Marry X Princess

“Please, Shinsuke. It’s just one little delivery across the city. Do it for your father, okay?”

Mom loomed over me as I sat slouched on the couch, gawking up at her.

Here I was at eleven in the evening on a Friday night, nestled cozily in my pajamas, about to crack the seal on a brand-new chocolate pudding cup. I really didn’t want to hear about doing anything right now, much less running halfway across the city. But that wasn’t about to stop my mother, of course.

“Come on, he’s been out all day and he’s exhausted,” mom continued. “I would do it, but I have to finish this painting by Sunday for my client. Please, just do it.”

One could tell immediately by the paint splotches all over her apron, forehead, and cheeks that my mother was an artist, but it’s the expression on her face that made it clear exactly what art Hina Watanabe was a master of: guilt tripping.

The evening had been so quiet up to that point, too. But then the front door of the apartment opened, and in the doorway was my dad, wearing a weary, regretful expression, and pressing a cardboard box between his forearm and his torso.

If one were to describe my father, he would be called hardworking, loving, encouraging… I could go on. But if there’s one word that most befit the man sat at the table, rubbing his head with an embarrassed, tired smile, it would have to be forgetful. In fact, it’s a good thing that my dad was liked by so many people in the city. Otherwise, the man who had come to be playfully known as RuRu (how they got this nickname from Ryunosuke, I’ll never know) would be the most hated mail carrier in all of Valport. Maybe even in the whole province of Fabrea. Actually, make that the entire kingdom of Steylia. That, truly, is how often this man had forgotten to deliver people’s mail.

I understood that lugging mail around the city was more than a hassle of a job, but I never understood how my father hadn’t been canned sooner over how many times he’d made similar mistakes. Hell, as his son I’d have fired him myself long ago. Though, he and mom possessed a knack for socialization and a natural charm they neglected to pass down to me. He could talk his way out of the consequences of his clumsiness with frightening ease, while I, on the other hand, had no such luck.

Must be nice.

“It rolled under my seat in the truck,” dad said, poking the brown box sitting on the dining table. “I didn’t see it until I got back to the post office. I’m so sorry…”

My first instinct was to transform into a giant lizard and hiss as unpleasantly as I could. Needless to say, that isn’t possible. Instead, I shook my head in annoyance. I hate being out any longer than necessary, but especially this late at night? Yeah, no. Unfortunately, however, the look my mother gave me in response to my very apparent scowl said, “you don’t have a choice in this matter, worm.”

I set the pudding cup aside and groaned. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just let me go change.”

“Thank you, Shinsuke,” mom said.

“Yes, thank you, son,” my father added.

I grumbled in response on the way to my room. The bed across from my dresser mocked me with its inviting, maroon sheets, and thick, plentiful blankets. I’d have given anything to submit to its siren song in the moment, but if I did that, my mother’s next painting might just have been a depiction of the unholy violence she would unleash upon me with her slipper.

Another groan escaped me as I slipped out of my pajamas. Opening my standing dresser, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the back of the door. My long, dark hair couldn’t hide the utter disdain in my expression. I looked every bit of what I felt. That was a pointless observation, though, since regardless of my mood, I’d always been told I have an “unpleasant” stare—whatever the hell that means. I can’t help that I was cursed with natural, dark circles under my eyes, but there wasn’t much I could do to improve my image when “demon eyes” had already caught on throughout the wonderful halls of St. Cirelia High School.

I threw on a red t-shirt, black overshirt, black jeans, and sneakers, then headed back out to the living room. Some kind of commotion was playing out on the television that had my parents utterly entranced.

“All right,” I said, grabbing the box off the dining table. “I’m going to get this over with.”

“Wait, come look at this!” mom urged.

I joined my parents in front of the television. On the screen, an aerial shot filmed from a news airship revealed a fleet of police cars pursuing a single vehicle in a high-speed chase. The scene was unfolding through the streets of Valport—streets I was about to traverse to make dad’s delivery. Evidently, two perpetrators robbed the largest bank in the city and were now trying to make off with an obscene amount of cash.

