Who Said You Could Break Our Engagement? (1)
Libido hated Psyche.
No — to be honest, it wasn't so much that he hated her. He hated that Psyche didn't seem to like him very much at all.
Psyche used to say things like this:
"Why on earth would I marry you, you dummy!"
"Because the grown-ups decided we're to be married, that's why. You and I have to get married."
"Well, I don't wanna! I'm going to marry a hero on a white horse — someone way cooler and way handsomer than you!"
If Psyche had been the daughter of any ordinary noble house, Libido would have shot back, Hah — keep dreaming. But Psyche was a princess. The youngest daughter whom the King cherished above all else.
True, Libido's family was the most illustrious in the kingdom… but from where Psyche stood, marrying a prince of another land and becoming a queen might well have been the brighter future to wish for.
So every time she teased him like that, Libido's heart would drop straight through the floor.
Psyche was more beautiful than anyone. There was no one in the world lovelier than her. And Libido wanted, more than anything, to marry her.
And yet Psyche felt like something he could never catch, no matter how desperately he reached — as if one day, without his ever noticing, she would simply spread her wings and flutter away. Like a beautiful butterfly.
So Libido asked his father how a person was supposed to catch a butterfly. It looked ready to fly off at any moment, he whined, and he wanted it to stay beside him — what was he supposed to do?
"Hmm, let me think. Well — you snap its wings off, don't you? Try taxidermy."
His father answered, offhand and indifferent.
Visitors came flooding in for Psyche's coming-of-age ceremony.
A full two months before it, no less.
Some had genuinely come to offer their congratulations; others were using the celebration as a convenient pretext to negotiate one diplomatic matter or another.
Either way — with more than two months still to go before the ceremony, the Royal Castle was already packed with guests. And the reason they all gave for turning up so absurdly early? Why, "Her Highness is as good as grown already, is she not?"
Grumbling, Psyche rattled on to her maid.
"Doesn't anyone have a shred of conscience? They wouldn't spare us a speck of interest, but ohhh — 'We've come to congratulate Her Highness on her coming-of-age ceremony~' Wow! How touching! Never mind that it's two months early! Two months and two weeks early!"
"There's nothing to be done, Your Highness. Everyone has their circumstances…"
"Right! Of course they have circumstances! And thanks to those circumstances, I've spent every single day for two months doing my makeup, dressing to the nines, laughing my phony ho-ho-ho laugh, and cooing 'Oh my, and you must be the so-and-so from such-and-such~' at every last stranger!"
Psyche was furious.
Lately her figure kept filling out, and the corset her tailor had made up in advance now squeezed her far too tight. No matter how many times she asked to have it loosened, not one of them so much as pretended to listen.
Hours every day, spent choosing gowns and sitting for makeup and having her hair arranged. Listening to briefings on who each guest was, memorizing names, rehearsing greetings. And then that who-knows-who of a guest would arrive, steal a single glance at her, and start stammering.
Before long, they would strike up a cozy conversation with her father instead.
—As if she didn't even exist!
"Perhaps it is simply that Your Highness is too beautiful, and it overwhelms them."
"Psh. And if one look at a beautiful person is enough to reduce them to stammering, then what do you call that idiot? He babbles his nonsense perfectly fine with this gorgeous face right in front of him, doesn't he?"
"He has been at Your Highness's side since you were both very young, so I imagine he has simply grown accustomed…"
"Accustomed to what? I grow more beautiful by the day — past the point of recognition. If that fool were going to lose his tongue, it should have happened ages ago! Ugh, forget it, this is unbearable! What is my toy doing right now?"
"He is said to be escorting the other young ladies who arrived in his party…"
"Oh, for goodness' sake! Why is he the one doing that? Fine — hurry up and take me to him!"
Still fuming, Psyche stomped down the corridor — until Libido came into view, and her furious stride melted, smooth as silk, into an elegant glide.
Whenever the stress piled up too high, Psyche always went looking for Libido. Sometimes she took the secret passage from her chambers; other times she smuggled him in, hidden away where no one could see.
Libido was Psyche's own personal little toy. "Little" no longer quite fit — he had grown far too tall and broad for the word — but in Psyche's eyes he still looked like some tiny, pesky child.
