I Swear I Won’t Bother You Again!

When one topic is over, a new story begins again. It was already quite a while before I realized that the repetition was the beginning of the public discourse.

Apparently, the person who thought he was in the opposite position had killed his breath in unexpected proximity.

Both Violet and Rosette felt that the more they spoke, the more similar their insides were. Everyone can't imagine, even they thought they were on the opposite shore.

But if you think about it, you can take it for granted.

Violet, who grew up as a boy with the time to absorb the most varied objects, and Rosette, who had a hobby that was far from the ideal princess. They both have something out of framework as ladies.

It wasn't even a common hobby, but somehow the way we talked was where we felt each other.

"I get the most trouble when I make a new dress. My taste really breaks your image..."

"That's right... I'm totally different from what I like."

"Is that when you choose to look good after all?

'Cause you don't have to stand out any worse that way.'

"That's right..."

Even though the image held is the opposite, I know that there is a self completed in the head of others and the cramping that cannot be removed from it. No clear, pure lilies, no luscious, raunchy red roses, no compliments if there are no real shards there.

Because they're two people down the same road, the same hardships they've experienced and the same walls that block them. I guess I can't help but rap to someone who empathizes with me because I can't usually talk to people.

"I'm glad you said the light colors would suit you... I'm just distracted by the fact that you don't get dirty, and I'm multiple times fatigued"

"It's remarkable..."

Remember that time, Violet could only empathize with a bitter laugh at Rosette, who laughed with a distant eye.

I think that exchange is fresh and that's why I'm happy.

Because it's a story I would never have been able to do before. When I was in the middle of nowhere, or right up to the high ground, there were a lot of people around Violet, but what kind of noise would it have been if I had told those people what they are now?

Because I think people who have been disfigured have been betrayed on their own. Those who dream of an empress who relents on Violet over power do not condone weakness, nor do they condone shards.

That was nice. Because if I was in my dreams of strength, I felt like I could be really strong.

Even now, I think that I was cornered enough to hold such thoughts. Violet herself had an ideal, not just around her, but ended up swinging. When we get here, we're not talking about black history anymore. There's no room for embarrassment, it's a dark age I want to erase from my memory.

"I don't have to worry about that because the lighter colors don't suit me very well on the other hand... it's hard when the corset is bitter"

What people want from Violet is a color and glamour that doesn't get nasty. An eye-catching presence just to be there. Though that rarely turns into a favorite, I don't want a favorite violet around.

So Violet stands around in an eye-catching way to avoid people. Because I want to avoid being noticeable, but it's better than embodying plain sight and making a bad stand.

I've never liked my appearance. I rather hate it. I used to hate everything that made me up, from blood to genes, as much as I refused to even look in the mirror.

Since when did that bother me?

I hated this face so much, the hair that was only in my way, and the fact that I wrapped myself in a dress I didn't like.

It's not just hell anymore, why was it?

(... because Yulan praised me.)

What comes to mind is a boy who was always there with a smile on his face. Even Violet preferred clothes, like boys, dressed in unstretched half-haired clothes, told me they didn't look good.

-It's beautiful. She's cute. She looks great.

─ ─ Vio, whatever you're wearing, it's nice.

He honors me with a big circle of smiles so as to undo all the other voices. He has never looked disgusted, not even looking out of his ideal violet, with everyone turning a surprise eye.

So now I can be proud. This is who I think I am. Although there is nothing I like about my hair, my eyes, the blood that flows and the cells that make up it. Still, I thought it was good.

Because Yulan cherished my mercy, whether I disliked Violet or wanted to throw it away. If you could tell me that you like Yulan, I could think that if you were the only one who put Yulan through, you could love me.

"... Dear Violet?

"Huh...! I'm sorry, I just remembered something I miss..."

"Don't worry about it. Good memories, isn't it?

"Huh...?

"Pfft, if you look at it, you'll see... because you had a very happy look."

A loosely smiling rosette filled me with words. Even the fine wind noise retreats far away, and only her words have a clear color in her brain.

Did you have a happy look? In memories that can never be said to be beautiful, there was Yulan, for that reason.

Even though it's a world of distortion and decadence and blame. I wanted people to die because of their misfortune.

In an environment where ethics and morality can even throw away the law. It reminds me, it was never just ugly.

"Yeah... very, very happy... happy, was"

It squeezed out between the freshly interrupted, unsound tremors of air. That's the undisputed true meaning of Violet.

Rosette is naturally upset by Violet covering her face with both hands on her bow. There was no choice but to gently stroke its back, which even seemed to cry.

In Violet's eyes, though there were no tears. Everything I noticed was so happy that I was sweetened by the tenderness of Rosette, who leaned in with nothing, while in confusion and perplexity.

Happy, happy, that's why it got painful.

I didn't know. I didn't realize. Nothing, I didn't try to see. I wanted to be happy.

Happiness (Yulan) has been laughing at me all along.