As she felt awkward then...
Dila’s thoughts were still tangled when suddenly, Jade reached forward. His hand moved gently, without force, as if to offer comfort. He extended it toward her right hand, which was still pressed over the plate against her chest.
But the mont his fingers brushed close, Dila’s body reacted before her mind could catch up. She stepped back sharply, her blue eyes flashing wide, and with a swift motion she slapped his hand away.
"Don’t touch !" Her voice rang out, sharp and edged with sothing far heavier than irritation. Her eyes widened further, almost trembling, as if the re contact had left her disgusted... tainted.
The entire canteen seed to freeze. Fran gasped softly, startled, her plate wobbling in her hands as her ears drooped low, her tail curling close to her legs. Her bright expression dimd instantly into worry as she stared at her sister, too shocked to move.
Jade’s hand lingered in the air where she had struck it away. He didn’t pull back in anger, nor did his face twist with offense. Instead, his erald eyes widened with quiet surprise... not worry, not frustration, but a simple, searching question. He stood there, still as if waiting for an answer she hadn’t given.
Dila blinked rapidly, her heart thundering in her chest. What have I done? The thought clawed at her, and she glanced side to side, her vision catching the small clusters of nobles who had begun to murmur.
"See? The Princess can cut your head if you interact with her..." one whispered.
"Yeah... maybe the rumors are true after all..." another muttered, their voice laced with mocking certainty.
The words rippled like poison through the elegant canteen hall. But Dila didn’t care. Her face darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. She tilted her chin slightly, her silver hair casting a faint shadow over her expression.
"Tch..." The sound slipped from her as she exhaled harshly through her nose, more to herself than to anyone else. Her grip on the plate tightened, her knuckles trembling faintly, as if she were holding onto it just to keep from unraveling in front of them all.
Dila’s voice fell to a mutter, small and brittle, but Jade and Fran heard it all the sa.
"It’s just... I’m afraid of being touched by a man..." she said, curling the plate against her chest as if it were a shield. She turned her back to them, shoulders tensing. Her fingers left pale crescent marks on the rim.
"For—" she stumbled, the words catching like broken glass. "Rember when I was... I— I was pinned by bandits when I was traveling to the academy. I... almost— you know... violated." The confession ca out in halting breaths, each one raw and small. She did not, and would not, say more.
Fran’s face collapsed into desperate worry. She stepped closer, voice trembling. "Please, sister... calm down. Don’t bring that up... you’ll just hurt yourself more." Her small hand hovered, unsure whether she could cross the line and touch or whether that would only make Dila flinch further.
Jade’s expression changed. Anger flared like a sudden shadow across his calm features. "Those bandits are insignificant," he said, voice low and sharp. He straightened, fists clenching. "If they ever touch you again... I will kill them." The words were fierce, hot with protective fury.
Dila’s reply was barely a whisper. "They’ve already been dealt with." Her voice went thin. "So were killed... even the boss." Her eyes flashed, not with triumph but with sothing colder. "There was... so much blood." She swallowed hard, the image settling heavy in her chest. Her face darkened as if a storm had passed over.
Around them, a clink of cutlery, a soft laugh—ordinary sounds that felt alien now. A few nobles glanced over, curiosity prickling the air like a faint wind. But Jade did not look away. Fran’s ears flattened in worry. Dila’s knuckles whitened as she pressed the plate harder to her ribs.
For a mont the three of them stood rooted in their small orbit—Fran with worry bright and imdiate, Jade with a quiet, dangerous promise, and Dila holding her fortress of plate and silence. Tears glimred at the edges of her eyes, not falling, as if she had no permission to let them go.
Finally Fran edged forward, voice a whisper only Dila could hear. "Sister... I’m here. I’ll stay by you rember." Her hand brushed Dila’s sleeve, tentative and full of pleading love.
Dila let out a breath that might have been a laugh or might have been a sob. She did not turn, but the tension in her shoulders loosened by the width of a hair. "Don’t make a show of it," she murmured, voice rough. "I don’t want pity."
Jade’s jaw tightened. He folded his hands, lowering his voice until it was almost respectful. "Understood," he said softly. "If you ever need anything... quietly... tell ." There was no bravado in it now. Only that steady quiet promise a shield can give.
Dila only gripped the plate harder, nails biting into the rim, and the canteen’s bright light suddenly felt both too warm and too cold.
