Breakfast

“Thank me…”

Murakami Suzune could see the discomfort in Haruka’s eyes and smiled faintly, a knowing, gentle expression. “The Lady has already recognized the Young Master as her own flesh and blood. Besides the Lady herself, in the entire Fujiwara household, only the young mistresses can compare to your status. But you are all one family; there is no need for such comparisons. Only servants would have such vulgar thoughts.”

The moment she finished speaking, she lightly tapped her own lips with her hand, a small, self-chastising gesture.

“Why did you hit yourself?” Haruka asked, puzzled.

“I misspoke,” Suzune said, her voice soft. “The Young Master was the Young Master from the moment you arrived. My words were disrespectful. It was always a certainty that the Lady would recognize you as her own.”

Her voice was gentle, her words sincere. Even though Haruka disliked flattery, he found her way of speaking very comforting, a soft balm on the raw edges of his new reality.

“Suzune, please prepare breakfast for me,” Haruka said. “I need to go and see my mother shortly.”

Murakami Suzune nodded and slowly, silently, withdrew from the room. A short while later, she returned with several other maids, who moved with a quiet, practiced efficiency, carrying breakfast.

A low, black lacquer table was placed in the center of the room, with a single blue cushion set on the floor before it. On the table were several home-style dishes that were anything but simple: six perfect soft-boiled eggs, a pan-fried tilefish cooked to a golden crisp, a small, glistening piece of sauced beef, a beautifully arranged platter of kiwi fruit, and a bowl of steaming hot rice porridge that filled the room with a clean, comforting aroma.

Murakami Suzune stood respectfully to the side. “The Lady specifically instructed the kitchen to prepare this rice porridge for you, Young Master, to soothe your stomach after last night.”

Haruka glanced at the bowl and chopsticks; it was the personal set Lady Murasaki had given him at the banquet, a silent reminder of his new status.

He was not used to the formal kneeling position, so he simply sat cross-legged on the cushion. Now that he didn’t have to worry about the strict, suffocating etiquette of the banquet, he felt much more relaxed, as if he could finally breathe.

He picked up the bowl, blew on it gently, and took a careful sip of the porridge. The servants had prepared it perfectly; it was not too hot, just the right temperature to be comforting. Haruka smelled the faint, fragrant aroma of the high-quality rice. He first warmed his tongue with the smooth, silky broth, then let the soft, plump grains of rice slide down his throat. A comforting warmth spread through his stomach, and he let out a long, satisfied sigh.

Before coming to the Fujiwara house, his breakfasts had always been a simple, hurried affair, usually a packet of cheap instant oatmeal or a couple of hard-boiled eggs to fill his stomach. This was a different world.

Haruka looked at the platter of soft-boiled eggs. The shells had been peeled cleanly, without a single mar, and the six eggs had been cut into twelve perfect halves. Each half was presented on a small, jade-colored spoon, all of them arranged to face him like a blooming flower. The golden yolks were like liquid honey, thick and glistening. He picked up one of the spoons and ate the egg in one bite. The warm, runny yolk burst in his mouth, a rich, savory explosion, and he couldn’t help but let out a small, contented breath. He saw a pair of hands holding a neatly folded, warm towel in front of him.

When he looked to the side, he saw Murakami Suzune kneeling on the floor, holding the towel up high with both hands, her head bowed low. It was a thoughtful, almost prescient gesture, as if she knew he had wanted to wipe his mouth before he even realized it himself.

“You may rise,” Haruka said, taking the towel. It, too, was perfectly warm.

He wiped his mouth, and only then did Suzune slowly stand up, taking a few steps back to a respectful distance that would not disturb his meal, her head still bowed.

“Have you eaten?” Haruka asked.

“How could I dare to eat before the Young Master has finished?”

“Have the servants bring another set of tableware. You can sit here and eat with me.”

“Young Master, that is against the rules,” Suzune said in a panic, her voice a shocked whisper.

Haruka thought for a moment. “I was wondering, would my mother ask the butler to sit and eat with her?”

