I went to the room we were in last time, but it was empty. I returned to the tower and searched around but there were no signs. I was wrecking my head for ideas when I remembered the forest where I took a walk with Annabelle. It was dense with trees and good for hiding.

When I stepped in the forest I started to call for him.

"Oscar? Are you here?" It felt silly shouting to the trees, but I had to. It was getting darker, not that the sun was even up before. "I won't bring you to Oda. I promise."

I heard the sound of a twig snapping and turned my head to see a figure running. It was him.

"Oscar!" I hollered. "I'm not here to catch you!"

"Then why are you here?" he shouted back, looking at me over his shoulder, his hair flying with each jolt.

"I want to ask why you ran away!" I manage to explain before tripping. Thankfully I collide into a tree instead of the ground. I panted heavily as I steadied myself. "Please! Stop running away from me!"

Oscar stopped. He turned to stare at me before leaning against a tree, obviously tired too from the chase.

"Karina, was it?" He looked around the forest warily.

"Yes. Why?"

"Oda was interrogating me about you and what I did to you. What did you tell her?" he hissed, his familiar scowl back.

That's why he ran. Oda didn't tell me she was planning on interrogating him. I only felt more distrust for her.

"I only said we talked and then you let me sleep on the couch." He sighed before running his hand through his hair.

"Come, I don't want her to find us."

I smiled. He trusted me.

After stumbling through bushes, tall grasses, and between trees, I see a white fountain. When we come closer, I see that there is no running water, only still water inside with a layer of moss over it. Vines sprouted from an unknown source and tangled itself between the cracked marble. The place surrounding the fountain was devoid of grass and flowers, only weeds.

He sat down on the ground, leaning his head against the fountain. He breathed in heavily and white clouds escaped his pale lips. He was only wearing a shirt and trousers.

"Why don't you just tell Oda the truth?" I questioned. He shook his head.

"Do you think she'll believe me? And she's furious about what I did to her mother." I notice that he refers to Queen Sonota as 'her mother', not 'our mother'.

"Why did you hurt her then?" I knelt next to him, carefully tucking in my skirts under me so the stones in the ground don't cut my legs.

"I—" He turned to face me, his eyes catching mine. "I can't control myself sometimes. I just get so mad when I see their faces."

"I suppose it's only natural to feel that way." He shrugged.

"I don't want to live this way anymore." For once he looks helpless. "I'm not Otto, I'm Oscar. I want to be me, but if I'm me, I'm always locked up."

"Wouldn't it be impossible for them to lock you up forever?"

"I don't know, but they never give up. Not on Otto. They love him." He looked down at the ground. "They perform strange rituals, give medicines, get spiritual people to help him, and even now they lock him up in hopes I disappear."

"Why can't they just let you two shared a body?"

"Because we aren't sharing it." He looked at me. "Only one of us can have it."

"What?" My skin prickled, but it wasn't from the cold.

"I can feel it when we fight for control. Our thoughts and wills clash. One day only one of us can take control of this body."

"Are you going to take his body?" There was something apathetic about him, his tone, his expression, everything. He opened his mouth.

"Don't you realize Otto has been appearing less?" I froze.

"What do you mean?"

"I might finally be able to take this body."

"What are you saying?" I exclaimed.

"You can all do what you want," he said, his fingers entwining into his hair and pushing it back. "But one day it'll be me left. Not Otto."

I stared at him with his hair up, his eyes almost glowing a faint blue. His was feminine and perfectly sculpted. His skin was flawless too, and his lips are perfectly colored—rose tinted. Oscar raised an eyebrow and I suddenly felt self-conscious and looked away.

"What's with that face? Have you fallen for me already?" he said sarcastically.

"Of course not!" I said defensively, embarrassed for staring so intensely at the prince.

"Oh, I forgot, falling for Otto?" His hand releases the handful of hair he was holding onto.

"Do you know about the Dandelion System?"

"Yes." I wondered how he knew but not Otto. Was Otto unconsciously trying to forget things he didn't want to know?

"Then do you want to get married?" I asked.

"I don't care either way, I just want a body and live," he answered. "Why did you join The Dandelion system? To marry the prince?" I chuckled, thinking of Oda asking me the same thing in front of Annabelle last time.

"I didn't want to. I joined because Oda said she would help my sister in return."

"Help your sister in return?"

"My sister, Catalina. She's blind." I hadn't thought about it for a long time. "A man tricked her, and then ran away from the town with another girl with our money."

"You are doing this for your sister, then?" He was looking at me closely now, almost in disbelief.

"Yes, why?"

He turned away and looked at the sky. He didn't speak for a long time.

