Chapter 3 - Dark Princes Do Exist

The creature sitting across me is Umehito. The creature sitting across me is Umehito. The creature sitting across me is Umehito.

It's the prince of Nekozawa Kingdom.

And he has undergone a very drastic change during the last three years. I remember being told about his phobia of light, but isn't this going way too far?

Consumed by my own thoughts, I gaped at him and must've looked stupid. Did he dye his hair dark? What about his eyes? And most alarmingly, what is that puppet?

No matter. I should treat him as I have treated him before. I should regard him with high respect and execute my manners perfectly.

I gave him the brightest and cheery smile I could manage. "Life must have been hard on you to end up into this pathetic creature now."

Ah.

"P-pathetic?" he asked, obviously taken aback by my bluntness.

Oh, heavens! Why must my sharp tongue take over my manners in the presence of a noble—a royalty! This is worse than our first meeting.

No. This is the worst.

Calm down. Calm down. Let's analyze the situation once more; I blurted out my unfiltered opinion and now I'm too ashamed to even face him. The only thing to fix my mistake is to apologize.

"Forgive me for being tactless, Your Highness. I am prepared for whatever punishment you think I deserve," I said, bowing my head as low as I could.

"P-please raise your head, Miss Anju. You called me stupid when we first met. This isn't any different so it's fine."

I thought the mistake I just made was the worst, but he remembering our first meeting just snatched that title. I can't believe I just embarrassed myself twice.

My forehead is now touching the surface of the coffee table, shrinking lower in shame. "I shall chop my tongue off to compensate for my foolishness so you, or anyone else, wouldn't experience it next time."

In the middle of my repentance, I felt a presence on my right. I didn't look up to see who it was and kept my head down. They're here to chop off my tongue as I have suggested. I'm regretting those words now, but at least they're not going to chop off my hands.

"Miss Anju," not Umehito, but a female voice called. I realized that it belonged to Kuretake. "Miss Anju, please raise your head."

I did and my cheeks were pinched. I should've known.

"Get a grip of yourself, Miss Anju."

"But—"

"I believe this is not how any of you, youngsters, imagined your reunion to end up this way, am I right?" she loosened the pinches and cupped my cheeks. "Don't waste it. None of you could've prepared for the change, but confronting it this way is wrong. For starters, you should treat each other for who you are, not for what you are and what you have become. Do you understand me, Noriko?"

Hearing her call me by my first name caught my full attention, and I felt warm and happy inside. Speechless, I nodded.

She grinned and her hands left my cheeks and leaned back, resting it on the sides of her waist, and gave Umehito a smirk. What a bully.

"Do you need more assistance in dealing with girls, Prince Umehito?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, right," he let out a small cough. "Thank you for your help. You may go."

Kuretake bowed and left the room, a playful smirk still plastered on her face. I made eye contact with Umehito the second I heard the door close.

"Umehito," I called out, not knowing what to say. He beat me to it, though.

"You cut your hair."

I couldn't hold back a giggle. I never giggle. Ever. Oh, dear. This reunion is wrecking my nerves and I can't keep my behavior constant. "That's the second time I heard it for this day."

"W-where did you keep it?"

"Keep what?"

"Your hair."

"My hair?" I swept a loose strand behind my left ear. Does he mean the one chopped off excess of hair? "Mother must've thrown them out or burned them along the piles of leaves."

"Unbelievable!"

"Isn't it? I also didn't think autumn would take over earlier than usual this year."

"Not the leaves—your hair!"

I frowned. "Are we seriously going to have an immersed conversation about my hair for this reunion?"

"You don't understand. Oh, what a waste! I could've used it to make you fall—" The puppet rushed to his lips, putting a stop to whatever words that followed.

"Fall?" Is he talking about the season? I didn't quite catch it. Make me fall where?

The puppet released him. "D-don't mind me. I'm just talking to myself."

"Well, whatever you say." I let myself enjoy the tea once more, all the while eyeing the cat puppet. Umehito never brought it with him through sittings during the painting sessions before. Is this a new trend? "Umehito, that puppet…"

"The name is Beelzenef." The puppet waved at me. "He wasn't allowed in the sessions because they say the painter might be distracted by him."

I guarantee that because I am that painter and I'd definitely be distracted.

"You're here… to sign my portrait painting, right?" Why must he proceed his question with such caution?

I nodded. "It's in my uncle's will. I can no longer refuse this time."

He fell silent. Perhaps I should've said it with high spirits, but I'm not fine. Should I force myself to be in a state opposite to what I'm truly feeling? I can't pretend to be okay because I'm certainly not okay. I'm still grieving for my uncle's death even though a month has passed.

"Noriko."

All my attention now focused on him. He finally called me by my first name and I saw my friend once again. I wish I could address him as openly and freely as we used to by calling each other's first name. I was too young to value formalities back then and speak whatever comes into mind without a second thought, which explains why I was rude to him in our first meeting. Damn it, Noriko.

"Yes?" I answered.

"As someone representing the royal family for this occasion, we sincerely offer our condolence for the passing of your good uncle. He has served our family with utmost diligence. I believe we'll never find another man as talented and devoted as your uncle."

Talented? Maybe. Devoted? Too much.

