He holds my gaze and peruses my face. I wish I knew what he was looking for, but once he finds it, he smiles and gives me a reassuring nod.
With that small gesture, I melt. Not figuratively or romantically, I quite literally melt in my seat.
Losing all composure type of melt.
My back slouches, one bare foot slides off the chair, and I lean to the slide against the armrest.
He's given me the okay to go ahead and give him my endless list of reasons why he should be turned off from me.
I bury my face in the endless ruffles of my skirt and sigh once more, feeling like a deflated sack of rotting turnips.
I know for sure now that I'm going home.
This isn't exactly how I intended it to happen, and I wanted my family to enjoy some ease a little longer, but I just don't think I can last here.
Maybe I actually overestimate myself this time.
Venting to the Prince and getting sent home once he realizes I came with a lot of baggage wasn't my plan.
But I guess it's not all that bad.
I'll never be able to afford the consultations the higher ranks get when they're stressed, so I guess this is the closest thing I'll get.
I look back up to see him still looking at me, with his bright eyes, high nose bridge and uneven lips.
Beautiful boy.
It's a shame he is the way he is. Spineless, inconsistent with confidence and meek. Everything Yeonjun wasn't.
Yeonjun randomly popping into my thoughts again was a jump scare.
Even when hating him, I compare him to others, and nobody measures up.
I know it's not right to compare the two, but I can't help it.
I wonder what kind of expression the Prince would make once he finds out about my opinions, my life, and how messy it is.
I reach for one of the bobby pins in my hair and begin removing them. "I don't even know where to start," I huff.
I wasn't lying. There's so much on my mind right now that I'm unsure what part to throw at him first.
"Just say what's bothering you the most right now," he says as he makes himself comfortable...well, as comfortable as you would expect a prince to get in front of their subject.
I take a few moments to think: what's bothering me the most?
This place? No, it's annoying, but it's not the worst.
The other contestants? I hate them, but there's some good there as well.
Is it basically being a part of our country's increasing illiteracy percentage? Cause that's one that pisses me off.
Yeonjun? Oh absolutely. And the fact the girl he was with is gorgeous is messing with me, too.
What? Did he think I was ugly or something? Was my jawline not sharp enough, or was my hair clean enough? We're my bosoms not plump enough and sitting pretty like hers. Are her teeth straighter and whiter than mine? Does she know how to prepare a chicken? Does she know how to fix a roof after a heavy rain storm? I know I do, but what about her? what skills does she have that I don't?
What did she do that was better? Did she look better? Was she a better cook? Could she read? Was my illiteracy the issue?
"Am I ugly?" I ask, very matter-of-factly.
He blinks in surprise.
Realizing how pathetic and insecure that sounded, I retract my statement.
"I mean, not ugly; I know I'm not ugly. Not that I'm a narcissist or anything! I just know that I'm not entirely unappealing to the eye."
His lips twitch with a smile.
"What I mean is," I say, realizing I'm rambling.
"Are there things about myself visually that would be considered unappealing to the male eye, someplace I'm falling short in that I'm not aware of?".
I look to see what he will say once I finish my tangent, only to see an endearing smile on his face.
I frown, and he clears his throat, regaining his composure.
"My apologies, lady (Y/N), I was unsure whether or not you were jesting".
"My eyebrows furrow; why would I be joking? This is a serious question. If I were your partner, would something be lacking in me?".
I use my arms and motion to myself. "Like, is something amiss? Am I missing something but have too much ego to recognize it?".
Another smile from him, the kind of smile you give to a foolish child.
But I do see him look at me, like really look at me, so intently that it makes me buzz a little bit.
His eyes slowly run over my entire being.
He starts at my hand dangling off the chair, looking at every knuckle and fingertip before his gaze move to the planes of my arms, dragging his gaze up to my shoulder and collarbones.
They move momentarily over my chest before ascending quickly; a real gentleman, I'd have to say
And finally, to my face.
When his eyes reach my face, an unreadable emotion blooms in his eyes.
