just-pearce

[just-pearce]

scabiosa / vyn richter

—previous | chapter four | next

—masterpost here.

“Mausi, did you know? You remember things better if you use your senses.”

Octavia hands you a small piece of lemon flavored candy, smiling from ear to ear as you huddle at the corner of the ballroom.

“What is this for?”

“Eat it. So you can remember this day.”

The glint in her eyes were mischievous. Two pair of children hiding from the eyes of adults disguising each insult with a subtlety only nobility would notice.

“...Remember us knocking over the punch bowl?”

“No! Silly,” She laughs out loud, nodding her head to the venue. “Our first ball together! We look like characters from a fairytale.”

You can't help but blink at her words.

“But aren't you? You're quite literally a princess, Via.”

At that time you still didn't know why she was different from other noble children. Why she could do anything she wanted without consequences.

Why she wasn't part of a fairytale.

Octavia smiles. Placid and fake. And for the first time you thought to yourself, ‘Oh. She really is a noble.’

Not very soon, you came to know why.

On your sixteenth autumn, while tending to the flowers Octavia grew as a hobby, a secret under wraps finally unfolds before you.

The smell of iron penetrated your senses.

Your hands shook, and you think you were white as sheet. You couldn't hear anything apart from the blood rushing in your ears—you couldn't even think straight as you crouched beside your best friend who was coughing out blood and crying.

“Via... Via!” Your nonchalant expression had long disappeared from your face. “Help! Someone!”

It was a blur of events that ended with you sitting motionless on the hospital's waiting seats. Your mind couldn't stop racing and though your outward appearance didn't give off how you felt, the dread and the loud beating of your heart told you everything you needed to know.

This isn't a game anymore.

This was your reality.

And in that reality, there was no room for you nor Octavia.

You lived each day detached from the world, looking at the people around you like they weren't real. You looked at them like how an audience from a play would towards the actors on stage. Most of the time, you didn't even bother knowing their names.

And yet, you began to genuinely care for the girl whose family adopted you out of their own benefit. In all her unashamed humor and arrogant personality was your best friend of ten years who treated you like you were her real sibling.

Octavia was the only person who ever made you feel like you belonged. And in a world where you thought you had no place to be, she was like a savior.

“Mausi, are you okay?”

You turned your head to meet a pair of familiar golden eyes. Vilhelm frowned as he takes the seat next to yours and his eyes becomes unconsciously drawn to the blood smeared on your rumpled clothes.

“T, This isn't mine,” You try to offer him an explanation, voice breaking against your better judgement. “It's Via's she...”

“...I know. It's okay, you don't have to force yourself to recall.”

He doesn't look you in the eye as he says it, choosing only to stare at his balled fists instead. You look at him and his gestures—trying to deny the meaning behind them. That he didn't lie through the years you knew each other. That he, out of all the people you knew in this world, wouldn't lie nor be unfair to you. He wouldn't hide Octavia's condition to you won't he? After all, he knows she was your everything.

You laughed, almost madly, as the pieces finally made sense in your head. “You knew.” Repeating his words, Vyn's worried expression falls into guilt. “But of course, why else would you be there when I first came into the duchy.” You hugged yourself, trying to control your thoughts so it doesn't control you. So that you won't say anything hurtful—so that you won't lose yourself. “To greet an orphan who was sold by her parents? I don't think so.”

“You were there to size my worth. To see if I would be a great candidate, weren't you?”

This was why you were always calm and collected. Because the moment your predicament really sets into your mind, you were afraid of what it would do to you. Would it turn you into someone you didn't know? Would the stress finally break you and give you a reason to aggressively vent out your feelings in a situation that was out of anyone's control?

“Don't you think I deserved to know?”

Now that the illusion has faded, you're forced to look at reality with your own eyes.

“How long were you planning to make a fool out of me?” You wish you never found out. You wish you never said these words. “I would expect this treatment from her parents. After all, I'm an outsider to their family. But you—Vilhelm, you—”

I trusted you.