“Can you believe these guys?” mom growled. “They have some nerve doing something like this while the princess is visiting the city!”

My eyes nearly rolled straight out of their sockets hearing those words from my mom.

I never understood my parents’ obsession with the royal family. Honestly, who cares about any of that crap? Barring any major political situations, whatever that stuck up family did made no difference in our lives. At the end of the day, the three of us would remain crammed in a tiny apartment, struggling week to week while they lived it up in their oversized castle, acting holier than thou because they were born with the right surname.

In any case, I didn’t care to stand there watching the discount action movie playing out on the screen. I had yet to step out and I was already missing home.

“Well,” I said, securing the box in my grasp. “As riveting as this is, I’m going to go get this over with so I can get back already.”

Mom redirected her gaze at me and said, “please be careful, those maniacs are going to get someone hurt out there!”

“Take the subway just to be safe, okay, son?” dad contributed.

“I was going to do that anyway.”

Did he really think I was going to an address so far away entirely on foot? He didn’t even feel like taking his mail-mobile that far out so late at night and he thought I was going to hoof it? Not on your life, sport.

Mom sped ahead of me to the front door and opened it for me. “Good. Keep in touch with us so we know you’re okay!”

“Will do,” I assured her and waved them both off.

As soon as the door shut behind me, the door to the neighboring apartment slowly pulled open. A series of pale fingers gripped the doorframe, anchoring a figure in place and ensuring their body wouldn’t cross the threshold. A mess of wavy black hair was the first thing to enter my crosshairs before a pair of equally dark eyes followed, slowly peeking around the doorway.

“Let me guess, you were listening through the wall again?”

“Maybe…” a dry, feminine voice replied.

I took a step forward and gently grabbed hold of the girl’s wrist, pulling her out into the outdoor corridor with me. To the surprise of no one, the world’s worst pajama-clad spy was none other than my neighbor and childhood friend, Mizuki Wada.

Her mop of waves danced when she stumbled out into the hall. “Really?” she whined.

“Sorry, but I don’t have time to play peek-a-boo or whatever this is. What is it, Mizuki?”

She snickered and eyed the box squeezed inside my arm with a tired gaze. “I just had to see how big the delivery was this time. Not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Maybe not in size, but the distance is a real pain at this time of night.”

“Dealing with people is a pain no matter what time it is,” she quipped, glancing at the address on the shipping label. “Wow, that’s across the city.”

“You’re telling me.”

It didn’t take much to make her grasp my situation. After all, Mizuki was the only person in the world who understood my approach to life. People by and far are all one giant headache best avoided. No one would get that more than her.

She leaned over the railing, gazing into the parking lot below and mused, “what if I toss it? Can’t we call it lost so you can just go get in bed?”

“My mom will send me over the railing next.” The image played in my mind a bit too vividly for my liking.

“You’re probably right,” she chuckled. “Hey, before you go, there’s something I want to give you.”

I raised a brow as she stepped back inside her apartment. She returned after a few seconds with something hidden behind her back.

“Come on, eyes shut, Shinsuke.”

I obeyed her command. The tapping of her slippers on the floor told me that she made her way behind me. Something unknown to me wrapped around my neck, clasping shut with an audible click.

I heard her step back in front of me before she said, “okay, open them.”

My eyes opened to find my own reflection staring back at me via Mizuki’s phone in selfie mode. On the screen, a black choker clung to my neck with a little loop dangling from it.

“What’s this?” I asked, giving the loop a flick.

“The anniversary of our friendship is coming up soon,” she replied, twirling one of her waves in front of her eye. “I saw this when I was out with my dad and thought it suited a dog like you. Happy early anniversary.”

“A dog like me?”

She nudged the box under my arm and said, “yeah, a good little loyal delivery dog.”

“Don’t make me send you over the railing…”

“Quit running your mouth and get going already.”

