The next morning came with dim light filtering through the heavy curtains in Takashi's room. His eyes narrowed in annoyance, barely willing himself to move. It wasn't just physical exhaustion that held him back: the humiliation of the night before, those whispers that cut like razor blades through the walls, were still vivid in his memory. Mocking, false voices, imitating the maids, as if an unseen entity had amused itself at his expense.
His weak body responded slowly, but his pride burned brightly. "Damn parasites..." he muttered contemptuously, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Then, as he left, the daily scene of the maids waiting for him with morning bows was repeated, but this time his resentment-laden eyes met something different. The looks they gave him were not the same as yesterday. It wasn't tenderness or sympathy. It was... something more childlike. Almost disturbing. As if they saw in him a fragile object, a small creature they wanted to protect or possess. A stuffed animal, perhaps. That made him look away immediately, gritting his teeth.
He walked silently towards the dining room, still with the echo of the previous night's derisive laughter ringing in his mind. Some time later, he noticed the presence of someone new. It was the young woman who had been staring at herself in the mirror for a long time the night before. She entered without a word, without a greeting or the slightest sign of politeness. She sat down at the table, taking a seat that happened to be between Riku and Claire.
Her hair was tied back in two long ponytails that cascaded down either side of her face. Thick, straight fringes covered part of her face, completely obscuring her right eye. She said nothing as she ate, but from time to time she glanced around, as if assessing everyone present. He gave faint, barely perceptible smiles that seemed to be amused by the atmosphere rather than the food. However, those smiles never reached his eyes, which remained cold and indecipherable.
Riku watched her out of the corner of his eye, curious, trying to identify her. He couldn't remember seeing her before that morning. As he broke off a piece of bread, he pondered whether he should ask her name. After all, if they were all there, it was because they were part of the same family tree, right? Could she also be his cousin? The possibility intrigued him. He didn't know how to start the conversation, but he was willing to try.
-Excuse me..." he began, tilting his face towards her, but he didn't have time for more.
The dining room door opened with an identical creak as the previous morning. And as if the script was repeating itself with subtle variations, Rika Itō made her entrance.
She was dressed in the same style as the day before, but there was something different about her. Not in the clothes. It was in the attitude. Her walk was more leisurely, more rehearsed. Her smile was broader, but also more artificial. She was sprinkling greetings and comments that, though friendly in appearance, were brimming with a strange energy. A sweetness that was cloying. As if she were imitating herself, but overdoing each phrase.
-Oh, what a lovely table we have today! Claire, your hair looks absolutely radiant... Although I must say, that colour makes you look a few years younger. That's a good thing, isn't it? -he commented, with a subtle chuckle that didn't entirely hide the teasing.
Claire responded with a strained smile.
-Thank you, Rika. You're always so... attentive.
Hazuki looked at her with an arched eyebrow, sipping his tea slowly without taking his eyes off her. Takashi, for his part, frowned even more. He knew an empty performance when he saw one. And this woman was acting. As if she had decided to intensify the pantomime of the day before. Sweeter. More cloying. More unbearable.
Riku, who was not particularly socially astute, felt a little uneasy. It was like watching a game whose moves he didn't know.
Then it happened.
As Rika distributed her venomous remarks with repulsive sweetness, her eyes glided across the table. They lingered for a moment on Hazuki, then on Claire, but finally - like a dancer twirling at the end of the act - they stopped on Takashi. And then, his smile curved in a different way. It wasn't wider or warmer. It was more intimate. Slower. More... directed.
-Oh... good morning, Takashi-kun. Did you sleep well? -he asked, tilting his head slightly, his expression almost maternal.
He did not respond immediately. The silence was like a needle amidst the general murmur. Their gazes met, and an invisible spark seemed to ignite in the air. The young nobleman narrowed his eyes. He knew he had been chosen.
The performance had begun.