The prince draped the long garland of threaded jasmines over the statue's shoulders, letting it coil gently down like a woven shawl of fragrance. He stepped back, tapping his chin with a thoughtful hum.
"Did it fall short?" he muttered under his breath, head tilting slightly as if the balance of the bloom still wasn't quite right.
Zuzu exhaled, his eyes drifting from the over-adorned statue to the prince's fingers red at the edges, faint lines of thread cuts etched across them like the quiet price of devotion.
"Your Highness…" he started, a bit hesitantly. "Is this statue a goddess, or something you're secretly worshipping?" He folded his arms. "You've spent all night threading those jasmines to that ridiculous length, and now you're asking if it falls less?"
He gestured toward the figure with a tired flick of his hand. "You've completely buried in jasmine. There's no statue anymore—just a heap of blossoms that smells like an entire forest bloomed in one place."
"Really?" the prince replied, swiftly turning to him, voice light.
Zuzu held his expression steady, unimpressed. "Hmph."
The prince studied the statue again, fingers absently brushing a loose petal from the hem of its stone robe.
"Still," he murmured, "I think she would have liked the scent."
Zuzu blinked, then muttered beneath his breath, "If she were real, she'd probably ask you to stop drowning her in flowers and take care of your fingers instead."
The prince chuckled softly, but didn't answer, his attention already lost again in the silent bloom of white.
After a pause, the prince left the statue behind and quietly walked to the edge of the fountain, its surface still under the late afternoon sun. He sat down, his fingers trailing idly along the cool stone.
Zuzu followed, pacing in front of him with increasing agitation, hands behind his back and brow furrowed. "Everyone will be returning very soon," he said, the words hanging in the quiet.
"Is that so? And where did you get this report?"
Zuzu sighed. "Your Highness, the palace walls may be carved from jade and silence, but they do have ears. You know this. Or have you forgotten already?"
The prince stood now, walking a slow circle around the fountain's edge, his tone calm but far away. "I haven't. That's why I've been thinking… of ways to welcome them back. After all, they've endured calamities on their own."
Zuzu came to a stop, hands on his hips. "Your Highness, why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
Zuzu stepped forward. "Why do you care so deeply for them?" he asked, his voice lower now, more pointed. "They never treated you like family. Not even as a cousin, let alone as their Crown Prince."
"For years they ignored you, avoided your company, acted as if your affection was something to be dismissed or laughed at. And I'm not talking about the Seventh Prince—he's the opposite. He practically growls at anyone who gets too close to you, including me."
The prince was quiet for a moment, then spoke gently. "Zuzu… they are still young teenagers."
"Exactly!" Zuzu snapped. "Which means they should've shown more respect to someone who always treated them with kindness. Instead, they treated you like a shadow that didn't belong to their light."
The prince didn't respond right away, and extending his hand fingers touching surface of the fountain water. Finally, he said, "Some wounds heal slower. But if I stop offering warmth, how will they ever learn where to return when it gets cold?"
Zuzu's expression remained unchanged but said nothing as he continued like,
"The Seven Dawn Petals of the Imperial Palace," the prince murmured, tilting his head slightly.
"Even though I hold the title of Crown Prince, it doesn't change the truth, they are heirs too. Each of them will one day hold dominion over key provinces of the empire. Shouldn't I start repairing our relationships now, while there's still time? Tell me… am I wrong?"
Zuzu blinked, momentarily caught off guard, then nodded with fervent enthusiasm. "No, Your Highness is absolutely right. Strengthening those bonds now is essential. After all, once you ascend the throne, they'll each hold power over crucial domains of Shenghara. Be it political, military, or spiritual, they'll wield influence within the Three Courts. That's why you must ensure they respect your authority. Keep them close so they don't stray… just like His Majesty—who keeps everyone under control, at his fingertips, standing alone at the pinnacle of power."