We shared something, didn't we?

He doesn't answer. He neither confirms nor denies it. You knew it wasn't his fault yet your heart, so hurt from the possibility of everything you ever had was a lie, couldn't help but pin the blame on him.

“I'm sorry.” He says, voice shaking yet the damage has been done.

Tears fell from your eyes and you knew you were past a point of no return. So you did the only thing you were good at—

You ran.

You stare at the person in front of you, a bouquet of flower in hand and a well-placed smile plastered on his face.

Vyn Richter had once again invaded your personal space which you lovingly call your flower shop and this time he's buying Red Spider Lilies for some ominous reason.

“You look like you're dying to know.”

Oh, someone's dying alright. You already feel bad for the recipient of those flowers.

This has been going on for almost a month now. Once or twice a week, he drops off at your store and picks a random flower to make as a bouquet. At first you thought nothing of it, just another harmless prank of his was what you tried to convince yourself. But as the days pile on and his visits doesn't seem to dwindle with it, you figure it wasn't as harmless as you initially thought.

“Why do you keep coming here?”

He flinches a little at the question as though not expecting you to actually speak up.

“Whatever do you mean?” He smiles innocently as you ring up his order. “I'm only here to purchase flowers.”

“We no longer have anything to do with each other. I don't understand why you keep coming here,” You lift your eyes to meet his before handing the taller man's bouquet. His face scrunches up ever so slightly, a frown forming in his face once the words were out of your mouth.

“That's not entirely true, is it? We've known each other since we were children.”

“Out of obligation. Because I'm your cousin's playmate.”

“Calling it obligation is a tad too harsh—”

“But it's true.” You avoid his gaze, turning your body away to focus your attention to the shelves behind you before trying to busy yourself. “If you feel guilty for what happened in the past then please don't. It wasn't your fault, you only did what you had to. The things I said that day were out of frustration and I apologize for saying hurtful words.”

“But there's nothing linking the two of us anymore.... so you don't have to concern yourself over me.”

“Octavia wouldn't want me to—”

“Octavia is dead.” You hastily cut him off, accidentally knocking off a jar and shattering it from your hurry. The two of you stare at the broken fragments, the smell of lavender wafting from it.

On that autumn day, you decided not to let yourself want anything. To go on as you've had before: offering all that you are to Octavia and her alone. And rid of the affections you've began to harbor towards Vyn, no matter how difficult it was.

After all, Vyn belongs to the heroine. He was a piece of her you weren't allowed to covet.

If — even if it had the smallest chance of occuring — you had started to become greedy for the things you could never have, that would be the day that you lost. That would be the day you'd start to get accustomed to the things that were not meant for you.

That would be the day that you'd feel envy, and the day that you'd die.

After all, if the story went on as planned, then the prince shall always have his princess.

There was no room for anomalies like you and Octavia. That was what you firmly believed.

“Mausi,” Vyn suddenly calling you by nickname causes goosebumps to run along your skin and you bite your lip to suppress your reaction. “You talk as if you have no emotions left.”

“Would you rather I looked pathetic in front of you and cried?”

If you had any desires before, it was all gone the moment she died. You believed that you didn't need anything because everything around you already had an owner.

“But that would only be pointless, wouldn't it? Octavia has died and yet the world still hasn't fallen apart. Nor does anybody else die with her.”

And that was the truth. She had died and yet the world would still move forward regardless of her existence. Time would erase the wounds she left at her wake and even you would start to slowly forget the things about her—no matter how much you force yourself not to.

You couldn't even be sure if you still know the sound of her voice anymore, nor the name of the TV show running on the background as you last talked.

“I don't want to disrespect her memory like that.” You declare with finality, crouching to gingerly pick up the bigger shards of your carelessness. “If you're worried that I'm suppressing my emotions then don't be. I'm sincerely living my life properly just as she wanted me to.”

He quietly looks at you, mouth opening slightly to talk before deciding against it and clenches his teeth.

“...I understand.”

