"I don't want to."
As dusk settled over Bucharest, the capital of Romania, a blonde girl stood on the seventh floor of an apartment, gazing down. Her soft, lustrous hair shimmered in the twilight, her pale eyes gleaming like glass.
From her vantage point, the crisscrossing streets below looked like narrow canals, with the endless stream of people moving in and out like insects.
And to her—the real her—they truly weren't much different from insects.
Because this blonde girl's name was Manaka Sajo.
At this moment, she was on a video call with her parents, who also lived in Bucharest, though not with her. Unlike in Japan where they had all shared a large estate, Manaka had insisted she and her younger sister had grown up and needed their own independent space. Moved by their love for their daughters, the Sajo couple had agreed.
"I think that young man your father mentioned is quite nice. He seems like someone who'd know how to take care of you, Manaka. And your father said he's only dating with marriage in mind."
"Yes, that's exactly what he said. I even showed him your photo—he said he'd have no trouble looking after you."
Hiroki Sajo spoke righteously, like every word was the gospel truth.
"No, no, no. I said no. He's not my prince on a white horse, and from the way you describe it, he's just interested in me because of how I look."
Manaka shook her head wildly, utterly disregarding her image. She propped up her phone on its stand, crossed her arms into an "X" like a kid throwing a tantrum.
"And just listen to that name—Novia, really? That's way too much. There's zero 'prince' energy about him. He sounds like some hardcore religious fanatic. I'll probably have to listen to him drone on about this god or that god tomorrow, and I'll just die of boredom."
Time seemed to have left no trace on this thirty-seven-year-old "bishoujo" (beautiful girl). She looked just like she had at fourteen—unchanged in every way. Except now, the elegance she once carried had been completely eroded by her failure to find a decent partner.
"But you're already thirty-seven! Your sister even got you her teacher's contact info—the one everyone calls the Big Ben Star of London. He's ranked number one among male students in the Clock Tower for popularity…"
On the other end of the call, Hiroki Sajo couldn't help but cut in. Worried that his eldest daughter had grown too reclusive and her brain might be deteriorating, he added,
"I remember you visited that classroom when you were at the Clock Tower, didn't you?"
Manaka had once studied at the Clock Tower, one of the magical associations, but had dropped out at light speed. Why? Because there wasn't a single decent romantic prospect. No sweet, sugary campus romance meant there was no point staying.
After that, she wandered the world. And now, her journey had taken her to Romania, where her entire family had relocated.
"Ugh, that guy's body screams 'frail' at a glance. Sure, he's been popular for a while, but he's got zero prince qualities. I don't get what people see in him. I even rushed to meet him right away, thinking maybe—just maybe—he was my dream prince… Tch. I'm hanging up. I'm not going to meet him, period~"
Maybe it was the conversation about "princes," but as she sipped her tea and nibbled on cake, a rare gloom descended upon the girl. Without thinking, she flopped onto the floor and rolled around like a child, completely abandoning her image.
The world was boring. She was merely existing. The second hand of the clock ticked on, turning today into tomorrow. Everything around her was predictable and dull. No surprises. No joy. No hope.
Even the quest for her so-called "Prince on a White Horse" felt meaningless. She couldn't even imagine he might exist.
So why, in this emotionally sterile world, did this girl still perform "kind" gestures toward her family and the few people she knew? Everything in her world was cold—so why this impulse?
Because she could see that other kind of coldness.
That spiritual chill was most often found among church people muttering about gods. Perhaps it was that coldness that had brought her to this point.
"Oh no—I forgot to log into the game Serene recommended. Good thing I remembered."
Late to realize it, Manaka picked up her phone from the floor with one hand, propping up her chin with the other, legs lazily swinging in the air.
The game had been recommended by a friend, so she played it casually each day. Not obsessively, like Serene, who—as far as Manaka knew—had already spent a tenth of her entire savings as a magus on microtransactions.
As she launched the game, Manaka was suddenly greeted by in-game characters celebrating with fireworks around the protagonist. The developers had sent her a birthday gift via in-game mail: "This is more than a game. It's companionship."
"Oh, so today's my character's birthday, huh. Nice."
It was a special cutscene triggered by the birthday she had randomly set for her character. It wasn't actually her birthday.
"But this is so lame. None of them are my Prince Charming. Just a bunch of fakes."
Maybe it was seeing the game characters find their "true love" that annoyed her—Manaka immediately closed the game and uninstalled it.
"Taking care of someone? Pfft. I just haven't found a prince who deserves my care. If one showed up, hehe…"
She mumbled to herself, closed her eyes, one hand covering her face while the other stroked her shimmering hair.
"So annoying, so annoying, soooo annoying… Ugh, fine. I guess I'll find time to meet this Novia person Dad keeps talking about. If someone's supposedly fallen for me at first sight, then I have to reject him in person~"
A few seconds later, Manaka opened her eyes. In them, a radiance shone that could melt hearts. She stood up, stabbed the remaining cake with a fork, and stuffed it into her mouth, cheeks bulging as she downed the rest of her tea in a single gulp.
"I'll swindle him out of one meal at least. Consider it the price he pays for hearing this beautiful bishoujo's voice telling him 'no.' It's not like he'll refuse anyway. And I bet he'll never forget the sound of my elegant rejection~"
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