Meanwhile, the Crown Prince Alexander was currently strolling through the gardens of the Winter Palace with his valet, discussing the pros and cons of holding the upcoming soiree with his awkward fiancee, Lady Lindvall, at this very garden. Blissfully unaware, it must be noted, that the said awkward fiancee and her, ahem, unconventional friends¹read: his mortal enemy and her best friend were crawling around in the garden as well. (Quite literally.)

"But Your Highness," protested the valet, "to call upon the first ball held by King Edward V and his betrothed is very recommended by all of court."

"Yes," sighed the Prince, his oh-so-dazzling silvery hair almost glowing under the sunlight (of course) and his blue eyes flashing in the obligatory swoon-worthy fashion. "But every single prince for the past two generations have held their first balls and first soirees in that very ballroom. It's become a bit, well, cliche, wouldn't you say?"

The Crown Prince Alexander Forbias, unfortunately, did not see the drastic irony in which a beautiful silver-haired, blue-eyed prince with a traumatic background and a name such as Alexander in an academy for nobles said something other than he himself was cliche enough for notice.

"That's why I'm saying," the epitome of Princely tropes continued to say, "we could recall that very first ball by holding the soiree in the Winter Palace, but avoid the overused setting by holding it in the garden."

"Your Highness!" the valet gasped. "We dare not lower your first official soiree with your betrothed so as to have it be held in the garden, of all places!"

"And why is that?"

The poor guy sputtered. "The, the Crown Prince's soiree! We cannot-- the garden--"

"Well, perhaps I like gardens," Alexander replied, a bit cross now. What was wrong with gardens anyway? "And perhaps my fiancee would like them, too. I could send her a letter and see."

They continued to stride through the garden in silence, the Crown Prince miffed, the valet shocked speechless.

After a while, the valet sighed. He had been near the Prince since the Prince had been very, very small, before the Giant Accident that Must Not Be Spoken Of™ had unfortunately brought over the big change in who had been the most adorable, brightly smiling young boy he'd taken care of. (He was, after all, the epitome of Princely tropes, and one must have a Giant Accident hidden somewhere in his past.) And he knew that when the Prince got into a mood like this one, it would last long.

The valet spent a brief minute mourning over the years he'd spent with the Prince, particularly how old he himself had gotten and how he still hadn't found anyone willing to be his wife since he was nothing but a valet with no particularly attractive qualities. Perhaps it was his time to leave, the valet thought. He'd always be outshined with the Prince by his side-- but who would stay by the Prince if not himself?

With these complicated, saddening thoughts, the valet turned to the Crown Prince and said, "I apologize, my Prince, let us see what we can do."

...or so the valet tried to say, but all he managed to say was, "I apologize, ueh?" because the Crown Prince was, well, not there. 

He'd been walking by himself for the past two minutes, while he'd been wallowing in self-reflection!

"Uah!" the valet cried, whirling around. "Your Highness! Your Highness?!"

Alas, there was no answer, for unbeknownst to the poor old and single valet, His Highness had scrambled up a tree and was hiding as if his life depended upon it.

Two minutes prior to the valet resurfacing from his bout of rumination, the Crown Prince had been busy picking apart his senses. Why were chills running up his arms? It wasn't cold out, nor was it windy. And why did he feel like a meerkat, his eyes darting left and right, his shoulders tense and his back straightened? As if any time now, a mortal enemy just might appear...?

That was when it happened. 

Two giant leaves of an imported banana tree parted with the slight breeze, and through the gap he saw it: first, the exact shade of light brown hair that always seemed to show up in his nightmares, and second, silvery blonde just that tad bit lighter than his own that made him want to dive into the bushes and hide from the awkwardness.

The Prince then made a very un-Princely sound (a cross between a yelp and a girly shriek, very squealy, yes) and spun to the side to take refuge under the banana tree, his heart rate up by a million. All thoughts left him except three words-- "Why?" "Chesterfield!" and "Lindvall??!"

Then before he knew it, he had hoisted himself up in the large oak tree next to the abundant banana trees. He didn't know how he'd gotten up there, but he was there, and he felt safer. It was, alas, the primal instinct of the prey upon seeing its predators.

