Shoujo Manga

The sudden announcement of a break didn’t go over well with the remaining contestants.

Some of them had begged their bosses for a full day off, faked family emergencies, or scheduled quick medical appointments early in the morning and then rushed to the TV.

But they had no choice. Madam of Maybes had called for a spiritual restoration of her cracked crystal orb, and when she spoke, even the staff grunted in reluctant agreement. Producer Fate himself muttered that the auditions were dragging out too long anyway—something-something Victor’s fault, again.

Still, they already secured three people in the finals and there were only two other people to be selected.

As the crowd dispersed, Fifty made for the exit, exhausted but oddly proud. He stepped into the parking lot’s chill and zipped his jacket higher. The sun was already tipping behind the concrete skyline.

Behind him, a voice rang out like it owned the sky.

“Won’t you even say goodbye to me?”

He turned halfway—just in time for his phone to vibrate in his pocket. He slid it out, thumbed it open.

His mother.

“Come home, quickly. Your father fell sick.”

The call ended swiftly.

“Sorry, Stella, I gotta run home!”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what? Why?”

But he was already sprinting. Stella, being Stella, followed.

She shouted after him like a determined side character in a badly subtitled action film. “Why are you running?!”

“I told you—emergency at home!”

“I just wanted to ask you something!”

“Ask me later!”

“No!”

And so they ran through the dusky streets of Velgravia like a stray dog and the chaos it accidentally adopted.

***

Inside the Mirga house, in the cluttered warmth of the master bedroom, Fifty’s father lay on the bed like a fallen war hero.

Fifty entered the room, skidding to a stop. His expression didn’t change—he didn’t even blink.

“…Oh,” he said flatly. “You’re still alive.”

“He’s caught a cold and so he won’t be able to come to Orawa Fair with me tomorrow.” His mother, Madona, didn’t even look up as she placed a fresh cup of hot tea on the side table like it was an offering to an unworthy god. “You have to come with me instead.”

“You didn’t have to make it sound like I would never see him again.”

She gave him a mild swat on the head. “Don’t complain. This household runs on guilt and physical intimidation. You know that.”

“I told you…” Emynem managed to speak up through the blankets. “That if you leave the windows open, I’d catch a cold…”

“No you didn’t.” Madona shut him off. Only then did she notice the unexpected guest standing awkwardly behind her son. “And what are you doing here, miss?”

“Oh, sorry!” Stella straightened like she was addressing a royal court. ”My name is Stella Kralova, nice to meet you. Both of you!”

“We know who you are. You’re a celebrity at this point. And you’re the little girl who hid at our booth, waiting to steal our precious toys!”

“No, I really didn’t-“ Stella waved her hands in defense like an NPC in an RPG.

“Don’t worry, my mom is just joking.”

But Stella was already changing tactics, pivoting with practiced grace. “Mrs. Mirga, is it hard, staying on your feet all day and paying attention to people swarming at your booth?”

“Not as hard for me as it is for our little Gypsy King in making. But jokes aside, we do have to keep selling. Our jobs can’t cover our living expenses.”

“Why don’t you leave it to us, then? You can take it easy and take care of your technically dying husband. I’ve heard that man’s running nose is a deadly sickness!”

Madona laughed loudly. “Yeah, you can say that again. I don’t have only one child in my care, I have two!” She gestured at her ‘dying’ husband. “Thank you for your concern but we will manage. I am used to do everything in this household. Besides, you don’t have any experience in selling at a booth, do you?”

“I don’t but Fifty will be there for me! I can learn from him, I swear I will be helpful!”

“Hmmm… I don’t know…”

“Mom, this annoying pest had been bothering me so let her do something nice for a change.”

“Technically, I was bothering you only 70% of the time, the other 30% was me trying to figure out if your face is permanently like that, or if you just forgot how to smile.”

“This is just a defense mechanism against you.”

“Look at you, how well you mesh together. Are you sure you can handle the fair?”

“It will be much better without you or dad lecturing me all the time.”

“Alright then, I will drive you there in the morning and help you build the booth, then I will go home and come back for you two in the evening.”