Once again you turn your back to him to discourage any further conversations. It wasn't until you heard the bell of your store's door ring did you finally look at him.

It was better like this. To look at him without his knowledge. Just like how it's supposed to be.

“With this... we're finally strangers.” You say to yourself.

Ignoring the prickling at the corners of your heart, you distract yourself by dumping the broken shards of your now broken jar.

“Ah...” The edge slightly grazes your skin that you couldn't help but pull your hand away on instinct once blood starts to flow out of the small wound you accidentally inflicted on yourself.

Sighing, you look back to your door only to see no one there.

“Looks like I'll remember this one too. ”

You just wish that his departure didn't feel like he took a piece of you with him.

[just-pearce]

scabiosa / vyn richter

— previous | chapter three | next

— masterpost here.

How did loneliness felt like?

To you, it meant tossing and turning over your bed and finding no one by your side. It meant strolling through flower shops and sharing your favorites with your best friend. It meant looking over your shoulder to find him already looking back at you with a smile on his face. It meant doing all of that alone and seeing through the imaginary companions around you—an echo of the past you tried your hardest to forget.

They say time heals all wounds but almost six years had passed and yet you still unconsciously look beside you, hoping to catch a glimpse of a person with silky, silver colored hair and emerald eyes. You still wake up every two A.M. like a routine and wait for her to start crying in her sleep. You still make two cups of piping coffee every morning even though you live all alone.

And against your better judgement, your heart still quickens when you hear the name Vyn Richter.

Maybe finding a place you could call home in the country of Stellis betrays the conviction you've nurtured within the years, but you were someone who was so dependent on another person's presence that you did not ready yourself for their demise. You have forgotten that games follow their own little script; except that script only exists for the main characters with little to no regard to the extras.

It was the most sensible choice for you—after all, you don't know much about this world, except Stellis, the main setting of the story that was fully elaborated in game. It was the only place in this universe where you were confident you could survive in. A small two-storey building located in a small shopping district, with a few ways away from a cemetery where not a lot of people visit.

In your six and a half years of living quietly in a flower shop that opens whenever the owner wants to, your only companion are the flowers that remind you of your best friend. Of conversations consisting their meanings and how to arrange them. You chase those memories as you stare at the pots you carried outside for decoration, and you force yourself to remember.

The look on her face as she smiles, the sound of her voice and laugh—you chase those memories and latch onto them, afraid of completely forgetting.

No one prepared you for this. To be so attached to a character that didn't exist in your memories simply because you thought the two of you were alike. No one prepared you for death in a storyline where romance is the focal point. No one prepared you for your best friend's death because she wasn't mentioned in the main storyline.

What happens to the side characters when the main cast are acting their parts?

Unable to bear losing more in this unknown world, you did what you do best.

You ran.

They say the more you distance yourself from someone, the more you grow conscious of them.

From their small gestures to their presence—you take notice of every little thing about them; it was the same with Vyn. Before you knew it, you built a habit to look for him anywhere and every subtle change in his movement or expression would immediately catch your attention.

But that was fine, right? Friends know each other very well. You were friends.

“Mausi, you're here?”

Once your heart started to beat from the sound of his voice, you knew you had failed.

Friends. Friends do not blush around each other like that.

It was supposed to be a normal day.

It was supposed to be a normal day—with you tending to your flowers and carefully arranging them before opening your shop. It should be a normal day of people watching and trying to remind yourself that this was reality. It was supposed to be a normal day until it wasn't.

Six years. You rarely think about the years that had piled up. You rarely thought about anything, anyway. Ever since Octavia died, any semblance of a goal in life had left with her. You didn't need anything, because you believed you didn't have to. You believed you didn't have the right to wish for anything.

Once. You thought. There was a time where you ardently wished for something. A boy disguised as your childhood friend, the cousin of your most important person. Vilhelm had always been the apple of your eye, that has always been the case even before coming to this world.

You blink—once or thrice? you don't really know—as a familiar stranger comes face to face in front of you. Denial aroused within your mind that you almost blank out for a whole minute, because how can he be here? He should not be in here.

