Days have passed since the whole four-leaf clover debacle and the whole class was in high spirits. After all, they all owned a four-leaf clover so they were all so sure that it was only a matter of time before they all get Stellas.

The more Damian thought about, the sillier it got. Even if it worked and the whole class magically got perfect grades, he doubted that the Headmasters would give an entire class a Stella. But hey, if the sheep believed it, then let them have their fun.

Although, he had to admit, it would be nice if Anya got a Stella.

B-Because then it would be proof he didn't give the four-leaf clover for nothing, of course. Consider it an ' what did his brother call it? Ah, yes, an 'investment'.

An investment to what end?...Well, Damian wasn't sure yet, but hey, it never hurts, right?

Still, she did seem in higher spirits lately. Well, even more so than usual.

As of now, Damian decided to call an unofficial truce. After all, after figuring out he doesn't totally hate her, then what was the point in making fun of her all the time? At first, he was worried that his friends would still pick a fight. But to his surprise, his friends never did. They simply followed his lead.

Wait, why was he surprised about that? It's always been that way.

But naturally, his friends were still curious. So, while the teacher was blathering on about the history of the 'Ostania-Westalis 'conflict, they decided to find out exactly what was going on.

"Psst, Boss, what's the deal with you and Forger?" Ewen asked.

His hand resting on his chin and absent-mindedly writing some notes, Damian just boredly asked, "What do you mean?"

"He means, we haven't been bullying her lately. Are we friends with her now?" Emile asked.

"Yeah, does that mean we like her now?" Ewen continued.

Turning red, Damian immediately denied it, as he always had, "

NO WAY!

"

The whole class turned their heads towards Damian and his sudden outburst. He then noticed that Anya had already been looking at him way before his outburst, too. Just knowing that made him even more embarrassed. No seriously, how did this girl always seem to know everything?

"Ahem," the teacher cleared his throat, "Mr 'Desmond, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

Damian quickly glared at his friends. If they didn't ask such stupid questions, he wouldn't be in this mess.

Luckily, Damian was the sort of person to think quickly on his feet, "Sorry, teacher, I was just really excited to hear about how Ostania is doing better after the war."

The teacher crossed his arms, "Huh. Well, your enthusiasm is much appreciated, but please refrain from being so vocal about it during class. Now, as I was saying, after the war, the relationship between the two were still a bit strained, largely due to the fact that..."

A deep sigh escaped Damian. He got away with it! But it was a close call. He then glared at his friends once again and whispered, "We don't like her, but we don't hate her either. The bullying stops now. Got it?"

"Got it." The boys answered at the same time. Though still confused, they weren't too fussed about it. After all, it's not like they particularly enjoyed making fun of Anya Forger. Sure, it was fun sometimes, but it's not like they would miss it.

Besides, both boys thought, this way Becky Blackwell wouldn't hate them so much...

Back in the first row, Anya chewed her pencil thoughtfully. Why did Emile and Ewen care if Becky liked them? Meh, probably nothing. Boys are weird sometimes. 'But her thoughts did trail back to Damian's. Okay, so, they weren't completely

friends

yet. But that's okay. Bondman says patience is key. Although the way Anya saw it, if Damian at least decided he didn't hate her and that he would no longer make fun of her, that was already huge progress, right?

Phase 1 of Operation Get Sy-On Boy to Invite Her To His House accomplished!

Er. Well, okay not really. But halfway there, anyway.

As Anya tried to think of ways she could speed him this friendship, before she knew it, class had come and gone. Thank goodness. She didn't particularly care for history. But even more so, she hated hearing about the war.

It only reminded her of what she went through...she often heard that they experimented on her because they meant to use her 'in case of war'.

But that's okay. Things were fine now. She had a home, she had a best friend, and she had parents who she loved more than anything in the world and loved her back. She recalled those days in the orphanage when the other kids would talk about their forever homes. At least, the ones they made up in their heads. It always gave them hope, but deep down, they never thought it would really come true.

But for Anya, it did. Not everyone was so lucky.

With this in mind, she did feel a bit better. And grateful. Even more so after 'realising 'that the next class was art and that meant she could just have fun and draw!

As usual, Becky and Charles sat on her table. You see, instead of the traditional rows of seats, they had multiple tables for the children to sit on. It was the eccentric art teacher's way of 'breaking traditions and exploring the freedom of art'.

Yeah, the art teacher wasn't very popular among staff. But she was a world-famous painter, so no one could really question her.

The art teacher clapped her hands and gave a warm welcome to her students, "Good morning, everyone! Are we feeling good today?"

"Yes!" Anya was the only one to answer excitedly.

A few of her classmates snickered, once again calling her a weirdo. 'She didn't really understand why. Didn't their parents ever tell them it was rude not to answer someone's question?

"That's the spirit! And guess what? I'm feeling good too, because I have some exciting news: as of today, you'll be put in specific seats in different tables so you can all get to know each other!"

To the art teacher's surprise, the kids groaned instead. No one wanted to be separated from their friends, which was surely what will happen.

On the other hand, Damian smirked. The kids in this class worshipped him, so most likely, it would be a chance for him to show off and remind everyone just how rich and cool his father was. How much better he was than everyone in this class.

And yes, that include the Stupid Prince.

"I'm going to list call out your names and when I do, you're all going to come to the table I'm pointing at, okay? Now, let's start: Becky Blackwell..." She began to list out names.

Much to Anya's dismay, she wasn't called to sit next to Becky. Instead, Becky was sat next to Ewen and Emile, which she found totally unfair considering they were friends and would probably annoy them. Not that she needed to worry, of course. Becky could hold her own.

"And lastly, of course, Anya Forger, Damian Desmond, and Charles Charleton."

Ugh, just what Damian needed. 'Believe it or not, he wasn't a fan of being grouped up with Charles. Especially if it meant seeing that disgusting lovefest he had going on with Forger.

On the other hand, Anya was excited.

'This is my chance! Sy-On Boy and Charles will get along and Sy-On Boy will agree to be my friend!'

Surely, she was right.

Wearing her trademark smug grin, she eagerly hopped onto the table, whereas Charles only casually walked to it and Damian seemed to drag himself there.

No matter. By the end of this, Anya was sure they'd be friends!

At the time, their assignment was to create a piece of art that 'sparked joy'. They could use whatever they wanted at their disposal. For Anya, this was simple. She took the crayons and began to draw her Mama, her Papa, Bond, and Becky. In this fantasy, she wanted them all dancing together. She drew music notes around them, all holding hands and in the background, she drew loads of people dancing, too. Why not?

She drew herself in a pretty pink dress, Papa in his light green suit, Mama in a red dress. She knew Mama loved the color red (and so did Papa when Mama wore it...heh). She drew Becky in a purple dress, knowing that was her favorite color. She drew Bond as, well, Bond. He didn't have a favorite color as of yet, but she bet he'd love orange. It was very him so she put a fancy orange collar around his neck. She also drew a table full of peanuts in the back because, well, why not?

Halfway through the class, she looked at the drawing happily. It was everything she ever wanted: people laughing, smiling, and the ones she loved the most in the centre of it all.

But she couldn't help but think it was missing something. The drawing made her feel joy on its own, but she knew there was something else that could make her extra happy.

She couldn't put her finger on it...

So, she decided to let her hands do the talking (er, drawing). Without even knowing what she was going to draw, she took a black crayon, but as soon as the crayon touched the drawing, her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the loud panicked thoughts of one Damian Desmond.

'Ah, I can't draw Father. I love him, but when did I ever feel joy around him? What about Mother? I guess I could. But I don't even remember what she looks like...did she have hair like mine? Gold hair? Red hair? Brown hair?'

She could feel his heart drop. No, it wasn't based on any superpower she had, but it was a feeling she got from looking at him. Also, she couldn't imagine not remembering what Mama looked like. What must it be like, she wondered, to forget the faces of the ones you loved?

'I guess I could draw me with Emile and Ewen.'

He decides, a bit relieved as he took his pencil and began scribbling away.

Anya smiled, glad that Sy-On Boy found something that made him happy. At the same time, she felt bad for him. Why did it take so long for him to figure out what brought him joy when it only took Anya seconds?

