Outdoor Lunch

Mirac was descending the wide marble staircase, the red carpet beneath his feet muffling the sound of his steps. His movements were measured, almost solemn, giving him an air of calm authority.

Upon reaching the ground floor, he crossed the rear doorway, leaving the castle behind. He silently passed through the training grounds, where the air still smelled of steel and trampled earth, and arrived at the gate leading to the royal garden.

As soon as he stepped through the entrance, the view opened onto a vast, perfectly manicured green lawn. To his right, a lavishly set table immediately drew his attention.

The tablecloth was pristine white, while the silverware was arranged with almost obsessive precision. Everything spoke of elegance and wealth, just as one would expect from a royal luncheon.

Waiting for him at the table, already seated, were his mother and his three twin sisters.

"Oh, there you are, my son!" his mother exclaimed, her face lighting up with a warm smile. Despite the years, she had never stopped calling him that, as if Mirac were still the tender newborn from long ago.

"Good afternoon, Mother," Mirac replied with a warm smile as he took his seat. The young prince had long mastered the art of noble etiquette, using it naturally even within his own family.

To his right sat Michelle, who cast him a fleeting glance out of the corner of her eye, before returning her gaze forward, as if nothing had happened.

'Maybe I just imagined it…' Mirac thought, deciding to let it go.

Facing them sat the other two twins, Camilla and Veronica, while the Queen occupied the head of the table, as tradition dictated.

The three princesses and the Queen wore magnificent gowns, worthy of a royal portrait. Each dress was adorned with tight-fitting lace bodices and elaborate decorations, while the wide, voluminous skirts, embellished with ruffles and ruches, gave them an air of timeless elegance. Above their heads, as always, their golden crowns sparkled under the sunlight—an undeniable symbol of their royalty and the family's prestige.

Mirac, on the other hand, sported a simple yet refined outfit: a crisp white shirt, black trousers, and a matching leather belt, completed by elegant shoes. The left sleeve of his shirt was carefully rolled and secured over the stump of his amputated arm, a detail he had learned to handle with dignity.

As he poured himself a glass of water, Mirac allowed himself a moment to observe them, and a thought escaped him involuntarily:

'Wow! Are my sisters really only twenty-two years old? They look so much younger! And my mother? She doesn't even seem to be over thirty! I wonder what their secret is to always looking so beautiful and youthful…'

The thought intrigued him, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.

Out of nowhere, Camilla broke the silence with a scornful tone:

"What a relief! Thank goodness we don't have to have lunch with those whores today!"

Veronica, sitting beside her, reacted immediately, shooting her a sharp glance.

"Watch your tone, Camilla!" she reprimanded, her tone measured but cutting. "That is not the way a princess should speak."

"Oh, stop it, Veronica!" Camilla retorted with a sly smile. "Let's be honest: deep down, even you are glad we don't have to put up with them at the table today."

Mirac watched the scene in silence.

He didn't need to ask questions to understand who they were talking about.

It was obvious that his two sisters were referring to their arrogant three stepmothers and their four daughters—the "whores" Camilla had mentioned.

Their absence from the lunch was anything but accidental, nor had it gone unnoticed.

That day, the meal had been arranged exclusively for Mirac's parents and his three twin sisters, deliberately excluding the stepmothers and stepsisters.

An unusual decision, almost an exception to the strict court dynamics, but perfectly understandable.

The official reason was the celebration of Mirac's completion of his studies.

In reality, however, the idea came from his mother, as a clever opportunity to give her children a meal in complete tranquility, away from the tensions and poisonous subtleties that the stepmothers always brought with them.

At that moment, however, the calm was about to be disturbed by the usual skirmishes between the two sisters.

It was Queen Ginevra herself, without wasting time, who intervened with her usual calm but authoritative tone - capable of calming even the most heated arguments.

"My dear daughters, do not quarrel," she said, looking at them with a mixture of warmth and firmness. "Veronica, you were right to reprimand your sister for her inappropriate language."

Then, turning to Camilla with an enigmatic smile and a hint of complicity, she added:

"But, between us… I fully understand how Camilla feels. To be honest, I'm very happy to enjoy a peaceful lunch with just you as well—at least for today. Well, after all, I was the one who suggested the idea of this meal to your father."

Mirac continued to observe in silence, as if he were merely an external spectator.

But deep down, he couldn't help but agree with both his mother and Camilla.

Those women—his stepmothers and stepsisters—always made him feel scrutinized, as if merely breathing in their presence was grounds for criticism.

'For once,' he thought, as he relaxed against the back of his chair, 'I can enjoy a meal in peace, without their inquisitive looks!'

Just then, his mother, noticing the smile that had escaped him, suddenly stopped, as if an unexpected thought had crossed her mind.

