December 24, 2022. 10:18 PM – Town of Beginnings, Floor 1

  I'm serious. I've been in love with you for a long time, Akane.

  HappyGoose's words still hung in the air as Miwa stared at him, eyes wide, her right hand resting on the hilt of the dagger at her side.

  The boy burst out laughing, covering his eyes with one hand.

  —So I blew it, didn't I? —he asked, getting no reply—. I swear I rehearsed this moment, these words, over and over in my head. And they never sounded like the ramblings of some obsessed lunatic.

  Miwa kept watching him carefully, silent.

  —I swear I'd never hurt you... though I guess that's exactly what a psychopath would say. Damn... —his laugh turned bitter.

  Suddenly, he climbed onto the railing that separated the lookout from the void beneath the floating castle. He turned carefully, now facing her with his back to the abyss.

  —What are you doing? Get down from there, idiot! —Miwa's voice shook a little, though she didn't move closer.

  —I get why you don't trust me. What I said sounds terrible without context. I just need you to listen. If after that you still feel threatened, you can push me off and all your worries will be over.

  —Quit the nonsense and get down, it's dangerous.

  —Not until you hear me out.

  Miwa stared at him, frustrated. Goose spent most of the day joking around, and she knew this was one of those rare moments when he was dead serious. At last, she let out a long sigh. She stepped back, released the dagger, and crossed her arms, stern.

  —I'll listen once you're back on solid ground.

  HappyGoose exhaled in relief. He knew he was taking a risk; Aincrad's random gusts of wind could appear at any moment, and one strong enough might kill him. He climbed down to the platform and began speaking.

  —Do you remember the coffee shop across from your school, where you used to go with your friends after class and always ordered an iced coffee with double chocolate?

  —Do you realize that nothing you're saying is helping your case? —she asked, raising an eyebrow as if joking, though the edge in her voice gave away her irritation.

  Goose smiled genuinely before continuing.

  —I know because I worked there. I was the guy who made your coffee almost everyday.

  Miwa's expression changed completely. Her eyes widened as her mind slipped back a couple of years. She remembered her school, the violet knee-length skirt, white blouse, and violet ribbon at the collar instead of a tie. Her daily stop at the coffee shop across the street with her best friends, Yoriko and Eda. Eda had a crush on an older guy at the register. Miwa only went because she liked how they made the coffee. And she remembered a chubby boy behind the counter, long hair falling over half his face, and a timid smile every time he handed her the cup —a smile she'd always answered with one of her own.

  HappyGoose wasn't that chubby anymore, though he wasn't slim either. His hair was short now, unkempt, black like that boy's had been. Brown eyes too —the same. The more she thought about it, the more Goose resembled him. She covered her mouth with her hand and let out a laugh that, to him, sounded like music.

  —I can't believe it... you really are him...

  —So you do remember me? —the boy's face lit up as though the sun itself had struck him.

  —Of course. You always added more chocolate to my coffee than the others did.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  —You ordered it double chocolate. That meant you liked it a lot. And in that case, a little extra never hurts.

  Miwa finally relaxed and closed some of the distance between them. Goose felt a surge of nerves - unsure if this was the start of something, the end of everything, or nothing at all. And he wasn't sure which possibility scared him most.

  —Why didn't you say anything when we first met here?

  —Because I thought you wouldn't remember me. And I didn't want to risk finding out.

  —You can't blame me for not recognizing you. You look different.

  Goose laughed nervously. A hundred things came to mind, but none seemed right. Miwa grinned playfully all of a sudden.

  —Since you're here now, there's something I always wanted to ask.

  —Ask anything you want —he replied, steadying himself.

  —At the coffee shop, you always drew on the cups. All the other girls got hearts. But on mine, you always drew a butterfly, never a heart. My friends teased me, saying I wasn't pretty enough for one.

  Her smile grew as she spoke. Goose swallowed hard before answering.

  —There's a very good reason for that.

  —I'm listening.

  HappyGoose took a moment to gather his thoughts. He'd already made two big mistakes tonight; he couldn't afford a third.

  —The drawings were part of the service. By the boss's orders, we had to draw hearts on girls' cups and suns on boys'. But you were too special for me to give you something so soulless. So I tried something different. I'm no artist, though, and that was all I could come up with. Honestly, I'm just glad you saw a butterfly. My coworkers used to mock me, saying it looked like a fly. —Goose smiled faintly, still nervous.

  Miwa looked at him, her smile softening into something smaller but far more sincere. She stepped closer, raised her hand, and brushed his cheek lightly with her fingers.

  —Were you always this sweet? —she asked, her honest tone cutting straight through him.

  HappyGoose could only close his eyes. Miwa withdrew her hand and returned to her usual tone.

  —What did you do after I left school? Did you try to look for me?

  The boy blinked, surprised by the question.

  —No. I told you, I'm not a stalker. When you stopped coming, I assumed you'd graduated. I kept hoping I'd see you again, but you never came back —his voice carried sincerity and a trace of old sadness.

  —But I did come back... three times.

  —What?

  —I went back three times the following year, but never saw you again. I just wanted that extra-chocolate coffee. I thought maybe you'd changed jobs, so I stopped going.

  —...Was it in the summer?

  —Yes. How do you know?

  —Because that summer I switched shifts...

  Goose clutched his head like he'd just realized he'd made the worst mistake of his life. Miwa watched him, amused now, all trace of earlier tension gone.

  —I guess I can trust you're not some dangerous creep... for now.

  —I'm only dangerous to anyone who tries to hurt you.

  Miwa was used to Goose's comments like that. But for some reason, her heart skipped at this one.

  —I know I'm not the most attractive guy in the party, but my feelings for you are real —Goose blurted.

  Miwa frowned, surprised and annoyed by the remark.

  —And what was that supposed to mean? —she crossed her arms.

  HappyGoose fell silent, unsure how to explain himself. He'd always felt inferior because of his looks, and compared to Silver —athletic, confident— or Veget —majestic in his leadership— he believed he had nothing to offer.

  —Well... it's just that. Silver and Veget are better-looking than me.

  —So?

  —That's it.

  Miwa kept staring at him. Her smile faded, replaced by a scowl.

  —Do you really think I'm that shallow? —she asked, her voice firm.

  —All girls like handsome guys, don't they? —he tried to justify himself.

  —If that's what you think, then we have nothing more to talk about. Let's go back to Rovia.

  She turned and started walking toward the teleport gate at the central plaza. Goose watched her go, a lump in his throat, then rushed after her.

  —Miwa...

  —Don't talk to me. Every time you open your mouth, you ruin everything.

  She teleported away without waiting. Goose was left alone in the plaza, staring at the fading blue glow of the gate. He smacked his forehead, clenched his teeth, and muttered to himself:

  —Brilliant job, genius... you screwed it up.

  He took a deep breath, exhaled, and stared at the emptiness his clumsiness had left behind. It wasn't sadness he felt, but a mix of disbelief and disappointment in himself. With a sigh, he activated the altar and vanished, carrying on his shoulders the certainty that tonight he'd ruined something that could have mattered.