Dark Academia

Chapter 7: Wonwoo's princess story

Winter: The library

He's the most precious thing I ever got to hold in my life. I have diamonds and gold, but it's him I greedily keep locked in the safe of my heart. I keep him away, like a secret, like an oath, only for me to behold. Our story is like a game of hide-and-seek – careful not to be caught. The only smiles I can give him are those I picture in my mind. The only kisses, those I boldly steal.

My life was all written out for me. I was to go to Foxpond, like any other heir, and marry rich, like any other heir, just so my kids could do the same. Was I ever asked if I wanted to study Classics? If I was in love with the Ruby cousin they chose as my future wife? If I wanted kids at all? Of course they didn't. They never paid attention to what I wanted. They didn't know that, back then, I was in love with my cousin Kang Yeosang, not his silly sister.

I have no intention of marrying that girl. And I don't care if she doesn't have her princess story and her princess castle with me. I want a princess story of my own.

And in my princess story, he's the prince. The one who rescues me from my status and my duty, who makes me forget I can't be with him. I've got him all over me, and in his arms I hide away from everything else. From that PhD I've got to secure, from my parents' expectations I've got to meet, from this life I've got to fight.

I wish I could at least tell my friends. But San wouldn't understand, and Dokyeom would tell everyone. Instead, I just pretend. I pretend I'm fine, I pretend I'm happy. I pretend I want to do a PhD. I pretend I like archery. I pretend I like my future wife. I pretend I don't like him – which is the hardest thing of all, because ignoring him is like ignoring the best part of me. Having to see him only when no one's paying attention is killing me, because I have to be content with swift, secret meetings or public confrontations.

I look up from my Greek translation for a second and, through my glasses, I spot the well-known shape of a boy's wide back, vanishing behind the library shelf that's closest to me. Through the gaps between the books, I see him, then I don't, and I finally glimpse him again, bending slightly to take a book from a shelf. Our eyes meet, only briefly, only kept apart by the ghost of the book that stood there a second before. And he walks away, slowly, towards the spiral staircase that leads to the first floor of this dimly-lit, dome-like library.

I don't even think before getting up and following him from a distance. These days, I don't really try to be careful anymore, and it's a dangerous game to play. I keep telling him that we have to stop hiding, that I don't care what my parents say, that I want to tell the world he's mine. He keeps telling me that I'll regret it, that to stay hidden is to stay free. That he's not worth all the trouble I can get into for this. He still doesn't accept that the only thing I fear in this world is to be away from him.

At the first floor, I see him walk across the silent, circular room, and up a small spiral staircase to a balcony. He doesn't look behind. He knows I'll follow him anywhere. I lose sight of him for a minute, and look all around me when I'm at the balcony. Most of the tables are full, except one at the very end, on which lies an abandoned book. I get to it – it's a bilingual version of Penelope's story in the Odysseus – and gently pick up the book before walking around the next, big bookshelf.

"I think you forgot this," I whisper with a smile, as I finally see him – he's so tall, his back against the shelf, waiting patiently, lost in a daydream. "Very good choice, by the way."

He immediately turns to me, and gives me the warmest grin. I let myself fall into his arms, be held, be kissed. It's right there I belong. Not in some expensive mansion, not on the Ruby family tree – here with him.

Spring: The museum

Every head turns when we walk together through the aisles of the museum of art and archaeology (obviously my idea). We're the biggest gossip of the town ever since the ball, which is only fair. But it also means we don't have to live our love story secretly any longer. And I can't remember a time I've been happier than this. Now I can hold his hand proudly, let everyone know he's mine, and I don't have to watch girls try and ask him out. When I say "I love you" out loud, it doesn't have to sound like "I hate you" anymore. And I can say it anywhere, anytime.