His eye linger for a while on my lips before moving to my nose, almost like he had to force himself to look up.
His eyes climb my nose bridge and run through the expanse of my forehead. They linger there for so long that I fight the urge to clasp my hand on top of it.
Maybe I had a zit.
His eyes weave through the twists and braids in my hair, and the pieces that are resting on my neck from where I undid the bobby pins.
He finally holds my gaze again.
But this time, it's intense.
I've noticed that he's never shied away from eye contact unless he is feeling guilty, always trying to meet my gaze and stare into my soul with those saucers of his.
He continues to stare at me, and I try to stare back, but when I do, what I find in his eyes causes my breath to catch in my throat.
A look so tender and kind. A gaze without judgement and full of adoration for a stranger.
I've never looked at anyone like that.
Especially someone I've known less than a week.
I feel something warm trickle through my veins. Maybe it was because we were alone or how he looked at me, but I was suddenly very aware of him.
It felt like every nerve in my body was responding to his gaze.
Yeonjun's gaze made me feel hot and needed, but the prince's makes me feel fidgety.
I don't know how to explain it. Itchy? No, not itchy, but hyper-aware of him and everything around me.
I pull my other leg up to my chest, and his gaze shoots down to see the movement momentarily before returning to my face.
I feel the need to start scanning the room for the nearest exit; his look is almost too attentive, too observant.
We continued sitting there; a strange frequency filling the room.
My senses felt clogged.
"Nothing," he soothed in the silence.
I blink, a bit startled. His gaze frazzled my senses, and his voice penetrating through my thoughts out of nowhere caught me off guard.
"Huh?" I say dumbly. I wouldn't say I like the way I responded.
He leans against the backrest of the chair.
"Nothing is missing".
He elaborates more. "Not just to the male gaze, to anyone's gaze, I'm sure you'd be seen as desirable."
"Objectively, I find you very beautiful. There is no need to doubt yourself when it comes to your attraction. Even if a day came where you weren't, which I doubt would come, you would still be full of charms that would draw anyone in", he replies warmly.
I feel like I have moths in my stomach, but butterflies, moths.
I don't know what to do with that information.
He's still staring at me.
I feel warm all of a sudden.
He absentmindedly plays with the fabric of his slacks, refusing to look away.
My breathing speeds up, and when I let my eyes drop to his chest, it looks like his has, too.
I clap my hands together loudly. "Well, that's good!," I say much louder than necessary, desperate to break whatever atmosphere we got going on.
I don't know what I saw in his eyes, but I'm not too fond of it.
I fake laugh and sit in the most unladylike position I can, hoping to throw him off.
Manspreading with my elbow resting on my arm like I'm a drunk old man at a pub trying to tell a pretty server a secret, I lean forward and make sure every pore in my face is visible.
He reaches for a pillow, and hugs it in his arms while leaning forward slightly. " Can I ask you why you felt that way?," he asks.
I wish he wouldn't, but I'll respond.
I left out a huff. "My ex-boyfriend used and cheated on me the night before I left, maybe this whole time. I might've just been too stupid to realize. Did I mention that I would share my food with him when I too was already struggling? No? Well, I did that too. I'd sneak out to see him, hold him when life got rough, feed him, sometimes give extra for the road and what did I get back? Empty promises of marriage, a broken heart and a death ticket to the selection."
I look at him. " No offence".
I try to elaborate.
"I know this is to find a wife for you, despite how...well....unique it is. But I only came here because he told me to."
I couldn't stop the word vomit.
"To be honest with you, had he not put the idea in my head that I'd marry him once I got eliminated, I would not have been here to begin with. The only reason why I haven't dropped out is because my family needs this more than anything and the financial aid is great. There is no lifetime where their ranks would be a three. If it wasn't for me being here, they'd never experience such luxury. My father can finally see a proper doctor to talk about his foot malformations thanks to you."
His eyebrows crease. "Your father is a cripple?".
The way he says it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. "He's not 'a cripple' your majesty," I say with a pointed look.
