afraid. I will merely need to change. Then, I promise milady, I will return and help you dress."
Renge pouted. "Don't be daft! Just grab something from my closet. You can change into whatever dress of your choice when we get to Japan. For now, there is business to be done."
Roseline blushed, gazing longingly at Renge's closet. "Thank you, Renge."
Renge did not even blink, not fully understanding the meaning behind her own words and actions. "Yes, yes. You're welcome. Now hurry, my prince waits!"
Roseline quickly hurried over to the closet and pulled out the one thing she had admired for so long. It was a silken, black and silver kimono, with decorative cherry blossoms all over it. She had no sooner slipped out of her own tattered garment than Renge began laughing hysterically.
"Roseline, you lovable twit! One does not wear a kimono unless in cosplay or for a special occasion. They are not casual wear amongst the Japanese." Renge had tears in her eyes from laughing, clutching her gut and kicking the ground.
Roseline tried her best not to be offended, nearly biting her tongue off in the process. "Alright, mistress, what might you recommend that I wear?"
Renge missed the venom in her voice entirely, the lovable twit she was, and pulled a simple dress with purple frills out. She shoved it in Roseline's arms, prancing back over to her own bed to examine the outfits she had picked for herself. There must have been at least five over there, as though the decision was so daunting that she needed that many choices. Roseline slipped into the gown easily and moved to help Renge with her own dressings.
Renge had chosen a vibrant, rather loud purple dress and petticoat, all to match with the eccentric hat atop her head. While helping her legs into the crinoline skirt, Roseline took the opportunity to question her.
"Renge, why are we taking such a sudden leave to Japan?"
Renge sighed dramatically. "I knew it would happen one day, my naïve little friend. My prince has elegantly waltzed his way into my life! Father proved as much when he showed me the picture from his business trip. One of the sons, the youngest and just my age, is the spitting image of my beloved," she gazed wistfully at one of the many plushies in the room, "Father says his name is Kyouya."
Roseline paused, hands frozen in the middle of tying Renge's corset. "Renge, are you sure this is wise? Where might we even stay in Japan?"
Renge sucked her stomach in, a reminder to Roseline to continue her work. Roseline left it loose as always, knowing too well what a tight corset can do to the body. Renge traced the newfound curves on her sides and continued with her dramatic monologue.
"Of course we will be attending my dearest Kyouya's school. It is an elite academy for the rich and renowned, Ouran Academy. The two of us will be transfer students, you on an Arts Scholarship and me on my Houshakuji name. In the meantime, until our induction, we will reside in one of father's countryside cottages. Mind you, they are less luxurious than we are accustomed to. But if it means I get to meet my darling Kyouya, then it's all worth it!"
After shoving her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, Renge tied her hair swiftly in a matching ribbon. She unceremoniously forced her feet into pear-shaped boots and trotted off with her head held high.
"Fix your hair, Roseline. We leave on the hour!"
Within a half day, Roseline found herself at Renge's side, as per usual. Renge was practically jumping in place, eyes wandering everywhere on Ouran's campus as though she were trying to commit the whole place to memory. It was a lovely place though. A multitude of expensive looking buildings surrounded them, with gardens of flora and fauna all about. A large clock tower stood towards the side of the campus, with a sky reflecting pond in the middle of the dorms-so they appeared to be.
Renge brushed her hair from her face, hands folded in front of her like a proper lady. Roseline had never been able to comprehend how she could remember all the rules of being a true Lady. For her, the rules of an escort were easier. Be polite, courteous, and attentive. It was all she need remember. Roseline offered her arm to Renge, who took it promptly and allowed Roseline the lead of their pace. Walking through the gardens toward the decorative welcoming building was quite an experience.
Everything on the campus was expensive and beautiful, from the gardens to the buildings to even the people if Roseline had to guess. She was careful to step in turn with Renge, so as not to cause any unseemly dragging, but she almost tripped over her own self several times in her admiration. A boy came running by, eyes straying to Renge and widening in wonder. Roseline watched him warily, smirking to herself when he took a dive into the grass.
"It seems as though this school contains much beauty." Renge commented.
"Not entirely, milady, but they do quite alright." Roseline led them forward before Renge had the time to dissect what she had said. They came to the door, large and decorative and overwhelming. Renge seemed to tighten her grip on Roseline.
Roseline watched her warily, the way her eyes seemed to glaze over and the way her hands shook. She opened the door, gesturing for Renge to walk through. Renge smiled at her, stomping through with her head held high once more. Roseline laughed inwardly at her, the poor misguided girl. When Roseline stepped inside, Renge had already begun her accent up a collection of stairs. She called to her.
"Check with the Chairman. Tell him we have arrived and get copies of our schedules. Then, I beg of you, meet me in Music Room 3."
