Chapter Text
+++
The tree that Momo is leaning on is the tallest, thickest tree in the campus.
Freshman year, she spent short breaks underneath its shade, reading books and watching movies on her laptop. It was an effective hiding place. Until Nayeon found her and practically forced Momo to become her roommate.
“Hirai,” she said back then. Her figure was against the sun and she towered over Momo. She was holding out a key with three numbers written on the ring. “Take this.”
They were seatmates in one class— Photography. Nayeon is good with people. Momo isn’t. Never was. Nayeon likes people. Momo doesn’t. Never did. So when their professor asked, “why did you choose photography?” and Momo answered with an “I received a scholarship and this course is just an elective”, Nayeon got curious. And her curiosity led to them being… acquaintances.
What’s your name? How old are you? Where are you from? How did you get a scholarship to the biggest, most expensive university in Japan? Have you made any friends?
It’s Momo. I’m 19. From Osaka. I guess it’s because of my good grades and my portfolio? No, I don’t have any friends yet. It’s my first day.
Cool. Osaka. That’s far. Do you drive?
No, no. Two train trips.
Two?
Yeah.
Tough. That’s okay for you?
It’s cheaper than a dorm.
Five days later, Nayeon gave Momo a duplicate key to her room. It’s big enough for them both, and Nayeon— Momo learned after spending a week with her— is a really nice girl. It won’t hurt to have her as a roommate. Plus, the rent (which Momo begged to pay because it would be embarrassing to leech off of someone) is affordable.
She also learned— figured out on her own— that their room is the only occupied one on that floor. There is another room across the hall, but it’s empty. That’s why theirs feels more spacious, like a penthouse of some sort. They were on the 12th floor. It has a kitchen, a study, a bath, a living room, everything they could possibly need. Even a small darkroom. It only has one bedroom as if it was made solely for Nayeon. They had to set up two beds in it. They can fit two beds in it (and maybe another, but Nayeon doesn’t seem to have any plans of getting a third roommate).
Much later, she learned that Nayeon is an Im. Which means that she’s a much more important person than she let on. It’s no big deal, really. Her family just owns one of the biggest airline companies in the world.
So, right after Momo heard that information from a nosy classmate— (“You’re close with Im?” “Who?” “Im Nayeon.” “Ah, Nabongs? We’re roommates.” “You call her Nabongs?” “Sometimes.” “You don’t know her, do you?” “I do. She’s Nayeon.” “No shit. Im Nayeon. Daughter of Im Hwan, CEO of Im Airlines.”)— she almost choked on her half-eaten sandwich.
According to Forbes 2019, she was apparently rooming with a billionaire.
The shock, of course, was so two years ago. Because being with Nayeon, during most times, feels fairly normal.
Except when Momo sees the huge collection of luxury watches stored in their shared walk-in closet— (“I bet that’s not all of it.” “It’s not.” “Eat the rich. Full offense.” “Eh, none taken.”)— and tells herself that maybe some people were just born lucky.
Or, when Nayeon splurges on food delivery— (“Why are there six containers of kimchi in the fridge?” “No there isn’t.” “Yes there is.” “If you close your eyes you won’t see it.” “Nayeon.” “What? I get homesick.”)— and Momo feels like she might go insane.
And that one time Nayeon picked her up from the other side of the campus using a brand new Bugatti, and Momo was reminded that— (“You’re driving a 20 million dollar car in school.” “If it pleases you, I will get my Ferrari next week, which is worth a lot less than this baby.” “You bought another car?!” “Yes. Yes I did.” “You just got this one!”)— Nayeon will never be just an average human being.
Apart from those kinds of moments, there’s nothing Nayeon can do to surprise her anymore. There’s a lot left to learn, but Momo is content with having good company.
Free-spirited. Too smart for anyone else in the room. Too rich for anyone else in the room. But she’s thoughtful. And never a bitch. Overall, Nayeon is okay to have around.
And that is why the tree that Momo used to lean on by herself is not a hiding place anymore. It’s now simply an extension of their room. No more unrevealed family names and no more trees as hiding places.
“I’m gonna get some lunch,” Nayeon says, standing up and brushing off the dirt on her pants. “You?”
Momo shakes her head, focused on her book. “Staying. Class at 1.”
“Alright, see you later.” Nayeon took two steps, then turned back. “By the way, I have someone to meet tonight so I’ll probably be back past curfew.”
Momo hums in response. Her roommate jogs off. And then it’s quiet. Peaceful, even.
Until a girl in a black cap sits next to her— really next to her; their skin is touching, pressing against each other— panting heavily as she says, “This will sound weird. Will you give me a hug?”
Momo looks around. “Excuse me?”
The girl wraps her arms around Momo. Tightly. Burying her face in Momo’s hair. Breathing on Momo’s neck. Her hands grip each other so hard that Momo can die of asphyxiation. She coils impossibly further into Momo’s hair.
The latter flinches. It tickled.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers in Momo’s ear, actually sounding sorry. “Ten more seconds.”
Momo’s book is being squished between them. This girl smells like flowers. Like her mom’s roses back at home.
“She’s not in the garden. I don’t see her.” Momo hears a man’s voice a few meters away from where they are. He groans. “No. Don’t tell Mr. Park. I’ll call you back when I find her.”
And then the sound of his steps slowly faded. The girl pushes back from the embrace, seeing a very stunned Momo.