He peered through the rustling branches at his predators. What were they doing, and why were they there? Why were they crouched into the bushes, as if they were spying on someone? And why in the world had nobody told him that his affianced was going to be touring the Winter Palace at the same time and place as he was?!

Too busy trying to figure out how destructive the collaborated efforts of the two figures that never failed to stimulate his fight-or-flight syndrome would be, he did not notice that a third person was in their midst, nor that a fourth person was near them as well.

The Prince eyed his Mortal Enemy, his muscles as taut as an acorn. His Mortal Enemy, however, took no notice of him, and was eyeing her Mortal Enemy, her muscles as taut as a kangaroo about to kick the next person into oblivion.

"It's him," the girl spat to her companions, her light brown hair sparkling in the air. "Glitcherman."

Just a few meters away from the trio came a certain willowy playboy knight from the Zimmerman household, his flashy armor and ultra white teeth blinding the secret onlookers in the sun. Yes, it was he, Drew Zimmerman, the most hated capture target of all gamers who had ever played <Love Academy: Love Love Catcher 3>. It was he, the one who popped up in all possible moments to dive into the player's routes and forcibly change it to his own. He, who had been voted "Least Likeable," "Most Annoying," and "Most Likely To Be Assassinated By the Heroine" simultaneously for every year since the title had come out!

 And at that very moment, this very Glitcherman was thinking to himself, hmm, why do I feel a sudden urge to laugh boisterously and as loudly and as arrogantly as I can?

It was the core of his annoying nature talking to him, of course, so that he could be as annoying as possible.

"Eh, why not," Glitcherman shrugged, and threw back his dirty blonde hair and squared his shoulders. His red eyes glowing in the hot sun, he began laughing so smugly and so self-assuredly that even the Prince, in his Danger Detected Mode, snapped his attention to him.

The annoyance meters of all creatures capable of hearing in the area jumped, and the Palace saw an instant rise in irritation.

"Agh!" cried Rosa, about to jump up and deliver a clean karate slice to the neck of the source of all problems. "Why, you--!"

"No!" cried Filian, holding her back instinctively. She breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to somehow stop this monster in action. The panic of the situation must have given her supernatural strength, she surmised.

"Hm," Lady Mildred Lindvall said. She almost frowned in confusion before she remembered that Lady Mildred did not frown. Lady Mildred did not ask any questions, either, but never had she ever wanted to ask things as much as now-- why was her acquaintance, Drew Zimmerman, the Glitcherman? Was that a superhero name, like the Cabbageman stories she remembered from her childhood? And why was he Rosa Chesterfield's mortal enemy?

But more importantly, why had he come to this clearing in the middle of the Winter Palace garden for the sole reason of laughing?

Thankfully, Glitcherman was so invested in laughing his delicate head off that he did not hear anything but his own majestic laughter, even though Rosa had not been reserved at all in spewing out a few choice insults towards him during his laughter.

"Now's the time!" hissed Filian, and she tugged both the Villainess and the Heroine off to the side, where they duck-walked all the way into the more jungle-y parts of the forest garden. Yes, even the Villainess-- she was caught up in the mood, as teen villainesses are wont to do.

As for the Crown Prince, still squatting up in the tree, he managed to wrestle the sudden surge of irritation down and refocused unto his actual predators, only to find that they were gone. He sharply inhaled-- where had they gone?!

"Prince!" his valet called out, in rising panic. "Prince?!"

The valet's voice was so loud that it could actually be heard over Glitcherman's booming and powerful laughter (did he know no end?), and both Rosa and Lady Mildred looked over to the area he was in through the bushes. Filian was too busy trying to remember which way they had to go to give notice to the frantic callings of the valet.

Fortunately for the two ladies, they were situated just so that neither the valet nor Glitcherman could see them. Unfortunately for the Prince, they were also situated just so that the moment they raised their eyes to the valet, their line of sight also gave them access to see the Prince, uncomfortably residing in the tree.

"What the, isn't that the Prince in the tree?" Rosa mumbled.

Lady Mildred blinked. It did indeed seem like the Prince was in the tree, crouched over and looking like he was three seconds from jumping off it like a nervous squirrel.

Filian, too distracted, said, "What?"

"The Crown Prince is in the tree," Rosa repeated. "He's just, he's just sitting there." Dying of mortification at the moment, in fact, as his eyes oh-so-naturally locked in with his fiancee's.

