The Princess

Chapter Four – Reiji’s POV

"Foolish girl."

I watched her from the second-floor balcony, hidden behind the velvet curtains, as she wandered into the gardens below. Her crimson hair caught the sunlight like a flame, her white dress moving softly against the roses. From a distance, she looked fragile, untouched, as though the world itself bent to protect her.

And yet, fragility is the very thing that invites destruction.

April had always been careless with her presence—singing freely, laughing too easily, smiling at those who did not deserve it. She moved through this house as though it were not a den of predators, as though we were still her brothers and not what we truly are. Last night had proved what I already knew: her innocence was a dangerous illusion, one that had begun to unravel.

I adjusted my glasses, the metal cool against my temple, and turned from the balcony. Watching her too long felt indulgent, and indulgence was a weakness I could not allow.

The memory of her trembling before me at breakfast still lingered. How her lips had parted when she confessed uncertainty, how her blue eyes shimmered with something between shame and defiance. She was no longer the child I had once scolded for improper posture or clumsy table manners. No—she was a woman now. And my brothers were fools to believe they could restrain themselves.

Ayato most of all. His arrogance burned so brightly it blinded him. He circled her like a hawk, demanding her attention, her praise, her submission. Typical. He wanted to possess her, to claim her as proof of his superiority.

Shu was no better, pretending indifference when his eyes betrayed everything. The way he looked at her last night—golden eyes burning even through the haze of his lethargy—proved his apathy was nothing more than a mask.

Kanato’s attachment was a dangerous madness, fragile and volatile. He would sooner shatter her than share her.

Laito… I sneered to myself. Laito saw April as another game, another conquest to toy with until her innocence bled away. But April was not like the others he lured into his web. She was not replaceable.

And Subaru. The boy wears his emotions like chains. His protectiveness is laughable—he lashes out violently, yet trembles when confronted with his own desire. If he were not so volatile, perhaps he would be the greatest threat of all.

Yes, they are all threats. Not only to April—but to themselves.

And then there is me.

I despise the truth, but I cannot deny it. When her ocean-blue eyes meet mine, when her voice trembles yet refuses to break, I feel something unfamiliar coil within me. It is not weakness—I refuse to call it that. No, it is something sharper. A hunger not merely of the body, but of the mind.

April listens to me. She bends beneath my correction, and yet… she does not shatter. She remains soft, pliant, but unbroken. That strength is dangerous. It is intoxicating.

I loathe it.

I crave it.

My gloved hand clenched around the railing as I returned to the balcony. She was kneeling now in the garden, her fingers brushing the petals of a rose, her expression distant, haunted. I could almost hear her thoughts, feel the tremor of her confusion. She believed herself lost. She believed herself fragile.

She was wrong.

April would learn discipline. She would learn control. And if my brothers lacked the will to guide her, then the responsibility would fall to me.

My gaze followed the curve of her neck, the delicate line of her shoulders, the way the sunlight kissed her crimson hair. My jaw tightened.

She will belong to me—not through childish obsession, nor reckless hunger, nor violent outburst. She will belong to me because she should.

Because order demands it.

Because I will not allow anything else.