Will You Marry Me?

Serving one of the last remaining slices of chocolate cake, Kousei closely analysed the dining hall. Most of the ministers were seated at round tables, grumpily looking up something on their phones or chatting with other members of their respective political parties. Even with Kousei’s poor political knowledge, telling which politician belonged to the West or East was a no-brainer. The dress code kind of gave it away.

It was already late in the evening, and Kousei started to clean up some empty trays. Only one or two more hours and he would finally be done with this useless event.

Some hours prior to that, the evening began with a cordial handshake between Yamamoto and Watanabe, the two chiefs of state of the West and East. Of course, they made sure their greeting lasted way longer than necessary to give the photographers a chance to capture the moment. Kousei could already see the photo at the front of tomorrow’s newspaper in front of his eyes, with some deceptive headline like “West and East united as usual – Yamamoto and Watanabe exchange flattering praise.”

The Watanabe household seemed to take even more care of their appearance than the Yamamotos, as everyone was styled to perfection and wore fashionable red clothes Kousei could not even dream of. The chief of state, his wife, as well as their son and daughter all appeared to have come straight from a movie. But for some reason, they must have forgotten their youngest daughter at the film studio. The so-called princess was nowhere to be seen. Although this shocked Kousei for a short instant, he quickly forgot about it as the evening went on. He was here to work after all, not to ogle some pretty women.

After that, Yamamoto and Watanabe both gave a tediously long speech lauding the “strong sense of unity over the past year” and emphasising the desire to continue working together. Everyone in the hall applauded those words, though the number of people who actually believed in them could probably be counted on one hand.

Kousei once again scanned the room and spotted his father currently talking to some politician in a black suit. Satoshi had been the pastry chef of this event for multiple years thanks to his excellent reputation and trustworthiness in the West, so he must have been on a first name basis with at least some of the politicians. Being good at your job could apparently really bring you far in life.

Pulling the collar of his shirt, Kousei tried to create some sort of breeze. The humidity and mass of people resulted in poor air quality, making it a bit hard to breathe. Kousei was desperate to get outside and inhale some fresh carbon dioxide, so he approached Yuuna, who was secretly trying to claim a slice of cake for herself.

“Hey, these are not for you.” Kousei lightly slapped his sister’s hand. “You know we aren’t supposed to eat them in front of everybody.”

“But brooo, I’m so hungry. Can’t you let your cute sister have at least one small bite?”

Yuuna had her hands in front of her in a pleading fashion, making big puppy eyes and pulling all sorts of magic tricks that should normally work on every boy. Luckily though, Kousei was in possession of a rare immunity against her spells – the “power of being blood-related.”

“No,” he replied with hard eyes. “Besides, you would probably get your dress dirty and then Mom will get angry at me for not looking after you. You know, just like always.”

Although Yuuna’s dress was relatively plain compared to the extravagant clothing of the other participants of the event, it was the best their family could afford. Unlike the vast majority in the hall, they didn’t have close to unlimited money, so it would be a shame to stain her dress.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like it happens every time I eat something.” (It totally does.) “And look, if I get this chocolate cake here, nobody would even notice the stains on my dress.”

She fiercely pointed back and forth between the cake and her dress, desperately trying to show Kousei the similarity in colour. He could see it in her eyes that she was really convinced by her absurd reasoning.

“That’s not…how any of this works.” Kousei was close to hitting his head on the table. This conversation was making him lose brain cells by the minute. “You know what, do whatever you want. I need to get some fresh air. Think I can leave this to you for some minutes?”

“Yes, sir, yes. I will defend these desserts with my life. Leave everything to me, commander Kousei.” Yuuna saluted her brother by bringing a hand to her head, straightened her back and got in position for this crucial operation. Her entire body was suddenly filled with resolution.

Confronted with this ridiculous sight, Kousei wondered if their parents had dropped her on the head one too many times when she was still a kid. There was really no other logical explanation to this.

Exhausted, he finally left the Central Hall and deeply inhaled the cold evening air. These last few minutes had made him more tired than all the dessert preparations combined.

The night sky was clear, adorned with an uncountable number of small stars shining down on him. After all this trouble today, Kousei was glad he could relax on his own for a short instant.

