What kind of main character am I, Inspector?
I used to think I was the perfect main character. The full package. Brains sharp enough to cut glass, a face sculpted like it was sponsored by destiny, an athletic build, and king-level power that could bend reality to my will. I'm special. Nothing was supposed to go wrong. Nothing was supposed to mess up my life. So why….
Why did I feel… guilty when I saw Anastasia lying weak in that hospital bed?
Anastasia is the antagonist of this story, right? It should be natural for her to receive karma for everything she's done. Retribution. Punishment. Anastasia deserves it, just like villains in movies who end up rotting behind bars.
I should have felt relieved. With Anastasia in critical condition, at least for a while, she wouldn't be able to disturb Ella anymore. Ella could finally breathe a little easier.
And yet, I don't know, Inspector. Deep down, something felt off. Like a crooked painting on a perfectly polished wall. Something wasn't right.
You still like Anastasia, don't you, Prince?
That question wouldn't stop echoing in my head.
How could a protagonist like me have feelings for the antagonist? That makes zero sense. The moment those filthy rumors about her family spread, my feelings for her should've shut down automatically. Deleted. Gone. I don't like her anymore. I'm moved on.
It's just pity. That's all. I convinced myself of that. Seeing Anastasia pale under hospital sheets, tubes hanging beside her bed… of course I felt bad.
"Ah, so Anastasia still has school friends?" A woman I could only assume was Anastasia's mother murmured outside the room. Her small smile tried to mask the anxiety and grief swimming in her eyes. "After hearing all those rumors, I thought no one would want to be friends with my daughter anymore."
Friend, huh? Is that really the right word for what we were?
I don't know, Inspector. I hate the cruel things Anastasia did to Ella. I still can't forgive her for that. But when I heard the word friend, something warm flickered inside my chest. Anastasia's friend.
"May I go in?" I asked, putting on my most polite smile.
Mrs. Tremaine nodded and gently opened the door for me.
"Thank you," I said.
She didn't respond, but that faint smile stayed on her face as she placed the fruit basket I brought onto the table, pulled the curtain slightly wider, and gestured for me to sit beside Anastasia's bed.
Honestly, I never expected to be treated that kindly by Mrs. Tremaine. From the rumors, I imagined sharp eyes, a shrill voice, cruel words. You know, classic evil stepmother vibes.
But that's not what I saw.
Her gaze was soft. Her voice calm and patient. She looked… like the picture of a devoted mother. I couldn't understand it. Was she really as terrible as people said? Or was she just acting in front of her daughter?
Back then, I didn't know.
And honestly, I wasn't focused on her.
Anastasia. She was the center of my world in that hospital room. She's my prority.
Wearing that pale blue patient gown, an IV drip hanging at her side. The girl who used to sit with me in the library, rambling about historical wars until I ran out of words. The girl I once liked. Now she looked like fragile glass, like she could shatter any second.
"Anna…" I held her hand. Her skin was cold. The chill crawled up my arm and tightened around my chest.
Her tired eyelids fluttered, turning toward me. I don't remember the last time I looked into her eyes like that.
"Get well," I said softly, genuinely wishing she would recover as soon as possible.
A faint smile curved her lips. Her grip tightened, fingers squeezing mine.
Who will be your dance partner, Prince? Me, or Anastasia?
I closed my eyes. Ella or Anastasia? Ella? Anastasia? Ella? Anastasia? Ella…? Anastasia…?
Her hand trembled in mine. Her thin fingers pressed harder, nails digging slightly into my skin. Like she was afraid I'd disappear.
It's okay, I told myself. Just through our eyes, we understood each other. I'm not going anywhere.
I brushed my thumb over her knuckles until her eyes slowly closed again, drifting back to sleep.
I made my decision that day, Inspector.
I would dance with Anastasia. She would be my partner at the prom.
That's how it was supposed to be.
***
"You can't do that, Prince!" Ella exclaimed when I told her. "You can't go with Anastasia!"
We were in the garden, our usual spot. She stared at me, eyes demanding an explanation.
"I know this is hard for you to accept, Ella," I said carefully. "It's just…"
"It's just what? It's just that you like Anastasia more than me?"
I didn't know what to say. I wanted to shake my head, but I couldn't. I like Ella the way a main character is supposed to like his love interest. But at the same time, I want Anastasia too. I want to hold her hand. Pull her close. Just for one night. One night where I don't have to think about who's the protagonist and who's the antagonist. Just me and my heart's choice.
"I'm really, really sorry." I lowered my head, guilt burning in my chest. "I've decided. I'm taking Anastasia."
I heard her heavy sigh. Ella leaned back against the garden bench.
"You can't do that, Prince. No. You can't."
"Sorry, but I think you should find someone else to go with."
"I don't want someone else." Her voice rose. She stood up and grabbed my collar, forcing me to face her. "Only you," she said. "You have to be my partner."
I pulled her hand away. "Why?" Why was she pushing me like this?
"Are you stupid, Prince?" she snapped, giving me a bitter smile. "Are you only thinking about yourself? You're so selfish."
I froze. I couldn't believe Ella was saying that to me.
"Anastasia is still sick," she said, lowering her voice. "Have you thought about how she feels? She's not stable yet. She's not going back to school anytime soon. She's still scared. Being bullied, mocked, laughed at. Do you want Anastasia to try to kill herself again?"
No. Of course not.
Just seeing her in critical condition was enough to suffocate me. I don't ever want to see something like that happen to Anastasia again.
"You're a good girl, Ella. Even after everything Anastasia did to you, you still…" I couldn't even finish. She looked perfect in that moment. The ideal female lead I always imagined.
"Then please," she said softly. "Dance with me, Prince."
***
You probably think I'm spineless, Inspector. First I planned to take Ella. Then after visiting Anastasia in the hospital, I changed my mind. Then after arguing with Ella in the garden… I don't know. My resolve wavered again.
In the end, I chose Ella.
She cried in my arms when I nodded. "Thank you," she kept saying. "Thank you. Thank you."
And even now, I still don't understand.
Was that the right decision?
Should I have chosen Ella? Or would it have been better if I chose Anastasia?
Tell me, Inspector.
Do I still deserve to be the protagonist of this story?
***