"Oh, heavens! Forgive us, my son. We completely forgot to congratulate you!"

Mirac slowly shook his head, trying to downplay the attention.

"There's no need to worry, Mother," he replied with a gentle smile, hoping to reassure her.

"Oh, that's right! You finished your studies today!" Camilla exclaimed immediately, with her usual enthusiasm. Then, with a glint of irony in her eyes, she added: "And now that I think about it, we actually have to thank you! If it weren't for you, our mother wouldn't have had the excuse to propose a lunch just for us, and by now we'd be sitting at the table with 'them'!"

Camilla made a theatrical pause, then let out an exasperated sigh.

"Tsz, darn it though! Why can't our father just get rid of the-?!"

Veronica didn't even let her finish. With a quick gesture, she gave her a precise elbow jab on the arm, abruptly interrupting her.

"Camilla!" she scolded in a low voice, her sharp tone leaving no room for argument.

Camilla huffed and rubbed her arm, clearly frustrated at being interrupted.

After taking a deep breath, Veronica turned to Mirac, trying to shift the focus back to what truly mattered.

"My congratulations, little brother. I am really proud of you," she said with a sweetness that contrasted with her severity of a moment before.

Camilla, though still visibly irritated, couldn't help but soften her expression, acknowledging the significance of the moment.

"Yeah, great job!" she added, flashing a genuine smile.

Mirac gave a slight nod, returning the smile.

"Thank you," he said simply, his expression calm and composed.

Beneath that apparent calm, however, deep emotions were stirring within him.

That moment of affection, of sincere laughter, of family warmth, contrasted sharply with his past.

Inevitably, Vector thought back to his previous life, to those long days trapped in a loneliness that seemed to have no end.

Each failure, each year in which he was rejected in his first year of high school, was a wound he had to face alone.

There was never anyone to support him, no one to hug him or tell him that it was okay to make mistakes, that he could get up again.

He was alone.

Without his father…

Without his mother…

The images of the past resurfaced like painful shadows: the nights spent staring at the ceiling of his room, wondering if he was the problem, if he didn't deserve the love that seemed always out of reach.

But now…

Seeing his new family gathered to celebrate his academic success filled his soul with a joy he had never known in his previous life.

'Is this what it feels like to have a family?'

As he let himself be carried away by that thought, Vector felt a warmth envelop his heart, an emotion that he could not describe, but that now, finally, was part of his new life: love.

* * *

Shortly after, Professor Warnock joined the table, his presence discreet yet authoritative, accompanied by a slight bow toward the Queen.

However, King Arthur did not appear. A servant arrived to inform them that the sovereign was occupied with urgent state affairs and would not be able to attend the lunch.

Both Queen Ginevra and Mirac showed mild disappointment, but they did not allow the news to dampen the serene atmosphere.

Soon after, the maids began bringing the dishes to the table, among them Carmen, the young Prince's personal servant—and his "secret bodyguard."

As always, the food was exquisite: a delicately spiced vegetable soup opened the meal, followed by roasted venison accompanied by golden, crispy baked potatoes. A variety of side dishes were served as well, from buttered vegetables to warm, fluffy scones. To finish, there was a traditional Ardoryan dessert—a honey flan decorated with fresh berries.

During the meal, Professor Warnock took a moment to present Mirac's report card to the Queen.

With a proud smile, she examined the document and, after returning it to the teacher, she turned to her son:

"Oh, Mirac! I am so proud of you!"

Even Camilla and Veronica, between jokes and playful remarks, didn't miss the chance to congratulate him.

And yet, despite all the praise, Mirac couldn't shake a lingering sense of emptiness.

'It would be nice if he said it too…' he thought, gripping his glass tightly. 'Since THAT day, he's barely spoken to me…'

The "private lunch" had not only been arranged to celebrate the end of Mirac's studies but also to discuss some important matters regarding his future.

In fact, only a few weeks remained until an event that would mark a decisive turning point in his life: his fifteenth birthday!

Indeed, on March 14th, upon turning fifteen, Mirac would be officially consecrated as Prince and the rightful heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Ardorya!

The ceremony was set to take place in the capital, Magam, within the majestic Church of the Flame God, Kayro!

Even though two weeks still remained, preparations for such a grand event were already underway.

Several servants had been sent ahead to decorate the great throne hall with banners and draperies of the Strongold family. Orchestras practiced tirelessly to perfect the ceremonial music, while every detail was carefully examined and refined.

Mirac awaited that day with a mix of excitement and apprehension, fully aware of the responsibilities that lay ahead.

However, it wasn't just the ceremony that made his heart race.

Immediately after that solemn moment, Mirac would embark on a journey of training across the various kingdoms of the continent, as dictated by the tradition of the royal family.