Still, satisfied she knew what he was drawing, she turned her attention to Charles, who used the paint instead of the crayons or pencils that Anya and Damian used. He always seemed like an adult. Even as he painted, Anya marveled at just how mature he was as he elegantly brushed the paint against his canvas.

"Whacha 'drawing, Charles?" She asks. She could just as easily read his thoughts, but she also knew she wanted Charles and Damian to talk.

"My Father and my Mother." He smiled at the painting.

Anya leaned over and saw that Charles was obviously a great painter. He drew like an adult would, and she didn't even think that was possible! Well, how could anyone be surprised? Charles was always good at anything he did.

But this one was different. It felt so much more special. He painted his father in royal blue and silver and she recognised the little version of him, too. She could recognise his red hair (and face, funny enough). "Oh! You paint just like an adult! And your Mama's so pretty."

His Mama was dressed in a long white gown, not unlike an actual princess' dress. She had a warm smile to her, brown hair, and kind blue eyes.

Suddenly, Charles' smile looked a bit sad. "Yes, she was."

Anya blinked, not quite understanding what he meant by 'was'.

Then Damian looked up and frowned, "Oh. I'm sorry."

Sorry? What was he sorry for?

But Charles seemed to understand. Either way, he was smiling. "It's okay. 'I'm not sad anymore. Father says Mother is always watching over me, like an angel."

"Your Mother is an angel?" Anya gasped and Charles nodded happily.

Wait. Does this mean...?

'Is my Mom an angel? Does she watch over me?'

She hears Damian think.

Anya immediately looked at Damian, who looked even sadder than Charles did. Was that why she couldn't remember what his Mama looked like? Did he never get to meet her?

"Your Mama's watching over you! I know she is!" Anya exclaimed passionately. She was sure of it! She knew Damian's Papa didn't love him, so his Mama had to love him twice as much.

Also, she didn't like seeing Sy-On Boy so sad. Not like this.

Luckily, his expression changed from sad to confused.

Oops.

"Huh?"

"I-um...Well, I'm sure your Mama is watching over you, too." Anya says.

'That's sweet of her. Not surprising. She was always sweet.'

Damian thought and for a second, Anya was surprised. Rarely did she hear him say something that nice about her. Then again, he's been thinking lots of nice things about her lately.

'But how would she know? Mama never even met me...'

"How are you so sure?" He asked softly. 'Soft' and 'Damian' did not go together. But it was something that couldn't be helped.

"Because I'd watch over you if I was an angel, too!" Anya said and to her surprise, she actually meant it. Sy-On Boy was so sad, he deserved to have a hundred angels watching over him.

But surprisingly, the thought of Anya as an angel made Damian angry, "Don't say that!"

"Eh? Why not?"

"B-B-Because-" Damian struggled to find his words. On one hand, what she said was sweet, but on the other, the thought of Anya Forger becoming an angel was...

Usually, during times like these when he struggled to find the words, Anya found that Damian's thoughts were like those times when the TV didn't work and it was all black and white. A lot like when she scribbled nothing into her notebook, but like those scribbles were moving all over the place. This was exactly what was happening right now, until he finally found the right words to say.

"I don't like it." He simply said.

'What did I do wrong?'

Anya frowned, biting her lip so he wouldn't see how upset she was.

'Hmm. What a strong reaction. Interesting...

' She hears Charles think.

But after that exchange, all three children focused on their artwork, once again. Well, actually, Anya had finished 20 minutes ago, but it didn't hurt to keep filling up the holes in the paper.

One by one, the art teacher looked at the kids' drawings and praised them. Soon, she came to their table and smiled at Anya, "Oh, Anya, how beautiful. You must love your family very much!"

"I do!" Anya smiled. But then she looked at her drawing and the small space that she had left beside her. "But something's missing."

"Oh? And what could that be?" Her teacher asked curiously.

"I 'dunno." Anya shrugged.

Once again, she heard Damian's thoughts.

'Something's missing in my drawing, too.'

He thought. On the right, he drew Ewen and Emile, but on the left, there was a blank space that he had yet to draw.

Anya sighed, glad she wasn't the only one struggling.

"Um, okay." Her teacher laughed nervously, "Well, listen to your heart, Anya Forger. I'm sure you'll figure it out in time."

She could only nod, hoping her teacher was right.

"Damian, how lovely!" She smiled, but then in an encouraging voice, she said, "Oh, but there's not a lot in your drawing, is there? Can you think of other things that make you happy?"

"...Stellas?" Damian wondered.

The art teacher seemed sad at that answer, "Well, Stellas do make us succeed in the school. But don't think of school, my child. Think of something outside of your grades that make you happy. It can be anything. Something, someone."'

Once again, Damian's mind felt like TV snow.

"I feel happy at school." He says firmly.

"Okay, but why? Try to think about what exactly makes you happy in the school, and I'm not talking about the Stellas. Is there something you have in school that you don't have at home? Well, do try and think about it." She encouraged as she moved on. When the art teacher looked at Charles' painting, she gasped, "Excellent work, Charles! My, my, you certainly have a talent! I daresay your work is better than most artists I know!"

Damian rolled his eyes as he pressed his green crayon even harder on his drawing. Couldn't he just have one day without everyone fawning over this guy?

Although Damian tried to keep quiet, it didn't escape Charles' eyes. So as soon as the art teacher moved on, he decided to confront him. "What's wrong, Damian?"

"Nothing. Just focus on your painting, Charleton." Damian muttered.

Charles didn't look too pleased at this but he still dropped it, as Damian requested. Well, ordered, more like. Charles wasn't a fan of anyone giving him orders. After all, he was the Prince around here. Still, he didn't care much about what Damian thought, so he did concentrate on his painting instead.

Anya peaked over at Damian's drawing. It seemed like he began doing what she did, which was just drawing whatever he felt like. Maybe then, he'd figure out what made him happy.

What on earth was he drawing anyway?

'Alright, just some grass, the sun. And what else? A beret? Horns? What am I drawing...?

Eh?

"Whacha 'drawing, Sy-On Boy?" She asked, excited, even though she knew what he was drawing. Although the new addition was still a mystery to her.

"I'm not sure." Damian confessed.

Before Anya could ask any further questions, Charles decided that he didn't like Anya's attention on Damian. He noticed that they seemed much friendlier towards each other and he didn't like that one bit.

"Anya, look, this paint looks like your hair!" Charles said, grabbing a pastel pink tube.

"Oh, it does!" Anya said as she excitedly grabbed the tube and inspected it. She put it against her hair and turned to both Damian and Charles, "Doesn't it look pretty?"

'Yes, it does. Wait, 'wha-?'

"You know, your name should be Sakura. That's the color of the paint, 'sakura'." Charles smiled. "It suits you better, because of your hair. You could be Princess Sakura!"

'Princess Sakura?

' She thought.

She should have liked the nickname. She loved being a princess and she liked playing pretend. Well, she didn't hate it. But at the same time, she...well, she didn't love it, either. She didn't like the idea of having another name. She liked her own name just fine. If she did have a nickname, she wanted her own name in it.

'Princess Sakura? Who does this guy think he is?!

' She heard Damian think and her eyes widened in surprise. He seemed really mad about it for some reason.

Unable to contain his silence any further, Damian scoffed, "Well, that's just stupid. You can't just change anyone's name because of their hair."

Now, at this point, Charles had enough. 'He wasn't blind. Since he came here, Damian has been nothing but cold to him. But why? They barely spoke! But Charles always got the feeling that Damian didn't like him and he could never figure out why.

It didn't help that Anya seemed so intent on making Damian like her. 'But used to being the one that people loved the most all his life, Charles was fed up with the boy.

So no, it wasn't very Charleton-y of him, but he couldn't stop himself when he 'crossed his arms and said, "You're just saying that because your hair looks like poo."

Beside him, he saw Anya's eyes widen in surprise, "Charles, don't be mean to Sy-"

"Take that back! At least I don't have carrot hair!"

"Well, Princess Sakura says it's orange-colored!"

"Her name is not Princess Sakura, it's Starlight Any-I mean, Anya!" Damian was completely red. He couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger at this point.

"Hmph! Why don't we ask her?" Damian suggests, crossing his arms. "Forger, which one do you like better? Being Starlight Anya or being 'Princess Yuck-Yuck'?

