LM0054 A Second Sip of Trust

"Oh my God, you're the only daughter of the Wolfe Group," Eugene said, her voice hushed as she leaned in closer to Mizuki. She didn't want to draw attention from the other café patrons. Mizuki, who had been silently sipping her coffee, gave a small, amused smile but didn't react.

There was no longer any trace of uncertainty or awkwardness between them. It was as if the rift that had kept them apart for so long had never existed. Eugene's previous coldness made sense now—she had distanced herself not out of disdain, but to protect Mizuki from Nancy's manipulations and threats. It was a sacrifice, a choice made in silence, and one that spoke volumes about Eugene's loyalty. She had done it to help Mizuki have a better future, to give her a chance to escape the tangled web of lies that Nancy had spun. Mizuki couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude, mixed with a touch of sadness for the years they had lost.

"Then, who is she?" Eugene's voice rose in exasperation. "Why do you always go with her in their family's car?"

Mizuki paused, then corrected her calmly, "That's my car."

Eugene froze, her eyes wide with surprise. "Your car?" she repeated, clearly stunned by the revelation. For a few seconds, she couldn't speak, her mind working through the implications. "Then...?"

"She's the daughter of our housekeeper," Mizuki said, deadpan.

Eugene's face twisted in confusion and disbelief before her eyes began to blaze with fury. She slumped back in her seat, still processing what Mizuki had just said. Then, in a dramatic flare of emotion, Eugene blurted, "Oh my God, that frog... If I see her, I will—"

Mizuki raised an eyebrow, amused, as Eugene's rant grew louder and more colorful. She was genuinely outraged, her face comically flushed, her nostrils flaring in indignation. Eugene was fiercely protective, her anger more than a little theatrical, but it was undeniably heartfelt.

Mizuki listened in silence, fighting back a smile as Eugene's rant reached its peak. It was strange how comforting this familiarity felt. Eugene's fiery spirit hadn't changed in the years since they last spoke. Her voice softened as she spoke in a more muted tone, but Mizuki could still hear the frustration in her words, the hurt she had carried for so long on Mizuki's behalf.

Then, as if recalling her surroundings and the potential for their conversation to be overheard, Eugene cleared her throat and straightened up, looking embarrassed. "Please pretend you didn't hear any of that," she said sheepishly, glancing nervously around the café. "I'll be fired if anyone finds out I said anything about harming someone."

Mizuki couldn't help herself; she laughed. It was a soft, knowing laugh, full of the warmth of long-lost friendships being rekindled. "Well, at least we've cleared that up," she said lightly, though the words felt heavier than she intended.

The moment settled into an uneasy silence. The weight of everything that had been unsaid between them seemed to hang in the air, unspoken but undeniable. As their eyes met, the silence became almost painful. There was sadness in their shared gaze, an understanding of the years that had slipped away. They had both lost so much time, and it hurt to acknowledge it.

"Mizu..." Eugene whispered softly, the nickname from their youth tumbling out of her mouth, an echo of their past.

Mizuki knew what Eugene was trying to say. She knew that Eugene was grieving too—grieving for the years they had wasted, the friendship that had been torn apart by lies and misunderstandings. Mizuki reached across the table, gently placing her hand over Eugene's. It was a small gesture, but it carried with it the weight of everything they had endured.

"It's fine, Genie," Mizuki said, using the nickname she had always called Eugene, her voice soothing but steady. Eugene blinked rapidly, tears springing to her eyes. She was overwhelmed, the emotions too much to hold back.

Mizuki patted her hand softly, trying to comfort her. "Don't cry. It's over. Nancy can't lie to us anymore," she murmured, her voice low, offering Eugene the comfort she had never given herself.

Eugene's sobs came in soft gasps. "What do you mean? You already knew she lied before we met?" she asked, her voice shaky as she wiped her eyes.

Mizuki nodded, the truth a painful but necessary revelation. "Just as she lied to you, she did the same to everyone at school. She made everyone believe she was the young lady of a rich family, while she treated me like a servant." Mizuki paused, her eyes darkening as she let the truth settle. "I was too naive and stupid to see it back then. I didn't realize how badly I was being treated until it was too late."

