Two hours ago, in the Crown Prince's room, two people sat quietly across from each other. But the atmosphere of the two was completely opposite. One beamed with the radiance of a thousand suns, merrily devouring cake while an aura of whimsical flowers danced around him.
While the other looked like he'd just swallowed a gallon of bad milk, with a face so gloomy you could grow mushrooms on it. Pale and confused, he stared at the person across from him like they'd just sprouted a second head.
The contrast between them was like comparing a glittery disco ball to an old potato sack - one sparkled with joy while the other wilted in misery.
The sad sack wanted to say something several times but kept chickening out at the last second because apparently even his tongue had stage fright. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly like a goldfish gasping for air. Poor thing couldn't even figure out what words wanted to come out of their own mouth!