"Princess

Sakura

!"

"Erm..." Anya was confused. She kept looking back and forth from Damian and Charles.

She liked both, she supposed. Maybe she liked 'Starlight Anya' a bit better, though. She felt like it made her feel like a superhero. But she also liked the idea of being a princess. And she knew she couldn't choose one without upsetting the other.

Wait, she had a brilliant idea. She was such a genius!

"Look over there!" Anya said, painting somewhere behind Damian.

Both boys turned to see absolutely nothing and when they looked back at Anya's seat, it was empty.

"Anya Forger, where do you think you're going?" The art teacher said.

The boys looked to the door and saw a flash of pink getting smaller and smaller.

"ANYA DOESN'T WANT TO CHOOSE!" They could hear her yell as she ran away. As soon as she did, the art teacher ran after her.

Angrily, Damian glared at Charles, standing up from his seat. "Now look what you did!"

"What

I

did?" Charles repeated, also standing up, "You started it!"

"

I

started?! You said my hair looked like poo!"

"Well, it does!" Charles protested, "And you called my nickname stupid!"

"Because it is!"

"No,

you're

stupid!" Charles said.

"No, you are!" Damian shot back.

"I am

not

stupid! I have the best grades and even the teachers say I'm the smartest! I bet that's why you don't have any Stellas! You're the stupid one! And you know what? You're just jealous!" Charles said.

Damian scoffed, "Me? Jealous?! I don't care if Anya likes you! What do I care?!"

For the longest time, nobody spoke. The whole class stopped what they were doing, fascinated

"...Anya?" Charles blinked. "Who said anything about Anya? I was talking about our grades."

Oh.

Then it all clicked in Charles' head. "I knew it. That's why you hate me."

"N-No, I-"

"That's no reason to be mean to me! It's not my fault if Anya likes me!" Charles said.

"She doesn't 'like you!" Damian insisted. Was he convincing Charles or himself?

"Well, I'm sure she likes me more than some mean old bully like you!" Charles said.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Deciding he's had enough, Damian coolly put his hands in his pocket and decided this conversation was over. "Quit being so cocky, Charleton, you're not that great."

"I don't care! You're mean and stupid and I hope you go away forever!"

At that moment, Charles did something he never did before. It was something no one thought the Little Prince was capable of doing. It was something that was sure to lower the reputation of a Charleton.

But Charles didn't care. He just wanted him to shut up! He had had enough of Damian Desmond's attitude!

So, he grabbed the water cup that they had been using to dip their paintbrushes in and before anyone could even register what he was doing, he threw the contents of the cup on Damian.

Everyone gasped. This sort of behavior rarely happened in Eden. At the very least, no one expected it to come from the school's Golden Boy.

Damian sputtered. He felt humiliated as he could taste the paint on his lips and feel his clothes getting cold because of the water.

Oh, it is on.

"You know what, Charleton?!" Damian said, taking not just the pot of water but instead opting for the acrylic paint tube and squeezing it towards Charles, drowning the boy in red paint. "Take that!"

At that moment, Henry Henderson was casually walking down the halls, making his rounds and checking how his students are doing. 'Now, he knew his class was rather...unique. Even though the cream of the crop attended in Eden, Henry's class was particularly special as it did have the son of Donovan Desmond

and

the Prince of Ostania.

Not to mention, it had a 'commoner' who didn't have a special name to her. He could count only a handful of students who came to Eden based on their grades alone and not just their parents' 'donations'. Granted, Anya Forger was a hit or miss. One second, she completely fails four of her exams, the next, she has the highest score recorded in Eden history on a classical languages exam.

Actually, she was due for another Stella for this reason in the next awards, but when it came to grades, there was a special rule that this would not be revealed until the ceremony itself.

So although he knew that his class could be complicated, he doesn't doubt that one day they would become the most impressive students to come out of Eden and that Henry would hold his head up in pride.

But as he walked into the art class on that faithful Wednesday afternoon, that hope began to dwindle as he saw the classroom covered in paint, water, papers, and broken crayons on the floor. Most of the kids were dodging the 'ammunitions' being thrown around, but some participated in the chaos and began throwing things at each other.

"We'll help you, Boss!" Ewen and Emile said, whereas Charles had a few fans of his own who fought along with him.

It didn't take long to see that Damian Desmond and Charles Charleton were the ringleaders of this fight.

"Boys!" Henry commanded, "Fighting over a girl is not elegant!"

Even without context, Henry was certain this was the case. It was common knowledge among staff that the Desmond boy had unresolved feelings for the 'pink-haired commoner'. It was also common knowledge that the Little Prince seemed to be often glued to her side.

Of course, he put two and two together.

At the sound of their headmaster's voice, everyone immediately dropped what they were holding and looked scared out of their minds.

"I wasn't fighting over he-"

"He started it!" Charles pointed an accusing finger at Damian.

"It matters not who started it, I am ending it!" He said, "And where on earth is 'Mrs 'Gogh?!"

Nervously and as if on 'queue, the art teacher stepped in with Anya Forger, looking meek and nervous. The teacher seemed just as shocked as Anya was.

"What happened?!"

"Mrs 'Gogh, you shouldn't leave the class unattended like this. Look at the chaos that happened! Never in my life have I ever seen anything so inelegant." He berated the art teacher, "And Anya Forger, care to explain why you were absent?"

"A-Anya just-I-I-" Anya's eyes began to well up.

It was a look that Damian knew well.

And before he could even stop himself, he said, "I started it, Sir. I scared Anya so she ran to get help."

"What? Boss, that's not tr-" Emile began, but then Damian glared at him, "Shut up!"

Henry observed the situation. Why on earth was Damian Desmond lying? He couldn't prove it, of course. After the Desmond boy shut his friend, he knew the whole class would follow his word. But as he saw the surprised look on their faces, it didn't take a genius to 'realise 'what was happening.

Still, he couldn't let this slide.

So, he said those dreaded words that Damian thought he'd never hear.

"Damian Desmond, this behavior is unacceptable. I'm afraid that you are getting a Tonito."

Gasps were heard throughout the classroom, but none as loud as Anya Forger. Damian could feel his heart sink and he really did think he was about to faint.

Instead, his knees gave way and fortunately, the seat was behind him and saved him from falling at the ground. Still, he couldn't figure out what was happening. He was processing everything.

Why did he take the blame?

To his surprise, Anya quickly defended him, "But Sir, it's not his fault, he was just helping me!"

Henry's eyebrow raised at the girl beside him. She looked desperate, wanting to make sure that Damian Desmond wouldn't be blamed for anything.

As he glanced back at Damian, he noticed that he was just as confused as him. Well, him and everyone else in that classroom. If Henry was confused, it was nothing compared to the poor children.

Perhaps it was Anya's fault. Perhaps it was the Little Prince's fault. Perhaps it was someone else. But either way, Damian Desmond was willing to take the fall, even though he probably knew what the consequences would be.

Behind his mustache, a smile cracked on his face.

He'd seen this story before and he knew the ending: the rich one doing everything they could for the commoner they fell hard for. They hated them, then they began to love them, then soon, they did everything he could to protect them. It was controversial. Unthinkable. And absolutely beautiful.

'Ah, Cornelia. We both remember this all too well, don't we?

So, call it the sentimental in him. The Desmond boy reminded him of his only weak spot. He reminded him of something buried deep down that Henry had almost forgotten.

"Mr 'Desmond, one of the most important values we teach at Eden is the bravery to admit one's actions even at the risk of great consequence. 'It's an important value that our founder firmly believe it, but sadly, one that very few students ever embody. Not even Imperial Scholars are courageous enough. I'm afraid their fears never live up to this." He recited and as he looked into the boy's eyes, he couldn't help but say, "Although you have earned a 'Tonito 'for your actions, your courage must be rewarded. For this, Damian Desmond, you have also earned a Stella."

Poor kids. In the span of one hour, they went through so many emotions all because of Damian's antics. Despite this, they all broke into cheers, all clapping their tiny hands for Damian.

"You did it, Boss!" Ewen said.

"I knew you could!" Emile encouraged.

Henry had to admit, he was slightly amused. Everyone was happy, clapping hard, looking excited for him.