“Perfect! I’m really looking forward to it!“ Stella beamed like she’d just won a free cruise.

“Now, let’s go downstairs and have something to eat.”

***

“Am I gonna have a… home-made meal?” Saliva practically dripped from Stella’s mouth, and she made no effort to hide it.

“Jeez, wipe your chin. That’s disgusting,” Fifty muttered, handing her a napkin.

“Leave the čhajori alone, she must be fed up with all the hotel food.” Madona scolded gently as she set down a bowl of the vegetable soup in front of Stella.

“Have some,” Madona said. “If the portion’s too small, don’t be shy to ask for more. But leave room for the second plate.”

“No, this is plenty! My mom used to make this kind of a vegetable soup…” Stella’s voice cracked slightly as she picked up her spoon. “…and I hadn’t had it since…” She took a slow sip, letting the flavor sit on her tongue.

“What happened to your mom?” Fifty tilted his head.

“She passed away when I was ten, my dad got hyper-fixated on me after that,” She said while slurping the noodles from the soup.

“Oh,” Fifty said, his voice softer now. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, the memory’s still painful but I learnt to smile more than cry when I think about her.”

Madona silently took another bowl upstairs to deliver to her “technically dying” husband.

“Your mom’s so sweet.”

“Don’t be fooled, she can be a devil when she’s angry.” Fifty replied, but immediately realized that it was not the best thing to say about a mother in front of somebody who had lost theirs. “I’m sorry. Better a devil than no mother at all, huh…”

“Look, just because my mom is not around anymore, it doesn’t mean she didn’t have her own flaws. So you’re good. And technically, all moms are evil when it comes to love of their children.”

Madona returned just in time to find Stella’s bowl scraped clean.

“Did you like it?” She asked, already reaching for the plate.

“It was delicious!”

Madona swapped it out for the second course—meat seared golden-brown, crunchy fries glistening under a garlic drizzle, and a little side salad that was clearly there for decoration.

“That looks fantastic!” She grabbed the fork and a knife, immediately digging into the meat. “The meat’s so juicy and tender!”

Fifty watched her from across the table, his mouth twitching at the corners.

“So what did you want to ask me when you stalked me home?”

“I actually wanted to ask you to spend some time with me this evening… I get lonely at the hotel.”

“Why me? Don’t you have other friends? How about Victor?”

“I used to, but they didn’t want to spend time with my bodyguards… And as for Victor, he’s busy with the reality show. On top of that, I don’t think a guy I met under those circumstances could be called a friend.”

“And yet, you want to be friends with me. Seriously though, why me? If this was a romantic movie, people would call this shipping development an unearned and shallow.”

“You just seemed funny!” She said, stuffing more fries into her mouth.

“Huh?”

“Who else is jealous of a man sitting? Seriously, haha!”

After the meal, Stella insisted on doing the dishes. Madona didn’t protest—she looked about five minutes away from passing out from sheer maternal exhaustion.

When Stella dried her hands, she turned to Madona and bowed slightly, ready to go back. “Thank you for everything. Should I be ready tomorrow at 7 a.m.?”

“7?” Fifty scoffed. “Girl. We’re leaving at 5.”

“Whaaaat?! But it’s already so late! I still need to get back to the hotel, take a shower, unwind, stare at the ceiling—”

“No one will miss you at your hotel room,” Madona said, already clearing the table. “And this way we don’t waste time picking you up.”

By the time Stella emerged from the bathroom—dressed in an oversized pajama set that clearly belonged to Madona—Fifty was already curled up on a thin mattress laid out beside the bed, arms crossed under the blanket, looking like a medieval martyr.

Stella plopped onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, sinking into the sheets like she owned the room. For a while, they stayed quiet, listening to the creak of the old house and the wind tapping against the window glass.

“Fifty?”

“I knew it,” he said, eyes still closed. “This is the part where deep conversations happen in every shoujo manga.”

She exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the ceiling, voice quieter now.

“You're a virgin, right?”

Chapter 9: END