Sakuramoria

- So, what am I supposed to do with you now? You thought you could blackmail me? - Futaba muttered, pacing around the room and examining its furnishings, occasionally glancing at the old man. - Your sons did me a favor. Let them take the spotlight; I don't mind. Less of a headache. But did you really have to involve my students in this? ... Stopping in front of her portrait, which the king had painted a couple of months ago, she imagines its approximate effect on the wall of the NAILS dormitory. - You know how hard Nira worked on this competition? I was so happy when she brought the plans for approval. She would sit there for two hours, double-checking every budget, even though it made my head spin just looking at them. Not because I didn't trust her, but out of respect for her work. Yes, I didn't like her at first, but that was a long time ago, and a lot has changed since then, especially after leaving the cave. And for those couple of weeks, her eyes regained their sparkle. And so did her friends'. Are you aware that Cassin's father tried to take her by force, like an animal? I can't blame him for that. After your and Carvia's crimes, I would have done the same in his place. But somehow, it was resolved. You know, I've thought many times since then about writing him a letter, but I couldn't decide what to write. Neither a scolding, nor an accusation, nor a reconciliation, nor an apology from the crown - nothing seems sufficient. One way or another, people were just starting to adapt... This competition was very important to us. We turned the page on suffering and entered a normal new semester. We showed team spirit. And then... For a few seconds, Futaba tries to compose herself, but fails and furiously kicks a pillow. - I just want to slap that damn bald head... And the bald head of your gloating son... And most of all - I want to slap you in the face, - the queen gives her unconscious body a sweeping slap. - Well, are you satisfied? You old fool. Collapsing to her knees next to the bed and resting her forehead on its edge, Futaba looks at the floor - her tears are soaking it. - It's not fair... We tried so hard... We organized everything... We decorated everything... We sold tickets... And you, you monsters, ruined everything... - a fist hits the bed frame. - It's not fair... - another hit. - It's not fair... - *boom* - You bastards... - *boom, boom, boom* - Her hand lost feeling and fell limply. - Citizens were killed... No matter who they were... Guess who? Me, of course. Just like last time. And our beloved granddaughter, the apple of our eye. Is that what you wanted from her? ... Although, what can you expect. You're like my own father. You two would get along. Taking a convulsive breath, the queen gets up and sits on the bed, staring at the body for a long time, regaining her composure. - And now, these blockheads are accusing me of your crime. And the crime of your milkmaid. Isn't that funny? You really covered your tracks well, didn't you? "Supermind from Sakuramor," - running her fingers over the mark on the old man's cheek, which she had made earlier, she can't help but add an ironic and mocking tone. Sighing, Futaba breaks off her monologue and sits in silence for a while, looking at the body. Then she smooths his hair, adjusts his pajama collar. - Get up, - she says in a whisper, leaning close to his ear. - And take responsibility for your negligence. She seals this phrase with a kiss on the forehead of the two-hundred-and-twenty-year-old mummy.