There was no mistaking that unique silver hair and golden eyes of his. Even if he looked different from what little of him remains in your memories, you were sure who this person was. How could you not, when you've spent your whole life observing him?

“Mausi.”

This was a miscalculation.

“It's been a while.”

This was a huge miscalculation.

You come face to face with your childhood friend and immediately take notice how his hands are larger than before, his sitting height had grown a little taller than you remember—and his eyes, those damn eyes that always caught your attention still looks as dazzling. You think you would never get used to its color for the rest of your life.

“...I didn't expect you to be here.”

You couldn't help the disbelief dripping from your words. How could you, when every logic in the book is upturned by his presence alone? He shouldn't even be here and you know it doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense for him to look at you like you're important to him and it doesn't make sense for your heart to accelerate its beating just from sharing eye contact with him.

His golden eyes looked at you from below and you couldn't help but feel drawn to them just like the first time you saw him. Why couldn't he just possess the same color Octavia had? If he had then you wouldn't feel as though he was trying to look into your soul. If he had then you wouldn't have to run away like this.

“It's been a long time.” He smiles at you. Before, you couldn't even trust the smile he puts up but the smile he was giving you now looked genuine—as though he was waiting for this meeting to happen all along.

You weren't.

“Yes.” You drop your gaze to place the pot you're holding down the display shelf. “It really has. I didn't think you'd be my first customer today.”

Of course you didn't. This place was a far cry from the main setting of the story. You made sure of that.

There's only six months left before Tears of Themis truly starts. Six months before Vyn Richter steps into the stage as one of the male leads. You can't let yourself be greedy now, since it won't be too long before the true heroine makes her appearance and captures the heart of those men.

An extra should wait for the play to be over.

“I'm sorry.” He chuckles lightly. “However, I doubt you'd agree to meet me if I told you beforehand.”

“How could you be so sure of that?”

“You have a habit of avoiding me, mausi.”

“So?” You say, refusing to prolong the friendly banter. “What do you want from me?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Vyn smiles harmlessly but only an idiot would believe he was entirely innocent. “I only want to buy bouquets from your shop. No need to be so suspicious of me like that.”

Yeah, right. You mostly sell flowers for the dead. Is he planning on murdering someone?

“Vyn, I sell flowers for the dead.”

He flinches a little as he looks at you.

“...Yes, I'm aware.”

What? Why is he looking at you like that?

“I don't recommend giving it to people who are still among us. Seriously,” Unknowingly, the corner of your lips curls into a small smile. “You haven't changed at all with the subtle mockery.”

Though you wish you never knew him as deeply as that.

“Vyn, I sell flowers for the dead.”

The sound of his name coming out from them makes his heart do tiny somersaults in his chest.

It was like the first time he realized he saw them in a different light—when they first took the initiative to talk to comfort him. He never realized how much he missed his childhood friend until he heard his name being called by them after all these years. It was enough to make him tear up in joy.

“...Yes, I'm aware.”

He clenches his hands together, trying to stop them from trembling. That normally nonchalant expression and downcast eyes—they were things Vyn had never forgotten even when they left.

“I don't recommend giving it to people who are still among us. Seriously,” A small smile forms on their lips. “You haven't changed at all with the subtle mockery.”

What is this?

Is it okay for him to think that they have been looking at him as closely as he did to them? That they too tried to know him from the distance through observation and insight? That it wasn't as unrequited as he thought it was?

Is it safe to believe that they liked him more than he thought they did?

He allows himself to smile widely, catching his companion off-guard.

“Then, shall we talk about which bouquet would be the most suitable?” He says hesitantly even though he wanted to stay here with them longer. “I'm afraid I have to meet the recipient of those flowers today.”

They flinch slightly at his words, choosing to look to the side and avoid eye contact.

“If you don't mind me asking... who are they?”

Maybe his childhood friend doesn't realize the slight edge on their tone—nor the way they're anxiously fiddling with their fingers but Vyn does. His smile widens a little more.

