William cut the vegetables in silence in the kitchen. The orange glow of sunset lit his face, creating a portrait of elegance and devotion.

  There was no hesitation in his movements; he chopped and carved the vegetables to the rhythm of a song he heard coming from the young lady’s bedroom the week before.

  Your Eyes was a sad romantic ballad by a young artist whose posters he had seen around the city a few times while buying groceries for the mansion, but whose name he refused to learn out of principle.

  William was of the opinion that culture was in a constant state of decline, so he would not remember the name of a new artist unless they first proved themselves worthy.

  The chopping accelerated as the song in his head reached the chorus.

  But even he had to admit that this song had a very catchy chorus; it had burrowed through the dense layers of prejudice he used to protect his mind, and now he found, with no small amount of shame, that he had grown to like it.

  “Sigh,” he stopped in his movements. He felt humiliated and defeated, and he couldn’t even feel the comfort of liking the same song as the young lady, because he was pretty sure about why she had been listening to it.

  In front of him, there were many cutely carved vegetables.

  They were all in the form of popular Pokémon, full of smiles, as if happy to be eaten.

  He hadn’t always known how to make them, but when the young lady was little, she had an unreasonable resistance to eating her vegetables, so he took it upon himself to resolve the problem, eventually finding this solution.

  A smile graced this oldman’s face, one that still retained much of the charm from his younger days.

  The young lady was the most important person in his life; for him, she was like his daughter, the sparkle in his eyes, his little Chilli Pepper.

  But now.

  Now she was hanging out with some low-life boys who only knew to spend their time in the woods, battling random trainers and staying in that dreadful base of theirs.

  To make things worse, now she was listening to romantic songs.

  He dreaded even thinking about the implications, but for the sake of the Young Lady, he would need to confront her about this.

  William carefully arranged the dinner and moved toward his lady’s quarters with the courage of a soldier going to war to defend his country.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  *******

  Joana was in her room studying when William knocked on the door.

  “What is it, William?” she recognized it was her butler just by the way he knocked, 3 small and perfectly spaced knocks, not loud enough to startle her, nor so low she may not hear him.

  His consideration was one of his endearing traits, but it also vexed her to no end.

  Regardless, she was happy for the interruption; she really hated studying, not because it was particularly difficult, but more so because of an inherent dislike for anything that required her to be still for more than a minute.

  William opened the door and entered the room, carrying a silver plate from where she could see steam rising.

  “Young Lady, I’ve brought your dinner,” He said, seemingly hesitant.

  Joana knew this meant he had something he wanted to ask her, but didn’t know how to do it.

  “Where would you prefer to eat?” He asked. His tired tone made her remember that William was already old.

  She looked at his wrinkled face, one she knew better than her own parents.

  When did he get so old?

  The realization made her deeply aware that the person in front of her was not simply her nagging butler, but a human being who had a complete existence outside of her, one who would one day die and vanish from her life, and that day may not be so distant.

  “I’ll eat in the dining room.” She decided to accommodate William for the day. She knew he wanted to ask something of her, that this would probably be something she didn’t want to answer or that she would consider meaningless, but she also knew that it was important for William, and for that night, that was enough.

  ****

  Joana Hawthorne didn’t like her name.

  For starters, she felt like Joana was too much of a Grandma’s name for her to feel comfortable when someone called her that.

  Worst of all, there was no way to hide it, because the teachers would unintentionally- although sometimes she felt like it was intentional, a small form of revenge against her for her “misbehaving”- oust her to the whole class as someone who was called “Joana”.

  It was brief, but she would, without fail, feel naked at those moments, exposed, like a freak of nature for all to see. She could imagine the scene, staying inside an animal jail while her classmates looked at her, pointing and saying:

  “Look, it’s her!” One would say, surprised and curious.

  “You mean the one that is called ‘Joana’?” Another would say, stopping to hold their laughter, but failing in the end.

  Then everyone would start laughing, and she would feel like the ugliest, most hideous monster in this world, and she would feel like hiding under her desk.

  But then the teacher would say Hawthorne, and all of the shame, and all her fantasies would vanish.

  Her family name was strong enough to destroy any fantasies… or dreams.

  It was too real to allow her daydreams to continue existing, and too big for something like her name to fit comfortably before it.

  She was a Hawthorne first, and Joana second, and a very distant second at that.

  Sometimes she wondered if her parents would be happier with her if Joana completely vanished, so she could be only Hawthorne, a perfect vessel for the family name, but she was too afraid to reach a conclusion.

  Her family name was too big a burden for her, so she much preferred to be just Jo, as her friends called her.

  She was Jo, a simple Bug Catcher in Viridian, and a proud member of the Sam & Rick & Jo & Kai’s Bug Catcher Club.