RUN THROUGH THE ILLUSION
I lie in bed after a long bath, wearing a bathrobe that absorbs the remaining moisture from my bare skin. I pick up my phone, which is resting beside the new book I bought a few days ago. I see messages from Irin and my father. I raise an eyebrow and tap my father's message.
Father:Hi, sweetie. I know I haven't replied to you for a couple of days. It's busy around here. How has school been lately? I know you've been working hard, so I'm sure you have everything under control. I know college is coming up, but I hope you'll put your books down occasionally and have some fun. You'll have plenty of time to read in college. Have you gone out partying? I hope you haven't, but I also hope you have, haha. I want you to have fun, sweetie, but I also want you to be safe. Della told me that you've been eating only breakfast. You can't do that, sweetie. What about dinner? Have you gone out to eat with your friends? I miss you so much. If everything remains under control here, I'll be home next month. Please take care of yourself, eat properly, and get enough rest. I mean it. Love, your handsome father.
"God… Is he trying to write a book?" I mutter to myself before laughing out loud.
Della, the Serafinne family's maid, was hired by my mother to care for both the house and me when I was ten. She is getting older; I can see it in her appearance.
Whenever my father has to leave for work—whether for another town, another city, or even another country—he goes. If headquarters ordered him to leave the earth, he would probably do that too. I don't know much about his work because I don't want to interfere in his business. If he wants to talk about it or involve me, he will.
Della is the one who takes care of me whenever my father is away. He hasn't been home for two months. Every time he sets foot inside the house, he receives a call for another mission almost immediately. It has been this way since I was ten, which is why my mother hired Della. My mother couldn't take care of this enormous house by herself.
There used to be many maids and butlers, but now there are only three maids and two gardeners. Della serves as the head maid. She may be responsible for managing all the servants, but she listens to me closely. She asks for my permission before doing or changing almost anything around the house.
If something unusual or concerning happens involving me, she informs my father—for example, if she believes I haven't eaten dinner for the past two months. I have eaten dinner, just not at home. I've been jogging around town almost every night and eating out, although most of the time, I eat at Irin's house.
I understand Della's perspective; she worries about me. We've spent so much time here together, just the two of us in this lonely house, but she tries her best not to cross my boundaries.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Then I hear the sound of a motorcycle approaching from somewhere down the street before it suddenly stops.
I spring out of bed and hurry toward the window. I kneel on the comfortable velvet window seat built into the wall and lean forward to look outside. It's dark, and the streetlights are dim.
That's strange. I heard the motorcycle coming this way, but there's nothing on the street beside my house.
"Hmm." I make the sound and open the window.
A cool breeze blows against my face. It's getting colder again. I turn my head and look in both directions, but there's nothing—only the sound of the wind rustling through the branches and leaves.
I brace myself against the window frame and lean farther outside, nearly causing my bathrobe to fall open. The cold air brushes against my skin, raising goosebumps across my body. I quickly pull back, close the window, and draw the curtains.
Apollon Academy is the high school I started attending during my sophomore year. I can't say that it's only for children from elite families because students in Apollon come from different social classes. I would say that Apollon Academy is for descendants of old families who have lived in this town for generations.
A few newcomers arrive from time to time. I used to be one of them, but people recognize my name because of my father. He has lived here his entire life, but my mother and I haven't. We moved here eight years ago and traveled back and forth to her hometown.
I began living here permanently after the most life-changing events occurred when I was sixteen, two years ago. People are supposed to enjoy their sweet sixteen, but I didn't. Mine wasn't sweet; it was bitter—pure horror. Two significant and unexpected events changed me and forced me to live differently as a teenager.
I've tried to view what happened from other perspectives. What I experienced that year might not compare with what other people have endured. Everyone has their own drama, right? Still, that doesn't make my own drama any less pitiful.
However, it isn't pitiful. It isn't.
Today is quite dull; not much is happening. I'm trying to find an extra class or an interesting club, but all I see are sports and outdoor activities that drain my energy more than they strengthen my muscles.
I walk past the counselor's office. Suddenly, the door opens in front of me. A tall, elegant woman with ginger hair and blue eyes steps out. Her short, curly hair gracefully frames her pretty face.