“My student. I'm tutoring someone and they thought it was funny making me wait for an hour.”

They look at him blankly.

“...You're pettier than I thought.”

“Oh, I've always been petty.” He says, offering his arm to them as he leads them further inside. “After all, I've come this far looking for you.”

“You... You're not planning on visiting my shop everyday, are you?”

Vyn only smiles innocently at that.

[just-pearce]

scabiosa / vyn richter

— previous | chapter two | next

— masterpost here.

Vyn couldn't say they were friends.

Even as he stands there in front of them with their bags tucked away beside their feet in wait for their flight, he could not figure out if they could be considered one.

It was like his worst nightmares had turned into reality—nightmares of being alone and watching them leave. He had dreamed about it every time he saw the faraway look in their eyes, yet he held no leeway to ask them to stay. He had nothing that could make them remain.

Friends. Were they really friends? They were more than that. But was that enough of a reason to ask them to abandon their freedom?

“Are you really leaving?” He asks, unable to fully mask the tremble in his voice.

“...What are you doing here?”

He was thankful to be able to catch up to them before they left. It took days before he could locate their whereabouts and to say that he was shocked to find out they were planning to go abroad was an understatement. It was too careful, too deliberate—as though they had planned this their whole life.

“You don't have to leave.” He says, although his words sounded more desperate in his head. “If staying in that house hurts you then you could just... stay in another place for the meantime. You don't have to cut everyone off like this—”

“I can't stay there any longer,” They avert their eyes. Like every time they do when they're hiding something, as though holding back words they're too afraid to say. “You won't understand.”

“Then make me understand.” His hands tremble, finally losing the composed façade he puts on as a front. “It's always like this with you—shutting me out without even trying. How can I understand when you won't tell me anything?”

“You were good to me, Vyn. But that's enough... I'm... I'm tired.”

(Tired of avoiding him. Tired of fearing the possibility of becoming greedy.)

He couldn't even hold onto that friend.

He leans his head on the edge of his bath tub, unable to enjoy the warm water sloshing against his skin. His talk with the adopted child of his relatives left a bitter aftertaste in his mood and he was forced to think about the past—no matter how much he promised himself not to.

In those memories, there was his cousin convincing him to play with her as a way to cheer him up. In those memories, there was the version of him who tucked himself in the most isolated places of Octavia's home crying to himself. In those memories, there was their little playdate who sat beside him through the silence as they waited for him to calm down.

Most of his treasured ones included those quiet moments of solace. Even if he wasn't sure if it was a kind gesture or pity that moved them to do something so gentle as that.

But now, he won't ever get the chance to know.

(Y/n) was gone, and he couldn't even make them stay.

“Everyone's looking for you.”

Vyn perks as a voice speaks up from behind him, hurriedly wiping away the tears in his eyes at the sound of footsteps approaching his hiding spot. Once he was confident that there were no traces of vulnerability, he whips his head to meet the intruder—finding himself just a few inches away from his childhood friend's face.

The shock wiped away the remaining sadness, suddenly being replaced by a warm feeling spreading through his cheeks.

“Mausi...?”

“Why are you here all by yourself? Were you crying?”

The heat on his cheeks worsen and he turns his face away from their innocent expression. It was a childish gesture, but Vyn couldn't be bothered to act maturely like he always did. He was far too upset to worry about manners.

“I don't cry.”

“You do. What's so shameful about being true to yourself?” They plop down beside him, unlike before, they were talking to comfort him. In the past when they were still wary around them, they would say nothing and simply accompany him when he was upset. The change in attitude made him warm inside that he couldn't help but sneak a glance at them.

“Mausi, you're always around to comfort me. I thought... you didn't like me. You're not following me or anything, right?”

“Pft. Sure. This was my happy place before you stole it under my nose. And,” They lean closer to him, close enough that their breath slightly tickles his nose—his heart beating loudly inside his ribcage as he realizes the distance between them. “It's not like I don't like you.”

A long silence follows, his eyes widening at the revelation.

