A Firefly's Glow

Chapter Seventeen: Part Five

“Kasumi, dinner will start in just a few minutes.”

Kasumi didn’t turn to look at Megane when he spoke to her. She continued to scrape the side of the wall with her rag.

She had to admit that her arm was starting to hurt.

“Have you seen Hotaru-sama?” Megane questioned. His shadow swayed back and forth on the wall that Kasumi was scrubbing. “She was not in her room.”

“She left with Hanabusa-sama to go downstairs.”

“But Hanabusa-sama is sitting at the dinner table. No one is sitting beside him.”

“Maybe she’s taking a crap.”

Kasumi wasn’t literally being serious, but she didn’t think she needed to be serious with a girl like her.

Megane did not bother to answer her statement with a comment. He swayed onto another subject.

“Kasumi, it’s like you’re trying to peel the wall off. You’ve been scrubbing the same wall for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Well there’s this stain on the wall that won’t seem to come off,” Kasumi grumbled, trying her best not to seem like her bad mood was leaking through her mouth.

“Don’t mistaken that ‘stain’ for the wall’s paint.”

Kasumi would have whipped her head around to say a smart thing or two, but instead, she kept her head low and focused on the stain.

“Let’s go to the dining room,” Megane pleasantly suggested. “Chef is almost done with the food.”

“No thanks.”

Kasumi knew from his exclamations that Megane was confused and utterly questioning. The maids were supposed to arrive to dinner and to stand in their positions. It was routine for every single day. It was very, very curious how a maid—especially one that was especially loyal to her master—refused to go to dinner. But Kasumi had her own reasons of not attending.

How on earth could she face Hanabusa-sama again?

How could she face that red-headed girl?

“Why not?” Megane asked, stepping closer towards Kasumi.

“I just don’t feel like it.”

“No matter what servants feel, they should still come anyways. That’s why you’re called the servant.”

Kasumi turned around, clutching the worn rag in her fist. She narrowed her eyes at Megane, who shrunk backwards in nervousness.

Kasumi knew she was capable of shooting dark glares. These were one of those moments.

“I’m going outside.”

Megane was speechless until Kasumi walked past him.

“But it’s raining outside.”

Kasumi didn’t stop walking. Instead, she murmured, “I don’t care.”

She didn’t have to care. It could have been raining or snowing or hailing or it could have been so extremely windy that the air could have swept her off her feet. But nothing would be more tear-jerking to her than standing in that dining room watching the boy she loved give attention to someone who probably didn’t even have to lift a finger to try and receive it from him. It made her sick.