"But he's getting older, weaker, he no longer should he's dancing and singing the way he does. He practically lives at the pubs and shebeens. His feet no longer look and work as they should. He comes home once a week to rest and drop off the money before going back out there."
I recall my father's stubbornness when it comes to his health. "We've begged him numerous times to use some of that money to see a physician, but he refuses, stubborn old man," I mutter the last part with a bitter scoff.
"I bet he still goes down to work everyday despite now being a three."
I peak at him to gauge his reaction. To my surprise, he takes the information well.
No horror or judgement, just mild pity. A bit irritating, but it's ok.
"Has he tried rationing the money he receives? Putting aside a small percentage for his feet and giving your family the rest? It would accumulate over time and he'd be able to look after himself more," he asks earnestly.
A surge of irritation flares up within me. I know he means no harm and is probably trying to help, but does he think we're stupid?
"Have you tried budgeting and being smart with your money"
He might as well just said that.
Little does he know that we did, and the reason we stopped is because it took him three years to slowly accumulate enough money to see a specialist, and that was just to get one to look at his feet.
No treatment, no advice, no conversation, just a cheap physical.
He didn't even touch my dad's feet. He stared at a distance with mild disgust and told him to come back tomorrow to discuss action courses.
We never came back.
It took us three years just to be seen, and even though we were seen physically, we felt the emotional disregard heavily.
He's a bit out of touch with reality when it comes to us lower ranks. Just casually thinking that we can fix our problems with just a few conversations and common sense.
"Yes, your highness" I say with more bite than I intended.
"We've tried breaking up the money. But doctors don't care about the wellbeing of people like us."
"Why, we have skilled and great physicians that pride themselves in-".
"They don't care about us," I repeat, a bit sharper and with tone of finality.
I won't argue this matter with someone who's had everything thrown at his feet, never knowing a day of real hardship and suffering.
He however, stuck in his bubble of privilege and naive to the live of those outside the palace walls, dares to fight me on this.
"Surely they're must be some kind of rea-".
"Your majesty!," I say's loudly, interrupting him once again. "They don't care".
I didn't mean to raise my voice. But he's not getting it. He and I will never be equal and have the same experience. He'll never understand that we are not subject to the same treatment.
An awkward silence fills the space between us. I think about calling it quits and going to my room before he breaks it.
"Do you have any siblings?", a peace offering after his blatant insensitivity.
I stare him, silently debating whether or not I want to be accept it or go to my room.
"Yes," I say, choosing to indulge him just a little more. "A little sister named Jisoo. She and my attendant share a name. I remember her every time she's near".
He offers me a small smile. " Tell me about Jisoo".
I eyes him suspiciously. Why does he wanna know about Jisoo? Knowing she exists should be enough.
"Well," I start cautiously. "She's nine, adorable, and loves chicken soup."
"Why chicken soup?," he asks.
I shrug, "She likes to pretend the amber broth is melted gold".
He gives me a looks.
"I'm don't question a nine year olds reasoning and neither should you,"I say.
He adjusts himself. "Do you miss her?"
I nod my head quietly. "Oh, terribly. The nights aren't the same without her."
I can tell he's confused so I elaborate. "She sleeps in my parent's bed, but sneaks into mine sometimes. I used to hate it. She'd squeeze herself on my hay filled cot; it's no wider than a coffee table. She'd cuddle up and compress me against the wall."
He makes a face. "That sounds ... rather crowded."
I laugh. "It was, I hated it, but I didn't have the heart to push her away. She said she sleeps best when she's with me, even if half her body hung off the bed".
"It's been so strange sleeping without her; I sometimes kick out in my sleep and I'm shocked when I feel nothing there".
I stare at a scratch on the table, a heavy pang of longing stinging my chest. "I wonder how she's sleeping without me," I mumble.
He shakes his head in confusion . "But you have all that space to yourself now. You don't like it?".
I shrug.
"I'm not used to it. I'm not used to any of this," I say, taking in the grandeur of the library alone.
He studies me once more before I face him again. "What about you? Hm? Any siblings?".