"And one more thing," he continued. "Now that the post is officially open, sooner or later someone has to take over the job. As his niece and apprentice, it is likely that you'll be the one to continue the legacy of your ancestors. However, if you decline, we'll be forced to find another."

I didn't know I had been gripping on my skirts until I looked down to hide my face. "I suggest you begin searching for a new court painter."

"There is no rush here, Noriko. Please try to consider the options before relaying your final decision to me."

I looked away, "I'm just a librarian now, Your Highness."

- x -

We left the drawing room minutes after finishing our tea in haste brought by the tension from the recent conversation about my uncle. Outside, we were greeted by Miss Kuretake once more and informed us that the painting is ready and waiting in the studio for signing.

"We also prepared some paints and inks for you, Miss Anju. Feel free to use either," she added.

"Oh, you didn't have to go to such lengths for me. I brought my own materials," I said, showing my satchel. "And signing wouldn't take that long. I intend to finish my business here as soon as possible."

"You have other matters to attend to?"

"No, I just…"

I'm doing it again. I'm searching for words while looking down to my feet. Like the art shop, some force is pulling me closer to the world where my uncle breathed his whole life in; the same world that I worked so hard to escape. I'm quite content working as a librarian and I don't want today's encounter to change the life I built out of loss and failure. I don't want to go back.

A hand closed around mine, gently prodding me away from my musings. When I looked up to see who it was, Umehito had his eyes focused on me. He was too near. If I attempt to take a step back, wouldn't that be rude? This distance is making me uncomfortable. The only time I was this close to Umehito was three years ago which was necessary because I had to study his skull structure and his ever clear blue eyes and…

"If being here burdens you this much, then will it be okay if I visit you instead?"

I blinked. What is he saying? That's a bad idea, Umehito. A royalty visiting a commoner? Even though we're friends, our status will always be hinder to our friendship.

"You're right," I said. "I'm burdened, but that doesn't mean I hate being here. It's just that the memories are coming back and it's too much for my heart to handle."

"Does that also mean you'll visit again?" He asked with hopeful eyes. What happened to his creepy side?

"Today will be the last time I visit."

He let go of hands after a few seconds, dejected. "I see."

Something about his last words made me grit my teeth. What sort of feeling is associated to gritting of teeth? Guilt? I do feel a bit guilty for rejecting the idea that is most likely the cause of his dejection, but that's normal, right? If I gritted my teeth, wouldn't that mean I'm upset, angry even? I'm sure I'm not angry at all. Then perhaps—

"Miss Anju," Kuretake called, snapping me out of my train of thoughts. "This way."

- x -

The walk to the studio was silent, but it was too loud inside my head. Why did he want to visit me if I don't come back here? Why, after three years without communication, did he plan to keep in touch after my business with the painting is done? I thought I made myself clear that I'm not taking over my uncle's job, so what other reason does he have to visit me?

We reached the door leading inside the studio, another room storing memories I didn't want to remember. Kuretake opened the door for us and I inhaled sharply as I let my remaining courage to push my body forward beyond the door.

There's something odd about this room. I blinked and realization rushed in. The room is well-lit now that the curtains have finally been casted open. Candles alone couldn't illuminate the entire room during my work here three years ago, but seeing the corners and details of the room changed the atmosphere I used to get lost myself into. It's as if I'm in a completely different room.

"It must have been a challenge to paint under dim conditions," Kuretake said, who is now standing near a draped flat, four-cornered object, which I believe is Umehito's portrait.

"Can't be helped. Prince Nekozawa is photophobic, after all." I looked to the prince on my right. "And it seems his condition has gotten worse."

He flinched in response, muttering, "I've always been this way…"

I was about to press him further about it but was quickly distracted by the undressing of the portrait from its drapes. A prince with blue eyes greeted me and… something… else.

One thing to mess with artists is to mess with his creations. Though retired, I found it quite hard to suppress my anger as soon as I set my eyes on a doodle of a familiar cat. I ripped my attention away from the portrait and my eyes found its way back to my former subject, who is so unlike the prince in the painting. I switched my gaze to his cat puppet and something snapped inside me. My hands formed into knuckles, not quite sure if I did that to stop the trembling of my hands or because I have lost control of my temper.

I'm still breathing, right?

There must be a reason—this vandal in my painting—my uncle's last painting—for our last masterpiece to be in this state.

Oh, no.

My tears. Don't. Not here. Not here.

I looked at my companions to see what they think of me now that I'm obviously trying to suppress my anger. They just watched me, expressions firm.

Did they expect this reaction from me?

I forced myself to inhale in hopes that my nerves would calm down from shock, anger, confusion—but any attempt failed. My heart can't stop drumming and my vision was beginning to cloud.

How could they do this to me?

No amount of slow breath intakes will ever reduce my growing temper. Anger will make me do and say things I've never dared to commit before. For the first time in history, I glared at Kuretake.

"Don't… test me," I said with gritted teeth.

And with that, I turned to leave. They didn't call or follow me, which only proves that they knew this was going to happen, maneuvered or not.

Trying so hard to distract myself, my mind wandered back to finding out what feeling is associated with gritting of teeth. People, mostly men, do that when they prepare themselves for a beating in the face.

It wasn't feeling but a reaction.

A reaction to incoming pain.


Author's Note: Whew, I didn't expect for this chapter to be this long. You should give yourself a pat on the back for reading this far, but really thank you so much for reading! ^_^