Dila’s fingers finally loosened around the rim of the plate. The tremor in her grip faded, though the mark of her tension lingered in her knuckles. She drew in a quiet breath, steadied herself, and turned her eyes toward a lonely table near the corner of the canteen. Upon it sat only a basket of bread, plain and untouched.
"Let’s go, Fran," she said softly, her voice carrying a thin edge as if every word cost her strength. "To that table."
Fran’s ears flicked low, her bright cheer dimd into worry. She nodded gently, staying close to her sister without a word, her eyes never leaving Dila’s face.
Before Dila moved, she tilted her chin back toward Jade, her blue eyes sharp and unyielding despite the shadow of pain clouding them. "Jade... don’t you ever bother us again." The words struck like a blade—cold, defensive, ant to wound so he wouldn’t co closer.
Jade flinched, not from anger but from the weight of it. His erald eyes flickered with worry, and almost without thinking he extended a hand after her. "But... but..." His voice cracked with hesitation, thick with concern he couldn’t put into words.
Dila didn’t stop. Her silver hair shimred faintly as she walked away, plate pressed firmly against her chest as if it were armor. Each step was brisk, determined, as though if she slowed down, she might crumble.
She reached the table and sat down with Fran at her side. With rigid composure, she placed a single piece of bread onto her plate. The small, simple motion echoed in her mind far louder than it should have.
Her face darkened, her expression closing into itself. Though the bread sat before her, she didn’t reach for it right away. She only stared, as if her thoughts were leagues away, drowning in places neither Fran nor Jade could reach.
Fran sat beside her quietly, her tail curled close, her plate heavy with food yet untouched. She watched Dila’s shadowed face, her own lips pressed into a thin worried line, resisting the urge to break the silence.
Behind them, Jade remained standing where she had left him, his hand still faintly raised before it dropped back to his side. His brows furrowed, his lips parting as if to speak... but no words ca. The murmurs of nobles stirred faintly in the background, but all of it seed distant compared to the storm sitting across from Fran, trapped behind Dila’s bright yet broken mask.
But suddenly, unknowingly, Jade had begun walking very slowly toward their table, his steps almost hesitant. His erald eyes were filled with quiet worry and sothing that looked like pity as he watched them from the side.
anwhile, Fran was poking lightly at the food on her plate, slowly eating but clearly without any appetite. Her ears twitched slightly as she lowered her fork. She glanced at Dila with concern and then whispered, her voice almost trembling.
"Sister... do you really hate boys... or n in general?"
Dila’s face darkened at those words. Her hands rested tightly on her lap, fingers curling inward, and she ducked her head as if hiding her emotions from Fran. Her lips trembled before she finally answered in a low voice.
"It’s not like that... It’s just... I don’t like being touched by... by... by a man now because i-i-i rember sothing really bad that doesn’t suit my taste when i see his face even it’s not related."
Her voice cracked. She forced a small breath and then muttered, almost choking on her own words.
"Being a girl... it’s not an easy task. I thought... I thought they had it easy..."
Her shoulders stiffened as a shiver ran down her arms. Inside her mind, a storm was raging. What happened to my inner boy... is it lost already? Replaced by femininity completely?
She slowly raised her hand, staring at it under the faint glow of the dining hall lamps. Her gaze was filled with disgust as though the hand itself no longer belonged to her.
Fran’s ears drooped down, her fork slipping from her fingers as she leaned forward, her tail barely swaying anymore. Her voice ca out small, trembling, almost breaking.
"Sister... what do you an being a girl is not easy? You’ve been a girl your whole life... what’s gotten into you?"
The words struck Dila’s chest like a stone. Her lips parted, but only a faint whisper escaped, almost impossible to hear. Her blue eyes, shadowed and dark, stayed lowered as she muttered a single word.
"No..."
Fran blinked, her fork trembling slightly as she stared at her sister. Her voice ca out careful, almost fragile.
"Sister... what do you an no?"
Dila lowered her head further, her silver hair slipping forward to shadow her face. Her voice quivered, so soft it barely carried across the table, but each word shook Fran’s heart.
"Fran... as I said... you simply don’t understand... what I’ve been through."
The weight in her tone left a heavy silence lingering between them. Fran froze, her small hands resting against her lap. For a long mont, she didn’t touch her food now. Then her lips pressed together, and her eyes shimred with heat.
She pouted, her cheeks puffing just slightly with frustration, but her voice cracked as it rose.
"I thought sisters... should tell each other secrets!"
