Chapter 17: Bad Morning
'Not wanting to hurt someone isn't a reason to stay with them. Just take some to think it over.'
I stir slowly, consciousness seeping back into my body while I process it and really think about what I should do. My head throbs with a dull ache, a painful reminder of last night's overindulgence. The taste of stale wine lingers on my tongue, bitter and unpleasant.
As I blink away the remnants of sleep, the events of the previous night come rushing back in a whirlwind of fragmented memories. The pond, the mysterious woman, her pleading red eyes... The recollection sends a jolt of anxiety through me, causing my stomach to churn uneasily.
Before I can fully calculate where these thoughts are going, a sharp knock at the door cuts through the morning quiet. The sound reverberates through my aching skull, causing me to wince. Confusion washes over me. The servants never knock. They simply enter to perform their duties with quiet efficiency, and if they see something they shouldn't, they keep it to themselves.
"Uhh, who is it?" I call out, my voice rough with sleep and the aftereffects of too much wine.
"It's your grateful girlfriend, Rolo!" comes the cheerful reply, muffled slightly by the heavy oak door.
A wave of nervousness washes over me, my heart rate quickening. I sit up hastily, running a hand through my disheveled hair in a futile attempt to make myself presentable.
"Come in," I say, trying to keep the apprehension out of my voice.
The door swings open, and Rolo strides in, her presence immediately filling the room. She's resplendent in her academy uniform, the crisp lines and polished buttons a stark contrast to my rumpled state. Her crimson eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, and a broad smile graces her lips.
"Prince Elwin," she says, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and concern, "I couldn't find you anywhere yesterday after classes ended."
I nod, averting my gaze slightly. "I was just sorting some stuff out," I reply, the words feeling inadequate even as they leave my lips.
Rolo's crimson eyes soften with understanding, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She moves towards the bed. The mattress dips slightly as she sits beside me, the warmth of her body radiating through the thin fabric of her uniform.
Without a word, she leans in, her raven hair cascading around us like a silken curtain. Her lips meet mine in a kiss that's both tender and passionate. For a moment, I lose myself in the sensation, my body responding instinctively to her touch.
As we part, Rolo's eyes search mine. "Is everything sorted out?"
A wave of guilt washes over me, threatening to drown me in its intensity. The weight of what I'm about to do sits heavy on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
"Rolo," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "we need to talk."
Her hand finds my arm, her touch gentle and comforting. She begins to rub small circles on my skin, the sensation sending shivers down my spine despite the gravity of the situation. "What's wrong, honey?" she asks, her crimson eyes wide with concern.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to say. "I think we need to break up," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush.
The effect is immediate and devastating. Rolo goes pale, the color draining from her face so quickly it's as if someone had pulled a plug. Her hand on my arm goes limp, falling away as if the strength has suddenly left her body. Her crimson eyes seem to dim, clouding over with confusion and hurt.
"Why?"
I close my eyes for a moment, unable to bear the pain I see reflected in her gaze. When I open them again, I force myself to meet her eyes, knowing I owe her at least this much. "I had a misunderstanding when we first met," I explain, each word feeling like a shard of glass in my throat.
Rolo's eyes widen. "A misunderstanding? What do you mean?"
"I thought... I thought you were someone else. Someone who visited me one night. I mistook her for you, and I've been projecting who I thought she was onto you this whole time."
Rolo's eyes flash with sudden anger, the crimson irises seeming to glow with an inner fire. Her jaw clenches, the muscles working beneath her skin as she grinds her teeth.
"Oh?" she says, her voice low and dangerous, like the growl of a predator about to pounce. "And who exactly did you think I am?"
"I don't know who she is," I admit.
Rolo scoffs, the sound sharp and cutting in the tense silence of the room. Her hands clench into fists at her sides, the knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. "What exactly do you mean this girl 'visited' you?" she demands, her voice dripping with sarcasm on the word 'visited.' "What did you two do?"
"I... we..." I stammer, the words sticking in my throat like thorns. The memory of that night flashes through my mind, the mysterious woman's touch, her intoxicating scent, the passion that had consumed us both.
Rolo's patience snaps like an overstretched bowstring. She leaps to her feet, her movements sharp and aggressive. Her raven hair whips around her face, mirroring the storm of emotions raging in her eyes.
"You slept with her, didn't you?" she hisses, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and hurt. "And then you had the audacity to pursue me, thinking I was her?"
"That's exactly it."
Rolo's face contorts with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. Her lips curl into a sneer, her voice dripping with venom as she spits out, "What are you, some disgusting whore or something?"