But no one more excited than Anya Forger, who was jumping up and down, laughing and clapping louder than anyone in that room.

The Desmond boy was shocked, unable to process everything. What on earth just happened?! Did he get his first Tonito

and

his first Stella at the same time?!

With a satisfied look, Henry quickly gave Mrs Gogh a warning for leaving her students alone. With his hands behind his back, he began to walk away, the cheers of the students still behind him. Despite his class being a pain sometimes, he had to admit: there was nothing more elegant than to celebrate the success of their fellow classmates even if it meant that it did not benefit them.

As for Anya, any worries about choosing anything disappeared. In that moment, Anya was just so happy for Sy-On Boy, so she quickly ran to his side and jumped in excitement.

"You got a Stella, you got a Stella!" She said.

Turning red, Damian couldn't help but wonder how he got so much whiplash in an hour. He went from sad to angry to scared to utterly and completely happy.

Still, the way Anya looked at him embarrassed him. Why did she always look at him like that? So happy and hopeful and sweet.

"Shut it, Forger, I still got a 'Tonito 'because of you!" Damian exclaimed.

He saw the confused look on Anya's face, who had stopped jumping, and sighed. "But...thanks."

In the blink of an eye, Anya Forger seemed happy once again. Deep down, although a 'Tonito 'was bad, the greatness of receiving a Stella was far more important. It's not like Imperial Scholars rarely had just one 'Tonito. As long as this was the only one, he'd be fine.

He wasn't sure if it was the fact that he had earned a Stella or Anya Forger's smile, but in that moment, Damian felt pure joy like he never had before.

As for Anya, well, upon further reflection, she thought that perhaps she liked the name 'Starlight Anya' more.

Yor Forger was supposed to have a rather busy day. She had taken her coffee to go this morning and even ordered another latte on the way to prep for the large amount of work she had to do. The pile of paperwork to go through was nearly her height and they were all due at some point next week.

So how exactly did Yor instead end up in a boutique with an armful of new clothes?

Well...

It all started when she met the infamous Princess Charlotte.

As she arrived at the palace, her day started as usual. She didn't expect anything different. It was a Wednesday, after all, but she had to admit she had been rather tired lately. At the same time, she was excited to see the King. For once, she had someone to talk to at work. It was a welcomed change from the awkwardness that was once her and her former colleagues. In fact, she thought she'd probably miss this when the King would be done with her.

But as she opened the doors of the study, she heard an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice. She also noted the smell of caramel and vanilla in the air, reminding her of a candy at a fair.

She knocked nervously, not wanting to disturb the King, especially if he was entertaining a 'lady friend'. A thought that, for some reason, displeased her.

"Come in!" He called out.

The guards on each side of the door opened it for her and to her surprise, there was a beautiful woman there. 'A woman with short blond waves and vibrant grey eyes. She was dressed in different shades of pink from head to toe, from her pink cloche hat to her pink modest heels. She was speaking to the King, but as soon as she saw Yor, a big smile appeared on her perfect pink lips. Surprisingly, she was slightly tanned, sun-kissed and looking so worldly. She also had that unique bone structure that made her face absolutely angelic, so Yor instantly knew that they

had

to be related.

"Oh, Yor Forger!" She cried out, immediately going towards Yor and hugging her, "It's such a pleasure to meet you! I've heard so much about you!"

Her 'defenses 'kicked in as the woman hugged Yor without warning. Yor really had to stop herself from flipping the woman backwards by twisting her arms.

"Charlotte, calm down, you're suffocating her." William warned.

"Oh, right!" She said, finally releasing Yor, "I'm so 'so 'sorry! You probably don't know who I am. I'm Charlotte, William's younger and better-looking sister!"

"Oh, of course!" Yor said, reminded that the Royal Family didn't just consist of William and Charles.

By God, the Princess was beautiful. She knew this already but looking at her up close, it was even more obvious

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Princess." Yor said, simultaneously uncomfortable and amused.

"No, please, call me Charlotte! None of that princess stuff. I truly am sorry for that hug, Yor! You must think I'm a nutter! But I must admit, I truly am excited. I'd love to get to know you! William's done nothing but praise you, so I'm sure that you must be a wonderful person. Even Charles says that you're a darling! We simply must get to know each other. Are you free? Now? No? Well, you will be. William, give Yor a day off. We're going to have a girls' day and go shopping. You can tag along if you want, Willy, I think you need some new trousers. Honestly, you're a King! Do better."

"I..." Yor didn't know what to say, especially since the Princess spoke so quickly and with such excitement that it was so unusual for a Royal. She had never met someone with such confidence and joie-de-vivre.

William sighed, but smiled anyway. "You know what? You're right. I don't have as much plans today since Yor has been helping me and we're actually ahead of schedule. We can afford an afternoon off."

That was a lie. But it meant an excuse to spend time with Yor off-hours.

And his sister, of course.

"Great! Are you going to be wearing that?"

"Charlotte..." William warned.

"Just kidding! But really, let's get you some new clothes." Charlotte says before turning to Yor, "As for you, 'Mrs 'Forger, I can tell your kind of style: effortlessly classic feminine and elegant. I know this perfect boutique for you: long coats, scallop trim dresses, beautiful headbands. Let's go to

La 'Soeurette

!"

"La 'Soeurette

?

"

Yor 'sweatdropped. Once, Becky Blackwell took Anya there and from what she's heard, it's an haute couture boutique that even Yor couldn't afford. "Your Highness, I don't think that's within my budget."

"'Charlotte', Yor. Not 'your Highness'. Sounds so uppity. And don't fret, it's all on me. And before you say no, I won't take no for an answer! Besides, you're doing

me

a favor. I need a shopping buddy and based on what I've seen, I can trust your taste." Charlotte smiled, before turning to William, "Not yours."

"My style is not that bad!" William protested.

"Sure, it isn't, Willy." Charlotte said in a babyish voice, "

La 'Soeurette

, here we come!"

To her surprise, Charlotte Charleton wasn't at all like what her colleagues gossiped about. She knew that the Princess was notorious, known for being quite 'out there', as they say. They also called her other unfortunate names that Yor would rather not repeat, because frankly, the more she got to know her, the more she liked Charlotte.

As they arrived at La 'Soeurette, Yor found it a bit intimidating. She was never one for shopping. Not because she didn't enjoy it, but because being an assassin meant she often had her close sullied from time to time. If she wasn't in assassin gear, she was wearing her work uniform. Very rarely was she in 'ordinary clothes'.

Although come to think of it, she was a mother now. She had people to spend time with and go out with. Perhaps it was time to 'upgrade her wardrobe', as Charlotte said.

"I cannot believe you own only a handful of clothes! This simply must not do!" Charlotte insisted. "Every woman deserves to have a treasure trove of clothes, even more so when they're as lovely as you!"

Yor blushed, "Princ-Charlotte, I'm flattered, but we barely know each other."

"It doesn't matter, Yor. I can tell by your vibe." Charlotte smiled. "And my vibes are never, ever off."

"It's true." William quipped, "Ever since we were children, Charlotte always had a knack for figuring out a person's true self from the beginning. She calls it her 'superpower'. Even if the person is very good at hiding who they are, Charlotte can smell it from a mile away."

The Princess nodded, "Which is how I know that you are a lovely person, Yor. I hope your husband tells you so 'everyday!"

At those words, Yor was reminded of that talk she had with Loid a few days ago and blushed. The next morning, she couldn't believe that she was so open with him. What's more was she couldn't believe just how readily he accepted her and even made her feel better than she ever imagined.

Though insecure, Yor found herself believing his words a little bit more 'everyday. "He does and I adore him for it."

Charlotte clasped her hands together, "Aww...Well, don't you fret! We'll find you something that your husband loves, but more importantly, that

you

love! Tell me, Yor, I hear City Hall has a party soon."

William looked taken aback, "How do you know that?"

"Where parties go, Charlotte Charleton goes." Charlotte stated as if it were law. "I'll be wearing a fabulous gown but I want you to wear one just as, if not more, beautiful than mine!"

"You flatter me, Charlotte, but I don't think that's possible." Yor smiled warmly. The Princess was obviously her brother's sister, both having that same warm and loving personality to them. With every Charleton she met, it was no wonder why they were so beloved by the country. But at the same time, his sister had a different kind of warmth. A louder one if you will that could rub people in the wrong way. Not Yor, though.

