When I Was Ten Years Old (POV Reina)

When I was ten years old, I believed in happy endings.

I was sitting on the bed, with my legs crossed, holding my cell phone with both hands.

On screen, a large-eyed protagonist chose answers that would change the course of the story.

"This is the best one," I murmured, tapping on the romantic option.

"Of course it is," said my mother, sitting down next to me.

My mom, Niina , liked to stay with me while I played otome games.

She watched the screen with genuine interest, as if those stories were her own as well.

"Did you notice? He got jealous. That's love," she said, smiling.

"Love is when someone protects the protagonist, right?" I asked .

— Yes — he replied, running his hand through my hair.

"Love is when someone stays by your side, even when the world is cruel," she explained to me with a smile.

I enjoyed those moments.

They were silent.

Insurance.

But they never lasted long.

The sound of the door slamming always signaled a problem.

My father, Sakamoto, would arrive home from work with a grim face, heavy steps, and a voice that was too loud.

"Where's the food?!" he shouted.

My body automatically shrank.

Sometimes he would push me.

Sometimes he would pull me by the arm.

But it was worse with Mom.

Much worse.

I could see it.

I was listening.

I was learning to be silent.

The fights were constant.

Broken glasses.

Screams.

Muffled cries.

I would hide in my room, cover my ears, and play.

If I chose the right answers, the protagonist would be saved.

In real life... I didn't have that control.

At school, I didn't have any friends.

The other children thought I was strange.

Too quiet.

Too serious.

I preferred to be alone, thinking about stories where everything worked out in the end.

One day, I saw something that I couldn't forget.

My father hit my mother with a force I had never seen before.

She fell.

I screamed.

He shouted back.

That sound…

It never left my mind.

Months later, something was different.

The house was too quiet.

When I heard the door open, my heart started racing.

My father had arrived.

I ran into the room.

My mother was there.

With a gun in his hand.

Pointed at him.

— Mom…? Put that down… please… — my voice came out weak.

She was trembling.

"Stay behind me, Reina," she said with a hateful expression.

"Look at that," my father laughed disdainfully .

"Are you going to have the courage now?" he mocked her.

He started cursing at her.

Words that I didn't quite understand, but that hurt nonetheless.

"Mom, please... stop..." I begged, crying.

The noise came suddenly.

One shot.

Then another one.

And another.

And another.

My father fell.

The silence that followed was worse than any scream.

I don't remember how much time has passed.

I remember the red and blue lights coming in through the window.

From the police.

From the handcuffs.

My mother knelt in front of me before she was taken away.

She cupped my face in both hands.

Her eyes were filled with tears… but not tears of regret.

"Reina. Turn your life into your own otome game," she said, her voice firm despite everything.

I was sobbing.

— Be the protagonist of your own story. And find your prince charming. — she continued .

She smiled at me.

That was the last time.

When the door closed behind her, I ceased to be a child.

But those words…

They stayed.

Since then, I've been playing.

I observe.

I choose the answers.

Because, if this is really a game…

This time,

I want to choose the happy ending.