"I don't know. I just can't imagine sacrificing yourself for someone else. You must really love someone to do that."

"Anyone would do it for their sister." He shook his head.

"No. You're wrong. There's family in this world who hate each other more than anything. In this world, sometimes our blood is more of a curse than a blessing."

He was right.

"You're a good sister." I was stunned. Had he just complimented me?

"What is your favorite flower?" I asked quickly, remembering Annabelle asking me before. I had doubts that Oscar, with his cruel and sarcastic ways, had a flower he liked, but the silence was engulfing me.

"Weeds."

"Weeds?"

"Aren't weeds just unwanted flowers?" There was a reminiscent of a smile on his face. I realized how similar they are to him.

"Isn't it ironic this is called the Dandelion System?" He laughed a bit and surprisingly, I laughed too. I feel at ease, almost.

"It suits you."

"Because of this," he asks, pointing to his head of white hair. I shook my head.

"That's Otto's, not yours. I heard you had brown hair like your mother." He looked surprised.

"Then why?"

"I just thought that if Otto was a flower, carefully tended, watered, and groomed, you were the weed that grew alone, unsheltered from the snow and wind. Bent and torn from the soil, so you no longer trust anyone."

He turned to face me.

"I never thought of it that way."

"Then you should, starting from now," I said. "Because dandelions are very endurable flowers. They keep spreading and traveling no matter how harsh the rain or wind—and they are beautiful."

"How many seeds do you have?"

"Huh? Oh, thirty-six—maybe slightly more now."

"The Queen has collected more than fifty already," he said with a smug smile. "For her favored contestant."

"We can't do anything about it," I admitted morosely.

"There is something you can do." I glanced at Oscar's face. A conceited smile dances on his lips. "Kill her," he whispered, his breath tickling my skin. I lean back in horror.

"That's against the rules of The Dandelion system!"

"Just don't let them know who killed her." He leaned even closer to my face. "Don't you wish to win?"

"I do, but not by taking a life."

"She's an awful person anyway. What a bore. I was hoping you would kill someone for my freedom, but you don't love me enough."

"I don't love you. I'm only helping Otto, not you," I said. To my surprise, his face wasn't what I expected.

His eyes were sad, and his lips, once open, pressed together tightly. His jaws moved.

Then he smile. A sad, sad smile.

"Of course. No one loves me."

No.

I've made a big mistake.

"Oscar, I'm sorry—"

He stands up before I finish and I hastily stand up too, my legs are wobbly from sitting so long.

"No, Oscar!" I screamed. "I didn't mean that! I—" before anything leaves my lips, he walked away.

No.

No.

No.

Why had I hurt him again?

I gathered my skirts into my hands and chase after him once again, but this time it is my fault.

I didn't mean it. although Oscar was fearsome and cruel, I didn't mean what I said.

He was lonely—he was scared and sad all the time. He was going through such pain, and that's why he was so bitter. Guilt overwhelms me, along with regret.

"Oscar! Please wait!" I begged, but he quickened his steps and jumped down a slope, escaping deeper into the forest, which was endless. "Please!"

The wind slapped my face and my loose hair obscured my sight. I can only see flashes of green and brown, of tree and soil, and the moving figure cloaked in white. It goes down and slips through two thick trees and I follow.

"Oscar!" I cried, my sore throat hardly allowing me to yell. He keeps moving, faster than ever. I can't keep up with him this time. I am losing him for good this time.

No, I don't want that.

"Oscar! I'm sorry!" I cried. He stopped. I trembled from relief. He turned to me. His lips was bleeding, the red filling in the cracks of his pink lips, pressed together.

"I don't want your help. Don't appear before me again." His voice is so cold. Colder than I've ever heard him. I shook my head while the tears fell from my eyes.

Why was I crying? I didn't understand myself. Was it guilt? Was it sorrow? Why did it hurt?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sobbed. I walked closer to him. He only watched me. "I wasn't thinking when I said it, I don't know why I said that. Please don't say that."

"Why does it matter? Your goal is Otto, not me."

He wasn't even loud. His voice hurt more when it's barely a whisper. I continued taking wary steps until I stood before him. His hands were in fists and his shoulders clenched up, but he still doesn't move.

"You're just like everyone else."

"You're wrong," I said, looking at his face.

His face is burdened with creases and the blood now trickles to his chin. I raise my hand until it touches his face but pulls it away when he flinches—like my touch hurts him. But he doesn't move when I draw my fingertips to his face again. Delicately, I wipe the trail of blood on his cool skin and slide my hand over his cheek, bringing his face to mine before I kiss him.