C28: Megan

I slumped myself on the bed after changing to my bedtime clothes, turned to lie by my back and reflect as I look to the ceiling. Lance has been acting weird – I mean, he's not that different, but I smell something fishy about how he treats Eve. Like what, just because 'he changed his name' means he'll turn to a different person too? Good riddance, I know I'm missing something here! He's been colder than ever, plus what's the deal with Eve?

Without thinking of what time it is, I dialed Eve's number and she answered immediately.

"Hey, why are you still up? It's almost 11:30 pm," she said, and I heard a door closing from her line, and the sound of a car leaving.

"Wait, did you just arrived home? Is Lance still there? He dropped you just now?" I knew it. Something's wrong here.

"Well yes, why? Please lower your voice, you're almost yelling in my ear. I'll turn the loudspeaker on when I enter the house, so hold on.

After around two minutes, Eve told me that she's done putting down her stuff and is finally ready for us to talk.

"What took you so long to go home? We parted for like, almost 30 minutes or so already," I let out a short sigh to calm myself down since I already noticed that I've been overreacting.

"Fine, I'll tell you. He didn't drop me home first because he wanted to talk to me. He apologized about how he acted since he's been cold and rude, while technically, I'm his boss. The guy is nice; you know? That might be his default, but I've seen the soft side of him. He gave me a peace offering, and that's it."

"Peace offering? That sounds like out of character. I've always seen him as a humorless tyrant who's bossy and mean," although he may be acting that way, but he is indeed in the position to.

Especially because I slack off occasionally when working. "What was his peace offering?"

"Bracelet. Meg, I like to talk more, but I'm exhausted. Sleep is what we both need. Don't stress yourself about Victor, he's just fine the way he is. I'm hanging up."

"Wait!" I retorted, but she hanged up. Did she hate the call that much? She's that tired, to the point where she can no longer talk? Gee, it doesn't sound like her. Maybe this is Eve's side that I only learned just now, and that is, hanging up when tired, without caring about what the person on the other line would say.

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The clock finally struck at 5 pm, the dismissal of our P.E. class. Volleyball sure is tiring, but it's fun.

What's left for this day is to go to the restaurant and work. If I'll be really honest, working and schooling combined isn't the most enjoyable thing to do, but I need the money. I can't help but look forward 'til this day ends.

As I walk to the exit of the gymnasium, Vincent showed up, his facial expression softer than usual, and he waved a hand to call my attention. The bandaged corner of his eye and lips stands out, which gave me an idea of where it came from. Seeing him with no hints of being a jerk feels wrong because he'll usually have that smirk written across his face. Who would've thought that he can look like a gentle angel? I can be wrong, but perhaps only if his face is damaged. Angels don't have damaged faces though, so still, no.

He walked closer to me, shortening the distance between us.

"Hi," he greeted awkwardly, his other hand kept into his pocket. "I'd like to talk to you."

"We are talking," I clarified in monotone. "What do you want us to talk about? And what happened to your eye and lip?"

His eyes widened a bit in surprise as if he heard an unexpected answer. "That's it? You're not angry? And you're concerned?"

"Do I always have to be angry when you're showing up? That'll be exhausting. How can I not even recognize your wounds? They're too noticeable to be ignored," I sighed. "Go straight to the point. Don't make me repeat the question again."

"I came here to formally apologize. You can say that … I learned my lesson. I know that I really got into Arthur's nerves, so he beat me up right after our party. It's not surprising that he

got angry, because I intentionally annoyed him by bringing Euphemia there. So, I thought I should apologize to you as well. I promise that I won't bug you ever again. Can we at least be friends?"

"No," a voice from behind him spoke, and he looked back to see who it was – no other than the man who beat him up, Arthur. "She won't be friends with you." Arthur's eyes were as cold as ice, his expression became grimmer and grimmer with Vincent on his line of sight as if he's an eyesore. He held my hand and walked me out of the school gymnasium allowing no explanation. I thought about withdrawing my hand as we walked out of the gymnasium, but I couldn't, for his grip was too tight.

Arthur let go of my hand when we reached the parking lot, and he opened the door of the passenger's seat for me. I sat inside full of questions, and it left me stuck on wondering where to start.

"He must've told you that I beat him up," he began, his expression stern, with his eyes, focused on the road. "He should've thought of how I'll respond if he does that." His facial expression falls and stole a glance at me. His eyes filled with worry. "How are you coping? It must've been embarrassing for you as well."

"I'm fine, don't mind me. This is about you. How are you, Arthur?" I responded, and part of me wants to ask about how he feels about Euphemia, if it's still her and not me. That question lingers in my head whenever it's only the two of us together, in a place like this where it's only us that can sense our heart's content.

Arthur's lips twitched and maintained his serious composure. I clenched my fists and held my cold hands together, hoping that it'll calm me down.

"Do you … do you really love me?" I realized that my question is something that I shouldn't have asked because I know the answer anyway. It made me feel stupid because I wasn't planning to speak my mind. "Pretend you didn't hear anything."

"I do," he responded, which partly gave me relief and pain at the same time. What kind of love? Love to a friend? He may not be admitting it, but I know that Euphemia still has a place in his heart.

Arthur, can't you for once be honest with me? I'm dying to hear the truth from your mouth and not the truth that I'm assuming.

