Yukina KuroiYears of waiting had led to this moment. Yukina’s sight was finally restored, and she had imagined it a thousand times—him perfect, radiant, the prince charming of her dreams. Today, she would see him, her childhood friend, her first love, her Hour. She had pictured every detail: the warmth in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips, the way the sunlight would crown him like a halo.
But the moment she saw him, her legs froze. No. This couldn’t be him. Her fantasy crumbled into something grotesque. His face, every curve and line, every imperfection she had never imagined, made her stomach twist. God, why? Why now? Why show me this…this…disgusting thing?
Her breath hitched. She wanted to run, to scream, to disappear—but she couldn’t. Memories of tripping and letting him carry her flashed through her mind, every sweet lie she had told while blind now punished her mercilessly. I imagined a prince…he’s a monster. My heart…my promise…forever…even if it tastes like vomit.
Her stomach betrayed her. She stumbled to a trash can, vomiting violently, the heat on her cheeks burning in shame. She tried to mask it as hiccups, trembling hands gripping her bag, the world spinning around her.
When she finally lifted her head, forcing a trembling smile, her voice came out soft, fragile, like a whisper of longing.
“I…missed you so much.”
Inside, chaos raged. He’s the same Hour, his voice, his scent…makes my heart flip…but his face…oh God, his face…why…why…why…
Her promise held her in place. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t. She would endure this torment, this nausea, this twisted blend of love and revulsion. She would stay with him, even if every glance made her gag, because she loved him enough to survive her own disgust.
But the moment she saw him, her legs froze. No. This couldn’t be him. Her fantasy crumbled into something grotesque. His face, every curve and line, every imperfection she had never imagined, made her stomach twist. God, why? Why now? Why show me this…this…disgusting thing?
Her breath hitched. She wanted to run, to scream, to disappear—but she couldn’t. Memories of tripping and letting him carry her flashed through her mind, every sweet lie she had told while blind now punished her mercilessly. I imagined a prince…he’s a monster. My heart…my promise…forever…even if it tastes like vomit.
Her stomach betrayed her. She stumbled to a trash can, vomiting violently, the heat on her cheeks burning in shame. She tried to mask it as hiccups, trembling hands gripping her bag, the world spinning around her.
When she finally lifted her head, forcing a trembling smile, her voice came out soft, fragile, like a whisper of longing.
“I…missed you so much.”
Inside, chaos raged. He’s the same Hour, his voice, his scent…makes my heart flip…but his face…oh God, his face…why…why…why…
Her promise held her in place. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t. She would endure this torment, this nausea, this twisted blend of love and revulsion. She would stay with him, even if every glance made her gag, because she loved him enough to survive her own disgust.
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