“You were the one who…never mind. Thanks for the choker, I love it.”

“Of course you do, I chose it for you. Now, get a move on.”

We exchanged smiles before I headed for the stairs. I heard her shout behind me to be careful due to the ongoing police chase and I acknowledged her warning with a thumbs up.

And, with that, off into the night I went.

***

The walk from my apartment building to the subway station was uneventful, and by that, I mean there’s no point in making a mental note of all of the loud, amateur entrepreneurs that tried to peddle their garbage to me when I clearly had no interest.

…

Wait, did I just make a note of it, anyway?

Gods damn it.

After a mercifully short wait, the train arrived, and I boarded the car quickly. I seated myself in the furthest corner I could find and placed the box on the chair beside me to keep anyone from sitting next to me. Of course, some socially inept derelict sat next to the box anyway, immediately eyeballing it and then me. He pinched his chapped lips between pointy teeth and curved his brows in a fearful manner.

My gaze locked with the man’s for maximum awkwardness as I calmly said, “it’s not a bomb, I promise.”

He immediately rose and speed walked to the opposite side of the car.

Demon eyes does it again. And that, everyone, is why it is pointless to try with people.

I don’t know precisely when it began for me. I had to be three or four years old. I have this clear memory in my mind of playing with some stupid toy, giggling like an idiot, when suddenly, my smile fades and the toy slips from my hand, breaking apart on the floor. Something had hit me in that moment—a realization. Life isn’t fun, it never was, and it never will be. The toy in my hand, video games, a good book, a great meal… all of those things were nothing more than a distraction from the simple truth that life is a series of unfortunate events waiting to make us miserable time and time again.

It was about that same time that I met Mizuki. We were the same age and she had just moved in next door with her parents. She was different at that time, vibrant and energetic. I remember how awkward our playdates were. We’d sit in the middle of the floor, debating as I reluctantly played with her toys. I would try to tell her how awful life was, and she would say otherwise. She couldn’t understand why I never smiled and would lecture me endlessly about how if I don’t use my smile, I’d lose it. Ironically, it wasn’t long before she lost hers.

One day soon after they moved in next door, Mizuki’s mother walked out on her and her father. I’ll never forget the change in her demeanor the very next time I saw her. “You were right,” was the first thing she said to me, her voice devoid of any of the jovial expressions she had used against me in our debates. From that day on, we grew closer through our shared disdain for life and other people.

Looking back at those memories as I sat in the overcrowded train car, I felt more justified than ever in my belief that the best way to get through life was to minimize social interactions and avoid responsibility. Give me a pudding cup, a warm bed, and a quiet space and I’m all set.

The train ride came to an end, and I disembarked as quickly as I could. Reemerging from the subway, I found myself on the other side of Valport. The atmosphere in that part of the city was much more high class. Bright, multicolored lights blinded as far as the eye could see, and dozens of advertisements for plays and movies flashed on electronic screens. Most of those promos were for movies starring some actress named Raven Blackwell.

I pushed through the crowds of people, taking care to hold the box tightly against my body. The last thing I needed was for someone to swipe the damn thing when I’d already made it so far.

Once I was through the congestion of the subway exodus, my pace quickened. It was about one in the morning, and I was beyond ready for bed at that point. Thankfully, the closer I got to the destination, the more the streets emptied of both vehicles and people.

In a short time, I found myself at the apartment complex of the delivery recipient. I made short work of the stairs despite my tired legs and knocked twice, not expecting an answer at the ungodly hour. To my surprise, the door opened instantly, and a pair of hands snatched the box into the unit, slamming the door shut in my face before I could say a word, let alone process what just happened.

“O…kay?”

Whatever, the job is done, and I pulled out my phone to text my parents as much.

Great job, sweetie! Now, get home already! Your father and I will wait up for you. Be careful, I love you very much, my mother replied.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and descended the steps, finding that the streets were indeed quite vacant at that point. Most people would probably be creeped out by the emptiness, but it was music to my ears. I’d be dealing with incessant crowds once I reached the subway again, so I decided to savor every moment of the quiet I currently had.