Her cry rang louder than she intended, drawing a few stares from nearby tables. Dila lifted her head, her own blue eyes shadowed and tense, but there was a faint flicker of pain in them. Her words ca sharper, heavier than she ant, tinged with bitterness.
"This secret is different, Fran... no one should ever know it. Not even my old... farth... so-called father, the King. Not him, not the world... no one!"
Fran’s eyes widened at the harshness of her sister’s voice. She flinched as if the words had cut her. Tears welled up quickly, blurring her vision. She ducked her head down against the table, her forehead pressing to the wood as muffled sobs slipped free. Her small hands flailed weakly underneath, and her little legs kicked gently against the chair in frustration, like a child betrayed.
The sight pierced Dila’s chest like a blade. Her heart tightened painfully, guilt twisting inside her stomach. She reached across the table, her voice trembling with remorse.
"I’m sorry, Fran... I didn’t an to hurt your feelings..."
Dila’s hand lingered across the table, reaching for Fran’s trembling one when suddenly... a voice ca from right beside her.
"Let’s solve your problem together."
She stiffened. Her head snapped to the side and found Jade standing there, so close she hadn’t even noticed his presence. His erald eyes glimred with worry, but the words were a dagger in her chest.
Her face darkened instantly.
Her eyes burned like fire as she glared at him, and then in one sharp movent she rose from her seat. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"You know what..." her voice shook, but it rose stronger with every word, "...you’re the one who caused this trouble! If you had just... if you had just not touched , none of this would have ever happened!"
Her words lashed out like blades, cutting the air between them.
Jade’s body stiffened. He lifted his hand slightly, palm open in front of him, as if to shield himself from the force of her anger. He stepped back slowly, his expression calm but tight with guilt.
"I... I’m sorry, High Princess," he said quietly, his tone carrying no defense, only humility. "If I offended you... by touching your hand..."
But his words did nothing to cool her boiling anger. Dila’s voice spiraled higher, trembling with rage and pain, her steps pushing forward as Jade stepped back. Each word was sharper than the last, echoing through the grand hall.
The nobles around them froze at first, their eyes darting between the two. Then, slowly, the murmurs began.
"I’m out of here..." one noble muttered, slipping away.
"Lunch was already over long ago," another whispered with a nervous laugh.
"Maybe a fiancée fight," soone else snickered under their breath, though their eyes betrayed unease.
The chatter grew like ripples spreading across water. So nobles walked out quickly to avoid being caught in the tension, while others lingered, their voices hushed but sharp as they whispered rumors into the air.
Fran remained seated, her fork trembling in her hand, her cat ears drooping as she looked between them in shock and worry.
Jade’s eyes flicked from side to side, catching the stares of the nobles who still lingered. His jaw tightened, but when he spoke, his voice carried steady authority, louder than before.
"Princess Dila... you are making a scandal. You’re destroying your reputation even further."
The nobles’ whispers swelled like a tide, their gazes piercing into her back.
Fran’s voice broke through the tension, sharp and trembling. "Please, sister... stop that! He ans no harm... he only wanted to confirm if you were okay!" Her cat ears drooped lower, her tail curled anxiously around her side.
The words struck Dila harder than she wanted to admit. Her chest heaved, her hands trembling at her sides. Slowly, she stepped back, her movents stiff, and lowered herself into her chair again.
Her body slumped forward. She ducked her head, her silver hair spilling over her face like a curtain, shielding her expression from the world.
Then, with a soft thud, she let her forehead fall against the edge of the table.
Her lips parted, muttering under her breath, her voice barely audible. "What’s got into ..."
The hall’s atmosphere felt heavy, the earlier brightness of laughter and chatter drowned out by the echoes of her outburst.
Her thoughts spiraled darkly. I can’t control myself anymore... properly. As if the real Dila... or the that used to be... is clashing, tearing apart. These conflicting emotions... they’re overlapping. Or maybe... maybe I’m just... simply... becoming crazy.
Her grip on her lap tightened, the wood of the chair creaking faintly beneath her weight. Her eyes stayed hidden under her hair, but her lips quivered, caught between a frown and despair.
Fran’s hands twitched across the table as if she wanted to reach out but didn’t dare, her eyes shimring with worry. Jade stood frozen, his mouth parted as though searching for words, but nothing ca.
The nobles, though scattered, leaned in their seats and whispered behind their hands, their murmurs slicing the silence like blades.
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