"Hush now, it is! Now, first thing's first. William! Go away, leave the women alone." She said, shooing away her brother, "We've got work to do."

William just laughed at his sister's antics. "I'll leave you to it, then. I suppose I will be looking at the men's side."

"You do that. And no more ugly grey trousers." She ordered, even though that's probably what William would get.

For a second, Yor felt a bit nervous at being left alone with Charlotte. After all, although she seemed like a nice person, they hardly knew each other. Still, Charlotte didn't seem to mind at all as she turned towards Yor with a gleeful smile, "So, Yor, what's your favorite color?"

It's a question she's been asked frequently these days, by Anya and by Loid. She never really thought about it, but as if by instinct, she always answered, "Red."

"Oh! The color of your eyes. Fitting!" She smiled, clasping her hands together, "It makes sense. You have such a red aura. But like not orangey red. Like a dark, blue-toned red. Like a rose!"

Yor giggled. She supposed that actually, that was the reason she liked rose-themed accessories so much. She did like roses, but only if they had the thorns on them.

"You know what? I've got it! Come, come." She gestured for Yor to follow.

La 'Soeurette

was quite pleasing to the eye. Not only because the cream colored walls just looked so clean and shiny, not only because there were comfortable velvety seats for once sit down when resting, and not only because it smelled like clean vanilla everywhere, but because their clothes were 'organised 'in a color-coordinated way.

So Yor and Charlotte flew past a sea of purples, blues, greens, yellows, oranges and finally to the reds.

"So, Yor, tell me, what's the situation with you and your husband?" Charlotte asked.

"My husband?" Yor asked, surprised.

"Yes! I hear you're married and have an adorable daughter!" Charlotte said.

Suddenly, it was like a light switched in Yor. If she was nervous now, she wasn't before. "Yes! Loid is my husband and we have a daughter together, Anya. We've adopted a dog recently, too. His name is Bond. Would you like to see?"

Charlotte nodded with excitement and Yor took out her wallet from her purse and showed a small picture.

It was a picture taken a few months ago, during Christmas to be exact. It was such a pleasant morning, with Anya waking up to find toy guns and a matching set of fake knives (courtesy of Loid and Yor respectively), Bond chewing on an oversized bone with a ribbon around it and all wearing the matching white sweaters that Yor had bought for them all to wear. Loid was blushing as Yor put the ridiculous Santa hat on him. He was so embarrassed that day, but on the picture, he had nothing but adoration in his face.

There's a framed copy of it in their living room and a few tinier extras. Anya kept one, Loid the other and Yor had the third in her wallet at all times.

"Oh, wow, you are a beautiful family." And Charlotte didn't say things like that when she didn't mean it. Some families were ugly, after all. Full of emotional abuse, resentment, hatred, nothing tied them together but duty and blood. But the picture before her just showed unconditional and love at its purest. It was so beautiful that Charlotte could cry.

"Thank you. I think so, too." Yor said softly.

But 'everytime 'she looked at this picture, she felt her heart hurt just a little. Mostly because she wondered, as she always had, how long this could go on. Being Loid's wife and Anya's mother, she means...surely it must all end one day.

As for Charlotte, she only found the whole thing curious.

The way Yor Forger spoke about her family, Charlotte had never seen anything quite like it before. Charlotte Charleton was the sort to be surrounded by empty people. Superficial, aimless, loveless. None of those people had anyone they truly loved or trusted, so when Charlotte did see it in ordinary, everyday people, she had to admit, she was jealous sometimes. She knew she was blessed for being born with such luxuries, but sometimes, she wondered what if?

Seeing Yor now, it was obvious that she loved her family.

So the question is, what on earth was her brother talking about?

From the way he spoke about the Forgers, it seemed like Yor was in a loveless marriage and only stayed for the convenience of the child. But it seemed like Yor loved her husband every bit as much as her daughter. Hmm. Perhaps her husband didn't love her as much? Then again, Charlotte didn't think that Yor was the type of person who would stay with someone who didn't care for her.

It was an interesting situation. Maybe she needed to assess Loid Forger before making up her mind.

Coincidentally, in a further section in

La Soerette,

there was Loid Forger, casually looking around the women's clothes.

So, Loid sort of regretted bother the Handler in the middle of the night.

Mostly because she took revenge by sending him on his least favorite type of mission: spying on rich people's wives while they're shopping.

It reminded him of his time with Karen and other privileged people, which drove him crazy. Their conversations were often dull and most of the time, none of it even gave him any kind of information they could use.

Sometimes, he heard things that even boiled his blood.

"So many homeless in southern Ostania, apparently." One of them says, "And they expect us to give donations for them? Ridiculous! They ought to stop being so lazy and just get a job."

"I swear, it's like some of them want to stay on the streets." The other said and then he heard a chorus of laughter.

He gripped the dress he was holding tightly.

He was one of those 'lazy' people once. Well, a 'lazy kid', to be precise. Years of walking in the streets and begging for scraps. This was before he found his calling. But he would never forget how scared and alone he was. It was all too easy just to say 'find a job'. Back then, most people could 'recognise 'the homeless from a mile away and often made them work for scraps. Sometimes, they would be paid with 'food', if you could call carrot peels and apple cores 'food'.

Now, he was on missions where he heard these people mocking them. These people who did not deserve the comfortable life they led.

Deciding he needed a break from this chatter, although he still kept an ear out, he wandered around 'the infamous

La

Soeurette

under 'the guise of shopping for his wife. While he was here, if he did happen to find something that Yor would like, that would be a happy coincidence.

...He probably shouldn't be looking in the lingerie section though. Even though that little black number with the red flowers would have looked divine on her.

He cleared his throat, slowly moving away but still within eyesight of his group of targets.

While he waited for something ' anything ' to be relevant or interesting information, he began to ruminate on what happened between him and Yor a few days ago.

And, of course, the Handler's words to him.

He couldn't fathom why the Handler told him the things that she did. Was there a secret meaning behind it? Was she speaking in code? No, Loid would have deciphered it if so.

No, the Handler was speaking from a place of genuine concern. But Loid couldn't figure out for what. After all, Operation Strix was going well, wasn't it? Sure, there's this question of a King and a little Prince who were a bit

too

fond of his girls that still had to be dealt with, but the Handler didn't even consider that a threat. In fact, she acted like Loid was overreacting!

Loid? Overreacting? Pff. How silly.

Still, he can't deny the thought of Yor spending so much time with the King annoyed him a lot. Working those long hours and spending her breaks and lunches with him. Thinking about how she spent the majority of her days with the King as opposed to him bothered him a lot.

Because it obviously meant that he was losing his partner-in-crime, of course. He didn't want to risk having to find another wife and as he's said before, Yor was an ideal candidate for the job. The fact that she was attractive, kind, and courageous was just an added bonus, of course.

So, no, he wasn't exactly fond of the idea of losing her to a King. But no matter. As of now, Loid's just glad he didn't have to see the King and his annoying haughty air.

"Loid Forger?"

Uh-oh. He 'recognised 'that voice.

"Your Majesty." Loid said respectfully.

"Please, William." The King insisted, "Well, isn't this a happy coincidence! I thought you'd be off at work. I'm surprised to see you...here."

He said as he looked around and to Loid's horror, they were still in the lingerie section.

Well, shit.

"Ah, I have a few appointments that cancelled so I figured that I would come here and pick out...something...for my wife."

God, kill him now.

Of all places to run into the King.

"Oh. Well, don't let me stop you." William said pleasantly through gritted teeth.

He wasn't an idiot. He figured that Yor Forger had

relations

with her husband. That didn't mean he liked to be reminded of it, especially not when said husband was hunting for a naughty present.

If it was, indeed, for Yor, anyway.

"Of course. And what brings you here, William?" Loid asked.

"Blame my sister." He grinned, "She's visiting for the day and insisted on taking Yor around to shop. I'm here because she also insisted that I have terrible fashion and should come along."