Black cap. White shirt, blue jeans. Lips pinkish. Rosy cheeks. Light brown eyes… maybe. Momo can’t see them that well. Long and dark red hair in a ponytail. Or is it brown too? Momo can’t tell. The sun is too bright today.
“Gosh, this is embarrassing.”
Embarrassing? Momo hasn’t had physical contact with anyone apart from Nayeon since she came to this school. She can’t even remember if she and Nayeon ever hugged before.
To hell with embarrassment. This was invasive.
“I am really, really sorry,” she apologizes again. She’s standing up now, much like how Nayeon did, but in a hurried, panicking way.
She fixes her cap, checks whatever is behind the tree— or whoever is not— and then sighs audibly as if relieved there’s nothing there.
She’s towering over Momo. Much like how Nayeon did back then. Her figure is against the sun. Much like how Nayeon’s was back then.
“I hope you can forgive me for that interruption,” she says. Maybe it’s the sun blinding Momo’s eyes, but the girl is smiling, sweetly, like she’s used to apologizing like this and gets away with it every time. She bites her bottom lip, probably to make it more effective. “Or, better, forget that I was ever here.”
And then she’s jogging off. Much like how Nayeon did a while ago. Momo lets out a breath she was holding.
The fuck.
+++
It was another uneventful day. That’s what Momo wishes she could tell Nayeon later, when they’re finally watching television while talking about whatever comes to mind.
But apparently, today was meant to be— at the very least— interesting.
“Oh, right, yes.” Mr. Sato pauses his lecture when someone knocks at the door.
All heads follow the sound.
“I am pleased to announce that we will be joined by a very special… student this semester,” Mr. Sato says. Momo likes him and his checkered shirts. His little beard looks funny. He’s in his 50s, she guesses, and always talks in ellipsis. Like there’s something he’s not saying, something he’s omitting, and he wants the whole room to wait. “Do I get the pleasure of introducing Her Royal Highness or does she want to do it herself?”
He’s holding out his arm towards the half-opened door. The rest of the students go mute, trying to see who’s on the other side and thinking if this is another one of their professor’s ambiguous speeches. Or maybe this is a scene from a movie and they have to guess where it’s from. For a moment, there was this long, pregnant pause so deafening that Momo’s ears almost rang.
The door fully opens. Mr. Sato bows his head. When he thought that wasn’t enough, he bowed a whole 90-degrees.
Before the pause came to an end, there was only the girl that Momo encountered earlier, walking through the door.
She took her time going up the platform then removed her cap slowly, which messed up her ponytail just a bit. Now Momo can see that her eyes are, indeed, light brown; so light that Momo can see her pupils. Her hair is dark red. Auburn. And her lips— Momo was right about it— were pinkish, much like her cheeks. Her skin is fair, and she’s tall, and her posture is perfect. She’s the definition of the word perfect, actually.
“Your Highness,” Mr. Sato says, head still in a bow.
It’s not that Momo was interested in politics or royalties— clearly, she’s not, because how the hell did she not recognize the crown princess of Japan when she was face-to-face with her a while ago— she just couldn’t help but savor the slight blush on the princess’s cheeks when their eyes inevitably met.
“Hello,” the princess greets everyone. She doesn’t bow. She doesn’t wave. Unlike how normal people usually do when they introduce themselves. How rude. Momo brushes off the thought. She’s not just another person. So maybe that’s valid. “My name is Minatozaki Sana.”
Her eyes land in the second row. The row where Momo is seated.
“I suppose you already knew that.” Princess Sana smiles softly and bites her lip. “You may or may not have heard many things about me, considering that Pa— the Emperor, His Majesty— seldom showed his daughter to the public. Never, I think? Once or twice?”
She’s so nice to look at. That’s what Momo is thinking. She’s got the whole room captivated. As a film major with an equal obsession for photography, Momo knows what beauty looks like. And this is it.
“In any case, there is one thing I want to ask of you, if that is alright and if it isn’t too much,” the princess says. She looks at Momo again. “I hope you will not treat me differently from how you treat your friends and classmates.”
To Momo, it screamed: Please, for the love of God, all of you stop looking at me like how you’re doing now.
Just then, one brave girl from the back says, “How can we not give you special treatment when— hold on— 1, 2, 3,.. ah, twelve of your men are outside this building? Is there an imminent war that we average people don’t know of?”
Princess Sana looked to where the girl was pointing. There are suited men outside, having a good view of the class from the window. Some are pressing a finger in their ear, seemingly reporting whatever they are seeing.
They look… silly.
“Four are outside this room, guarding like we’d even dare go near you,” the girl adds with a scoff. She crosses her arms, obviously unimpressed.
The princess closes her eyes for a short second and inhales slowly as if preparing a mental speech. Momo remembers how this girl breathed in her scent, and how she did the same. She shudders at the memory.
“There will be days where I will be surrounded by security,” the princess reveals. Momo must have imagined it, but she seemed like she was cringing. “Actually, the entire university is surrounded at this very moment.”
Heads turn to the windows, checking again how many men there are. Checking the sky to see if there are helicopters. Checking the parking lot to see if there are bulletproof vehicles or military tanks. The princess doesn’t sound like she’s boasting about this at all. In fact, she sounds irritated.
“It can be too much, I am aware. I do apologize for now. The Emperor can be very protective. Still, like I said, I hope you do not make my presence a big deal.” Her voice is calm and well-modulated as if she was trained to talk in front of people since she was able to speak. As if her first word as a toddler was not something common like mama or dada, but something far more sophisticated. “Or, better— if you can and if you must— forget that I am here.”