City air was never quite “fresh”, but the absence of smothering swarms of people and an overabundance of automobiles had provided me with a few clear breaths for the first time since I left home. To be honest, if the entire way home stayed that calm, I would’ve walked the whole way across Valport rather than take the train.

But just as I was truly beginning to enjoy my moment alone, the low hum of an approaching car became audible behind me. I glanced back to get a view of the only vehicle I’d seen in minutes, and my eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

The vehicle driving down the road was all black with all its windows fully tinted. The design of the car was regal, with a midnight blue trim extending around the length of its form. Antennas on the roof formed a “crown” that was, in actuality, the nodes for the vehicle’s magical shield. On the hood of the car, an unmistakable coat of arms sat proudly branded for all to see. In short, this was a car I’d seen many times before; one I’d recognize anywhere in the world.

This car belonged to the royal family.

What are the odds? I thought, as the fancy car slowly passed me. I couldn’t see inside due to the darkened windows, but I felt as though eyes glanced over me in the moment.

The happening was nothing special to me, of course. I couldn’t give any less of a care about anything pertaining to the royal family, but upon seeing the car, the first thing that entered my mind was the confounding, wild excitement my parents would have when I told them about what I witnessed. With that in mind, I pulled out my phone again and began to record the car as it pulled ahead of me. I knew mom and dad would get more excitement out of the moment by living vicariously through me than I would ever get from it myself.

Suddenly, a deafening screech rang out from the far-left side of the street. The sound of a roaring engine not only followed soon after, but it also drew nearer at disarming speed until something appeared from behind a building that was obstructing my view. It was another car—another familiar one. I immediately identified it as the getaway vehicle belonging to the thieves I had seen on the news. The car was barreling forward at breakneck speed with no signs of slowing down. Both the driver and the passenger in the front seats were looking over their shoulders through the rear window of the vehicle, not caring at all about what was in their path: the royal family’s car.

I sucked in a breath as the inevitable happened. The ghastly, thunderous sound of metal-on-metal screamed into the air as the thieves’ car violently T-boned the royal family’s vehicle. I had expected the magical shield to deploy, but to my surprise, it didn’t. Instead, due to the frightening speed at which the thieves’ vehicle had been traveling, the royal car began to flip and tumble, rolling over the sidewalk and bouncing horribly off the front of a nearby building.

The two thieves whipped forward but were saved from being ejected from the vehicle by their seatbelts. Their car, however, was completely crushed in the front, and the two men were left visibly stunned by the collision. Meanwhile, the royal car lied flipped over on its top like a turtle on its back.

The blares of a dozen sirens manifested from down the same street the thieves came from. Sure enough, a fleet of police cars appeared from the same direction and rapidly approached the scene of the accident.

“Crap, we have to go!” one of the thieves urged, smacking his surely concussed partner in the face. “Wake up and grab the cash!”

“Unh… right!” the other one groaned.

The pair of injured dimwits grabbed the sack of money out of the backseat of their wrecked car and hopped out of their chairs. As the police closed in, I tried to flag them down, but the useless morons ignored me completely. Instead, they rounded the corner after the robbers who took off running down an alleyway as fast as they could with their cash haul and newfound limps. Just as quickly as both the thieves and the police had appeared, they were all gone, leaving me alone with deafening silence and a disgusting car wreck.

Before I could even think of what to do next, a strange sound emitted from the antennas that were now pinned below the roof of the upside-down car. The magic shield, which had failed to deploy during the collision, appeared to try to activate itself. It failed once again, but this time it shorted out and erupted into flames.

“Shit!” I shouted, breaking into a sprint towards the wreck.

There was no time to call for help. No one had emerged from the car since the accident. If whoever was in there was unconscious or trapped inside, they’d surely burn to death unless I did something immediately.

Damn it all.

