Capítulo 7: Dinner's Gone Sour
"I want to confess to him with this story… But it isn't complete yet and I'm scared he won't think I'm sincere enough to finish it," Mari peeks through the gaps between her fingers. Ara's smile falters a little, gulping as she searches for something to say.
"No… I'm sure he'll like it either way! When do you plan on confessing?" Ara probes, watching Mari's reaction from the corner of her eyes. Mari remains silent, her lips pursed though it seems like she has long decided on her answer. She sags her shoulders, rubbing her shoulders self-consciously.
"Doesn't matter much anyways… I might do it after the exams."
"Eh?! If you leave it off for so long, some other girl is going to steal him away! You should do it as quickly as possible. I'm sure he likes you back. Have you seen the way Soobin-sunbae looks at you?! And you also wrote him a whole story in a different universe, there's no way he will reject your feelings," Ara persuades, hopping off the table. Her skirt sways, brushing against her thigh as she does so and a gust of wind rattles the windows.
"He's so kind, he will definitely be with you."
"You think so?" Mari looks up with twinkling eyes.
"Mhm," Ara hums, turning on her heel. "I'll head down to get us some banana milk. By the way, mind if I take the story with me? I'll read it on the way down and you can tell me about it later~" she smiles, snatching a paper with ideation and a half-written ending. Mari stands, her head tilted in confusion.
"I'll come with you—"
"No, that's fine. I'll be quick," Ara pushes Mari back down and before she can protest, Ara scurries off with the papers blowing in her hands, shoes tapping against the ground until she's no longer close.
. . .
Myra jolts awake in surprise, clutching onto either side of the couch, fingernails digging into the cloth. Her heart hammers against her chest as her eyes blow wide open in shock, lips quivering at the recollection of the previous dream.
"What… happened… Wait, wait," Myra lurches forward and clutches onto her throbbing head. A groan escapes her lips and her ears begin to ring achingly, driving her mad as she tries her hardest to remember… remember…
"I wrote a story. That girl, I saw her when I woke up in my bedroom this morning," Myra claps her hand over her mouth in surprise as she starts to piece together the brief memories from before and right now falling into pace.
"Wait, I might know where I am now," her hands search the scattered papers for a fountain pen she remembers seeing, jotting notes on an empty paper from the bits and pieces she can remember from her past life.
It has to be… the girl in her dream couldn't be anyone but herself. Their faces are too similar and there are so many familiar sensations from a world she could've never ventured.
"I came here for revenge," Myra remarks blankly and her heart skips a noticeable beat in confirmation. "I came here for revenge," she repeats again and the words feel right on her tongue. With dexterous hands, she jots down notes, writing the name 'Ara' and circling it with sketchy lines.
"Huh… I reincarnated into the world of a story I wrote in my past birth. If I died and ended up here, surely the person I'm supposed to seek vengeance upon is somewhere around here," Myra fidgets with the pen in her hands.
Tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, she stares intently at the single name on the paper and words in her handwriting that she can't properly read on her own.
If there's a lady and a lord, and an antagonist who isn't significant to the story… which role does Myra play in the plot? If it's a story she wrote for herself, she's most definitely the protagonist, right? A woman of gentle nature who vys for the prince's love and wins it at the very end.
Myra decides she needs to meet the daughters of the other families. She stands stiffly, walking out of the room with more urgency than usual. On her way out, she is interrupted mid-path by the lady from this morning, Margaret.
"My lady, I've come to fetch you for dinner," she bows.
"Ah, I forgo—It must've slipped my mind," Myra swiftly cuts herself off to replace her words with those which carry more formality. Dusting her skirt, she storms past Margaret to mask her embarrassment. "Have the rest been seated?" she clears her throat, moving swiftly down the corridor to the dining room where her legs lead her.
Upon entering the dining room, Myra returns to her usual seat by her father's side, across Roseann who files her fingernails silently. Jalen spots her from across the room and comes running back with a ball in his hand, earning a look of distaste from the Duke. Mariene sits calmly at the table, eyes closed as if she's deep in thought.
"It's inappropriate to play at the dinner table, we've told you this before," Roseann scolds and Myra only focuses too hard on Cole's empty seat at the foot of the table.
"Yeah, you don't have to be so stuck-up," Jalen whines, tossing the ball in his hands as he slows down into a saunter. Plopping himself down into the chair, he kicks one leg over the other, still playing with the ball.
Roseann, looking as if she's going to pop a nerve, flings her butter knife towards the ball while it's suspended mid-air and sends it flying back against the wall. Myra's breath hitches.
"Shall we start eating?" the Duke orders. Silently, all the siblings collectively fall silent and nothing is heard but the scraping of utensils against the plate and food being shifted around.
Myra's eyes dart around cautiously as she watches the uniformity of her family and suddenly, the food tastes more bitter than she recalls. She feels a shiver run down her spine in the time that they have dinner, no one budging nor trying to speak.
Before time feels like it has progressed into motion again, the Duke speaks up again.
"Dinner's over."
Everyone cleans up.
"How's the situation in the west, father? Have we been any more successful in gaining territory from the Bougainvillea clan?" Roseann interjects the silence, her face now covered by her hand fan.
Jalen slouches against the chair, angry to have his ball destroyed so abruptly. Myra, on the other hand, straightens her back with curiosity, ears piqued and ready to absorb any new information.
"I heard they launched an attack on one of our army bases," the Duke's face darkens. "What sly foxes they are, really, and they had the temerity to invite us to that distasteful party of theirs. Horrible," he spits.
"How do you plan on snatching the eastern territory from them? You've been aiming at it for years but we've never achieved it," Roseann probes. The Duke's face clenches and he stiffly wipes the corners of his lips.
"It's irrelevant," he stands. "You should know from your studies how difficult it is to claim territory when the opposing side is unwilling and developing simultaneously. We may have the most power but even the most powerful requires luck."
With this, he stalks out of the room with an egoistic atmosphere surrounding him, not sparing a single glance back to his children.
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mirxkewl "You can fly even higher." | Make sure to support this book and my first novel with powerstones and collections!
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