The Frog and The Beast

The Beast Chapter 2

As usual, when I returned to my uncle's penthouse, the only person there was our maid, Ur Milkovich. She had previously worked for my parents and had somehow convinced my uncle to keep her on after they passed away. I used to like her when I was a kid, but as I grew older, my feelings shifted to resentment. She always tried to act like my mother. If she had her own child—at least that's what she claimed—why couldn't she focus on raising her own and leave me alone?

"How was your day at school, Mr. Glen?" she asked, folding clothes with a practiced efficiency.

"Why do you always ask me that?!" I snapped. "You know I never tell you! It's none of your business anyway!"

"I'm sorry," she replied softly. "I just thought you might want to talk about it."

She always sounded so concerned, but I knew better. People only care if there's something in it for them.

"Don't be a sucker, Glen. Don't do things out of friendship or love. Don't be a fool like your mother was! Running off with your loser father and giving up fame for something as stupid as love!" My uncle had drilled this into me long ago. "The only one who really loves you is you."

My mother had once been a celebrated actress, and my uncle was her manager and publicist. She was the most famous actress in all of Fiore, gracing magazine covers and appearing on talk shows, even interviewing with the president himself—at least, that's what my uncle claimed. But then she met my father, a gardener hired by my uncle. They fell in love, and my uncle insisted that a famous actress couldn't be seen with a mere gardener. He threatened to end her career if she didn't end the relationship.

But that's the thing about theater girls—they're hopeless romantics. She quit acting and eloped with my father, a decision my uncle would never forgive her for. Ironically, he went on to have his own successful career as a news anchor. He had no reason to remain bitter, yet he did. After all, why would anyone give up fame and fortune for love?

When my uncle finally came home that day, I was waiting for him. I wanted to share the news about the spring dance and the ballots for spring royalty.

"I'll probably win the title of prince this year," I said, trying to sound casual.

"That's nice, Glen," he replied, barely paying attention. He was on the phone, as usual, always wrapped up in work.

"Jenny Realight will be my date."

"Uh-huh."

"So you could say I'm officially the big man on campus now."

"That's great."

I hated this routine—sharing my accomplishments, my good grades, my awards, only to have them fall on deaf ears. It was as if I wasn't even there. Yet I kept doing it, seeking validation from the only family I had left. My parents were gone, my paternal grandparents had passed, and my maternal relatives didn't acknowledge my existence. My mother once said that my great-grandmother would have adored me had she lived long enough to know me. Apparently, she believed my mother's choice to marry my father was the best decision she ever made. That would make her the first.

"Look, Glen, I don't have time for small talk. I have a lot of work to do. I need to fire my co-host because she hasn't lost the baby weight."

"Kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"Well, people like to watch those who look good, and anyone who says otherwise is either dumb or ugly. Like Ur over there."

Ur said nothing, but I could see her silently cursing him as she wiped down the countertops.

"Don't you have homework to do?" my uncle asked, his tone dismissive.

Translation: Nothing you say matters, so shut up and go away.

I retreated to my room and began examining the tuxedo I would wear to the spring dance. Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, I held the suit up to my body, admiring how it fit. God, I looked so handsome it was almost sinful. No doubt, I was a shoo-in for the election—a perfect prince.

"You are by no means a prince. You're a beast."

Kagura's words echoed in my mind, and I cringed. I didn't know why they bothered me so much; I had been called worse and usually brushed it off. But something about her words struck a nerve. I couldn't stand people like her—not just because they were unattractive, but because they acted morally superior. If given the chance to join the in-crowd, they'd jump at it.

That's when an idea formed—a perfect payback for that self-righteous, ugly witch.

The next day at school, I spotted Kagura sitting on a bench, engrossed in the strangest book I had ever seen. It was enormous, almost larger than a textbook, with a worn leather cover adorned with vines, branches, and thorns. It looked like something out of "The Hobbit" or "Narnia." She must have been a real fan of fantasy cosplay.

"Hey," I said, flashing her my best smile.

She immediately shut her book and stuffed it into her bag, as if I'd want to read that nerdy encyclopedia.

"What do you want?" she asked, eyeing me warily.

"I was just thinking about what you said yesterday, and I'm sorry."

"Of course you are," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Tell me, is 'bullshit' one word or two?"

"I'm serious. You're right. We do judge people by looks around here. Someone like me... let's face it, I'm better than average-looking, and I have an easier time than—"

"People like me and my sisters?"

"I wasn't going to get that specific. My uncle's on the news, so I know how it is. In his business, if you lose your looks, you lose your job."

"Does that seem right to you?"

"I never had to think about it, you know? You can't help what you're born with."

"Interesting," she said. "What's the point of this conversation?"

"The point is I want to make it up to you and everyone who's ever been excluded for not fitting beauty standards. Why don't you be my date to the spring dance?"

"So the handsome prince of Fairy Tail Academy wants to take one of the witches to the grand ball? What's the catch?"

Hmm... She definitely wasn't gullible, at least not easily.

"No catch," I said. "I just think we'd have a good time."

She scrutinized me with her rat-like eyes, as if trying to read my thoughts. But then she smiled.

"Alright. I'll go with you."

Of course, she would. I knew she wouldn't be able to resist.

"But don't bother picking me up. My sisters are a little overprotective, and no offense, but I'm sure if you came to the door, they'd send you away. You just don't look like the type who would genuinely want me as his date."

Oh, I'm not that type at all. Believe me, but she didn't know that.

"I'll meet you at the dance," she said.

"Perfect," I replied.

Yep, it was perfect—the perfect revenge and the perfect mistake that would ruin my perfect life.