The accusation stings, igniting a spark of indignation in my chest. "No!" I shoot back, my voice rising with emotion. "And by the way, I've only been with two people. You and her."
Rolo stares at me, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. The silence stretches between us, taut as a bowstring ready to snap. Finally, she breaks it, her voice low and dangerous. "What exactly did she do to you while fucking you that made you fall for her so hard?"
I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment, the heat spreading down my neck and across my chest. The truth sits heavy on my tongue, mortifying in its vulnerability. But I know I owe Rolo honesty, no matter how humiliating it might be or me.
"She..." I begin, my voice trembling slightly. I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "She broke in and took control."
"She appeared in the middle of the night, like a phantom. Her presence was... overwhelming. Before I could even process what was happening, she had me in a state of bliss."
I can see the shock in Rolo's eyes, but I press on, unable to stop now that I've started. "Her touch was electric, igniting every nerve in my body. She knew exactly what to do, how to move, where to touch. It was like she could read my deepest desires and bring them to life."
I look up, meeting Rolo's gaze. Her expression is unreadable, a storm of emotions swirling in her crimson eyes. "She made me feel wanted, desired in a way I've never experienced before. It wasn't just about physical pleasure. It was a connection that touched my very soul."
Rolo seems at a loss for words. A deep frown creases her brow as she processes what I've just revealed.
"She broke into your room?" Rolo asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, "Yeah."
"And you had no idea who she was, nor did you invite her?"
"No, I don't know her," I confirm.
Rolo's expression shifts, a mixture of horror and concern washing over her features. She reaches out, her hands gently cupping my face. Her touch is warm against my skin, a stark contrast to the chill that has settled in the pit of my stomach.
"Elwin," she says softly. "She raped you."
The words hit me like the truck that killed me in my last life. I shake my head vehemently, pulling away from her touch. "No, she didn't!" I protest, my voice rising with emotion. "I wanted it!"
Rolo's frown deepens."That story does not convey that at all, Elwin," she says gently, her words laced with worry. "I think your mind is coping with the rape, making you think you love her."
"What the fuck?" I respond to her, feeling baffled.
A heavy silence falls between us, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Rolo's gaze darts around the room, never settling on one spot for long. Her fingers twist nervously in the fabric of her uniform, a tell-tale sign of her internal turmoil.
"I have to go, Elwin," she says suddenly, her voice tight with barely contained emotion.
Panic surges through me at her words. "Wait, no!" I exclaim, reaching out to grasp her hand. "We need to talk…"
But Rolo pulls away, her movements sharp and abrupt. She stands, smoothing down her uniform with trembling hands. Her face is a mask of conflicting emotions, concern, confusion, and something else I can't quite place.
"I'm sorry, Elwin. I really have to go."
Before I can respond, she turns on her heel and strides towards the door. Her movements are stiff, lacking the usual grace and confidence that defines her. She darts through the door like a scared animal.
After Rolo's abrupt departure, I slump back onto the bed, my mind reeling from our conversation. The room feels oppressively quiet, the only sound my ragged breathing and the distant chirping of birds outside my window.
Time seems to stretch and warp, minutes blending into hours as I lay there, replaying every moment of our exchange. The hurt in Rolo's eyes, the shock in her voice when she accused me of being raped, it all swirls together in a dizzying kaleidoscope of emotions.
After a while, the door swings open with a soft creak. One of the male servants enters, pushing a gleaming silver breakfast cart. The scent of freshly cooked food wafts into the room, a tantalizing aroma that makes my stomach growl despite my emotional turmoil. The servant, a young man with neatly combed brown hair and a crisp uniform, gives me a polite smile as he maneuvers the cart to my bedside.
"Your Highness. Would you like to have your breakfast spaghetti in bed again today?"
I blink at him, feeling suddenly untethered from reality.
"I'm sorry," I say, my voice rough from disuse, "I don't think I have it in me today."
The servant's eyebrows rise slightly at my refusal, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before his professional mask slips back into place. "Of course, Your Highness," he says smoothly. "Would you like to change the menu for lunch as well?"
His words send a jolt of panic through me. The thought of losing out on my monthly spaghetti and meatball thing nearly chokes me to death.
"Well, hold your horses," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm just taking breakfast off."
The servant nods, his movements precise and practiced. Without another word, he grasps the handles of the cart, its silver surface gleaming in the morning light. The wheels glide silently across the plush carpet as he maneuvers it towards the door. The rich aroma of the spaghetti lingers in the air, a bittersweet reminder of simpler times.
As the door closes behind him with a soft click, I find myself alone once more. My gaze drifts to the now-closed door, and a thought suddenly strikes me.
"I wonder how they get that piping hot cart up the stairs so easily."