"Perfect," Daita cut in, raising both hands with flair. "I'm completely on your side. I'll even help you twist their thoughts and guide them right into your perfectly crafted snares. Ah finally, I've waited years for this."
Then, his expression shifted, lighter in tone but firm in intent. "But in return, you have to promise me one thing." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to feel the weight of the words.
"Keep me out of palace affairs, and officially accept that I refuse to govern the western dominion. Let me live out my days as a carefree commoner. no titles, no duties, no expectations. What do you say? Do we have a deal?"
The prince sighed, pressing his palm to his face, shaking his head slowly at the sheer absurdity of it all.
Behind him, Zuzu muttered under his breath, "Here he goes again…"
"Come on, just accept it this time." Daita stepped forward, voice more earnest now. "I'll do everything in my power to make sure you hold all the reins. What's so difficult about removing me from the title of Seventh Prince? When you ascend, you'll be Emperor. Only the Emperor can bestow or revoke titles of succession. And I—" he gestured vaguely, frustration bubbling beneath his tone, "I'm not even a rightful heir. Yet you still—"
"Daita." The prince placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"That title isn't something I can strip away. It's yours, not because His Majesty gave it to you, but because it always belonged to you. And it always will. You have every right to it. No matter how much you try to deny it, you're not just my closest friend… you're also My cousin."
Daita rolled his eyes and turned away sharply, "I don't have any right to be one. And no—I don't accept anything you say."
The prince sighed deeply and gave a subtle signal to Zuzu, who nodded quickly before hurrying off, disappearing into the distance.
Turning back to Daita, the prince walked toward him, offering a faint, almost sad smile. "If staying away from everything that belongs to the palace is what you truly want, fine. I'll agree at last."
He paused, his tone sharpening just slightly.
"But… you should cut ties with me entirely then. Because I belong to the palace, too."
"Akira…"
Daita's lips parted, but the prince spoke before he could respond more.
"You wanted to live as a commoner, didn't you? There is a way, but only through banishment. If you commit a grave sin, that would be the only way to remove your title and position. However, remember this—once you're banished, you can never return to the palace. No one will ever be able to connect with you again. not even me. It's the law, a rule you are no doubt well aware of."
"But you can change the rule when—" Daita began, but the prince swiftly cut him off.
"Not everything is under the sway of power. Not everything can be bent to one's will. There are no exceptions to the law, no matter how powerful you are or I am. If you wish to rid yourself of your title, you'll have to break the law. You'll have to commit a grave sin. And no matter your status, whether you are a commoner, a noble, or even the crown prince myself, the punishment will be the same. That is banishment."
Daita lowered his gaze, his fist tightening as he suppressed the frustration rising within him.
"I would have committed a sin already if severing ties with my friend weren't part of the deal," he muttered, looking up with a faint, resigned smile. The prince nodded, turning away as he began to walk.
Daita's voice softened, barely a whisper to himself.
"But what terrifies me is that one day, instead of me, it will be you who commits that sin. Because I know, deep down, that more than anyone, you are the one who longs to escape these palace walls. If it weren't for the chains of responsibility, and the unbearable weight of the pain, I think you would've already chosen that path."
Daita walked toward the statue, his eyes lingering on the intricate design of flowers draped across its shoulders. He shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
"He craves another, huh? The Crown Prince still enjoys this. I wonder which goddess he worships…"
As he lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowed, a sudden sense of familiarity washing over him. Wait… he thought, squinting at the statue. Does it resemble someone I know? Have I seen those features before?
He paused, brow furrowing, trying to place the image in his mind. His thoughts raced, but after a moment, he groaned in frustration.
"Why can't I remember?" He stared up at the blindfolded statue, one brow arching in quiet amusement.
"Whatever goddess you are…" he muttered, folding his arms, "only if he hadn't decided to carve you blindfolded and then drown you in flowers…"
He let out a soft sigh, stepping back with a faint smile. "Unpredictable."