Chapter 8: A Bitter Cigarette

Midnight draws in and the stars crawl across the boundless sky.

Few hours later, unable to sleep, Camille walks off the room and goes to a veranda nearby.

The cold air was like teeth pricking her skin and the moon shone brighter and bigger more than anytime she had seen it.

Her breaths were visible like a little mist softly melting heavenwards.

"Couldn't sleep?" A hoarse voice approached her.

It was Mr. Wang who joined her on the veranda.

Camille buried her chin on her arms resting at the balusters. "You've seen what's inside my head earlier too, haven't you?"

"I have."

"Do you think… I'm pathetic?"

"Why do you think so?"

"I've got everything and still keep on being sad. My parents were never even explicit about their favoritism, but I was whining a lot about it in my head."

"Yeah, you were kind of getting ahead of yourself there. But it's sort of understandable to have that complex."

"They told me that I should always take care and prioritize my little brother."

"Well, he's a genius, so he's special and precious."

Camille fell silent, trailing off with the night's solace.

Mr. Wang pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it up, and started smoking beside her.

Camille looked intrigued, so the old man immediately shut it off, "Don't even think about it, young lady."

"Huh? But you're doing it…" She commented, clearly annoyed. "Don't be stingy, let me puff some."

"If you think it's not gonna hurt, you might wanna think again."

"Hmph, adults always do that stuff," Camille shook her head. "Acting like you know it all."

"Just how old are you?"

"I'm 23!"

"I started smoking at 40."

Camille resigned and let out a sigh, facing over the overview from the castle again.

"So? Did you like your little brother?" Mr. Wang asked. "You were jealous, but it didn't feel like you were hostile to him."

"Well, he's cute. And he never gloated about being a genius or being more liked in the household. He's so focused with his studies at times that he forgets to rest or eat and that made me feel like I should keep looking out for him."

"Do you hate your parents?"

"I... I don't. I don't hate them, but I wish they would pay more attention to me. It was my fault that I couldn't tell them how I feel. But I didn't like it when they blamed some of their irrationality on the guise of love."

"Like forcing you to like something and to take something you're not interested in? And deciding what's good for you when it's not?"

"Jeez, just how much did you see from my memory?"

"If you know what's wrong with you and what's wrong with how you see them, then I'm sure you'll be fine."

Mr. Wang exhaled the smoke again and left it on top of the balusters without putting it off, as if quietly allowing Camille to have a few puffs of the cigarette.

The old man began trudging away and Camille was left staring at the cigarette, reminiscing the times she spent with her little brother.

She was always tasked to guide and take care of him as they walk home together after school hours.

--

Far, far from their world, in the household of Rousseau, Arthur knocked on the maid's door and was welcomed by Rosalina, Camille's personal maid.

"Oh, it's you, young master," Rosalina recognized. "What brings you here?"

Arthur looked up with a blank expression and spoke, "I'd like to ask something of you, Rosalina."

The maid politely bent down to be on the same level as the young boy's height and looked at him straight.

"What is it, young master?"

"Before my sister disappeared, she seemed scared of you. It felt like… she kept falling into despair when she was with you."

Rosalina was taken aback, "Is that really how it seemed? Why do you think the young lady is afraid of me?"

"You did something to her, didn't you, Rosalina?"