Jarring Memory

Jalen glances towards her but doesn't speak anymore after this. Myra recognises the city as they pass through it but is careful not to mention anything at the risk of what happened the previous night. She remembers very little, holding only foggy memories of moments before she had drowned herself in the tequila she carelessly bought.

She's been wondering about when next she'd be able to see the Marquess, simply because she owes him an apology for going missing and turning up drunk out of nowhere. However, she has not fully forgotten the strange man she met at the bar previously.

Actually, she wouldn't go to the extent of calling him strange since he entertained her while she was barely conscious. He reminds her almost of a prince, someone of a regal calibur.

A little thought to the suspicion would, however, prove her wrong because a prince surely wouldn't be sipping sparkling water in a bar at ungodly hours past midnight.

A short distance away from the center of the city brings the sight of the Bougainvillea manor, dolled up but not any better than the Ruskin's. It's majestic and has a filthy rich aura in itself, none that would steal the breath of either Ruskin sibling however.

Myra finds herself scoffing at the sight, almost as if the manor shows how pretentious the entire facade of the family is.

Although she exists with the mind of a foreign girl, it's almost as if she's been ingrained to dislike the other family because of their bad blood, without having a proper reason.

The carriage stops behind a few others that are lined up at the front door, where the head butler stands prepared to greet the guests.

Myra and Jalen step outside, after which she mutters in her brother's ears to be wary of his actions and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. The guards clamber off their horses and stand at attention behind the noble children of the Ruskin house and lead them until it's their turn to be attended by the butler.

The old man has a square face with a pointed nose, an odd combination, Myra thinks. He pauses his thumb over one part of the scroll in his hands and looks up with an expression of hidden condescendingness. "

I'm afraid guards aren't allowed inside. After all, it's a casual affair. I couldn't have the guests thinking that there's something suspicious going on in the Bougainvillea household when it's only a safe space," he chirps.

Myra folds her arms, "There's no reason for you to deny their entrance, good sir. They will be silent and will only keep watch over us in case of emergency. It's our father's request."

The butler smiles. "Then I ask that they wait outside."

Myra grips onto Jalen's hand as she feels him seething silently next to her, the butler daring him to lash out with the snobbish accent of his. Knowing she can't let his subtle antics get the best of her, she takes a deep breath and relents.

"I understand," she almost spits rather than speaks at this point and brushes past him.

"A maid shall lead you inside. Enjoy," he greets and the skin around his eyes crinkle because of how much his mouth has been smiling.

With this, he scratches off 'Ruskin' from his scroll and his smile falls. He glares at the guards standing in front of him, refusing to move nor even look him in the eye. He scoffs in annoyance.

Meanwhile, a maid in a green uniform with bougainvilleas wrapped in her braided hair leads her through the household to a grass structure at the back of the manor. It stands high and impressive amongst an open walkway for leisure strolling.

Myra glances at Jalen, immediately recalling what she had been told earlier about taking the medicine in case they were brought into the poison garden.

The scent that fills the air is like none other, one that's so enticing it's almost as if it has been artificially crafted to enamor those who come in contact with it.

The colours in the surroundings replicate that of a work of art, each complementing the one that lies next to it. It's a greenhouse filled with neon-coloured plants, each with a blaring warning sign as to not touch it.

The garden is a massive space with dinner tables lining the center and walkways to show guests around the place. A chocolate fountain sits at the head of the table, farthest from the entrance. Jalen, surprisingly, doesn't seem swayed from the sight of it.

At the very corner of the room, Myra finds a girl with gentle blonde hair standing by a massive vertical garden. During this very moment, she feels her heartbeat spike and instantly knows that there's something to her that she's subconsciously trying to remember.

From the angle she's at, she isn't able to see the blonde's face so she inches closer, leaving Jalen to wander wherever it is he hopes to go. As she nears with narrowed eyes, the girl she's been approaching feels an unnerving gaze on herself and turns her head.

Within seconds of their eyes meeting, Myra's eyes widen and a searing pain cuts through her forehead. Her hands quiver at her sides.

. . .

Mari gazes out of the window, anxiety prickling at her skin as she waits, and waits for the right moment to go out. It feels as if each second is eternity in a pocket, the worry chipping at her heart the longer she waits.

A bead of cold sweat trickles down her forehead and as she's about to lose hope, she watches as Ara emerges from the school gates, making Soobin wait at an angle where Mari can see.

Mari's eyes widen and a smile creeps onto her lips.

Ara looks up, looking vaguely in Mari's direction though it's difficult to differentiate the one of their classroom for many other identical ones.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Mari runs down the stairs—or speed-walks, whatever she can do to avoid as many interruptions as possible.

Mari feels almost light-headed as she sees Ara's back, mind floating with the what-ifs. At the same time, she can't seem to get over her butterflies.

"I've had feelings for you for a while now, sunbae. I was too shy to confess my feelings any earlier so I wrote this story for you… It's a fairytale… You can read it if you want," Ara bows, shoving the papers in Soobin's hands.

Soobin takes them, his face flushed and eyes blown wide by the unexpected confession.

Mari pauses mid-way, her limbs falling to her sides. She blinks once. A beat passes. She blinks again and time doesn't seem to pause.

It's real, there's movement—in her peripheral vision, the trees, the lights, the birds. They're moving, but she can't.

Soobin doesn't seem to take notice of Mari even though he could if he looked up. It's like they're trapped in their own bubble.

Mari is an outsider. The epiphany hits her hard, like a truck is slamming into her, shattering every part of her heart in the process.

The initial shock is replaced with a pang of betrayal, her chest stinging as if the weight of the events has physically wounded her. Tears prickle her eyes and the muted sounds of the environment are quickly replaced by a blaring ringing.

"I would really appreciate it if you accepted my feelings," Ara remains bowed, jumbled words coming out as a stutter. It sounds too real, too real to be staged. Mari feels her knees grow weak—so, so close to crumbling to the ground.