"Actually, I really like you. Although I don't know how to say it, I still hope you can understand my feelings."
The girl led Prince to the alley behind the school café, a place where he often came to feed stray cats. In the bright summer sunshine, the shade cast by the tall plane trees made this spot feel both gentle and tranquil.
"Your feelings... Are they a knife?" Prince sat on the mottled bench, gently stroking the fur of a tabby cat with one hand. "If I refuse, will you pull out the knife—to harm me, or to harm yourself?"
The girl froze for a moment and stepped back, her face turning pale. She didn't even need to ask for an answer; her expression already revealed everything. But Prince didn't do anything. He simply opened a small fixed box nearby, pulled out some cat food, and handed it to her: "Here, take this."
The girl paused in confusion: "You..."