Ah, Princess Charlotte Charleton is back in Ostania, it seemed. The globetrotting Princess had somewhat of a reputation and Loid was suddenly concerned for Yor if it meant that she was with her. If the rumors were true, then Charlotte would be no different than her catty colleagues. The only good thing about Yor not working at City Hall for the time being was that she'd be away from her colleagues, and the last thing Loid wanted was for her to be exposed to bullying behavior anyway.

"So, Yor's here?" Loid asked. At first, his instinct was to talk to her and save her from the Princess' clutches.

But then he 'realised, what on earth could he tell her to justify his presence here? It's not like he could tell her that he was 'shopping' for her.

That would be so wrong in

so

many ways considering where the King found her.

"Yes, why don't you come and say hi? I think my sister is showing a few dress options for her." William gestured to follow him.

Crap.

He looked at the corner and 'realised 'that the women have wandered off. Cursing himself, he can't believe he let himself get distracted!

But on the other hand, he knew that the Handler knew this 'mission' was a menial task meant to irritate Loid. She was sort of petty that way. Surely, she wouldn't be surprised nor would she care if Loid simply said that there was nothing to report.

Besides, it would look suspicious if he didn't follow to see his wife. However, what was he supposed to tell her? He could just say he's picking up a present for Anya at the kids' floor, but then how on earth would he have bumped into William?

Wait, why was William even

in

the lingerie section to begin with?

"I never got the chance to thank you for allowing Yor to come work with me." The King said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Ah, well, it's not a problem. After all, I don't own my wife." Loid simply answered. It was true that he wouldn't have stopped her even if he wanted to, anyway. It didn't feel right forcing Yor to mindlessly obey him.

"Of course not, but I'm just so surprised she's enjoying herself. 'In fact, I'd say she seems happier since she began working with me, wouldn't you agree?" William gave a smile that anyone would have thought to be a kind and compassionate one had they not heard his words.

But Loid did and he could swear, his fighting instincts were activated. What exactly did the King mean by that?

What was he trying to pull here?

No. he recognised the look on the King's face. The bravado and haughtiness he had recognised in the faces of so many determined to remind people of their status. It seemed so out of place to see such an expression in a Charleton. As much as he didn't like him and granted, he only saw him once, his was the kind of face that never seemed to harbor any resentment or ill-will.

But Loid had to remember that when it came to love, there was no such thing as a logical man. So, even if it went against his reputation, the King was willing to play a game he had no chance of winning.

Well, challenge accepted.

"Indeed. But I must admit, her happiness for her job pales in comparison to the day we got married."

Your move, Charleton.

"I don't doubt it. I bet the dress she wore on that day looked breath-taking. 'My sister seems to think Yor has great taste and I believe she is right. Funny how I knew that Yor would appreciate this boutique. I think I've gotten to know her pretty well."

"Well, I like to think I know my wife plenty." Loid laughed along, "For instance, I know how she likes her coffee."

"Oh? How lovely that you know something she takes everyday. I must be a quick learner then. After all, I knew how she likes her coffee from the second day." William smiled.

Oh, no he didn't.

"Of course. I make it for her every morning. It's especially nice after we've spent a

long

night in bed together." Loid's skills in hiding his smirk were really paying off right now. He was obviously lying, but William didn't need to know that. Although, they did technically sleep 'together' a few nights ago when she fell asleep on his chest.

And for that one brief shining moment of victory, there it was: the furrowed brows and frown on the King's face.

Loid had never tried doing so but he's seen Franky try many times: he wanted to fist pump in the air.

But William was not one to back down.

"Isn't that nice of you?" William smiled, but he was not as talented as Loid in hiding his emotions. Loid noticed that the King was clutching his fists, knuckles turning white "I don't doubt that you two have, indeed, a passionate relationship. I believe Yor would be the type to put passion in anything she does. For instance it's fascinating to watch her work. Did you know she has a favorite pen that she uses to write?"

"You mean the red antique pen? Yes, I know." Loid said, remembering during the early days he would spy on her to check if she was a threat to Operation Strix, she also used that exact pen.

"Actually, that must be her old favorite. I was talking about the blue one I've provided for her." William answered and it was obvious that he felt like he had the upper hand right now. After all, what kind of man didn't know his wife?

"Ah, forgive me, I would find it odd as red is her favorite color." And that's something that Loid,

her husband

, would know.

"She certainly does have her favorites, doesn't she? I suppose it makes gift-giving easier for her. For instance, I noticed that she likes seafood risotto. She seems to have it almost 'everyday 'during lunch. It's such a relief to have her around. It's nice to have some company when eating, don't you agree?" William asked innocently.

'A spy must never stand out. He must never draw attention to himself.'

Loid repeated in his mind.

Because if he stopped to think about it for one second, he might have found his fist on the freaking King's face.

"Well, I bet it still doesn't beat the apple tart from that bakery that I know she loves." 'Loid challenged, still giving a friendly smile.

"Funny how you mention that. The other day, she brought some tarts for Charles to have, saying she picked up a few. Isn't it amazing how she adores kids? She treats Charles like she was his mother, sometimes."

Loid swore he could feel his eye twitch. 'Both men suddenly stood up straighter to each other, both maintaining a 'friendly' smile.

"Yes, I'm well aware she's good with children. After all, I know there's nothing she loves more in the world spending time with her husband

and

her daughter."

Yes, William. Remember that you were going after a happily married woman, with a husband and a daughter who adore her and you would be breaking up a perfect family.

"Of course. I imagine she's the type to teach little Anya sports on the week-ends. I must admit, an athletic woman is quite rare. When I spoke of my fencing skills, for instance, she seemed to really appreciate them and thought me to be quite impressive."

How was this man always able to relay everything back to him?!

Loid was sick of this conversation. He was sure that reminding William that Yor already had a family would make him back off. He had a wife once, after all. Wouldn't William be understanding and 'realise 'that perhaps what he was doing wasn't right?

But he didn't seem to care. He would gladly let Loid and Anya suffer without Yor and not even blink an eye. Some 'king'. Is lack of honor a Charleton trait, too?

No matter. This conversation ended here.

"Ah, you mean like she appreciates my hand-to-hand combat skills?" Loid smiled, "Which I often use to deter any man who touches my girl."

In other words, it was basically a measuring contest of a certain body type. But of course, both men were much too classy to admit it.

Were Anya here, she'd probably stare in fascination as both men seemed to be very mean to each other but kept smiling. She'd even ask if this was usual for adults? ' 'But Anya wasn't here. No one was, except for the two men who stared intensely at each other.

What Anya could not comprehend even if she was here was the severity of what Loid had said: although not explicitly, he had just threatened a King.

All because he was getting close to Yor.

William's smile disappeared, but he did not frown nor glare in anger either. Instead, it was replaced by a neutral look on his face. "I would be careful, 'Mr 'Forger. One might think you are threatening me."

But Loid wasn't scared. He knew he should be at least a bit concerned but he couldn't care less. "I wouldn't dare dream of it, your Majesty. After all, the only people I threaten are those who would break my family apart. If you are not one of those, as I assume you are not since you are a man of honor, I could never threaten you."

'So, go on.'

Loid thinks, '

Just try me. It will only take once.'

Suddenly, whatever negative emotion the King had seemed to disappear. Instead, it was replaced by his usual kind aura as he looked at someone behind Loid.

"Sister! Come meet who I ran into!"

Loid turned around and there she was, the scandalous Ostanian Princess.

"Don't tell me...Loid Forger?" She asked with a smile.

"Yes, it's an honor to meet you, your 'Highn-" Loid began to bow, but then Charlotte interrupted him.

"Tut, tut, tut, none of that! It's Charlotte. We 'Charletons 'don't like anyone calling us by our official titles. It feels so stuffy, doesn't it? Oh, but Loid Forger, I'm so happy to meet you! You see, only minutes ago, your wife was talking about you and I just thought that I couldn't wait to see the man who stole her heart. You should know, she really,

really

adores you. It was so sweet! She seemed a bit nervous and shy at first but one mention of her family and it was like she couldn't stop talking! Can you believe it?"

Good God, that woman talked a lot.

And fast.

Had Loid not been an expert in decoding, he might have missed half of the words she said, "You're too kind. May I ask where my wife is?"

"Oh, well, actually, she's-"

"Loid?" His wife's voice, muffled by the walls of long dresses, was heard, "What a surprise!"