No one answers her for a while. What do you say to that? It sounded like a command. All anyone can do is agree.
Not one soul spoke. Until Mr. Sato. “Your Highness—”
“And please do not address me that way,” she interrupts. Her manners have been shit so far, though she speaks more politely than anyone Momo’s ever talked to. “I prefer to be called Sana. Just Sana. I insist you forgo the formalities.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Mr. Sato replies. He leans his body on the table, looking at the princess. Like what he does when he’s waiting for a student’s oral report to be over. “You are a royal after all, the crown princess at that, so I feel that I must observe proper etiquette. And that includes my speech. If I don’t… Well, I’m not sure. No one has ever tried to talk down to a royalty before. I have no plans of becoming the first one. I can be fired. Worse, perhaps, banished?”
There’s humor in there, but he’s just being honest. Someone snickers from the fourth row. Momo notices the ring on the princess’s finger as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Princess Sana smiles, followed by a single and subtle nod. “Then I guess, like always, nothing is mine to decide.”
Momo doesn’t know what that means.
Mr. Sato smiles back, something in his eyes. Apology? Pity? He breathes in. “That’s settled.” Claps once. “You can sit wherever you like, Your Highness.”
And then Princess Sana walks towards a seat.
She’s going to the second row.
Her eyes are back on Momo. Maybe her stare hasn’t left Momo since she entered the room.
Mr. Sato starts talking, but everyone’s attention is still on the princess.
“Hi,” she says in a whisper, like they’re having a secret conversation. She wears a small smile as she towers over Momo. Her figure is against the light. “It’s not taken, is it?”
This is beauty. This is it. This—
“Is not taken, Princess,” the boy behind Momo answers for her. He’s grinning ear to ear, pushing the empty chair closer to Momo’s side so it would be closer to him, too. “It’s an honor to be in the same class as you.”
“Thank you.” She raises her brow and smiles. As she sat, she put her bag on the floor just beside Momo’s chair.
Momo tries to focus on what Mr. Sato is saying. She really does. But the princess is leaning towards her, saying, “I’m sorry”— the little strands of hair on Momo’s nape stand up, like the princess commanded them to do just that— “but do you know what he is talking about?”
Momo turned to the sound of her voice, and for one second, their faces were only centimeters away from each other and— shit. Momo’s chair screeched from how far she backed away.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Hirai?” Mr. Sato asks.
“Huh? No.” Momo stutters. She glances at the princess whose back is now against her own chair, and it seems she’s biting her tongue as if to stop herself from full-on laughing at Momo’s demise. “No, sir. Everything’s fine.”
Mr. Sato clears his throat and continues, “As I was saying, all of you will have to submit one project for my class. Just one. I want to see it by the end of this semester. Your grades will depend on it. That means you have to do it, and you have to do it well…”
He picks the worst time to use the ellipsis.
The students wait. Nothing. A girl in front raises her hand.
“Yes? You have a question,” Mr. Sato acknowledges.
“Sir, you haven’t specified what we’re going to do.”
Mr. Sato looks at the class with passive eyes. His eyes are saying: really? Do I even need to?
“Right, yes.” Mr. Sato scratches his beard. “You’re in Film class. And most of you major in Film, am I right?”
Some students nod. Momo notices how the princess is listening attentively.
“Right, right… Hmm.” Mr. Sato puts his hands behind his back, deep in thought. “So, then, a short film would be appropriate. Yes?”
“Sir,” another student asks, “are we supposed to do it individually or may we group ourselves?”
Mr. Sato laughs.
“It’s 20 minutes long, Mr. Shio. You’re in your third year now. You know very well how difficult production can be.”
“So… that means we can divide ourselves into groups…?”
Mr. Sato sighs like he’s tired of the naivety circulating inside the room.
“Filmmakers do whatever it takes to accomplish a production,” he says, not answering the question. “Whether it be solo or the whole town’s project…”
Momo wants to pull his tongue out.
“I’m saying you are allowed to ask for help,” he finally explains, “if you know you can’t do it alone.”
The bell rings. Mr. Sato reminds them to check their emails from time to time; he will be sending all the instructions there and some more handouts.
Momo was out the door in seconds, just like everybody else.
Except someone grabs her wrist lightly. It’s both warm and feather-like. A voice follows simultaneously and calls, “Ms. Hirai.”
Momo freezes, looking at the hand wrapped around her skin.
“I’m sorry,” the princess retracts her hold just as quickly. “The entire class heard him call your name.”
“Do you need anything?” Momo asks. She wishes it didn’t come out as harsh. But, also, she almost said: please don’t ever touch me again. So maybe what came out was a much better reply.
Princess Sana raises her brow, bites her lip, and smiles. All in three seconds. Jesus.
“Shouldn’t we be partners?”
Momo turns her body unconsciously as if it innately knows that the princess’s presence should rightfully be acknowledged with utmost attention.
“Pardon?”
The princess laughs. It may have been just a soft huff of breath. “For the project he was talking about.”
Momo is irked by the way she is calling the professor just ‘he’ and not addressing him properly.
“Yes, I got that part.” Momo shifts her weight on one foot. “You said shouldn’t, like I have an obligation to work with you. Which I don’t.”
The princess stares at her. Tilts her head. Raises her brow. Smiling. God, will she stop doing that?
“Not you, but I.”
“Huh?”
The room is empty except for them. The princess steps closer. Momo stays where she is. They are one tile apart. Still far. But then again, Momo has never been close to anyone except Nayeon.