Eugene's face softened with empathy, though a small frown creased her brow. "But it's not your fault, Mizu. You... you didn't know." She paused, then her expression shifted to something more serious. "Wait—Mizu, it's your fault actually. You never told anyone who you really were. If they knew, no one would have dared treat you like Nancy's henchman."

Mizuki laughed, though there was a slight bitterness to her tone. "Well, maybe you're right," she agreed, the admission stinging her more than she expected. "But back then, it never occurred to me that I should let the world know who I was, who my family was. In London, everyone treated me like I was some sort of princess—doing whatever I wanted, but they never treated me like a normal person. It was like they were scared to offend me because it might offend the Wolfe family."

Mizuki's lips curved into a wry smile. "It was frustrating, honestly. No one ever wanted to play with me properly. They were all too worried about my family's reputation." Her eyes flickered with a touch of sadness as she continued. "At least Nancy wasn't scared of me. She was the only one who treated me like a normal person. But when we moved to the Netherlands, I decided to keep a low profile. I told Nancy how I felt, and she encouraged me to stay anonymous. She knew I wouldn't out myself if I didn't have to."

A wave of realization swept over Mizuki as she shared this. She had kept her identity hidden for her own reasons, but she also knew that Nancy had taken advantage of her naivety. Mizuki couldn't help but feel that, in some way, she was partially to blame for the way things had played out.

Eugene frowned, her brow furrowed in concern. "I really have several choice words I want to tell that B." 

"No, don't waste your breath." Mizuki laughed. "You thought I was really poor?" she asked, the question laced with disbelief. She laughed again, this time with a lightness that felt more like herself. 

"Don't laugh," Eugene scolded, though there was a hint of affection in her tone. "I spent years worrying that Nancy was bullying you, you know? I couldn't tell you about her because I didn't want you to stop talking to her and have her retaliate."

Mizuki sighed, remembering the early days at school when she had spent more time hiding than learning. Bored and with nowhere else to go, she had found herself volunteering at the library with Eugene, letting the world think they were more alike than they actually were.

"What did Nancy tell you?" Eugene asked, a question that had been haunting her. "Because before, you were still trying to talk to me, then you just stopped. You ignored me."

Mizuki looked ashamed. "Well, sorry about that," she began sheepishly. "I was also hesitant to confront you because I really thought you were furious with me for not telling you who I was. I thought you found out I was the Wolfe heiress and were upset with me for pretending."

Eugene scrunched her face, irritated by the memory. "So where's that frog now?" she muttered, snorting in disgust.

Mizuki laughed at the way Eugene put it. She had always thought of herself and Nancy in terms of a "princess and pauper" dynamic, but Eugene's version—"the princess and the frog"—seemed far more fitting now.

"Well, after we discovered her misdeeds, my family sent her and her mother somewhere else," Mizuki explained.

"What? They didn't get fired?" Eugene gasped.

Mizuki shook her head. "Emma, her mother, was a good employee. She was genuinely sorry for what happened. But…"

Mizuki trailed off, her thoughts clouded with doubt. She wasn't sure if it was guilt or understanding that kept her from fully blaming Nancy.

"Besides what?" Eugene asked, eager to understand.

Mizuki sighed, wrestling with the complexity of the situation. "It's complicated," she began slowly. "Even after all that happened, I still can't bring myself to completely blame Nancy. I can't help but wonder if I could have done something differently."

Eugene looked at her incredulously. Mizuki raised a hand, silencing her. "No, I'm not saying it's my fault. But I can't deny that I had a part in what she became. After all, I brought her into my world. I made her attend the same school I did."

"Mizu, you gave her opportunities that no one else could," Eugene reminded her gently. "Better ones, even. You took care of her. That's not your fault. It's her greed, not your responsibility."

Mizuki smiled, a faint, knowing smile. "You're right."

For a long while, they sat in the comforting silence, wrapped in the shared weight of their reflections. Outside, the city bustled with the energy of a thousand lives intersecting, but inside the quiet café, time slowed, allowing the two friends to begin mending what had been broken for far too long.