Teasing him was delicious. Whenever Psyche said so much as a word to him, he would work himself into a grave, solemn panic all on his own — what do I do, oh no, what do I do—
And that only made Psyche ham it up harder, act more insufferable, tease him more cruelly. Watching Libido flounder because of her was a thoroughly delightful experience. —Like this.
"Ah… w-whatever shall I do. Then this—"
"Puhuhut, how adorable you are. You really mustn't worry yourself so. More importantly — there is a party this evening. Might you do me the honor of being my partner—"
"That great lump is already slated to be my partner, you see. My condolences!"
The moment Psyche took her place at Libido's side, the young lady who had been chatting with him retreated a full step. The nerve of her, hanging off Libido without the faintest idea of her place. Psyche's graceful brows knitted, just slightly.
Now that Libido had grown into his size, all sorts of women had begun clinging to him. Lowly maids and commoner girls, ladies-in-waiting and noble daughters — even shameless, married noblewomen.
Leave him alone for five minutes, and the idiot would just stand there getting nibbled apart by a pack of she-wolves, never once realizing they had their eyes on what was hers.
"Psyche. That lady says the button on my chest came off — her mistake, she says — so I was—"
"So you what?! You're actually planning to show up as her partner? You — you — you're going to two-time me with some hussy, without even knowing your place? Don't you dare get ideas. I only put up with you because of the promise between our fathers, I—"
"Whoa — an affair? Really, Psyche. …And you don't have to say it. I know you're thinking of breaking off our engagement. I know you're popular. I know all of it. There's no need to say it all over again."
"…What?"
Irritation exploded through Psyche in an instant.
Honestly, this hopeless fiancé of hers didn't know his place — and then some. Her insides boiling, Psyche decided that this idiotic, infuriating, impossible fiancé of hers needed to be taught a very thorough lesson.
Psyche's favorite weapon for teasing Libido was — the word "annulment." Not that she had ever meant it. A promise between houses wasn't so easily broken, and she had no intention of breaking this one anyway.
It was simply a habit of a game, born from something that had happened when they were children.
'I'm going to break off our engagement, just like that.'
Back then, Psyche had been furious over one of Libido's pranks. She had called him over to look at a flower she found absolutely breathtaking, and Libido had knocked it aside with a "what's so great about this?"
The flower was, of course, ruined, and Psyche had shrieked at him with her eyes brimming over with tears. I'm breaking off our engagement! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I'm telling Daddy right now — he'll annul it first thing—!
Libido had gone pale with fright.
He came sniffling and sobbing, bearing bouquets woven from even prettier flowers, or wept his apologies before her in a thick, nasal voice — restless, desperate, terrified that she truly meant to throw him over.
Psyche had loved that. Loved watching him flounder and beg for forgiveness. Loved the mountains of bouquets he brought because he couldn't stop thinking of her. Loved how a single word spat out in a temper could scare him half to death.
…It meant he wanted to marry her that badly. And that, most of all, she had loved.
But now the sheer absurdity of it strangled even her laughter. Psyche glared at him through slitted eyes. What? You know it all already? So I should give it a rest? No need to say it out loud?
And didn't that make it feel — as if she were the one desperate to be married? Walking beside Libido, Psyche's pace quickened by half a step. Her expression had gone ice-cold.
"You know I'm planning to break off the engagement? You know how popular I am? Oh, really? Well, you don't know a thing. You absolutely, absolutely don't. You could die without ever once dreaming of it."
"Listen up. Since you still don't seem to know your place, I'll spell it out for you. Today I met yet more princes lining up to confess to me. Every one of them promised me a queen's throne and spent two straight hours praising my beauty. They begged — actually begged — just to touch the very tips of my fingers."
There was no exaggeration in it. Psyche's beauty was exactly that caliber. Word of her looks had spread far across the other kingdoms, and even the envoys who came to call could not hold her gaze for long.
Which meant Psyche deserved to be treasured all the more. The one who ought to lie awake aching at the thought of a spouse straying into someone else's arms — that was Libido, and it could only ever be Libido. Never her.
Libido should have been weeping tears of gratitude that she was his fiancée — not nodding along with that sullen face of his.
Upset over nothing she could name, Psyche leaned toward him and jabbed a finger into his chest, again and again — all the while doing her level best to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks at the firmness of that chest.
"Did you get all that? Whatever. Looks like you didn't. Fine. Good. Go to tonight's party, then. Go on — attend as that woman's partner. If you don't, I really will kill you."