“I have an obligation to work with you.” Confusion must’ve been etched on Momo’s face and it must’ve looked funny because the princess is laughing once more. This time it shows a bit of her teeth. And it’s pretty. “Be my partner. I believe I owe you.”
She said it as if it’s Momo’s pleasure.
+++
“And did you agree?”
Nayeon plops down on their couch while opening a can of soda. A movie is playing on the TV.
Momo hums.
“What do you mean hmm?” Nayeon asks. “Tell me what happened. How are you going to do the project?”
Momo thinks about it. She also told Nayeon about her first encounter with the princess.
“We haven’t gotten around that part. Besides, isn’t it too early to prepare?”
“Don’t tell me you will procrastinate?”
“I won’t.”
“Stalling?”
“I’m not. I’m just thinking of what to do. Mr. Sato’s instructions were really vague.” Momo groans into the throw pillow. “Why did she even choose me? Hasn’t she bothered me enough?”
“She bothers you?” Nayeon says teasingly while poking her sides. “Someone’s got a little crush.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Momo playfully kicks Nayeon’s thigh. “And I do not. I don’t do crushes.”
“Yeah, that I know.” Nayeon laughs. “Are you still watching?”
Momo shakes her head. Nayeon turns off the TV and stands up.
“Sleepy?” Momo asks.
“It’s midnight. Had a long day.” Nayeon yawns. She’s heading towards the toilet. “Staying up?”
“No.” Momo follows her. “Where’d you go today?”
Nayeon pauses by the door. Momo bumps into her slightly and automatically puts her hands on Nayeon’s waist. It was only fleeting. They are the same height.
Nayeon shrugs. “Somewhere.”
“Okay…” Momo trails.
Nayeon laughs again and it echoes in the room. Momo grabs her toothbrush by the sink.
“Some privacy please?” Nayeon’s fingers are on her waistband, ready to take her shorts down.
“Oh. Sorry. Thought you were gonna brush, too.”
Momo waits by the door when Nayeon closes it.
“I was with my parents,” she says. Momo nods even though she knows Nayeon can’t see it. They were here? “And some other people.”
Momo waits. She hears the flush and the vent. And the disinfectant spray.
“We should really get separate showers and toilets. I read on the internet that brushes get so dirty when they are in the same space as toilets. I think we should move to a bigger place. What do you say?”
Momo looks around their dorm. It’s so big. Nayeon just doesn’t have anything to spend her money on right now. The last time she was this bored (last month), she bought a brand new refrigerator with a touchscreen to draw silly things on.
“I guess.” They’ve only been here two years. “Do you want to move?”
Nayeon opens the door.
“I kinda want to buy my own place instead of renting this dorm.”
They don’t have neighbors. It’s convenient because it’s inside the campus. Momo doesn’t have any reason to leave. She shrugs, mirroring what Nayeon did.
“Your money, your call. I won’t have to go with you.”
Nayeon frowns. Of course she has to. They’re roommates.
“And what? Take your lonely, three-hour-long train trips again?”
Momo wets her toothbrush. “I like trains. It’s not lonely.”
Nayeon leans by the doorframe, crossing her arms and raising her brow. Momo puts the paste on her brush.
“What?” She asks, the toothbrush in her mouth.
Nayeon shakes her head, a small smile forming. It takes her a while to answer as she stares at her roommate’s side profile. Momo sings the Happy Birthday song in her head while brushing. She reaches one and a half loops until Nayeon speaks again.
“I won’t let you go, you know.”
Momo turns to her. The song abruptly stops. She’s glad she has Nayeon. But really, she’s not lonely. She gargles twice and spits the foam. Nayeon just watches. It’s the most mundane thing, Momo standing there doing her routine, yet Nayeon is so happy that she’s spending the first hours of the day with a good person. It’s simple bliss.
“I can’t afford a bigger place.” Momo wipes her mouth. “You know.”
“And I don’t need your money.” Nayeon grins. “You know.”
Momo rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know. You remind me all the time.”
Nayeon stands straight, uncrossing her arms and opening them wide instead. Even now, as they prepare for bed, Momo can see that everything she’s in totals to a thousand dollars. She’s wearing a Gucci pajama top partnered with silk shorts of the same brand, and on her wrist is that Balenciaga scrunchie she never actually uses.
Momo doesn’t move.
“Come here,” Nayeon states the obvious thing to do. Momo’s eyes are naturally wide, like a puppy’s. Nayeon laughs because it just got bigger. She’s not really asking for too much, but since Momo never liked skinship, maybe she is. “Will you give me a hug, Momo.”
It didn’t sound like a question, so Momo steps closer, letting Nayeon wrap her arms around her body. She places her chin on Nayeon’s shoulder.
For a moment, short and steady, it was just their breathing. It’s their first real hug.
“This is what the princess felt when she hugged you?” Nayeon giggles in her ear. Because everything’s funny for Nayeon. Even this stiff embrace. “What do I do with you?”
Momo doesn’t say anything. Nayeon sighs.
“You move, I move.” Momo feels Nayeon’s chest vibrate, her voice clear and soft at the same time. “You’re my family.” She brushes Momo’s hair with her fingertips. “I already found a place.” Of course she did. “Short drive from here, I promise. We’ll see it next weekend. You can pay the same amount of rent. If you don’t like it, I won’t sign the papers.”
Momo contemplates. There’s only one thing she needs to ask. “Don’t you like sharing a room with me?”
She doesn’t know where that came from.