Roseline watched her go, up the stairs and out of sight. She let out a heavy sigh. "Damn idiot."
Roseline took the steps and the runs required of her, so the Chairman had told her, in order to get to Music Room 3. Glancing down at their schedules, Roseline saw that the papers were nearly identical, besides a different lunch period and alternate electives. Whereas Renge had Japanese Literature, Roseline had Advanced Drama. The Chairman had told her upon their meeting that in order to maintain her Arts Scholarship, she had to take the elite Arts classes. She was not allowed to drop out, fall behind the halfway mark of the student body's G.P.A, and-most importantly, he stated-she was not allowed to exempt from or miss any performances the Drama Club might put on. Trotting down the halls, she was careful to avoid the steady flow of students heading about their classes. Her dark coloured dress stood out dramatically against the soft yellow of all the girl's uniforms, making her appear as though a literal sore thumb. She heard whispers behind her back, the hushed words that questioned her but left no room for answers.
She bounded past a group of first years in the corridor, taking a sharp turn around a corner. A mass of black blinded her, sending her flying back into the floor. An apology found her lips before she was even sure what had happened. Glancing up nervously, she was met with a pair of dark, blank eyes. A girl with straight, ebony hair stood passively above her, hands folded in front of her. Despite the collision, her expression was void of any anger or shock. Roseline pulled her papers closer to her chest and stood up anxiously. Swallowing her insecurities, she welcomed the girl with all the grace she had been raised to possess.
"My sincerest apologies, milady. How might I correct this error, if it please you?"
The girl stared blankly again, slowly taking Roseline in. It sent shivers down her spine, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The girl finally nodded, more to herself than anyone else it seemed, and strode past Roseline without so much as a word. She tugged a small black book from her bag and began flicking through it, lips moving softly, silently beneath her dark tresses. Roseline tried to ignore the immensely creepy vibes that the girl emanated.
Shaking her head of the memory, Roseline continued up the stairs she had ventured toward, huffing come the third one that she had to ascend. Music Room 3 was much further away than she had originally anticipated, it seemed. Renge had asked it of her, though, and thus she trudged on. On the third floor, she found a steady stream of ladies coming from a room, giggling to one another and blushing in near unison. Roseline stood to the side and allowed them all passage. Most paid her no heed, but a few stared queerly at her dress and at the forms still clutched tight to her gut. One of the girls, with pretty chestnut hair and matching eyes, took Roseline's wrist in her frail, delicate hands. With a sympathetic smile, she spoke melodiously and comforting. Roseline was very confused.
"Do not fret so. I promise you, the Host Club is not as intimidating as it seems."
Roseline nodded, as though she understood, and flashed a thankful smile. Inwardly, she worried that her confusion could be seen through her eyes. What was she to do if she had displeased this girl? Thankfully enough, the chestnut haired lady did not seem to notice and glided past with her pack of giggling friends once more. Roseline turned her attention back to the signs above the rooms. They were blurry, difficult to read from such a distance. Squinting, leaning forward, Roseline was just able to make out the words. Once, she hoped she was reading it properly, had Music Room 3 scripted atop it. She noticed a familiar bow on the back of maiden's head. Renge was clinging to the doorframe, just noticeably shaking. She leaned further into the door, watching cautiously and carefully. Roseline sighed in relief, trotting to catch up with her.
"Renge, I have retrieved our papers. I wanted to ask you…" Roseline's words were cut short by Renge pulling her forcibly to her side, shushing with a finger. Roseline cocked a brow.
Renge continued to stare into the depths of the room, hidden to Roseline's view. Straining, Roseline listened as carefully as she possibly could. Someone was speaking of characters and the pinash needed in them. Then, she heard a gasp from within the room, followed by the sounds of footsteps.
Two identical boys stepped into view: ginger hair, brown eyes, and seductive smirks in place. Their eyes were lidded lazily, their voices sultry as they spoke. Renge leapt back and trembled in place; it took everything Roseline had not to comfort her, knowing deep down that the action would only be a further embarrassment. Here, as she was when anyone besides Renge could see her, she was an attendant and nothing more.
"Come on in. What are you waiting for?" one of the boys crooned.
"Watching from afar is no fun." the other copied.
In unison, they whispered as they held out roses in their loose hands "Please, miss."
Renge unconsciously pressed tight against Roseline's side. In her mind's voice, she was cursing the lying girl with the chestnut hair. These boys were very intimidating.
"Stop that." another boy, with purple eyes and princely features, commanded. "How many times do I have to tell you to be more courteous to a first time guest?"
His voice dropped an octave as he extended an elegant hand. He took Renge's chin between his fingers, lifting her gaze to his. "Please, you don't have to be afraid, my princess. I welcome you to the Ouran Host Club."
