I had only attended the food festival once before, last year with Banyu, Alas, and a few of our friends. Even now, the memory remained vivid—an explosion of color, sound, and scent that left an impression on all my senses. The festival had been alive with vibrant stalls, the clamor of laughter, and the irresistible aroma of sizzling delicacies wafting through the air. My favorite dish was the canai and curry—a heavenly blend of crispy flatbread paired with rich, aromatic curry that danced on my tongue with every bite. Entirely plant-based and utterly delicious, it had lingered in my mind long after the festival ended. I had even bought extra to bring home, savoring the flavors days later.
Prince Eugene led me through the crowded pathways, his presence commanding attention wherever we went. Vendors bowed respectfully, their eyes lighting up with curiosity. More than a few villagers stole glances our way, whispering in hushed tones as we passed. Despite the curious stares, Eugene seemed entirely at ease, pausing occasionally to purchase food from various stalls. He offered me bites of everything, but I politely declined each time, unsure how to navigate this unfamiliar situation.
"You haven't eaten anything," he observed, his voice tinged with gentle concern. "Come on, what's your favorite?"
"It's all right, Your Highness. I'm not particularly hungry," I replied, hoping to avoid the attention.
"Oh, come now," he said, his tone turning playful. "Consider it an order. Tell me your favorite dish, and I'll get it for you. We'll eat together."
I hesitated, caught between embarrassment and amusement. "Uh… well, it's the canai and curry, Your Highness."
His face lit up with a grin. "You're kidding—that's my favorite too."
Without further delay, he purchased two portions. We found a quiet bench away from the crowd, and I began eating slowly. The first bite brought back a flood of memories—the familiar flavors bursting across my palate. The canai was perfectly crisp on the edges, soft and tender in the center. The curry, thick and fragrant, held just the right balance of spice and warmth. It was as delightful as I remembered, perhaps even more so in the prince's company.
"You really should stop looking down all the time," he remarked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "It must be terrible for your neck. Just think of me as one of your friends. So, how's the food?"
I glanced up at him, startled. Friends? The word felt out of place, but I forced a smile. "The food's delicious, Your Highness. Thank you."
"Good to hear," he replied, leaning back on the bench with a satisfied smile. After a pause, he added, "I'm heading to the beach tomorrow. Care to join me?"
The question caught me off guard. "It would be an honor, Your Highness," I said carefully.
"Great," he said, seeming genuinely pleased. "How about ten o'clock? I'll meet you at your house."
"I can get to the beach on my own," I offered quickly, eager to avoid inconveniencing him. "No need to arrange a carriage."
"No," he said firmly, though his tone was kind. "It's fine. I'll come to pick you up."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Why is he treating me so well?
The following morning, we met as planned. The beach stretched out before us in golden hues, the sun's rays dancing on the gentle waves. The air was crisp and fresh, filled with the scent of salt and the soothing sound of the tide washing against the shore.
We spent hours walking along the beach, our feet sinking into the soft, cool sand as the waves lapped at our ankles. I longed to practice my waterbending, to feel the water respond to my will, but I couldn't risk revealing my abilities. Instead, I followed his lead, content to enjoy the simple pleasures of the day.
As the sun dipped lower, casting the sky in fiery shades of orange and pink, Eugene waded into the shallow waters, his trousers soaked up to his knees. He looked carefree and relaxed, a stark contrast to the poised prince I had first met in the palace.
I watched as he turned toward me, and our eyes met. His emerald-green eyes were vibrant in the soft light, unlike his parents' blue, and they seemed to hold something unspoken. The intensity of his gaze unsettled me, sending a flutter through my chest.
"Are you all right, Your Highness?" I asked softly.
"Yeah," he said, snapping out of whatever thoughts had held him. "And… you really should stop calling me 'Your Highness.'"
I blinked in surprise. "What?"
"I mean… friends don't call each other that," he said, raising a brow with a playful smirk.
"Oh, uh… but—" I stammered, unsure of how to respond.
"It's an order," he said, his smile softening the command.
I hesitated. "What should I call you, then?"
"Eugene," he said simply.
I stared at him, bewildered. "Without the 'Prince'?"
"Nope. Just Eugene," he affirmed with a grin.
From that day on, we spent more time together. He wasn't just the prince anymore—he was a dear friend of mine. We explored the village, shared stories of his travels, and laughed over tales of distant lands and adventures. Despite his royal lineage, he was warm, genuine, and refreshingly down-to-earth. But as much as I enjoyed his company, a lingering feeling whispered that our growing friendship was becoming something more—something I wasn't entirely ready to name.
Back at home, I organized the supplies. Alas, as usual, had run off to play with his friends instead of helping. I sighed, shaking my head as I sorted through the goods. Some things never changed.