“We're friends... are we?”

“Friends,” They repeat the word with a small smile. “Friends don't treat each other like this, Vyn.”

(Friends don't blush around each other like that.)

He couldn't understand what they meant from those words, but to his younger self, the thought of being unable to make them consider him as their friend far outweighed his curiosity that tears slowly blurred his field of vision.

“Then what are we?” He asks them, unable to hold out his panic anymore. The other child looks at them before holding their hand to soothe the older male who had began to look like he was about to cry.

“I don't know.” They tell him gently, drawing small circles on the surface of his hand with their thumb. “But I don't hate you.”

“You don't?”

“Yes, I don't.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

Taken aback, his childhood friend's finger stops moving. Their eyes moves to meet his golden ones before sheepishly averting them after a moment of hesitation.

“You noticed..?”

“It was hard not to.”

Their grip on his hand tightens and he holds his breath at the look of their face. Always so crumpled, always so conflicted. As though trying to figure out what they should say. Vyn couldn't remember the last time they were able to talk like this—with them not looking at the ground and avoiding him like the plague.

“Because... Because I can't get close to you.”

The words made his heart tighten, yet during that time Vyn couldn't tell what it was that caused his chest to constrict. He could only firmly grasp their hand, afraid of letting them go when they could finally talk like this and only mutter a soft “Why?”

And they smile. A smile that says a thousand feelings. Feelings that Vyn just couldn't put a name on.

“Because that's how it should be.”

Vyn opens his eyes, long lashes fluttering as he groans to push himself off the bath. His skin had already pruned up, and there was a dull ache coursing through his muscles from accidentally falling asleep in the bath.

He walks toward the mirror, stopping in front of it as he places a hand on his cheek.

“What's so shameful about being true to yourself?”

Their words from his dream repeats like a broken record inside his head. The words that changed the way he viewed the world; the very reason why he couldn't find it in himself to let go of them just like they wanted them to. On that day, instead of talking to them out of piqued curiosity, he had willingly allowed himself to form a certain attachment to the person who wanted to be left alone the most. And it was still the same to this very day—with them placing an uncrossable distance and him walking forward to chase after them.

The thought of them leaving to some place where he couldn't reach... It was a thought that he didn't want to entertain.

“You were good to me, Vyn. But that's enough... I'm... I'm tired.”

On that night, for the first time in a while, Vyn allows himself to cry.

[just-pearce]

scabiosa / vyn richter

—previous | chapter one | next

—masterpost here.

“Who are you talking to, Vilhelm?”

A much younger voice calls out from the distance and it takes all of you to rip your eyes away to the boy standing in front of you.

Your heart beats loudly inside your chest, your breathing unstable as memories flood your brain. Does this make sense? You didn't think that the reincarnation novels you read back then was an actual phenomenon!

A hand squeezes your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. Vyn — a name you weren't supposed to know yet — looks at you worriedly as he crouches to meet your eyes. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

You gulp down the lump in your scratchy throat and you could only wince from the stinging pain. Only finding it in yourself to nod, your attention is brought back to the girl standing beside Vyn.

Tears of Themis. It was an otome game that interested you back when you were still in Earth. It kept you company for most of your days and you couldn't believe you were actually inside the game you loved.

But this girl, the one you're supposed to serve as a friend — Octavia — wasn't mentioned in the game. You don't remember Vyn being close with any girl in Svart, nor was she mentioned in any of his cards.

She wasn't part of the story.

“Ohhhh! It's you! This is great, I'm absolutely bored out of my mind trying to play with myself. Vilhelm isn't a great playmate so I hope you're not as boring as him.” She crosses her arms and looks at you straight in the eye, curiosity dancing around the emeralds she possessed. “My name is Octavia de Haspran. What's yours?”

(de Haspran. His cousin? You didn't know.)

“I'm...”

“Will you not tell Vyn?”

Your maid asks you as you load your baggage into the car. You stop moving after the words leave her lips, unable to hide the surprise from your gestures. Laughing a little, you finish fitting the suitcases into the storage before looking at her.