Nayeon ends the hug, gently poking Momo’s nose, then lets her hands fall down Momo’s arms.
“I said we should have separate showers and toilets,” Nayeon clarifies. She wrinkles her own nose, closing the gap between hers and Momo’s. It made Momo cross her eyes, which in turn made Nayeon giggle. “Okay for you?”
Momo takes a glance at their dorm. It’s big. It’s enough. We can still share everything. We don’t have to get separate ones.
“Yeah,” she agrees instead. “Okay for me.”
+++
+++
“Mother,” Sana greets. She kisses her cheek. “You summoned me?”
The Empress drinks her tea while standing up, gesturing for her daughter to sit. Sana declines when she gets served cookies. She’s not staying anyway. It’s mostly quiet except for the chirping of birds. The Empress is most beautiful in the garden, wearing her jumper and that same old sun hat. She has smile lines on her face, hair tied in a messy bun, hands dirty with soil. It makes Sana happy.
“I did,” the Empress replies. She walks to a pot nearby and plucks off a browning leaf. “How was your first week? Or the first two days.”
Her mother puts her hands behind her back, attention still on her plants. Sana comes to her side and links their arms together.
“Good,” she says, trying not to sound too giddy. “I like the place. They have a six-story library. And very pretty trees. I was given a tour by the Dean himself.”
The Empress laughs, throwing her head back and pausing their walk for a second. She looks so much like Sana.
“Trees?” She asks, turning to her daughter. “My dear, if you wanted to see pretty trees, I would have given you a piece of land. Or some forest where you can play. Not allow you to throw yourself into a college university, with all their hectic schedules and whatnot.”
Sana drags her mother’s arm, pushing them to walk again. The Empress puts her hand above her daughter’s, tapping the ring each step they take.
“I love it. The people are nice, too.” Sana sighs contentedly. “So far, it isn’t so difficult. Thank you for letting me experience this.”
Her mother hums. “As long as you keep your promise.”
Sana doesn’t answer. They reach the three-tier fountain in the middle of the garden. The sun is shining on it so perfectly that the water glitters.
“There is one thing though,” Sana says after a while. Her mother stops to look at her again. “My guards.”
The Empress rolls her eyes, knowing what’s coming next.
“No.”
“But… Mama,” Sana whines.
“No,” her mother tuts. Sana makes another noise. “Oh shush.”
“I do not need that many.” Sana is tempted to stomp her feet but that would be unbecoming. “I had about fifty guards following me on the first day that I even had to—” She remembers what she did, how embarrassing it was to hug someone so suddenly just so she could escape security. “I even had to politely ask them to go away.”
“I would say Mr. Park did very well then.”
“Mr. Park was overreacting. They practically swarmed the university. It was suffocating. And I received so many looks, no one dared to come near me.”
“I thought you said the people were nice? Don’t make it sound so bad. Mr. Park is only obeying your father’s wishes,” the Empress argues. She walks ahead and leaves Sana’s side. “The Head of Security must follow the Commander-in-Chief. And who is Commander-in-Chief?”
“The Emperor,” Sana answers, familiar with this line of questions.
“Your father wants you safe. And who is your father?”
“The Emperor.”
“The Emperor has helped many people and has fought many just the same. For various reasons, his family is considered— and assumed— in danger at all times. And who is his family?”
Sana wanted to groan. But, again, that would be unbecoming.
“The Emperor’s wife and their daughter.”
“And who is—”
“It is you and I, the Empress and the Princess.”
Her mother smiles. “Good.”
Sana runs to her side again. “I am not saying I should not have security, though the thought is rather lovely,” she says, using her last bit of talent in negotiation. “I just want them to be… subtle.”
The Empress shakes her head, finding her daughter’s problem incurable.
“Mother, you should have seen them in their black suits under the scorching sun.” Sana’s tone is borderline begging. “They looked ridiculous.”
“Minatozaki Sana,” her mother reprimands, checking if there are guards around. Sana presses her lips together. “We don’t talk like that about our people.”
Sana huffs like a child.
“Mother, please. It makes people anxious seeing that many royal guards. It makes me anxious. They can stay by the gates, but there is no need to follow me everywhere. You understand, right?”
The Empress brushes a strand of Sana’s hair. Sana’s eyes flutter.
“Alright,” her mother says. Sana lights up. “I hate how you have gotten so much better at persuasion. We can use this for international trades, Sana, but not against family.”
Sana shrieks and tackles her mother in an embrace.
“I will talk to the Emperor. Try to compromise.” She pats Sana’s back. “But they will be there. Even if you cannot see them. We are just being careful. You are royalty. The crown princess. My princess.”
“I know,” she answers and holds her mother’s hand in hers. “You remind me every day.”
The Empress stares at their hands. At the ring. Sana retracts slowly.
“How are the preparations?” Her mother asks. “Anything I can help you with?”
Sana’s smile falters. She forces it to come back. “No, I can manage on my own.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“I trust you.” The Empress leaves a kiss on her forehead. “But if you’re—”
Sana’s phone rings. Thank God for her perfect timing.
“It’s Mina. We’re going to the stables.” She bows, already waving and walking away.
“Sana, I am still—”
“Love you, Mama!” Sana runs. “Tell father that I only need two guards! Preferably those who can dress nicely!”
And she will run after this, and then more after, like it’s the only thing she’s good at.
