EXTRA     The Melancholy of Gilbert

This is a tale that takes place five years before the start of our story…

 

There are several people I hate.

Specifically, my parents and brothers, who haven’t once made an effort to see me since I came to live with the Sylvies. El, the gardener who obviously has a thing for my sister. I also can’t stand Hans, the soldier who teaches her swordsmanship, and Donny, who for whatever reason has gained her trust the most.

I also despise all the aristocrats here at this royal gala who are trying to curry the favor of an eleven-year-old kid to get into House Sylvie’s good graces. And I hate the girls who take my smile as permission to loop their arms through mine.

Out of all of them, though, the one I hate the very most is…

“Ah, Gilbert. You’re here, too.”

“Your Highness.”

Oscar Abel Prosper.

Our crown prince and my sister’s fiancé. He’s the one I most detest.

He makes a beeline for me, a friendly smile on his lips. It feels like it’s been a long time since he became the embodiment of the words hard-headed and overbearing.

“It’s been about three months since we met at the garden party in the spring. So? How are you keeping?”

“Very well, thank you. You seem well also, Your Highness.”

“Eh, can’t complain.”

I hate the way he can look down on me since he’s a head taller. And he’s grown a bit compared to last year, too. I’m going to hit my growth spurt someday… But I haven’t caught up to him yet.

I plaster a formal smile across my face. “I have heard that the plan to suppress the revolt from the Meltt clan in the southeast was your idea, Your Highness.”

“I only came up with the initial concept. Our military adviser, Marquis Girardan, developed it into a workable plan. I’m still much too inexperienced and don’t have the power to stick my nose in politics.”

“Still, Father praised the original plan. Called it ingenious, even.”

“I’m quite glad to hear that. But I know you could have come up with a better one, Gilbert. The brilliance of the Sylvie heir has not only reached my ears—it has reached my father’s as well.”

“…Thank you.”

I especially loathe the way he puts on this false modesty, even though he’s extremely hardworking and accomplished. How easy it would have been for me to hate him if he were still the same overbearing tyrant prince he used to be.

If only my sister would just make something up and break off their engagement…

Life truly doesn’t go the way you want it to.

The prince draws close to me and lowers his voice. “By the way, how’s Cecilia?”

“…Fine.”

“All right, then someday soon I’d like to…”

“You can’t see her.”

And here it is, the number one reason why I despise the prince.

He has a crush on my sister. What’s more, he fell in love with her at first sight when he was six years old and has held on to those feelings ever since.

I’m aware how this sounds coming from me, but he’s too persistent. I wish he’d just give up on her already…

“Can’t you just let me see her already?”

“It is not for me to decide. Her health is too poor for her to meet with you.”

“But you just said she’s doing fine…”

“As I have just explained, it comes down to her being well enough to meet with you.” I shut him down flatly.

He frowns and lets out a frustrated groan. “So wouldn’t that mean she’s not doing fine?”

“She is able to go about her life.”

“So then…”

“Apparently, seeing you drains her energy and stamina,” I say, purposely making it sound like hearsay, so it gives off the impression that my sister doesn’t want to see him.

But he still won’t give in. After a pause, he responds, “Tell Cecilia that she doesn’t have to worry so much about my visit.”

“Aren’t you aware that your position makes that request impossible?”

“She and I will be husband and wife someday. She doesn’t need to—”

“Currently, you are nothing more than strangers,” I interrupt, the lowness of my voice surprising even myself. I have absolutely no intention of allowing them to marry. I’ll do everything in my power to nullify the engagement.

He gives up on being so stubborn. Now he must get that it’s pointless to ask me any further.

“I understand that I can’t see her. In that case, could I ask you to give her my usual get-well gift? I tried to pick out something that a girl her age would like.”

“All right…”

I can’t very well reject a gift the crown prince personally selected, so once the party is over, I take it back to the manor and go to my sister’s room.

There, she is lying in bed, having feigned illness. “Gil, you’re back!”

“I am,” I say, my heart warming at the ear-to-ear smile she offers to welcome me home. Already, I can no longer recall the melancholic feelings I’d been mired in. I give her the box that the prince passed to me.

“This is a gift from a noble who was concerned that you were absent from the party.”

That wasn’t a lie. The royal family technically counts as nobles.

“Ooh! Is it from the same person as always? Yay!” she enthuses, which puts me out of sorts.

She always reacts like this when I give her presents from the prince.

“This person and I have a lot in common!” She beams, her cheeks pink as she undoes the wrapping.

This is another thing I hate about him. He hasn’t seen her in years, but every time, he’s able to find her gifts she adores. And yet again…

“Wow! This chiffon cake looks delicious! Gil, thank the person who gave me this on my behalf!”

As ever, his present hits its mark.

She gazes at the chiffon cake in rapture, then tugs on my sleeve. “Hey, Gil.”

“What?”

“Do you want to eat this whole cake together tonight without telling Mother and Father? I bet a top-secret midnight tea party would be really fun!”

She grins at me mischievously, and I find myself nodding. I indulge her like this every time; I’ve never refused her once. But I also still have my pride.

“You’ll get fat, you know?” I say, slipping in a snide remark.

At that, her cheeks puff up in anger. “Then we’ll split a slice!”

“You say that now, but I’ve seen this before. You always end up eating almost all of it in the end.”

“So mean! That’s because you’re the one who feeds it to me!”

“Because you stare at me eating with such a greedy, hungry look that I’m forced to give in.”

“Urgh…”

She’s pouting, so I’ve probably been too mean to her. Before long, she’ll end up in a full-blown sulk.

I take the cake box from her and stand up.

“Gil?” she asks, looking up at me.

I smile at her. “You wanted a slice, right? I’ll go get one cut, so just wait here. Do you want your usual flavor of tea?”

“Yeah! Thank you!” she cries, nodding so happily that I’m entirely helpless before her. This has happened so many times before that I’ve become unable to refuse a single one of her requests.

I leave her room, cake box in hand. My steps are light as I make my way to the kitchen.

 

I hate the prince.

But just for today, I’m the tiniest bit grateful to him.

 

It will be another five years before that fateful day…