It was then that two black gloves peaked through the dresses and slowly pushed to the side, revealing his wife, in a long red dress.

"Yor, I-I...you look..." What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly so tongue-tied?

It was a just red dress, after all. But on anyone else, it might have looked ordinary.

On Yor, it wasn't just red, it was rose-red. It looked like the dress had been sewn to fit her body perfectly. From the Queen Anne neckline that slightly showed off her ample bust and long neck to the tight waist that hugged her curves to the flowy skirt that stopped just before touching the floor,

Now, neither Loid nor William were strangers to beautiful women. In fact, as far as people go, they were both very privileged to have met some of the most beautiful women in the world.

Right now, they all paled in comparison to the raven-haired beauty in the red dress.

Beside her, Charlotte grinned, "Look at that, Yor, you've got him speechless! Just as I predicted. Wait until you see her with the hairstyle I planned for her."

"Charlotte..." Yor blushed, suddenly very aware of all eyes on her.

She was never one to stand out. 'Growing up, she can't even remember dreaming about being a princess or tales of fairies and mermaids. If she did, she couldn't remember. Her earliest childhood memory involved her working from the start. And her work often meant that she couldn't stand out or attract attention.

But she had to admit, it did feel nice.

And scary.

But nice.

When she looked at Loid, she couldn't really decipher that look he had in his eyes. She thought, by now, she'd seen every expression Loid Forger had but 'everyday, he seemed to prove her wrong. One of the miraculous things about living with someone, she supposed.

She 'recognised 'when he was happy, sad, mad, annoyed, frustrated, tired, hopeful, peaceful...she also 'recognised 'this look a handful of times, but she never could figure out what it meant. All that she knew was that it was one where his lips would part ever-so-slightly and the blue rings around his eyes seem to get a little smaller than usual. It was an intense look, that's all she knew, but she never knew for what.

But Yor remembered that they were still acting. Right now, she needed to act like a wife rather than a blushing schoolgirl.

So, she tried to compose herself. She pretended to have half the confidence being a married woman as she had when she was Thorn Princess.

With this in mind, she gave a coy smile to her husband, "Cat got your tongue, darling?"

"Don't tease, my dear, you know what that does to me." Loid said after a long time. Before that, his mind seemed empty, unable to process anything except for Yor.

'My dear' and 'darling'. Pet names for each other that they've developed after a while 'together'. It's kind of funny how it started out as a casual accident, but now it became their unofficial term of endearment for each other.

"Yeesh! Get a room!" Charlotte jokes.

Time seemed to pass by slowly as he began to 'realise 'where he was and his circumstances, snapping back into reality.

"Indeed. I'm sure you'll be the belle of the ball with that dress." William added.

'NOBODY ASKED YOU, WILLIAM!'

Loid screamed in his head.

"Well, there's still other dresses to try, but I definitely think this one's a good contender. There's only one other dress I think looks as good." Charlotte mentioned, before giving Yor a sly grin, "Care to show them?"

"Um, I suppose. Oh, but Loid, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Ah, well, a few appointments cancelled early and I was in a generous mood, so I was looking around to see if I could buy something for you and Anya." He explained, eyeing the King and daring him to say anything.

He didn't.

"That's so thoughtful!" Yor melted, "But you don't have to, really! You've given me so much already."

"Perhaps, but you deserve the world. I can't give it to you now, but I can die trying." Loid said. He's said multiple romantic words he never meant to so many women before. But right now, his mouth felt dry and he could feel himself getting nervous for some reason.

It took him a while to 'realise 'that the King was oddly quiet. It seemed like he was observing this interaction between him and Yor.

"I, erm, thank you, Loid." Yor simply said. For a fake husband, Loid certainly knew what words to say.

"That's so 'cuteee!" Charlotte squealed, "Oh, you must simply see Yor in the other dress, Loid! Come on, Yor, let's get you ready!"

"I-" before Yor could protest, Charlotte quickly took her hand and giddily dragged her to the dressing room.

Leaving Loid back with William and whatever tension had been there before was now replaced with awkwardness.

Loid could have easily felt smug about it all. The King witnessed an interaction before Yor and her 'husband', one that seemed flirtatious.

Checkmate, Charleton.

As soon as the girls headed to the dressing room, Charlotte was dying to talk to Yor.

"I saw that, Yor Forger." Charlotte grinned.

Yor simply blinked as she peaked through the dressing room curtain, "Saw that?"

"How you practically fainted when he called you 'my dear'. It's amazing how even after all this time, you two still seem so nervous and jittery around each other. It's like you're just now in the early stages of a relationship!" Charlotte giggled.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Yor quickly said, which only made Charlotte laugh harder.

"Oh, you don't need to pretend! You're married to him, after all. It's just nice to see that true love does still exist out there."

'True love

'.

Huh.

As Yor went back into the dressing room and began to strip away the red dress, she couldn't help but wonder if true love was ever in the cards for her. It seemed like such a fantastical thing, one that she was never made for.

Then again, she didn't think she was made to have a family before, either.

'

Everyone in this family adores you. Please believe me when I say that we all do for a reason.'

Loid's voice rang in her head. Suddenly, she felt a bit better about it. Fake family or not, somebody cared for her. Not just one, but a lot of somebodies. She had people to go home to.

So she's not quite sure about 'true love'. But she's not sure if she would give up the Forgers for anything, either. Not unless they asked her to.

But speaking of 'true love', she thought of how Loid would look at her sometimes. Even now, his reaction was...Well, it made her feel warm inside. The way he touched her too and looked at her. Sometimes, she wondered if he was just the world's greatest actor or-

'No, you're being silly.

' Yor shook her head.

Still, she couldn't help but smiling.

So, she quickly peeled off the red dress and carefully hung it. She actually adored it and couldn't imagine having any other dress. Still, she tried on the other white dress.

She stepped out and Charlotte gasped, "Oh, Yor! You look amazing! I can't decide which one you look better in, but it's definitely either this one or the red one. Shall we ask the boys?"

Before Yor could say anything, Charlotte dragged her out.

"Gentlemen, this is the other option. What do you think? Which is better?"

Once again, Loid was breathless.

A much more different style than the other. It was strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and the skirt hugging her legs slightly tighter than the other skirt, which was much more flowy. A pair of white gloves covered her hands, not unlike the black ones she wore with the red dress. ' In both cases, she looked divine but he did notice that she looked slightly uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was the strapless dress. She wasn't so used to it to such a thing and she was probably nervous about everyone staring at her chest. Next was the tightness of the skirt. Though it wasn't tight enough to be considered vulgar and still looked quite elegant, he knew that she preferred flowy A-lined skirts that she could move easily in, exactly what the red dress was.

Plus, it was white. Don't get him wrong, the color suited her perfectly against her dark hair and pale skin. But he knew for a fact that she avoided white if she could because she was always worried about stains. At a party where wine and snacks were served, he doesn't doubt she would be extra nervous and he didn't want that. He wanted her to have a good time and not worry about such things.

"You look beautiful in both, but I think that the red one is the better choice." Loid points out.

"Really? I must disagree. The white one really brings out your features." Willam said.

Oof, if only he could glare at him. Did he think it really mattered what he preferred over what her husband did? Also, once again, who asked?

Oh, wait, Charlotte asked. Well, either way, his opinion was unwelcomed and irrelevant.

"But so does the red and if I'm not mistaken, you seem much more comfortable in the red one, Yor." He points out.

"Um, I feel okay in both." She lies, not wanting to make the King feel bad even though Loid was right. Still, she wanted to make an impression at the party. She wanted to look like she was good enough to be Loid's wife. So even if it meant being in a dress that she didn't feel comfortable in, she would wear it.

"If that's the case, you should wear the white one." William insisted once again.

Okay, now he was getting on his nerves.

"It's best to choose what makes you comfortable, Yor. You look both beautiful and at ease with the other one." Loid added.

"Well, I think both are great, so really, it's up to you, Yor." Charlotte quips.

"Erm..." Yor began.

"Once again, I must insist on the white. It's positively criminal to deprive the world of such beauty." The King said smoothly in that charming voice he so often used with women that would make them faint.