“If it is not a particularly important banquet,” Suzune said, “the butler would likely be seated at the lower end of the table.”

“Then you can sit at the lower end of the table.”

“I cannot compare to the butler.”

“And I cannot compare to my mother.”

“Young Master…” Suzune was at a loss for words, trapped by his simple, undeniable logic.

“I will grow up eventually,” Haruka said, his voice soft but firm. “And you may not always be standing while I am sitting.”

Hearing this, Suzune’s heart began to pound, a wild, frantic rhythm against her ribs. She immediately dropped to her knees again, prostrating herself on the floor.

“I thought I told you,” Haruka said, getting up and helping her to her feet, his touch gentle, “that you only need to do that in front of outsiders.”

Hearing the word “outsiders,” the frantic beating in Suzune’s chest began to calm, but she was still filled with an indescribable, dizzying excitement, her hands and feet not feeling like her own.

“Have the servants bring another bowl of porridge,” Haruka said with a smile.

Suzune felt a sense of profound, terrifying security holding his hand and was reluctant to let go. It was only when she heard his voice that she came back to her senses and looked at him in a fluster. His eyes were bright, the blacks and whites clear and distinct. She didn’t dare to meet his gaze for long. She slowly released his hand, bowed her head, and withdrew from the room.

A short time later, she returned with a half-bowl of leftover porridge and a pair of simple chopsticks. She did not take a cushion, but knelt quietly in the corner to his left, her posture perfect.

After a while, Haruka asked, “Are all the maids here born in the Fujiwara household?”

Suzune thought for a moment. “Most of us are.”

“And you?”

“I grew up in the Fujiwara household.”

“Can you…” Haruka asked tactfully, “…can you leave the Fujiwara family of your own free will?”

Suzune smiled with a sad, difficult grace. “Young Master… we maids… are actually… indentured servants.” Her voice was almost inaudible by the end, a shameful secret whispered into the quiet room.

Haruka still managed to hear her. “Indentured servants… you owe a debt to the Fujiwara family?” he asked, surprised.

“Our elders all had some financial standing,” Suzune said in a low voice, her eyes fixed on the floor, “but they all made mistakes, either caught for embezzlement or went bankrupt from poor management. My father owes the Fujiwara family a billion yen and is still in prison. We are just collateral, raised and educated in etiquette in the Fujiwara household since we were children.”

“Then your life must be very difficult…” Haruka didn’t know what else to say, the words feeling hollow and inadequate.

“How could our lives be difficult, Young Master?” Suzune said with a faint, unreadable smile.

Haruka stared at her, thinking she was just putting on a brave face. But then she said, “The Fujiwara family provides for all our needs and even gives us an education. After deducting our debts, we still receive a considerable monthly allowance. And all we have to do is kneel once in a while. The rough, dirty work is done by the lower-ranking servants. We are only responsible for the guests or the young mistresses. And we even get holidays every month. Our lives are much better than those of people on the outside.”

“Young Master, I think you may have some misunderstandings about us maids,” Suzune said, maintaining her smile, a perfect, practiced mask.

Haruka couldn’t help but ask, “If you were given your freedom, would you be willing to leave the Fujiwara family?”

Suzune shook her head. “What is the difference between being outside and being inside?” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You probably won’t believe this, Young Master, but we maids are all well-educated. I myself graduated from Waseda University. I saw a lot during my studies. Aren’t most people in society just serving someone? The form is just different. I would rather stay in the Fujiwara household than be mistreated on the outside.”

“But the Fujiwara household is a murky place,” Haruka said. “What if you had a better option?”

“Although it is murky, at least my body is still my own, untainted. Even if there were a better option, I would not leave. Because there is a broad, open road right in front of me now. Even if I don’t know where it leads, I am willing to follow it to the end.” Suzune’s voice was hoarse with a sudden, raw emotion, her eyes shining with an almost fanatical light. Disregarding her injured knees, she knelt and crawled to him again, pressing her forehead to his feet. “I am willing to sacrifice everything to serve you, Young Master.”