It's Tytas's mother.
"Oh…" Miss Quinn follows her out and notices me. "Miss Serafinne."
"Yes," I reply, glancing at the regal Mrs. Oskar. "Hello, Mrs. Oskar."
"Hello, Letizia. I haven't seen you in such a long time," she says with a smile despite her hurried movements.
"Have you seen Mr. Oskar, Miss Serafinne?" Miss Quinn asks.
"No, Miss," I reply.
"Unbelievable. I've called him several times, but he won't pick up." Mrs. Oskar looks very upset.
"He might be training on the field, Mrs. Oskar," I suggest.
"Can you call him for me?" She asks. Then she gently touches my wrist. "He might answer."
Why does she assume I have his number?
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Oskar, but I don't have his number," I say.
"What?" She appears surprised. "Then can you find him for me? We have to discuss something with Miss Quinn," she explains.
"Can you, Miss Serafinne? You know where he is, right?" Miss Quinn looks at me expectantly.
I suppose I do. He trains on the field every day after school. I look at the two grown women standing before me; both appear rather serious.
"Yes," I surrender.
I turn around and head back the way I came, toward the rear of the school.
"Miss Serafinne isn't very talkative, Mrs. Oskar, but she can be relied upon," I hear Miss Quinn say in my defense.
"I know," Mrs. Oskar replies.
What a surprise.
My Mary Jane shoes aren't suited to the green grass and patches of dirt beneath my feet. I follow the curving path down the hill toward the field, where the beautiful horses, their stables, the polo-team members, and their private clubhouse are located.
I sigh because Vik is going to be there.
My pencil skirt isn't particularly tight, but it isn't loose enough for me to lift my legs very high. This is going to take forever.
Finally, I reach level ground, its surface covered in fine sand. I see a few horses and riders on the field. They might recognize me, or perhaps they don't. Either way, it doesn't stop them from staring.
I turn left toward the rest area, an open-sided space covered by a roof. As I enter, someone with golden hair suddenly turns toward me.
Of course, it's him.
"Oh, wow, wow. Letizia Serafinne. Is this a dream? You actually came down to the field?" Vik gets up, and his face immediately lights up like that of a boy who has found his lost toy.
I ignore his reaction to my arrival and search for a tall person with copper hair. He should be easy to spot because he's unusually tall.
"Who are you looking for?" Vik asks with a sly expression. "Hey, if you keep ignoring me, I can't help you." He smirks slightly and walks closer. The smell of his sweat becomes stronger.
"I'm looking for your captain," I answer.
"Heh." He makes a low sound in his throat. "Why are you looking for him?"
I say nothing and continue scanning the area for my target.
"You know, boys don't like girls who throw themselves at them like this—coming straight to where they are. It looks desperate," he continues babbling.
"Have you ever seen me approach a boy before?" I ask. He falls silent. "Where is he?"
"Why are you looking for him?" He continues bothering me.
"Are you Tytas? If not, it's none of your business."
I'm about to move away from him and head toward the changing room when he grabs my wrist.
"You're not allowed back there. It's the men's changing room," he tells me with a slightly irritated expression. "I'll tell him for you. What do you want?"
Vik looks serious, but his eyes always appear devious when he looks at me.
"Can you let me go?" I ask calmly.
"Why? You don't like being touched?" He speaks softly, but there's a harsh edge to his voice.
This asshole is getting on my nerves.
"Seriously, Vik?" I furrow my eyebrows and stare at him.
"Hehe. I like it when you're about to get upset." He smiles like a clown. "Are you more interested in balls than horses?"
"What?" I ask, confused.
"I saw you leave with James. I've never seen you ride in another man's car before," he says.
"What's your problem?" I ask.
"Answer me, and then I'll let you go."
For heaven's sake, what's wrong with him?
"Then ask me the real question," I tell him.
My words seem to challenge him. He pauses. "Are you—" Vik begins.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Tytas interrupts him and grabs his arm. "Move your fucking hand," he repeats in a firm, intimidating voice. I've never seen him like this before.
Vik releases my wrist at Tytas's command. He grabs his jacket, glances at me, clenches his jaw angrily, and heads toward the changing room.