The thought of traveling thrilled him—especially because he had never once set foot outside the castle. Never!

The Strongold royal family followed a strict tradition: its heirs were subjected to a rigorous process of education and training from an early age, ensuring they grew up prepared to face any challenge and fulfill their destiny with wisdom.

For this reason, over the past eight years, Mirac had spent his days between study and grueling training, never allowing himself a break.

And now, finally, he was ready!

Soon, he would have the chance to explore the world beyond the castle walls, visit the Kingdoms, gain experience, and learn lessons that no teacher or book could ever teach him.

Unfortunately, the King's absence at lunch had prevented them from discussing the details of both the journey and the succession ceremony.

But as soon as Professor Warncok uttered the word "journey", Mirac's mood instantly lifted.

'I can't wait!' he thought, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he imagined the adventures that awaited him.

* * *

After finishing lunch and exchanging some light conversation, Mirac rose from his seat, ready to retreat to his room for a bit of rest.

Before leaving, however, his gaze fell on the fruit basket that stood in the center of the table. With a quick, decisive motion, he grabbed a red apple—shiny, fragrant, and perfectly ripe—lifting it for a moment as if enchanted by its beauty.

"I'll eat it later…" he said quickly to Camilla, who had caught him in the act.

She looked at him with an amused smile but said nothing more.

Mirac bowed respectfully to the others at the table, then, without hesitation, made his way toward the castle.

As he walked, he couldn't help but admire the royal garden, with its majestic beauty and the vivid colors painting the landscape.

Upon reaching the castle, he immediately noticed the deep silence that enveloped the second-floor corridor—a stark contrast to the lively, cheerful atmosphere of the lunch he had just left behind.

Mirac was about to grab the handle of his bedroom door when a sudden unease made his back straighten.

He clearly sensed a presence behind him!

He stopped abruptly, then turned sharply, his hand instinctively moving in defense.

'Oh, false alarm…' he thought, relaxing his muscles.

The figure following him was none other than his sister, Michelle.

Michelle had always been a quiet, reserved person, with an aura of mystery that clearly set her apart from her two sisters. Unlike them, that day she hadn't said a word throughout the entire lunch, remaining enveloped in an enigmatic silence that had not gone unnoticed by her brother.

"I hope I didn't startle you," she said calmly.

"No, don't worry," Mirac replied with a smile. "I just didn't hear you coming, so you caught me off guard."

Michelle gave a slight nod.

"I see…" she murmured. "I just wanted to congratulate you on finishing your studies."

"Oh! Well, thank you," Mirac said, nodding politely, though slightly confused. 'But did you come all the way here just to tell me that? Couldn't you have told me this at lunch?'

Indeed, something didn't add up.

The way Michelle avoided his gaze, the obvious tension in her hands as she clasped them together in front of her…

This wasn't like her at all!

"Alright. I'll leave you in peace then…" Michelle said, taking a step back, ready to turn away.

However, Mirac didn't let her leave so easily.

"Wait, Michelle!"

His call was enough to stop her.

"Hmm? What?" Michelle asked, slightly surprised.

Mirac hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words.

"Well, um… how should I put this…" he began, his uncertain tone gradually growing firmer. "Earlier at lunch, you didn't say a single word. I know you're typically a quiet person, but something about your silence today didn't seem normal. It was like your mind was elsewhere, lost in thought… and worried about something. So, I feel absolutely obligated to ask: is everything okay?"

These words were followed by a brief silence, heavy with tension.

Michelle lowered her gaze.

There was a palpable hesitation in her movements, as if she were trying to decide whether to speak or not.

Finally, in a quiet voice, she replied:

"Unfortunately, I would be lying if I said yes…" she admitted, her tone betraying a certain vulnerability. "I'll be honest: I followed you here to talk to you about it, to hear your opinion. Camilla and Veronica would only worry unnecessarily, and the same goes for our mother. The only options were you and our father, but he was absent at lunch today, and he's busy now as well. So, for now, you're the only one I can turn to, but…"

She paused, letting out a sigh.

"I'm not sure if telling you is a good idea anymore…"

Worried, Mirac wasted no time asking for an explanation.

"I don't understand… What are you talking about?" he asked, in a gentle but firm tone.

Michelle took a deep breath, as if gathering all the courage she could to reveal what was troubling her.

Mirac remained silent, waiting patiently.

At last, Michelle exhaled slowly. She finally lifted her gaze to meet her younger brother's.

It seemed that, in that moment, she had made up her mind.

After one last moment of hesitation, her shoulders relaxed, and she found the courage to reveal what had been making her uneasy:

"Mirac… I have a strong feeling that someone is secretly watching me…"