"If you're thinking that up to this day, I still love Euphemia, then no. That's not true. I'll admit that seeing her stings, but deep in my heart, I love you, Megan. Not just a friend, but as my beloved. You can say that I haven't completely moved on because seeing Euphemia stings, but that doesn't mean I still love her. I'm not as stupid as how Vincent wanted you to see me. I wouldn't use you for my healing. Don't see it that way, please. I'll beg if I have to."

His words gave warmth to my frozen heart filled with doubt and fear – doubt that maybe he doesn't love me, and fear of losing him. The assurance from his tone and eyes removed all my doubts about who I really am in his sight. I want to believe his words that made my heart stir. Is

it because of Vincent? Vincent, who keeps on telling me the things that can turn me off so that I'll be his. Vincent sure has shown care more than Arthur does, but the proof if Arthur meant the words that he said will be seen in his actions.

"If you still have doubts, I'll understand. I've been a mess myself, anyway, and I know that I lacked in many ways. Give me a chance to make it up to you. How can I make you happy? Let me know how, anything. You know I can give you that." He assured, but 'anything' sounds like a material. Easy for him to say who doesn't have a problem with money.

His tone is full of guilt and regrets, though I don't know what the regret is about. Is it because he hardly treated me as a girlfriend? Or regret that he had to say all of these things?

Not that I know.

"I won't be asking for peace offerings. It doesn't have to be material." Arthur nodded after hearing my answer.

"I'll see what I can do. I made mistakes, but I want us to fix it together. Oh and," the change of topic suddenly gave me the chance to breathe normally again. "What are the things that you knew about my older brother?"

"Lance? I wasn't expecting you to bring that up. How did you know that I know something?"

"Lance? Isn't his name Victor? I saw you in the garden, remember? You must've overheard when my mother and brother were talking for the first time."

"I … actually, long before you learned about him, I already know the guy by coincidence," I looked down, trying to process the next words. "He's the head chef in the restaurant where I'm working. He's kind of my boss there, so does my best friend."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, and he stopped the car as the traffic light turned red, and raindrops started falling from the sky, causing the windshield to blur. The temperature felt colder, sending chills in my spine.

"You're serious?"

I nodded.

"I first knew him with the name 'Lancelot,' but we all call him 'Lance' for short. When your mother and Lance were talking, I only heard a few which includes your mother telling him his real name, and he said things like the parents that he knew all these years never treated him as a son, but a servant. He also said things like 'knowing what kind of people they are, you'll have an idea why I'm supposed to be in a prison right now.' Which gave me the idea that he's … I don't know, a criminal? Then your mother said that she wants to make it up to him and that your family is powerful enough to cover up everything to keep him safe. She was truly happy to meet him. Those are the only things that I've heard," Now that I remember those things, Lance became even fishier. He wouldn't say anything like that if he's not involved with crimes of any kind. What is his involvement? Murder? Drugs? Illegal transactions? What?

"That … I never thought of those things, and our parents kept on saying that Victor was missing for 28 years now, and they found a way to find him without telling us how. They never told us how he was lost, either. I'm just as confused as Vincent. We decided not to press the issue, because our parents clearly want to keep the information for themselves. Thanks for telling me. I don't know what to feel about that, though. If he's a criminal or involved in anything related to that, that can also mean that you might be in danger."

"He liked his name. He wanted me to call him Victor from now on instead of Lance. I don't want to exaggerate it, but even though he's the coldest human I know, I don't want to think that he'll harm me. He hardly gives an interest in my existence."

"I see. I want to be sure, though. If he does something suspicious, or if he tries to scare or make you uncomfortable, call me immediately. We need to keep you safe." Hearing that from him sounded strange to me because it's not something that he usually says. I don't fear Victor in any way, but Arthur's advice is right. I wouldn't lose anything if I'll be watchful and careful. What I'm certain of is, his attention is clearly focused on Evangeline. Is it only because she's our new boss?

Around 20 minutes later, we reached our destination – the restaurant. Arthur held my hand before I step out of his car and said, 'take care, call me if you need anything.' I smiled and nodded in agreement, finally leaving him.

I left my bag in the staff's locker room and headed to the kitchen to look for Victor or Eve. They're basically the bosses of the restaurant now – Eve as manager by title, since she has no idea how to be a boss and Victor who perfectly fits the position.

When my eyes landed on Eve, she was still wearing some casual clothes which are understandable, since she doesn't have the managerial uniform yet. Victor's expression is blank as usual, but I can't sense stressful energy coming from him. Eve finally got aware of my existence, and she ran towards me and secured me in her arms.

"Meg! It's so good to see you. C'mon, we have some work to do. You'll clean tables for now, since almost everyone's in the kitchen. It's my second day, and I'm getting the hang of it. This managerial role, I mean. Thanks to him," she giggled. "Let's get moving."

I blinked in silence as I see Victor occupied with cooking, trying to observe if he's suspicious. But as expected, it won't be obvious from afar. It's not like you can know what's inside him easily who's mysterious and hard to read.

Who are you, Lancelot Real? Or rather, Victor Castillo? Who are you behind what I can see, and a person that can manage to make Eve happy? What is your goal?

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting out a sigh.

There's only one thing I know – I won't let my questions left unanswered.