He shakes his head.
"Cousins?".
Another shake. "I'm sure I probably have them, however, we've never met".
"Favourite relatives?".
"None that I've met."
I fix my posture and lean closer. "What about a pet?".
Another no.
"A servant you're fond of?"
"No, servants and the family have distinct boundaries".
I cock my head to the side and my brows furrow."Do you have anything? Anyone?".
He shakes his head but pauses to ponder my words. "What do you mean by 'anyone'?".
It's my turn to study him.
It all make sense now.
The inconsistencies, the meekness, the weird fascination with my conduct instead of repulsion, his curiosity about my life, the lack of consequence for my actions?, him wanting to keep my company, the almost desperate attempts to converse.
" You don't get out often, do you?".
That seems to hit a nerve.
He tenses slightly and goes quiet.
I can see the gears turning in his head; trying to create an information heavy and meaningful response before giving up.
He peers at me through his long lashes.
" Is that bad thing?", he asks softly, looking weirdly embarrassed.
I ignore him and press.
"Do you have any friends?". My tongue beat my brain in the race to communicate.
He looks taken aback by my invasive and blatantly rude question. I see the cogs turning once more, trying to figure out whether or not he should be offended.
I know I would if I were him, but how else was I supposed to word it?
"Have you ever been granted with the pleasure of having a companion by your side? A bosom buddy?"
Now that just sounds ridiculous, but weirdly enough, I'm sure there's someone out there who would phrase it like that while being serious.
He troubles his bottom lip and seems to be deep in thought.
I anticipate what he's going to say and how he may react. Just in case he reacts harshly, I've already formulated five different ways to back track in my head.
He looks up at me, looking deeply conflicted for a moment.
He fidgets again with the fibers of the pillow. "No," he finally responds.
He averts his gaze downwards again before looking back up at me.
"I can't that say I have...," he trails off and grimaces, probably trying to figure out how do say this without sounding pathetic.
He clears his throat. "I've never had a friend", he declares, only to regret it later when he realizes how much worse it sounds when saying it proudly.
His eyes cloud with an indistinguishable emotion.
It's almost as if it's just dawned on him that he's never had a friend and doesn't know how to feel about that.
"That's bad, isn't it?", he asks softly, seeming embarrassed at the realization.
I shrug, "well, not necessarily. It just means that you may fall a bit short socially."
He shakes his head. "I could never, I've been trained in communication by the-,"
"On a personal level or a professional one," I ask, cutting in off with a knowing look.
He opens his mouth to respond but quickly closes it and seems to really take in my question.
Once again, he swims in his thoughts and really thinks about it before looking up at me like he's just had an epiphany.
I laugh at his reaction before pulling a knee to my chest and getting more comfortable . "Well, to be fair, I doubt it'd be easy for you to form any genuine relationships. You know? You being the Prince and all".
He shakes his head firmly, refusing my reasoning. "Surely I'd make a genuine connection with someone. Beyond my prestige and title, there are still aspects of me that one might find desirable in a friend."
I roll my eyes and snort. "It would that title and prestige's that attracts them to you in the first place".
I was half joking and half being honest. I'm sure that's not all he has to him, but it's worth mentioning that people the intention of people who approach him may not be pure.
Almost as if he could read my mind, his eyes settle on mine.
I can practically hear the question on the tip of his tongue.
"Would that be the case for you?".
I know he wants to ask, but if he did, my honest answer would probably make him lose hope in humanity.
My sole purpose for being here was to extort him of as many benefits as I can before I'm sent home... and a prideful one as well. I'll be honest, I did want to stick it out to get back at Yeonjun. But now I feel like I kind of have a point to prove to the others here.
"Do you think I'd ever be able to make honest friends?", he asks with a small smile, a tinge of insecurity creeping in his tone.
I open my mouth to respond but close it just as quick as it was opened.
Could a prince genuinely have a friend that wouldn't be trying to extort him of a few benefits.
