– "Um..." Ariha murmured.
– "You two taking forever? I heated up some ramen. Eat up and—" The woman called out as she stepped into the hallway—only to stop short when she saw the two of them staring at each other before turning their heads toward her in unison.
She caught a flicker of nervousness in her daughter's eyes, while the boy's gaze was nothing but icy. But then her eyes dropped to their hands—still clasped together.
The prince noticed the mother's scrutiny, especially the way her eyes lingered on his grip around Ariha's fingers. Quickly, Senko released her hand and raised his own to his face, clearing his throat.
– "Ahem... My apologies for my conduct. I hope my actions did not discomfort you?" he asked Ariha stiffly.
The girl flexed her newly freed fingers.
– "It's fine. You're probably struggling without any support here. I understand, Your Highness," she replied.
– "Ariha, why do you keep calling him 'Prince Senko'? Can't he just give his real name?" The woman frowned, utterly lost.
– "You would know if you'd listened earlier! I told you—he is the real Prince Senko!" Ariha shot back.
– "What nonsense? The crown prince vanished 300 years ago. Why would he show up now?" Her mother's voice rose slightly.
– "Why won't you listen? I didn't believe it either at first, but there's too much evidence—he is Senko von Minaguch Hyōnko!" Ariha insisted, frustration creeping into her tone.
The woman paused, finally noticing the desperation on her daughter's face. Her chest tightened. With a sigh, she walked over and pulled Ariha into a tight hug, stroking her hair.
– "I'm sorry. I was wrong. Explain it to me—why do you think he's really the prince...?" she murmured soothingly.
Senko watched from the sidelines, a strange ache in his chest.
– "Their bond... so warm and unshakable. Will my presence only poison it?" he wondered.
Then his stomach growled again, shattering the moment—and what little dignity he had left.
Mother and daughter blinked at him in unison before bursting into laughter.
– "You'd better eat before the neighbors file a noise complaint about 'earthquakes and dying whales,'" the woman joked, ushering them toward the kitchen.
As they settled at the table, she ladled steaming ramen into bowls.