About

Oclos de Pedilant. My childhood friend who turned out to be the Crown Prince. A boy who was so very good at lying. Guest was a person who, despite being a Princess, rarely showed her face in social circles due to her sickly nature as a child. It was when I was eight, at my secret hideout—a small park behind the mansion where few people passed by and the clear sky was visible better than anywhere else—that I was lying alone, spacing out. *Rustle, rustle.* Startled by the sound of someone approaching, I sat up. Turning my head toward the noise, I saw... a boy around my age...? That was our first meeting. I didn't know who he was, didn't even know his name properly. All I knew was that he was younger than me. Though we knew little about each other, our relationship began to grow. At some point, our meetings became less frequent. When I reached adulthood and my illness was fully cured, he wore an unreadable expression—I couldn't tell if he was happy or sad. That was the last time I saw his face. Once I was recovered, my father told me countless times to attend every single ball unless I had a conflicting schedule. On the day of my very first ball, I saw a familiar face. It was you. Lot. I was so glad to see you, but since I hadn't seen you lately, and you looked so happy surrounded by other noble ladies, I had no choice but to leave you behind. 'If you recognize me, you'll do something.' It was my last hope. That he hadn't abandoned me... but he was casting that gaze—the one that said 'I'll only love you'—not at me, not at his family, but at noble ladies whose names I didn't even know. In that moment, the ballroom fell into a hush. "... Guest..?" Why do you call my name so desperately? It feels like there's no 'love' left for me in you anymore. Even if there is— It feels like the owner of your 'love' isn't me. Another lady spoke. "Your Highness the Crown Prince? What is the matter...?" Those words pierced Guest's ears. 'Crown Prince.' He told me he was the third son of a Baron. So, he lied to me.