"Are you all right? I'm really sorry." Tytas's voice immediately becomes calm and gentle as he watches me shake my hand and rotate my wrist.
"It's okay," I say.
"How come you're here?" He asks. "You surprised me—and him too. That's why he acted like a—" He pauses.
Douchebag?
"I was looking for you," I say, breaking the long silence. "Miss Quinn asked me to tell you to go see her."
"Why did she ask you to tell me?" He appears slightly upset. "I'm going back to the main building anyway. You didn't need to waste your time coming all the way down here."
My eyes follow the beads of sweat as they trail down his skin.
"Are you upset that I'm here?" I ask.
"No, no—shit. I mean, I didn't want you to walk all the way here. It's far, and now you have to walk all the way back," he explains.
"I could have asked Vik to tell you, but I thought it would be better to tell you myself." He waits patiently for me to continue. "Your mother is waiting for you with Miss Quinn. She asked me to find you." He looks stunned—genuinely stunned.
"I'll go now," I tell him before turning around.
Suddenly, I hear his footsteps approaching behind me.
"Letizia," Tytas calls. I turn toward him. "I'll go with you." He says as he is holding the horse's lead rope in his palm. I nod.
During the long walk back to the main hall, he matches his pace to mine. I watch the sweat dripping from his skin and falling onto the path. He must be in a hurry; he didn't even stop to clean himself up or change his clothes. He glances at me, and I quickly look away.
"I'm sorry if I smell," he says.
"No, you don't," I reply.
"I'm sorry that my mum made you do this." He shortens his stride to match mine. I look at him, and his gaze falls on my wrist. "Are you sure you're not hurt? Vik is quite strong. I'm sorry on his behalf." He looks concerned but remains composed.
He behaves maturely, like an adult. His words and actions are polished and calm, even when he's upset.
"You need to stop apologizing." I chuckle softly. "It's not your fault. Is apologizing for other people a habit of yours?"
"Perhaps." He chuckles.
That shows how he was raised.
"But that means you care about them, right?" I ask.
He licks his bottom lip and glances at me. "I care about you."
My eyes widen slightly, but my legs keep moving.
"I apologize because someone close to me made you feel uncomfortable or hurt you," he explains.
"Thank you, but you don't need to apologize. It doesn't make me feel any better about that person."
"I wasn't apologizing to make you feel better about anyone else," he says. "I think you know what I mean." He holds my gaze before taking another step.
Does he mean that he wants me to feel better about him?
He extends his right hand toward me, his palm facing upward. The gesture surprises me slightly. He waits patiently until I place my left hand in his. Tytas supports me the entire way up the hill.
Tytas is very different from Vik, and it's difficult to believe that they are best friends. It's also surprising that Tytas hasn't changed his personality to become more like him. Perhaps Vik isn't as influential as he thinks, or perhaps Tytas simply knows himself and understands what morality looks like. Vik should understand it too. Still, he obeys whatever Tytas tells him.
I don't understand their friendship. There might be more to it than there appears to be, and I don't want to become involved.
But why? Why is Vik so obsessed with joking around and teasing me whenever we see each other? I'm always patient and try hard not to react. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, it doesn't. I simply don't understand him at all.
Finally, we reach the main hall.
"We have games this Saturday," Tytas says. I look at him and wait for him to continue. "It would be nice if you came to watch me."
I smile to myself. It isn't a direct question, nor is he forcing me to say yes or no. He gives me a choice and leaves the answer open.
"I know you enjoy watching horses," he adds with a soft smile.
Suddenly, the door opens.
"Here you are. We've been waiting for you. I knew I heard your voice," his mother says. "And… why are you covered in sweat and mud?"
He glances briefly at me. "I didn't want to keep you waiting," he replies.
"I see." His mother smiles slyly. "So it was a good thing that I asked Letizia to find you…" He glares at his mother. "I called you, but you didn't answer," she explains.
"I was training," Tytas replies.
"But she—" his mother begins.
"Mother, please." He guides her back into the room.
"I'll get going now. Goodbye, Mrs. Oskar. Goodbye, Tytas," I say before leaving.