"Why, young master?" Ella put the radish down and stared into my soul.
"Plants need friends!" I said, wondering if my decision was wrong(just for a second).
"You have Miss Illaine," she said with a sigh.
"Plants need a whole greenhouse to thrive!" I argued.
Her brows creased. "We'll talk about it!"
That meant no. Dammit.
So I decided on a plan to convince her—plan loneliness.
It was simple: I would stand with my body scrunched and face away from Ella.
In the kitchen.
While she is working.
Garden.
Hallways.
In my room.
And after two weeks of doing that, Ella used me as a display rack.
And do you know what she had written?
'Melancholia'
She was calling me crazy!
So I did the next best thing—a tantrum!
I cried and I cried and I cried tears as dry as Ella's life. My throat hurt. And I was sure my throat muscles would be as buffed up as Martha's arms by the end of the day.
Well, I gave up after a day. But fear not, I have not run out of ideas!
I started talking to myself!
I know, I know, it does not make sense.
But.
But.
But.
They would definitely think I'm lonely, right? (or send me to an asylum)
So I started to talk to the plants, in front of them.
"Is the day not beautiful, dear Rosalind?" I said to the rose plant, gently ruffling its petals.
Martha looked at me for a second and said, "I'm sure Rosalind has better taste than a piece of scrawny grass."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
She walked away.
At least, I won the staring competition.
So I tried that next.
Staring.
I stared at Mia all day.
I even tried throwing leaves at her again.
She took the leaf and held it to my mouth.
I ate it. (What? They were oak leaves, absolutely delicious!)
"Now go lie in the sun, good for plants," she said, patting my head.
I agreed and went to photosynthesize.
Then I woke up—defeated yet again!
"Ella!" I shouted, walking into the kitchen.
There was only the head chef there, who smiled at me. Then he gave me a leaf-bread with butter.
It was daisies! And grass! I ate it by the stairs.
I smelled great afterwards, flowers, heh!
Shit.
I failed again.
So I sat by the stairs and talked to the portrait nearby.
"Hey old man, did your maids not listen to you either!" The tapestry of a man with my red hair and not my brown eyes was my grandfather. Well, Lucas Green's.
I walked nearby and touched the fabric.
Is it made from cotton?
I bit it.
It tasted like cotton plant.
And paint.
And needles.
It was tasty.
Later in the evening, Ella asked where the ancient tapestry was.
I told her I did not know.
She stared at me for a moment.
"Did you eat it?" She asked, sighing.
"I'm not that wild," I exclaimed.
"Yes, young master, of course," and she walked away. She did not seem to believe me.
Well, she was right, man, Ella knows me well.
That's why she can deal with my antics so easily.
She sure got used to me quickly.
Smart person.
There has to be something I can use to convince her.
Something different.
Something new.
Something borrowed.
Something blue.
Something old.
The fuck is this, my wedding dress?
Wedding!
That's it!
I ran to the garden. Slow steps to avoid questions. And in there, I found Rosalind.
I looked at the rose and laughed.
"Young master!"
I ran back to my room.
My plan is genius, there's no way she would say no, now.
Heh! Heh! Heh!
And I slept with Rosalind in my bed.
When I woke up, there was a scar on my face; the rosy thorns struck me.
Guess Rosalind is abusive.
"Young master! Your face!" Mia walked in and looked at my face.
"Worry not! My wife accidentally harmed me!" I showed her the rose of my life in my hand.
"I'll bring Ella, keep your wife in a vase, alright!"
She went away mumbling about 'idiots' and 'plants.'
And Ella came inside my room, I gleamed at her, my plan was working!
I ran to her.
"Look, look, my wife Rosalind!" I raised the rose to the air, the thorns dug into my palm, but who cared?
Ella sighed and snickered softly.
"My wife needs a personal maid! So let's get one my age!" I said, my eyes wide, and I was pouting.
Ella took the rose from my hands. She led me to my bed and looked at my palm.
"Why did you let yourself get hurt?" She asked as Martha handed her some ointment and bandages.
"It won't hurt if you get me a personal maid!" I said.
"Does it hurt a lot?" She asked, frowning.
"I'm used to being hurt, this much is nothing!" I grinned, but for some reason, it felt like Ella was not listening.
She told Martha to go away.
"Young master, you said you died once, right?" Ella held my hands tightly.
"Yes!" I continued, it felt a little awkward, "I am from a world without magic or powers, I was a normal human, I died and was born into this world with magic!"
"Young master, is the actual young master gone forever?"
"I don't know." I looked away, removing my palms from Ella's embrace. It felt wrong.
"Well, if he were gone, then I must apologize to you too." She said, her voice softer than usual.
"Huh? Why?" I exclaimed, confused.
"Because souls are exchanged only when they are of equal weight—that's what my mother always told me, I never believed her, but I believe I have to." She said, and I felt my chest tighten.
"And the young master was harsh, because he did not know how to be loved, and I was never able to help." She continued.
I could not meet her eyes.
"I still don't believe this completely, what you are saying or my mother's words." After a pause, she said, "But I trust that you are not lying."
"But, I hope you are lying, because then that would mean—"
"I'm sorry, Ella." I cut her off.
"It must be awful to love someone you don't love, I'm sorry for taking Lucas away from you."
She did not say anything, but she put ointment on my face.
And she was gone too.