A whimper left Renge's lips. "Yes?" he spoke softly. The boy was a touch too friendly for Roseline's taste.
In a blinding flash, Renge slammed her hand on the boy's face, crying out. "No! Don't touch me; you're phony!"
The boy cried out, falling back into the room with a bright red handprint on his face. Roseline whipped around the doorframe to look inside. It was a stereotypical Japanese Lounge, with four other boys inside. Seven in total it seemed, all wearing decorative kimonos. She glared at Renge through the corner of her eye. What happened to special occasions? The prince covered his face, speaking around his hand with wide, horrified eyes.
"What do you mean I'm phony?"
Renge pointed an accusing hand at him. "Just what I said. You're phony!"
Roseline tried to console her. "Renge, I understand your boundary issues, but was striking him really the answer?"
Renge waved her advice off and continued to rant. "I find it hard to believe that someone like you is the prince character of this Host Club!"
The pseudo-prince fell back, aghast. He seemed to shrink with every insult Renge threw venomously his way.
"You shouldn't go spreading your love around so easily, you stupid. You must be a dimwitted narcissist. You're incompetent, you're a commoner, and you're disgusting!"
He fell to the ground in slow motion, clutching his heart. Roseline moved to check on him, but was caught by Renge's outstretched arm. She seethed inside, her mistress's methods always appearing most unorthodox.
A tall, dark haired lad with glasses spoke. Even to Roseline, who avoided Renge's games as much as possible, he resembled the character Miyabi almost uncannily.
"I don't suppose you are..." he never finished his sentence.
Renge gasped a sound of admiration and joy, flying across the room to his side. "It's you, Kyouya!"
She stepped on the boy in the floor as she flew into Kyouya's arms. Rose petals surrounded them. Where the hell did the petals come from?
"How I've longed to meet you," Renge swooned, "My one and only prince charming."
One of the twins looked peculiarly at Roseline. She was staring open mouthed at the 'couple', and merely shrugged. It seemed there was only one person who knew what was happening, and she was more than a little off her rocker.
Renge was seated on the couch, a cup of her favourite tea in front of her. All of the members of the Host Club were sat on the couch across them. Their names still unknown, they watched Renge with a worry and an interest. Roseline hovered behind Renge, watching carefully as her nerves grew more frantic with every passing second.
"Fiancé?" one of the twins questioned.
"Kyouya?" the other finished.
"Of course," Renge replied chirpily, "My name is Renge Houshakuji and I'm transferring into Ouran Academy's First Year Class A tomorrow. My attendant will be joining Second Year Class A, on an Arts Scholarship."
The prince was sulking in the corner. Dark clouds seemed to hang about him.
"Why is he sulking?"
"Because Mommy was keeping a secret from Daddy." The twins conversed.
Kyouya sighed heavily.
"Whatever. Why does everyone insist on referring to us as though we're husband and wife?"
"Ours is a story of love at first sight." Renge began yet another monologue. Roseline shook her head in disbelief, "I couldn't resist the way you were admiring those flowers in the backyard when you thought no one else was looking. And how sweet it was when you reached out to that poor little, injured kitten."
"Is she serious?" the twins asked.
One of the other boys, with feminine features and eyes that took up most of his face, spoke up gently. "Could you have the wrong person?"
"No way, I could recognize my love anywhere!" Renge shouted. Roseline groaned internally and walked over to Renge's side, taking her arm in hand with all the respect she could muster.
"Renge, milady, let us be careful of our tone. We are guests."
Renge, yet again, ignored her pleas. "He's a gentleman who's kind to everyone but doesn't ask for anything in return. He liked solitude, but, in fact, sometimes he gets lonely. He looks like the star of the popular dating sim, Uki-Doki Memorial. You're my real life Miyabi!"
The twins looked as though their heads might explode and the prince continued to sulk in the corner.
"Renge," Roseline argued, "You've never met him."
The prince raised his head so quickly that Roseline worried of his risk for whiplash. "Otaku!"
"Otaku?" one of the boys cried in horror.
"I've never seen one!" another held a hand to his mouth in horror. Roseline bit back a laugh at that.
Kyouya sat down on one of the couches, with a look of deep thought on his face. "I get it now. You're in love with that character. You're projecting that love onto me and have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that somehow we're engaged. I assumed this Miyabi character probably wears glasses as well."
Renge was running around frantically in the background, as the other members of the Host Club sat themselves down to speak with Kyouya.
"So she made it up," the prince boy deducted, finally having stopped sulking, "You're not really her fiancé."
Kyouya spoke calmly. "Well, no. I don't recall ever asking for her hand in marriage. Besides, this is the first time I've ever met the woman."
They continued to speak as Roseline chased Renge about.
"Milady, this is highly unethical!" she panted, grasping blindly for a part of Renge to cling to.
