The Golden Pear [YA - Featured]

♫~Notes 98~♫

 "... it would stain your reputation of perfect and loving woman. It would stick to you like make-up." The icy tone Ueno picked from her mother came in handy. "And I would be more than happy to share with them more juicy stories."

Mrs. Ueno relaxed her body after a few minutes of staring contest. "Well, well, the brat thinks she can bite her mother. How insolent and ungrateful. I poured so much into you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I don't owe you anything! Now get out of my room!"

"Does a mother ask for too much to get an answer to her question?" She was adamant about obtaining it, and Ueno knew it.

"Found it in some old stuff when I was bored. It played a bit, and then it broke." She gestured to the box. Its dancing figure had fallen off it, and the plate under it unhinged, finishing the job of the inner mechanism. "I was just about to throw it away when you burst into my room."

"So, you don't need it anymore?"

They stared at each other for a few more moments, weighing the next words.

"No," Ueno stated, tilting her head a bit.

Without a word, her mother grabbed the music box. A pang of pain stabbed Ueno's small heart. No matter how broken it was, it was the memento of her father. Her mother was leaving the room, but she stopped by the threshold.

Without looking back, she said, "You should have said so. We could avoid all of this."

Ueno waited for her steps to no longer reach her ears before she dived next to the maid.

"Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?" She put her hand on the maid's shoulder.

"I'm fine, thank you, young lady." She got onto her knees.

A few heads popped into the gloomy room. The murmur from the staff filled the room, and the butler helped the kind maid to stand up. Ueno watched them, anger boiling inside her. She didn't think of them much a few weeks ago, now she could understand their suffering.

'No, they have it worse.' She went sitting back onto her bed. Only a small hole remained where the box landed. 'They can't speak up their mind. I bet my mother would spread terrible lies about them to make their lives miserable.'

Checking her phone, she opened it up. There was no video. No proof of her rotten heart. She bluffed as she barely got onto her feet, acting on an impulse.

'Why do I care? They are just servants...' Her eyes trailed the gloomy room as the memories floated all around her. That maid helped her before, gave her bag full of sandwiches, and took out the clothes she threw away.

Unsure what to think of her troubling emotions, she laid down. 'It was so easy before. I stood at the top, and everybody else was just a speck of dust below my feet.'