"Th-that's… Psyche…"
"I said what I said. Attend. As. Her. Partner. Unless you truly want to be thrown over… think very carefully."
"O-okay. I understand, Psyche."
…What? Psyche's eyes went round with disbelief.
This idiot. Honestly. Did he just say okay? Psyche, who had been on the verge of striding off and leaving him behind, stopped dead where she stood and swallowed her fury. She turned back. Seriously. What was she supposed to do with him?
What came out of her was a voice so frost-cold it startled even her.
"No — forget it. Let's just end the engagement right now, Libido. I'll speak to Father myself. As of this moment, you are no longer my fiancé."
"…What? Psyche. Psyche!"
"See you at the party later. Idiot. You're putting me in a foul mood, so don't follow me."
Just how beautiful I am. How sought-after. How badly people want me for their own. I'll make sure you see every last bit of it, plain as day.
Listening to Libido shout her name from behind her, Psyche allowed herself a small, secret smile. It didn't last. When he made no move to chase after her, the corners of her mouth sank right back down.
Fine, I told you not to follow — but you're really not coming? I'm not worth chasing? What is this? Don't tell me you've gone back to sew that woman's button on, just because I walked away.
That's right. Go on, then — see how you like it. Feel it, thoroughly. Seething cold to her core, Psyche headed for her chambers.
"Infuriating, infuriating, infuriating! Honestly. Amelia! I'm going to the party tonight. Make me up more beautifully than I have ever been in my life. I want a certain idiot drowning in regret! And so breathtaking that no presumptuous nobody will ever dare covet what's mine!"
Libido was seized by a dreadful, gnawing unease. The anxiety perched on his heart refused to leave him, even once the party had begun.
He searched the hall for Psyche — and at the same time caught himself hoping, desperately, that she simply would not come. But the ominous premonition would not lift.
"To think Her Highness would grace a party like this—"
"But her fiancé is here as well. Why ever would the two of you not arrive together…"
"She came without a partner, you say? Does that mean there may yet be hope for the rest of us? Ha ha—"
And then Libido saw her.
He would swear it on anything: Psyche was the most beautiful creature in this world. Not because of the deep-blue gown glittering against her skin, nor the gossamer mesh scarf draped over it like a pair of wings.
It was her proud, radiant smile and those gleaming eyes. No one alive could look at them and not fall in love. Libido knew this better than anyone. No one — not a single soul — could look at Psyche and fail to want her.
And that was exactly why Libido was always afraid.
Afraid she would fly far away and leave him behind. Afraid she would choose someone — anyone — over him. Afraid that the taunt always on her lips would one day become real, and she would truly end the engagement. It was enough to drive him out of his mind.
Today.
Psyche had declared their engagement over — and then come to the party anyway. Without a partner. More dazzlingly, more deliberately beautiful than he had ever seen her.
As if she were out hunting for a different husband.
Libido stared at her, dazed. For a moment, their eyes met. Those beautiful amber eyes — like moonlight against a dark night sky, the kind that pulled a person's soul clean out of their body.
Psyche lifted her chin, just slightly. A small, derisive snort.
"Princess Psyche — this firefly before the full moon has yearned so desperately for a dance in your moonlight. Might I request the honor—?"
"Please! Grant me the glory of the first dance!"
The music hadn't even begun, and already the men from other kingdoms — the very ones who had arrived sneering down their noses — were bowing low and humbling themselves, begging Psyche for a dance. Her eyes and Libido's met, just for an instant.
Then she looked away from him, found her seat, and sat. Princes and young lords came swarming around her like moths chasing a flame.
"My word — even that one… Her Highness's beauty truly is—"
"Look at that hair, like a river of stars. Say, I heard from a palace maid—"
"Could the engagement really be off—?"
The whispers itched at his ears. Libido quietly clenched his fist. It was always like this. Psyche was always surrounded by people.
He worked himself to the bone trying to become a man worthy of her, and she was always one step further out of reach. And every time, she brought up breaking the engagement. He knew.
He was nothing more than a stumbling block in Psyche's life.
And today of all days, Psyche had spoken of annulment like she meant it.
To Libido's eyes, Psyche looked like a butterfly struggling free of a cocoon it had outgrown — hauling itself upright, trembling, ready at last to face the open sky, to meet the wind, to burst into the wide world beyond.
The most beautiful butterfly in all the world.
And then, unbidden, his father's words rose from memory.