Her best friend sighed in exasperation and began turning to where Rosa was looking. "Princes don't sit in trees, Rosa. You must be-- whoa," she blinked. "You're right!" she blurted out, her voice rising. "The Prince, the Prince is up a tree!"

Ah.

Poor Filian.

At that very moment, Glitcherman had abruptly come to a complete stop. And how would you know-- it was the exact moment the Prince's valet had ceased to call as well, in order to take a deep breath.

Which meant that when Filian had cried out, in all her wide-eyed shock, she had cried out into the otherwise silent air that very unfortunate declaration: "The Prince is up a tree!"

...tree! ...tree! the garden seemed to echo gleefully.

It was like even the breezes, the bugs, the entire atmosphere of their surroundings froze, too.

The valet's breath stuck to his throat as his brain processed this strange sentence.

The nearby gardeners hidden in the corners of the jungle garden stopped their infuriated digging and vine-cutting and raised their heads.

A flock of birds rose into the sky and flew away in the complete silence, not a single one of them squawking amidst their flaps, as if they could feel the urgent need to escape this situation as quietly as possible.

And the Crown Prince, of course, wished the ground could swallow him up at that very moment.

Oh right, he thought miserably, that wasn't possible. He was up a tree, after all.

"...what?" boomed Glitcherman, his hands still on his hips, a frown now engraved into his beautiful face.

The world spurred into motion again.

"Prince Alexander!" cried the valet, rushing to the oak tree in an instant. "You're fine!"

"Move it!" yelped Rosa, using her inhuman strength bestowed upon her by her Heroine Buff to push the completely alarmed Filian forward. She stumbled out, and the three of them scurried deeper into the jungle. 

Lady Mildred was at the tail end of their escape, and she saw as the honorable Crown Prince of Durova, her fiance and the future King of Durova, let his head fall into his hands as his valet worriedly fluttered around, trying to climb the tree himself.

Three minutes later, Rosa, Filian, and Lady Mildred managed to find themselves back in view of the gazebo they had once been so peacefully sipping tea and enjoying snacks in. 

Breathing hard, they skidded to a stop at the sight of Mary waiting in the gazebo and the simpler design of this part of the garden, so different from what they had come from. It was too jarring for their panicked minds.

"Okay," panted Filian, eyes taking in the peaceful sight, "what just happened?"

"I have," Rosa replied, breathless. "no idea. Whatsoever."

"The Prince," huffed Filian," was up a tree."

"Yeah," Rosa gulped. "Why was he there?"

Lady Mildred only exhaled deeply, trying to regulate both her breaths and her beating heart.

The three of them looked at each other in the exact same moment, each set of eyes seemingly more lost than the last.

"...pfft. Why was he up there?"

"Hmph...! Probably because he..." But before she could finish her sentence, they couldn't help it anymore-- both of them burst out into laughter.

And before they knew it, even Lady Mildred-- who did not laugh, who did not smile, who did not frown-- was shaking in unconcealable mirth.

"Lady Mildred... any idea?" Filian choked out, her cheeks trembling.

Lady Mildred vehemently shook her head, her hands pressed against her face even though her shoulders were trembling.

"Maybe... he was... trying to fly," Rosa eked out, and though that was a terribly unfunny joke, it was too much for any of the three girls already in danger of dying from laughing, and Lady Mildred could no longer stop herself.

High and clear peals of laughter rang out from her mouth, accompanied by rather gleeful cackles from Rosa and hearty shrieks from Filian. 

Gardeners nearby turned their heads towards them, Lady Mildred's maid Mary recognized them in scandalized horror, but nobody could stop the three girls from clutching their stomachs and laughing so hard tears squeezed out of their eyes.

Lady Mildred had once thought that life was not interesting enough.

But now, now she wondered, as she wiped tears away from her eyes, when she had last thought those very words. The splashes of color in the world around her had dyed her black-and-white life when she hadn't been looking. No-- perhaps it was not that life was black-and-white, but that she had not been able to see the colors before.

As more and more colors seeped into her eyes, as laughter filled her stomach and burst out of her mouth, Lady Mildred finally learned that nothing could be more interesting than the spontaneity of life itself.