“No I won't. Why would I do something as troublesome as that?”

“You were close with him, my liege. I just thought you'd want to tell him since you liked...”

A pause. It didn't take the maid too long to realize her mistake. “...I apologize for speaking nonsense.”

Yes. It was nonsense. There was no way you liked Vyn—no matter how attached you were to him in your previous life. No matter how much more you got attached when you were finally this close to him. So close that you would only have to raise your hand to brush his... and even then, there was no way you liked him.

You cannot like him.

But no one else needed to know that, so with a shrug of your shoulders you open the car door and took a seat by the window. Watching the very place that once offered you warmth disappear from the distance. Once upon a time. When the girl who meant everything to you still lived there.

Now, much like everything else, it only feels empty.

Your fingers played with the only thing you allowed yourself to own; a bracelet adorned with emerald and golden beads, a reminder of your childhood friends' eyes.

Turning away from the view outside, soft cries echoed inside the car.

You dreamt of this often.

You dreamt of this often—sitting on Octavia's bedside as you peel oranges for her. The once beautifully elegant girl from your memories were reduced into a frail-looking woman nestled on clean hospital sheets. These days, even these short figments of memory looked awfully vivid.

“Everyone's so selfish.” That line. Always the same line. It was how this dream would usually start. “They keep telling me to hold on and stay with them. Even though I'm suffering this much.”

And you would always answer back with the same response, “They only want to be with you.”

It was like being inside a movie, instead you've possessed one of the characters and see things in their point of view—but instead of becoming one with that character, you are serving as a spectator; forced to watch the scenes play out despite yourself.

“But Mausi, you won't tell me that won't you?” She says, shifting her body to face you. “Because if you thought the same as everyone else, you wouldn't bite your lip every time they begged me to go through another treatment.”

Octavia pats the space beside her, the sheets wrinkling as she scoots to the side to give you more room to climb on. Your body moves on its own, copying the very same movement you did on that day to lay beside her.

“You knew?”

“Always. I'm your best friend, aren't I?”

You simply nod your head, earning a chuckle from your silver-haired friend.

“Because Mausi is the type of person who would willingly find me poison if it meant shortening my suffering.” She drones on, eyes closed and on the brink of falling asleep. “But... I'm scared. I really don't want to die.”

“Then how about I die with you? That way you won't have to be alone.”

You said sincerely. After all, the story has changed. A person who wasn't supposed to be in the story appeared, and a character who was never mentioned before is on her deathbed.

Two anomalies. Existences that did not exist in the main story.

What happens to the extras while the main characters act their parts? And what happens to those who cannot even be considered as supporting roles? Those that shouldn't have been there in the first place?

(There was a fate far worse than death.)

You thought that dying here, with her, would return things to normal. And that going ahead with your best friend didn't sound so bad, because no matter how arrogant or spoiled Octavia acts you had sincerely began treasuring her.

“No you can't. You have to get married in my stead.”

“Ah, come on. Who would I even marry?”

A soft smile pulls on her lips, snuggling closer to you as her breathing gets more and more drowsier. “...I wouldn't mind it if it was Vyn.”

You shake your head laughing.

“Via, you can't own things that already has an owner.”

But Octavia had long since fallen asleep.

“They... left?”

For once in his life Vyn had ran out of things to say. He looks at his uncle's grave face and knew that he was saying the truth. The cautious mouse he met as a child had ran away, but he could only hold his breath as he took the news in.

He had always thought that they acted detached most of the time and he didn't understand why. Like water, they took the shape of its container and acted what was expected of them.

'Demure.' He thought. (Or maybe that's also part of the play?)

Yet as he stayed seated on the couch, realization dawns on him. They always looked so rigid, so tense under his presence even though he tried very hard to get them to drop their guard. And now they were gone.

Like water, that person was looking for a chance to run.

“Uncle, you could hardly call them an adult. They recently just turned 18 didn't they?”

