Rendered in Code and Color

Chapter 8: The Masquerade Crumbles

But Mr. Tanaka, perhaps sensing her irritation, pressed on. "And let's not forget the kind of people who typically frequent these institutions. It's hardly the crowd a Shimizu should associate with."

That was the last straw. Miyuki's self-control, strained to its limits, snapped. "The people I've met at the art institute are driven by passion and talent, something I rarely see in rooms like these. They aspire to create, to express, not just to climb social ladders."

Emiko, her face a picture of shock and concern, attempted to interject, hoping to smooth over her daughter's outburst. "Miyuki, that's enough. Mr. Tanaka was only expressing his concern."

But Miyuki, fueled by a torrent of suppressed emotions, was beyond calming. "No, Mother. It's not concern. It's judgment. Judgment from people who can't see beyond their narrow world of political games and power plays."

The room seemed to fall into a stunned silence, the guests' eyes fixated on the unfolding drama.

Miyuki, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt, continued, "I've found more honesty and support among my friends at college in a week than I've ever felt in this world of ours. You all wear masks, hiding your true selves, but they... they are real."

"You've made your point, Miyuki," Emiko interjected with a stern tone, attempting to regain control of the situation.

But Miyuki was on a downhill slope past restraint with no brakes. "I don't think I have, Mother. Have you ever looked beyond your own ambitions to see what I want? Your grip on my life is so suffocating, I can barely think for myself!"

As she spoke, tears formed in her eyes, but her gaze never wavered from Emiko's. "You're so intent on pushing me into the future you've envisioned, but have you ever stopped to consider my dreams? My aspirations?"

The raw emotion in Miyuki's voice echoed around the room, her words resonating with a truth that had been suppressed for too long. "You push and manipulate, all under the guise of what's best for me. But it's always about you, isn't it? About your success, your reputation. What about me, Mother? What about what I want?"

The guests watched, a mix of shock and morbid fascination on their faces, as the usually composed Princess of Tokyo laid bare the turmoil that lay beneath her polished exterior.

"Even my brother couldn't bear it anymore," Miyuki's voice broke as she mentioned her estranged sibling, "He left because he couldn't stand being a pawn in your political games! And now I understand why. Because I feel it too. Every day. This overwhelming pressure to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Shimizu."

Her words trailed off as she choked back a sob, the facade of the dutiful daughter crumbling before everyone's eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't be the daughter you want me to be. I just want to be Miyuki, not a Shimizu heiress, not a political tool. Just me. But it seems even that's too much to ask for."

With those final words, Miyuki turned, her elegant gown swirling around her as she swiftly exited the ballroom. The stunned silence she left in her wake was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within her.

A few moments later, she found herself in the night air, the stillness of the night sky and the tranquil aroma of the garden her only companions. Despite the chill outside, she felt hot. Like a kettle left on for too long, her sobs were as fierce as the screaming steam.

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In the aftermath of Miyuki's abrupt departure, her father, a man of composure and wisdom, stepped forward to address the remaining guests. His voice was calm, yet carried a weight of sincerity that commanded attention.