+++
Ever since they were in diapers, Mina and Sana have always been inseparable. It’s like, where one goes, the other follows, and they work well that way. Sana is only a year older and, being an only child, feels blessed that she has a best friend and a sister rolled into one. Even if they aren’t related by blood, the Myoi and Minatozaki royal clans are so tightly knit that they could pass as one actual family.
Of course, it started with business and politics. Mr. Myoi is the Emperor’s most trustworthy adviser, and the smartest, most tactical man Sana’s ever met— sometimes it scares her how Mr. Myoi has an answer to everything. Mrs. Myoi is just as bright; the Emperor’s reliable speech writer and sole speaker. When she’s the one at the podium relaying the Emperor’s words to his people, she might as well be the one to lead. She is also a proud lawyer— too proud that she kept encouraging Mina to study the same— so there aren’t really many flaws in Mrs. Myoi’s character.
Mina encapsulates all her parents’ traits and more, that Sana always said she is the better princess out of them two (out of all the clans) and should become the future leader of their country, because she’s Mina and she fits the title and she might just become the best Empress this world has ever known.
Mina, in turn— because she’s kind and humble and perfect and nice— always waved her off, saying there is no one and nothing better than two intelligent princesses combined. She and Sana will be just like the Emperor and Mr. Myoi, ruling their people hand-in-hand, joined together to fill whatever the other lacked. They are not different; rather, are each other.
Sana knows that her and Mina’s relationship is beyond the Crown. They grew up running around the palace’s halls, taking the same ‘Princess 101’ lessons (as Mina coined it), and sharing Sana’s queen-sized bed after a long day of running with the horses. Throughout all the eras, there has always been a Myoi to a Minatozaki, and that is planned to continue for the next generations.
It goes without saying that Minatozaki Sana is very thankful for her Myoi Mina. And she shows that gratitude a lot.
“I know you can buy anything you want in the world,” Sana says as she adjusts the light necklace around Mina’s neck, “but I wanted you to have something that’s from me.”
The pendant rests between the collars of Mina’s vest. She smiles whilst looking down at the heart-shaped Swarovski Aquamarine, her own birthstone. The black gloves she’s wearing are a huge contrast to the shimmering color of Sana’s gift.
“It’s beautiful,” she comments shyly. Sana is also smiling when she meets her eyes. “Thank you. I will never take it off.”
Sana laughs and adjusts Mina’s helmet. Their horses neigh beside them, asking for attention.
“Ready?” She asks, and Mina nods happily.
As they race in the open fields, Sana’s mind tries its best to stray from what she is and what awaits her. Just like Mina’s, her hands are covered with gloves, hiding whatever is underneath. One finger feels heavy, and so does her heart. She breathes deeply in an attempt to center her focus on what is in front of her, but to no avail.
“Sana!” Mina shouts. “Wrong way!”
Sana abruptly pushes back, making her horse stand on two legs. “Woah, easy, easy.”
She almost fell on the nearby creek.
Mina comes to her quickly. “Hey,” she says, panting, “okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sana nods, brushing her hand on the horse’s mane. Mina admires this side of her; when she prioritizes others’ welfare. “Cotton must’ve been surprised,” she adds as she tends to the horse’s— Cotton’s— nervousness. “Sorry, bud. I wasn’t looking where we were going.”
“We should head back.” Mina notices how distracted she looks. She can try to cheer her up. “My castle or yours?”
+++
“Tell me what is on that pretty mind.”
Mina sits on the long couch, holding a mug of hot chocolate. They are in their pajamas, in Sana’s quarters.
“I hate to disappoint you, but”— Sana knocks on her temple— “hear that? Hollow. Empty.”
“On the contrary, it is so loud and full I can almost hear it.” Mina watches as Sana blows the chocolate, letting the smoke come out, and finally sips. “You nearly fell face-first today. I know that space is overflowing.”
Her best friend shakes her head, not wanting to talk.
“Do you want to hear mine first?”
Sana places her drink on the table, facing Mina fully. “Please.”
Mina sighs as she also puts down her drink and looks out the window. It’s nighttime and the sky is lit only by the moon’s shine.
“I’m engaged.”
“You’re what?!” Not even a second late.
“Quiet down.” She turns to Sana, giggling at her reaction. They sound like children.
“Soundproof walls.” Sana moves closer. “How did this happen? Engaged? Since when? And to whom? Do I know them? Mina, this is something you say when you see me first thing in the morning. Like, ‘Sana, darling, headline news: I am betrothed.’ No?”
Mina rolls her eyes. “This is really not as important as you claim it to be.”
She crosses her legs in front of Sana, getting more comfortable.
“I care very much about whatever happens to you, whether or not you consider it important.” Sana leans sideways, elbow propped and cradling her own head on the couch. “I will be your bridesmaid if it pushes, that is the only thing I am claiming. Don’t I deserve to know at least a tiny pinch of the details?”
Mins shrugs nonchalantly. “Really, it is just an engagement.”
Sana scoffs as if offended. “Which often leads to marriage!”
“Goodness, be quiet!” Mina pushes her shoulder. “The entire palace does not have to know just yet.”
“And why is that?” Sana teases. “Is he not someone to be proud of?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Mina answers, “if she is someone I can be proud of.”
Sana pauses. “She?”
Mina nods timidly. “I only know her name.”
“How come?”
Sana tucks Mina’s hair behind her ear, tracing down to her jaw. Mina closes her eyes.
“My father is funding— supporting— this new politician,” she explains. “They built a partnership; he needs influence, father wants… You know, hands in countries where we can expand our reach.”
Sana looks at her in understanding. Of course she knows.