With a mix of a lunge and a tackle, Roseline finally caught Renge in her arms, pulling her over to the couches and tuning back into the conversation. Renge did not miss a beat in her courtship, sadly. She flung herself on the seat beside Kyouya.
"According to my research, I understand that you're in charge of managing the club. Is that true, Kyouya?"
An adorable boy with big, doe eyes spoke up. "That's right. Kyo-chan is our director."
Roseline studied the boy carefully, trying to discern his age. His met her eyes and he grinned brightly.
"You're the clubs director? That's perfect. Oh, wow. I've always wanted to wear a sandwich board to advertise a business." Renge's eyes had stars in her eyes, fists held tight against her chest. Roseline reached around and straightened the bow in her hair.
"We don't advertise; we're just a Host Club." the twins spoke monotonously.
Renge spun around, holding a hand up and winking. "I've made up my mind. From now on, I'm going to be the manager of this Host Club."
The twins groaned. Renge was so caught up in her own world that she was no longer listening to the conversation. But Roseline was; it was her job to know what Renge did not.
"Um…listen, Kyouya," the prince boy began. Kyouya interrupted him.
"Miss Houshakuji is the only daughter of a very important Ootori family client. So please be polite and try not to offend her, alright?"
Roseline narrowed her eyes at them. None of them were looking at her, giving her a moment before she had to return to her passive, polite expression. Renge returned to reality momentarily.
"Alright, boys. I can't wait to work with you. Roseline, prepare everything for out stay," she chittered and trotted out of the room, "I have things to do now that I am a manager."
Roseline turned awkwardly to face the club. What was she supposed to so? Boys had never been something she was taught about. Does one treat them gentlemanly too? She doubted it, but what other method did she have? Extending a hand to the price, she gave him a charming smile.
"My name is Roseline Curtis. It seems as though we will be seeing much of each other as of late. I hope we get along well."
He waved a lock of blond hair back dramatically, grasping her hand in his and lifting it to his lips. Roseline pulled it back, frowning deeply.
"A handshake will suffice. I am not a Lady, sir."
He stared wide eyed at her, cocking his head. "But of course you are, princess."
Roseline shook her head. "Merely being a woman does not a lady make."
She turned her attentions to one of the twins, holding her hand out once more. Grinning devilishly, they both took one of her hands, speaking mere seconds before and after one another.
"Kaoru Hitachiin."
"Hikaru Hitachiin."
She flicked her eyes between them. How similar they were; this would be rather difficult. But a true and kind gentle…woman?...does not drop names. Nodding, she offered her hand to the baby-faced boy with the doe eyes.
He held both his and his pink, stuffed rabbit's hand in hers. "I'm Honey and this is Usa-chan!"
Roseline's false smile flickered. He really was adorable, though his age was still a matter of wonder for her. The tall, brooding man that stood next to Honey reached his hand out before she could. They shared the first real, respectful handshake she had received from the bunch.
"Takashi Morinozuka."
Roseline released his grip. "A pleasure, milord."
The feminine boy did not shake her hand, but raised one of his own and smiled bashfully. Roseline had to take several good looks at him. He was beyond the average mark of a pretty boy, and he moved without the confidences that accompanied gentlemen and ladies. Perhaps he was a Scholarship student as well?
"I'm Haruhi Fujioka."
Haruhi pointed to the princely boy, who continued to stare at Roseline as though she had sprouted horns.
"That's Tamaki Suou. He's the Host Club President."
Reluctantly, the most reluctant of the bunch, Roseline turned to face Kyouya and smiled as sincerely as she possibly could. She held her hand out, praying she wasn't shaking.
"I'm afraid we have not been properly introduced, milord Ootori."
Kyouya smiled with closed eyes, placing his hand in hers and holding on tight. Roseline held tighter, to the point that he could not pull away without her say so. Neither moved for several seconds, until she backed down and pulled away. Kyouya made no move to look harmed or even surprised.
"A pleasure." he charmed.
Roseline gave an affirmative nod once more. With all of this nodding and nodding, she felt like a bobble-head doll. Moving her hands to her side, she pinched the fabric of her dress tightly. It was softer than anything she owned, and every last bit of it felt wrong.
"As I said, it was lovely to meet all of you. I hope we shall get along famously, for our and milady's sake. If you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to."
Roseline turned sharply, leaving Tamaki, Koaru, Hikaru, Honey, Takashi, Haruhi, and Kyouya behind. She could feel their eyes on her back as she walked, head held as high as she could make it. At the stairs, when she was out of their sight, she let her shoulders fall. Her head drooped heavily, her heartbeat quickening. The image of Renge's star struck eyes and Kyouya's calculated smile ran through her mind. A shaky breath left her.
Oh, Renge. What have you gotten us into?