"She's beautiful in every single way, whether she's wearing this dress, the red one, or simply at home in night clothes. There's no need to impress anyone any further unless she wants to." Loid says before turning to her, "I really do think the red one is better."

For a second, Yor looked back and forth between William and Loid. William held the white dress while Loid held the red one. On one hand, the white dress was unfamiliar to her, yet she felt attractive in it in a way that she couldn't with the red one. But the red one was more like

her

and made her feel a lot better than the white one. The red one 'welcomed her in a way that she wondered if the white dress ever could.

Looking back and forth, Yor panicked. Then it hit her: a great idea! She quickly pointed behind Charlotte, Loid and William.

"Oh, my, isn't that interesting!" She said.

They all turned to see what she was looking at but by the time they were confused and looked back, ready to ask what she was looking at, she disappeared and ran back into the dressing room.

"Yor!" Charlotte called out.

"I don't want to choose just yet!" Yor said back, clutching the dressing room's pink velvet curtains in a panic and shielding her from everyone.

Back with the boys, Charlotte sighed, "Great, look at what you two did! You scared her off!"

"I did not such thing, Sister! I merely stated my opinion." William said.

"And as her

husband

, I'm sure she wanted to know my thoughts." Loid shot back.

"I don't care, you two stressed her out!" She berated them, "When she comes back, I want you both to 'apologise 'to her!"

"Yes, Charlotte." They both muttered at the same time, acting like little schoolboys scolded by their teacher.

With a deep sigh, Yor came out of the dressing room, back in her normal clothes and holding both dresses, "I'm sorry, I really can't decide."

Deciding that he wanted to be the first to 'apologise, William wasted no time, "I know, and I 'apologise, Yor. It was not my intention to cause such distress."

"I apologise as well, dear and you have nothing to feel sorry for. I hate seeing you in such a state and even more so knowing I'm the cause of it. Let me make it up to you: I'll walk you home and we can stop by a caf ' you like for a bit before picking up Anya." Loid suggested, "In the meantime, I assume

La 'Soeurette

can reserve dresses? Why don't we put both of these on hold until Yor decides?"

Yor's eyes widened, "Yes, that's a great idea! I can sleep on it and hopefully I'll figure out what I want soon."

"Then it's settled. I'll go and give these to the ladies to keep. In the meantime, I suppose you two will be heading off to your coffee date." Charlotte smiled, turning to Loid, "It's a pleasure meeting you, Loid. And Yor, I can't wait until we meet again! I'm sure that overtime, we'll become the best of friends, I can feel it!"

Smiling, Yor nodded excitedly to Charlotte, "I'm sure you're right. Thank you so much for today. It was a nice change of pace. William, are you okay for me to leave with Loid?"

Not really. But William couldn't exactly say that.

So instead, he smiled and nodded politely, "Of course, Yor. I will see you tomorrow, 9am sharp."

Yor nodded and the Forgers said their farewells to the 'Charletons.

Once again, it was cold outside and Yor quickly hugged her scarf. Unlike before, however, her arm linked around Loid's without her even thinking twice about it.

Surprised, Loid looked at her and noticed that she didn't seem so nervous about it anymore. He blushed but decided to blame it on the cold weather and had to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her forehead.

"So, that Charlotte...she's interesting." He began.

He wasn't lying, either. 'Despite what he felt about her brother, he did appreciate Charlotte Charleton. He looked and looked but he couldn't find any ulterior motives in the Princess' actions. She seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with Yor. Yor didn't have any real friends, so it was nice to see her happy and spending time with another woman.

Besides, it was thanks to Charlotte Charlton that he witnessed Yor in that magnificent red dress.

"I think so, too." Yor said, "It's nice to have a friend."

Loid smiled, glad she was happy.

For a while, they walked in silence as they began to approach the main street. 'Loid was reminded of their little play in the snow.

He always did feel a bit vibrant walking with Yor in daytime. With people walking about their days, running errands, going home to their families. It all felt too natural. Loid could envision another world where he could afford the simple pleasures of ordinary life. What seemed mundane and boring to some was exactly what Loid, and so many other people in his profession, could only dream of having.

It was, however, unusual. He never really 'went home' with Yor like this before. He wasn't one to pick her up from her work, except that one time that they ran into each other. Even now, it was just a chance encounter. But it was a change he didn't find unappealing by any means.

"By the way, back there," Yor grinned, "I must say, I don't think I've ever seen you tongue-tied like that,

darling

."

"Well, I've never seen you look that beautiful,

my dear

." He grinned back.

Oof. When it came to seduction, Yor knew that Loid would always win. Of course, Loid thought the same of Yor.

She sighed with a smile, "We're getting better at this, don't you agree?"

"Definitely." Of course, it was just a result of practice. Nothing more.

He chuckled. Then he remembered the whole debacle back at

La Soeurette

. "About what happened back there, I truly am sorry, Yor. I really didn't mean to upset you like that."

"I know you didn't, Loid." she assured him, "And I have a feeling you insisted on the red dress because you could definitely tell I wouldn't be comfortable in it for the rest of the night, even though I said I wouldn't mind."

"That's precisely it!" Loid said, relieved that she understood. "This is going to be a long party, Yor. I can imagine it might be a bit difficult for you considering the presence of your colleagues. I want you to be as comfortable as possible, even if it's just a dress."

"That's very considerate of you, Loid." she admitted, happy she had someone looking out for her. "Thank you."

Loid smiled at her, a silent 'don't mention it'.

As they walked, they began to hear music in the background. Around this time, they would often hear the muffled sound of music from local bars or restaurants. It was always a pleasant experience. As much as Loid liked silence, lately, he began to appreciate being constantly surrounded by sounds. Whether it was Anya's spy shows or Yor's radio, he found an unexpected solace with the lack of silence.

"They're playing a lot of love songs lately." Loid noted, a bit nervously.

"I know. I always liked this one." She said, humming along to the tune. "It played after the war."

"Ah, yes. It's coming back to me." He said.

Both of them began to be flooded with memories of life after the war. They never believed that they would live to experience it, but they did, and now everyone was at peace. When it was announced that the war is over, the euphoria and joy in the people's faces was unparalleled. Cheers were shouted from every rooftop, neighbors who normally never associated drank and broke bread with each other, people danced on the streets without a care in the world.

He could remember this song.

Never thought that you would be

Standing here so close to me

There's so much I feel I should say

But words can wait until some other day

A sudden memory popped in Loid's head. The sudden happiness he felt around him, which felt confusing given the past few months. It seemed new to him once again. Then the sound of music played loudly. "You know, when I first heard this song, I remembered loving it, but I also remembered it making me sad."

"I'm sorry to hear that...But if now that you mention it, I think I felt the same. I suppose we were all wondering if we would grow up to be normal, us children of war. We'd all long forgotten how to live by the time it ended." Yor agreed.

Loid nodded quietly at first. It was rare to hear someone talk so openly about how different their generation was because of the atrocities. Yet, despite everything, Yor grew up to be an amazing woman. He couldn't believe his luck. "I thought that way, too. But I think that what really made me upset was that I was convinced I that I could never feel what the man in the song felt."

"And now?" She breathed.

Oops.

Yor did

not

mean to say that out loud.

She quickly turned her head away from him, nervous about him looking at her. And also about hearing her answer. The last thing she needed was rejection.

Although, she might have benefitted from seeing his reaction. She would have been surprised at the shock in Loid's face, as well as his already blushing cheeks turning him even redder every second.

It was a valid question, though. Had things changed since he was a child? Did he truly believe that he could live a life with love?

He didn't want to answer.

So, Agent Twilight returned. 'With a charming grin, he just said, "That's for me to know and for you to find out, my dear."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. He absolutely adored her real laugh. She seemed so much more relaxed around him at those times.

"Well, then, I guess I'll have to try and get it out of you, darling." She shot back and Loid laughed, following her lead.

The two simply laughed at each other's antics, listening to the long-forgotten love song in the background. The twin footsteps behind them grew closer to each other, closing the gap between them. Of course, none of them noticed.

Just like they didn't notice things were slowly, but surely changing.

After a while, Yor was lost in her thoughts, thinking back to the whole dress debacle. She had to choose eventually.

But later on, upon further reflection, Yor decided that she loved the red dress even more.