But as he enjoyed this moment of tranquil solitude, he noticed a subtle movement nearby. He hadn’t seen her at first since her dress blended so seamlessly with the darkness of the night, but then, just a few meters ahead, he saw her: a young woman crouching down, seemingly inspecting the flowers growing from the earth.

Kousei adjusted his bow tie and cleared his throat. Although he wasn’t too interested in talking to a stranger, the sight of a woman alone in the dark managed to stir something in him. Not to mention that there was a high probability she was also intoxicated.

“Excuse me, miss, may I help you?”

The woman froze in place, but after looking up to Kousei, a soft voice escaped her lips.

“Do you know what kind of flower this is?”

Taken aback by her unusual question, he could only let out a small Uhm at first. But as he inspected the blue flower for a few seconds, the answer came to him naturally.

“Of course, that’s a cornflower. It grows a lot around here and it’s really popular among the people. Wait, don’t you know that?”

What he just said should have been common knowledge. The cornflower was a symbol for love and romance in the West. From a young age, everyone was expected to give a cornflower to their romantic interest on special occasions. It was even taught in schools right before Valentine’s Day.

“Is that so? I don’t think they grow on the other side of the wall.”

Her voice was gentle, but clear like a bell. Kousei could understand every single word she said, but he failed to grasp their meaning.

“Wait, but–”

As he kept his eyes on her dark dress like someone who had just fallen in love, she stood up in front of him, then took a gracious bow.

“Mahiru Watanabe, youngest daughter of the Watanabe household. Pleased to meet you.”

Kousei’s eyes widened in surprise after hearing her name.

Watanabe?! Then… This is who they call the princess?

Mahiru proudly flicked back her long hair, then put both her hands on her waist, carefully examining the boy in front of her with a hint of suspicion. She was obviously more than a little displeased by his absence of a response.

“What? You got a problem with that?”

“M-my apologies, Princess Watanabe.” Kousei took the deepest bow he was physically capable of. “I was just surprised to find you here on your own. I’m sorry for my unworthy reaction.”

When he looked back up again, he was met with a cold and silent glare. In the next instant though, the princess drooped her head in resignation.

“Please, don’t call me ‘princess.’ I know my dad likes to give us royal titles, but he’s not a king. On paper, we’re a democracy, just like you guys here. Although I admit our people don’t have a whole lot of different options to vote for. And I’m not a princess. I’m just a girl who happens to be the daughter of the chief of state. Nothing more.”

Kousei struggled to understand what she was trying to say. Up until a few seconds ago, each of her words and movements were sophisticated and elegant, yet she was now acting like a desperate criminal admitting all their wrongdoings on trial.

“I’m sorry… Then–”

“Just call me Mahiru, please.”

As Mahiru raised her head, she showed Kousei a dazzling smile. This small change of expression was enough to make his cheeks burn in embarrassment.

She really is as beautiful as they say. Guess the rumours Hayato heard are true, after all.

He stood still for multiple instants, unable to take his eyes off of her cherubic expression. Her large, blue eyes rimmed with long eyelashes, and her delicate, pink lips put him in a daze, as if time itself had slowed down.

What is wrong with this guy? First time he’s seen a girl in his life? Mahiru thought, rolling her eyes internally.

“O-okay, Mahiru. Forgive my rudeness, but shouldn’t you be inside with your family?”

“Geez, can you stop acting so formal? You’re almost like my brother.” Mahiru puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms in front of her. “My father forbade me to speak with them while we’re here. I was allowed to come here with our butler under the condition that nobody figures out I’m a Watanabe.”

She doesn’t want to be called ‘princess,’ but then mentions a butler. Make it make sense.

“O-oh, I see. But why–”

“Shouldn’t it be obvious?”

Mahiru lowered her head, inviting Kousei to follow her gaze. She was evidently clad fully in black, which was unheard of for a person from the East at this particular event. Even her long satin gloves matched the colour of her dress. What was she thinking showing up here like this?

“Yeah…”

She broke into small snickers, then turned his attention to Kousei.

Maybe he’s really my best bet. Will I ever get another chance if I don’t take it now? Mahiru considered as she inspected him from head to toe.

“I think this is not too bad,” she murmured almost inaudibly.

“Huh?”

Kousei tilted his head in confusion, waiting for answers from her.

“Kousei, was it? I’ll be very upfront.” Mahiru mustered up her entire courage for the following words. “Will you marry me?”