I rounded the scene, looking for access to the inside of the car as the flames spread quickly. One of the backseat windows seemed to have shattered when the car bounced off the building, providing me an entrance inside.

I dropped to my hands and knees and peered inside the broken window. Just in front of me, a girl anyone in the world would recognize sat upside-down and unconscious, confined to her chair by her seatbelt. Her golden hair and snow-white arms dangled limply, dragged downward by gravity. Her face was cut and bleeding in several places where the ruptured glass sliced her skin. Her once immaculate white and pink dress was collecting droplets of blood from above.

“Of course, it’s the princess,” I whined. “Why couldn’t it have been some random guards?!”

I winced, cutting myself on broken glass as I crawled into the vehicle. Once inside, I tried to unbuckle the princess, but the mechanism refused to release. I took a moment to glance forward into the car and identify any other passengers. Thankfully, there was only one other person: the driver. Unfortunately, he was also fully unconscious, because of course he was.

My hand retrieved my pocketknife from my right pants pocket and flicked it open. I positioned my body the best I could underneath the princess and quickly began cutting through her seatbelt. It wasn’t the most elegant job, and even though I tried my best to bring her down gently, her body fell hard on mine the second I slice through the belt.

There was no time to worry about that, though. The flames outside were starting to burn hotter atop the vehicle and I was beginning to sweat. Putting that unpleasant fact out of my mind, I dragged the princess outside the window and a good distance away from the flaming wreck. When I was satisfied with her proximity away from the car, I returned to the car and crawled back inside.

I’m not the biggest guy, horizontally or vertically. So, getting the huge man out of the front seat was not something I was looking forward to doing, but what other choice did I have?

“Sorry about this, man,” I said, cutting the driver loose and letting him plunge downward, sloppily.

I cringed at both the sight and sound his body made falling down like that, but he seemed pretty okay. His tall stature ensured that he didn’t fall very far, thankfully. And he was still breathing.

I hooked my arms around his shoulders and pulled with all my might. His dead weight was overwhelming, but I was able inch him out of the front area more and more with each heave. In other words, it was bowling shoe ugly, but it was working. So long as this guy paid for my inevitable hernia surgery, we were all good, I guess.

After much effort, I freed the driver from what was quickly becoming an inferno. I knew the car could blow any second, so I didn’t dare slow down. I kept dragging him until I got him beside the princess.

“Finally!” I groaned.

I dropped to my knees next to the princess and leaned over her. The sound of an engine in the sky rapidly approached as I checked on the still unconscious girl. A bright spotlight rained down from above and engulfed the three of us. Instantly, I was blinded to hell by what I only briefly identified as a news airship, presumably broadcasting my ordeal.

I wasn’t even allowed to process that, because the very next second, an armada of black cars rushed up to the scene, coming from absolutely nowhere. Dozens of doors opened, deploying tons of men and women in black suits and dark sunglasses. They calmly spoke to one another about something, but the airship’s obnoxious engine deafened me to the specifics of their chatter.

A man and woman approached me. The man said, “I’ll take it from here,” while the woman roughly yanked me to my feet.

“Are you the one who saved them?” she asked, sternly.

“Y-Yes,” I stuttered, startled by her abrasiveness.

“Okay, don’t move.”

The woman began to speak into her earpiece while more men and woman appeared. Four of them lifted the princess and the driver into two of the many cars surrounding the area, while about eight of them began casting some kind of magic on the burning vehicle that extinguished the flames. It didn’t take much analysis to tell that these people were the Steylia royal guard. I’d like to say I was impressed by how smoothly and quickly they worked, but I was too busy wondering why the hell they didn’t get there at least ten minutes earlier.

I checked the time on my phone to find it was already after two in the morning, and I decided I’d had enough for one night.

“Look,” I started, “I’m going home now. Good luck with the rest of this.”

The woman grabbed a tight hold of my arm and barked, “not so fast, kid. You’re wanted at the castle.”

“I’m what!?”

So much for an easy delivery.