“So he found a wealthy and idealistic Korean businessman whose daughter is around our age.” Mina lets out a breath. “It’s my father, he sees all the probabilities. It will be good for us, he said. For both parties. Mother did not say anything. I think the Emperor was in on it, too.”
“Did they at least give you a choice?” When Sana was met with silence, she pulled her best friend in an embrace. “Oh, Mina, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t. It isn’t your fault.”
Sana frowns and Mina settles in the hug, moving so her back is against Sana’s front. Suddenly, the couch is the safest place on Earth.
“What is it about princesses and their sad arrangements?” Sana kisses the top of Mina’s head. The latter mindlessly plays with their intertwined fingers. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. I can try to talk to them, if you ask me to.”
Mina hums. “I’ll be okay.” She turns her head to see Sana’s eyes. “Just be there beside me, with me… as I take every step towards her.”
“Of course.” Sana smiles, kissing Mina’s cheek. “She marries you, she marries me.”
Silence envelops them, just letting their situations sink in.
“Are you going to be sad when you finally say the words?” Mina asks, eyeing Sana’s ring as she fiddles with it. It’s innocent. But Sana wants to avoid the question. “You do not have to talk about it, but I wish you would open up to me, too.”
“Haruto is a nice boy,” Sana replies, burying her face in Mina’s hair. She smells of jasmine, like always. “But that is all he will ever be to me— a boy.”
Mina giggles, her smile gummy and adorable. “I can’t say I don’t think the same.”
“Right? I refuse to call him by his title. Yamazaki Haruto, Prince of what?” Sana laughs with her, biting her bottom lip. “All I remember is him in his baby trousers, running half-naked whilst he chased ducks.”
“Stop, he can be charming,” Mina argues in a lighthearted tone. “He is your friend. You can learn to love him.”
“Can I?” Sana doesn’t really have much choice either. At least Mina can marry a non-royal. The crown princess should only be tied to someone of the same status. “Must I?”
“Have to,” Mina says, thinking the same for her.
+++
“Hi.”
Momo approaches the princess in the library. They’re on the 3rd floor, somewhere in the corner where no one could see. Momo clears her throat when the princess doesn’t acknowledge her. She’s wearing wireless earphones.
Momo comes closer as a last attempt, and the princess flinches in response. She removes her earphones.
“Hi,” Momo says again. It’s been three weeks since they last saw each other. The princess rarely goes to school. “Sorry to bother you. May I…?”
The princess gestures for her to sit. Momo does so in front of her. They are between shelves, seated on the floor. Momo looks at the princess; today she’s wearing a hoodie much bigger than her body, this along with some jeans. She has reading glasses on, and she let her hair down. Her hair is wavy, with little curls just before their strands end. She looks nothing like a royal, not that royals have a standard outfit. But she looks…
“Yes?” The princess snaps her out.
Momo shakes her head. She was staring, wasn’t she?
“Oh, uh…” Momo feels stupid. The princess nods for her to continue. “About the project.”
The princess frowns. Momo figures she forgot her face. Of course. Stupid.
“You don’t remember.” Momo offers her hand. The princess stares at it. “Hirai Momo. We take Film class together.”
Another moment, and then, a sweet chuckle.
Momo’s hand stays in the middle of them. Stupid. Stupid. Stup—
“I do remember,” the princess cuts through her thoughts. She has her bottom lip in between her teeth— only for a second, though it didn’t pass Momo. “I was reading. It just took me a while to process what project you were pertaining to. But thank you for that cute introduction. Now I need not ask your first name.”
Cute?
“Okay.” Momo clears her throat. The princess removes her glasses. “Good. You remember me.”
“It is not because of the class,” the princess adds, “but something that happened before.”
Is she crazy? “What?”
The princess shakes her head, smiling that soft smile of hers.
“I am still sorry for that.” Her eyes are so light. Momo blames the sun peeking through the library’s windows, just beside the shelves. She looks almost ethereal. In a goddamn hoodie. “I will do my best to help. I assume you can lead?”
Momo could choke, but she keeps that embarrassment to herself. “Me? Leading you?”
Princess Sana raises her brow. “You have more experience. This is my first year.”
“First year?” Momo is thoroughly surprised. “Sorry, how old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” the princess answers, glad that Momo actually knows not a thing about her.
“We’re the same age. Did you stop college for a while?”
“I did not go to college per se, but I have long finished my studies. At least everything I needed to learn; history, law, language, economics, science, politics, et cetera.” The princess shifts, closing the book she was reading a while ago. “And now, filming.”
“Who chooses to study film after finishing all those courses you mentioned?”
The princess stands up, gathering her belongings. Momo waits for her to say something.
“I guess because you are the princess you can study whatever you want. Or everything you need. Though I don’t get why you want to study film,” Momo mumbles under her breath. She follows the princess’s action, thinking of what she should say next and how she will propose her idea about the project. When she finally stands to meet her, the princess’s hand is between them. “What is that?”
“Partnership,” she says. Momo wonders how it would feel to hold her hand. They already hugged. How is this kind of touch any different? “Minatozaki Sana.”
Momo takes it. Holds it. Warm.
“Sana.” The princess smiles at her. It must be the sun peeking through the library’s windows. Human eyes can't be this light. This pretty. “Just Sana, if that is okay.”
Who asks permission about that?
+++
“A documentary?” The princess— Sana, just Sana— asks while covering her mouth. They’re eating sandwiches, sitting on a bench just outside one building of the school. “That is what you want to do?”