His uncle closes his eyes and it stops whatever he was about to say as the normally composed duke shows an emotion akin to exhaustion.

“Vilhelm, I can't hold onto that child. I am not in a position to,” He admits tiredly. “But maybe you can. After all, you were a friend of theirs.”

(Friends. Could you even call us that?)

“I understand. I will try talking to them.”

But even as he said that, Vyn did not believe a word he said.

(Friends. Friends do not feel so far apart from each other.)

[just-pearce]

flos

tot isekai series masterpost

vyn richter — scabiosa

ch. 0, ch. 1, ch. 2, ch. 3, ch. 4

luke pearce — dogwood

tbp.

artem wing — pansy

tbp.

marius von hagen — cyclamen

tbp.

[just-pearce]

scabiosa / vyn richter

—pairing: vyn x reader

—status: ongoing

—summary: because if the story went on as planned, then the prince shall always have his princess.

—masterpost here.

PROLOGUE

Your eyes meet with the clear emeralds of your adoptive father. His expression stayed grave, hands clasped together before taking a glance on the suitcase carefully placed at the side of your feet.

“Yes. I think it would be better this way.”

He broods for a moment and your heart violently thumps inside your ribcage, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. You didn't know if they would take the news of your independence well, nor were you certain whether it was something you could ask for in the first place.

“Do you really have to go?”

Finally he speaks, “How about telling my wife about your plan first? We just lost Octavia... I'm sure she would be sadder if she finds out you left without a word.”

How joyful it would be if that was truly the case, but you had spent the past 14 years in their care without being able to call them mother and father. And it didn’t take half of those years to make you realize you can never be family with them.

“The duchess might not be able to take it.”

Be that as it may, you doubt anyone would miss your presence in this place.

You did everything to hold your end of the bargain and now that the only thing stopping you from leaving is gone, you thought that there was no point staying in the ducal household which you will never have the chance to call home. 

“I understand.” Your adoptive father quietly says, a pained smile etched at the corner of his lips. “Please remember that you can come back here anytime. This is your home too, after all.”

The smile on your face was only a farce—this place is no longer your home.

Because Octavia is dead.

The first time you realized you transmigrated into another world, you sat at the edge of the garden's fountain while you wait for the butler to come back for you.

Your parents had sold you off to the duchy—your sole role was to be a friend to their daughter of similar age. A distant relative, you remember your biological mother telling you as she washed your face. “Surely, your life there will be much better than what we can give you.”

Upon coming to this world, you were immediately tasked to toll the day away because of poverty and didn't have the chance to look around or find out much about the world you were in. It was one hardship to another. Your only saving grace was that this world uses the same language as Earth - but it was a secret you couldn’t just tell anyone.

After all, how could a street child explain the reason why they can read despite having no way to study at all?

At least you knew where you are - the country of Svart. The name familiar to your ears but the labor took most of your time to even focus on recalling where you heard it.

And now, you are stuck in this mansion. A duchy like in the fairytales you used to read in your past life.

You look at your feet, now wrapped with socks and cute little red shoes that fitted them pretty well. You bump them together as you wait under the shade of the trees beside the fountain, until a soft rustle of the grass catches your attention.

“Ah, hello—”

Your heart catches on your throat.

Standing by the hedge archway was a child no older than you, his hair a soft shade of silver. But what caught your focus the most is the golden hues of his eyes. Magnetic and beautiful, it was like looking into the skies above during the night and seeing them shine—the small mole near his eyes only accentuating the uniqueness he possessed.

You were speechless.

Not because you were enraptured by his beauty, but because you realize you know this person.

“You're Octavia's new friend, aren't you? I'm Vilhelm and Octavia is my friend. What's your name?”

Vilhelm Richard Albert de Haspran.

He was one of the male leads in the game you used to play in your previous life.

Vyn Richter.

a/n: hello!! this is my first ever attempt in writing and i am also relatively new in tumblr so i apologize if my work looks clumsy. english is not my first language so there might be mistakes here and there but i hope you enjoy reading my work! thank you!