I don't know if I have an answer for that. Well....I do have an answer, but I don't know if I really wanna tell him what I think.
You see, I'm the type of person who sees the evil in others.
Forget about your good traits. I'm the type of person who looks at your negatives and decides whether or not it's a negative I can put up with.
Yet, he stares at me for an answer expectantly.
I wanna encourage him to have faith and wait on that friend that will stay by his side loyally.
But I can't lie to him.
"I think the odds are low. After all, you're a prince who's the heir to a throne," I say bluntly.
I notice his shoulder drop but I have to continued for his sake.
If not me, I doubt anyone will ever tell him this.
" I doubt anyone would be trying to get close to your right now without any selfish motive. In fact, the whole reason why anyone applied to be part of the selection is to use you and secure a spot amongst the Royal family for power. I mean, let's be honest, who came here because they genuinely believed they'd have a romantic connection with you? They don't know you."
With every word he looks more and more disappointed but is paying full attention.
"But it's not all that bad for you. Think about it. Even if the person you end up with has no genuine feelings towards you, they would probably pretend to so that they can stay in you good graces. Thankfully your lack of social interaction wouldn't allow you to recognize that and you could choose to believe whatever it is that you want."
He flinches like he's been hit but I keep going.
"I wonder if there would ever be anyone around you who wouldn't have selfish thoughts. I myself even confessed to staying here just to help my family. If anyone tries to get close to you now claiming that they want to be your friend, I would suggest keeping your distance. The amount of people in this palace who would be honest with your are few."
It was a mouthful, and a mouthful that seemed to devastate him. But while he seemed crushed and kinda in shock, he seemed to look...relieved??
He looks up at me abruptly with newfound hope and look of determination in his eyes.
"Lady (Y/N)", he says willfully.
"Would you be my friend?".
A silence hangs in the air for a moment before I blink rapidly in shock and sputter.
"I-I beg your pardon?! You want me as your friend?".
Has he heard nothing I've just said?? Me openly confessing to having no original desire to come here or an interest in him.
He nods his head earnestly.
"Do you think you could have a genuine friendship with me?".
I take a few moments to stare at him.
"You did listen to what I saw saying, right?". I held no condescension in my tone, it was genuine question.
He nods his head. "Every word".
I make a face and furrow my eyebrows. "And you still want me to stay here?".
He nods.
"Stay here as your friend?", I clarify, making sure we're both on the same page.
He blinks in confusion. "Is there a reason why I wouldn't?".
He has the audacity to look at me like I'm the strange one.
Appalled , I give him the same look back.
"I mean, I only waved the red flags in the air for you to personally observe and confessed my ulterior motives in staying here," I say sarcastically.
He looks even more confused. "Red..flags? I don't recall..You didn't have any- -is that a figure of speech you're using ?".
"Your majesty", I say, demanding his attention.
"Yes?". He looks at me attentively, waiting for me to speak
"I told you to your face that I had no intention in coming here willingly".
He nods.
"I said, again, to your face, that the only thinking keeping me here was because staying here means that my family gets to live as threes".
He nods one more.
I stare at him baffled. "Despite hearing, and processing all that I said, you want me to be your friend," I say a little slower, hoping that the change of pace might help him to understand.
"That is right, I would like you to stay here as my friend", he says with a nod to himself like he's thought about this and is sure if his decision.
I gape like a fish for a few moments before gathering my thought to figure out what the actual hell is wrong with him.
"Why?", I ask in an exasperated tone, his stupidity exhausting me.
He offer me a smile and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly.
A genuine smile.
He averts his gaze down to the pillow on his lap and traces the embroidery on it with his finger.
"As you said, there is nobody in this castle without plans who would be honest towards me. But even if you have your own motives for being here , you're upfront and honest about them. There's no deceit and fake conduct."
He lets out a breathy laugh.
" Even if your words were cruel, they were honest and your true opinions , which I commend you for."
"Throughout this interaction, you've been nothing but truthful and genuine towards me", he says.
He holds my gaze.
"The only person to do so in a very long time".
To be Continued...