“Yes, a documentary,” Momo answers, sipping on red iced tea. “About your life.”
Sana chews quietly. Momo wonders if she spends all her days like this. So quiet. Always thinking and staring and biting her lip and doing that thing with her eyebrows and smiling sweetly and—
Sana swallows her last bite, folding the wrapper and keeping it in her bag.
“Do you have other ideas?”
Momo shakes her head, looking far ahead as she returns the question, “Do you have other ideas? It’s just the two of us. This is the perfect solution, and it would be less challenging because the production doesn't have to be too huge.”
The last bit wouldn’t be a problem, Momo knows. She’s partnered with a princess for god’s sake.
“Can’t we make others help us?”
“I already asked a few. You can’t just make them help you. This is college. People have other stuff to do,” Momo says matter-of-factly. Sana raises her brow, staring at her with curious eyes; it looks as if she’s asking, oh, is that what college is like? Momo almost apologized, but she sighs instead. “Look, all of our classmates have grouped already. And no one is actually willing to be in the same group as…”
Sana nods in understanding, mashing her lips together.
“Sorry,” Momo says sincerely. “You’re not always here in school. They have their reasons.”
“I am only allowed two days. Sometimes none.” Sana breathes in and exhales, clasping her hands and placing them on her knee. “Is that okay for you?”
She sounds like Nayeon. Momo doesn’t know what that means.
“The project I thought of is centered around you,” she tells Sana. “I don’t think I have much of a choice now.”
Both of them were quiet for a moment. Momo really hopes Sana would just agree. It would be just like vlogging, but… royal style? Telling the story of the crown princess. Never before seen clips. It’s genius.
“Okay.”
Momo almost snapped her neck. “Okay?”
“Yes,” Sana decides. “Where shall we start?”
She hasn’t really thought about that. Momo thought she’d say no.
“I don’t know. Research?”
Sana rolls her eyes, another smile. Oh God, she’s pretty. “I am the source, Momo. Unless you want your documentary to be filled with baseless information.”
“Right.” Momo scratches her nape. This is another stupid thing to say. “Then, twenty questions?”
“Twenty questions?”
No drinking games among the royals? “I ask you something and you answer.”
Sana raises her brow again.
Momo waits. Sana stands up.
“I cannot divulge anything too personal, nor anything about the Imperial Family,” she finally says. Momo expected that. “Somewhere we can be alone. Do you know any place like that?”
Momo looks behind the princess, the twelfth floor of the building looking down at them.
“Yeah,” Momo says, unsure. “I have to text my roommate first.”
+++
They go past twenty questions.
Momo offered Sana some tea, and realized that she and Nayeon never really bought actual teacups. Their storage is just coffee mugs and tumblers they got from online shops.
Thankfully, Momo notices, the princess doesn’t seem to mind. They are chatting in the living room. The princess— Momo notices another thing— seems to like sitting on the floor.
“Okay, so that’s done. I think we can now brainstorm how we should approach your story. I might ask you other things along the way.” Momo checks the notepad on her lap. She internally curses for not writing on her laptop instead. “Let me get my laptop and type all this in.”
Momo disappears through the door. Sana stands up, stretches, and admires the clean space. She runs a hand through her hair and crosses her arms, walking towards a framed painting of two birds leaning on each other.
“My roommate likes that artist.” Momo comes back, laptop in hand. She notices Sana’s messy hair. She’s noticing too many things. “She says those birds look like us. This is her.”
Momo points at the many pictures of her and Nayeon in photobooths.
Sana smiles. “I can see the resemblance.”
“I don’t,” Momo says, confused.
Sana giggles.
“What?”
Sana shakes her head.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Momo asks her, turning her body fully. It’s always like this with the princess.
She only says what she needs to say. Does what she needs to do.
Sana shrugs, arms crossed and still smiling. “Shall we continue?”
Momo checks her watch, sure that it’s way past the princess’s curfew. If she has that. “It’s getting late.”
Sana puts out a phone from her back pocket, looking at the time. It sheds a bit of blue light on her face and Momo realizes that only the lamp in the living room is on. The dorm’s lighting is warm, a mix of brown and orange because of the sunset rays coming in from the glass window. It makes the whole place look serene.
Momo wants to take a picture.
“Is that okay for you?” Sana asks her suddenly. She sounds like Nayeon. Like they need to make sure Momo is fine with what they are doing.
She was staring again. Wasn’t she? All day?
“Do you need to ask me anything else?” The princess turns to Momo so they are facing each other. They’re only half a tile apart. She can almost smell her perfume. “Momo?”
“Huh?” Momo shakes her head. “I mean, yeah, it’s okay. We can continue next time.”
Sana licks her lips. But only a little. She’s giving Momo her phone. The band wrapped around her finger is what Momo wants to ask about.
“I am not sure when the next time will be,” she says softly, staring at a mole on Momo’s nose, and then moving up to Momo’s eyes. “I might not be here next week. I must prepare to welcome the arrival of South Korea’s Vice President and his fellow associates.”
Momo doesn’t care about politics. But she’s savoring this. How Sana’s attention is on her.
“What’s that?” She manages to ask, now looking at Sana’s phone in between them.
Sana smiles. That smile again. “Partnership,” she says, handing the phone to Momo. Her voice is soft, like this is another secret conversation. Like a royal guard is listening and Sana will be taken away if she asks for this too loudly. “Your number. Email. Whatever means to contact you.”
Momo puts in both.
+++