Lady Misfortune: Daddy, I'll Be A Righteous Villainess!

One whole year passed - and now, everyone's in their second year in middle school.

Time sure does fly. Many things happened in the blink of an eye.

Right now, though, nothing of importance to the story is happening. In fact, for the past months, nothing did. 

Lady sighs out loud, eyeing the ceiling.

She's playing toss with a stress ball at the moment, watching the tiny sphere defy gravity for a few seconds then catching it with her hand once it free falls. It's a simple, mindless activity for someone who's got nothing in mind.

She's bored. Very bored. 

"I should write," Lady muttered.

Then, she groans at the thought, rolls around her bed, and goes back to staring at the ceiling.  'You should write,' the blankness says to her. She yields to its inexplicable power. 

"Alright. Dear Helplessly in Love..." she announced to no one, reading the email displayed on the screen of her laptop and tossing the stress ball again.

"How can you tell if you love someone...? My, what a wonderful question - except no, it's not a wonderful question. But I guess I'll have to make do with it. This isn't a column for nothing... So, yeah, how to know if you truly love someone?"

She scrunches her nose. Thinking is really hard.

"First of all, you've got to… Well, you've got to..." she tried but to no avail, her sentence trailing off as she missed the ball and got hit.

"Dammit."

She sits up straight, looking over at her laptop. Then, she pouts - the screen is now blank.

"Nearly a year of writing advice, and I have to break down now," Lady sighed wistfully. 

Jumping off her bed, she ambles over to her desk. She then swipes her phone and taps on her contacts before pressing one specific number. It only rings once before it's picked up.

"Hello, Lady?"

"Weiss!" 

"Yes?"

"This is all your fault! I. Blame. You."

"What?" 

Almost a year ago, Weiss Saorise and Lady Mireille joined forces to raise the Campus Writers Guild.

They were tasked with the burdensome activity of coming up with a community-engaging project for the school publication - in courtesy of their ever-supportive homeroom teacher, Ms. Mirabella. Both of them had traded ideas for a while. Then, after three days of scarfing down the pastries at the local bakery on Lady's part, they had finally come up with the idea of hosting an advice column. 

"I've interviewed a few people..." Weiss had said enthusiastically.

"They say you're good at 'calling them out on their shit'. I agree." 

"Do you even know what that means...?" Lady had deadpanned.

"You should really stop believing what others say." 

"I know what it means. More or less. Surprisingly, there are so many different usages for the word 'shit'. But they said it meant 'advice'. Then, that means you're good at giving one." 

She had scoffed in disapproval. But then, he had gone and said another reason.

"Didn't you say you want to play matchmaker for Ms. Gracelyn while keeping up your act as her number one adversary? Well, I think this is it. You won't have to advise her directly if you could just write it down on a column for everyone to see. Plus, you can choose to be anonymous if you want." 

And with that, Lady agreed to ride with Weiss's idea. 

The first few weeks were spent campaigning the column, and several more were spent answering rare emails. Then, after a rather scathing article on the probability of a dickbag asking his girlfriend out to prom, the column managed by Lady, who chose to use the pen name 'Claudia' for reasons Weiss had no idea about, had suddenly become popular all around the academy. She had found she actually loved writing advice for people, and she was always happy to do it -

Until now. 

"It's your fault, Weiss," she repeated, plopping down on her desk chair. 

Lady pouted as she heard his voice warble over the phone. It's a telltale sign that Weiss is trying not to snicker at her childishness

"What did I do this time?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what you did. You started this whole column thingy."

"Technically, you should be blaming Ms. Mirabella for that."

"Ughhh! Don't even get me started on Ms. Mirabella!"

There's a sound over the line. Then, his deep voice rumbles.

"Well, what letter have you received this time?" asked Weiss.

"A love advice one," Lady drawled.

"What? Again?"

"You know, it's February." 

"It's already March, Lady."

"Oh, is it? Whatever. You get the point." 

He laughs. She huffs.

"You've dealt a lot of love advice before..." Weiss emphasized.

"It's the main reason your column is popular. What's wrong with answering another one?"

"It's a philosophical question..." Lady elaborated.

"I do not have the degree to answer it." 

"Philosophers don't need degrees." 

"Well, I'm not a philosopher. I'm a writer." 

"Touché. But even writers have to delve into philosophy every once in a while."

She groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. This is starting to stress her out. 

"Weisssssss...!" she whined.

"Answer it for me? Please?" 

"No..." he curtly replied. 

"Only the Great Guru Lady can answer it."

"I'm running out of brain cells. I'll blame you if I end up with brain cancer."

"Brain cancer?"

"Brain cancer."

"Hmmm... Well, alright. To satisfy my own curiosity, you may read the letter aloud to me."

"Awesome!"

Delighted, she quickly pulls herself towards her desk before running a finger on the mousepad of her laptop. The monitor lights up once more, and it displays the latest email she's been working on.

"Ehem, ehem. Dear Claudia..." she read out loud.

"How do you know if you truly love someone?" 

There's a pause. Quiet.

Then, Weiss said, "That's it?" 

Lady huffed, "What do you mean that's it?" 

"That's the shortest letter I've ever heard, Lady. Isn't there any background story? Like, 'Dear Claudia, I've been dating this guy for a while. Am I in love?' or something?" 

"Nope." 

"Some other clue?" 

"Nada."

Weiss hums thoughtfully. It takes a whole minute before Lady gets a response.

"Well, what do you think? How do you know you love someone?" he questioned, and she mulled it over.

"I've been thinking about that all afternoon. But nothing. My brain is close to shutting down," she grumbled.

"You're exaggerating. I'm sure you'll come up with something." 

"But that's why I called you, Weiss! You're the brainiac here! You should know something about love!" 

"I may be intelligent, Lady, but I'm useless when it comes to matters of the heart."

There was some sort of static over the line. Neither spoke up for the next seconds. 

Then, she started again, "Hey, Weiss." 

"Yes, Lady?" he replied. 

"You're the bestest friend I could ever wish for. Now, help me with this." 

"There's no such word as bestest." 

"Well, that's why you're my editor. But seriously, how do I answer this one?" 

"Lady, just think of what you feel when you're with the people you love. For example, how do you feel when you're around Fallon?"

"I feel like an idiot." 

"Errr... Well, I guess that can translate to, 'My brain is malfunctioning at the sight of the one I love'. That would do, right?"

"My brain doesn't malfunction when I'm around Fallon!"

Lady laughs, amused by the thought. As much as she loves Fallon, she can't have him damaging her brain like that. 

"There's a difference between being brain-dead and feeling like an idiot..." she quipped, earning a chuckle from him.

"What about you, Weiss?"

"Hmmm...?" he blurted out, confused. 

"What about me?" 

"Do you love someone? As in love-love?"

There was a long pause - the longest they had in that conversation. Soon, it gets a little bit awkward, which doesn't usually happen. 

"Weiss? Are you still there?" 

"Yes, I am, Lady." 

"So? What is it?"

"For starters, I suppose I feel my heart racing. My brain and body would momentarily forget how to function. There's some sort of electricity coursing through me – adrenaline, maybe, or dopamine. I think Fallon's romance books call it sparks."

"Yeah but that's the usual stuff in fiction. How would 'you' feel?" 

"Ummm... I think I feel… elated. I feel as though I'm walking through life, blind and all. Then, when she walks in, I am suddenly graced with sight – and what a glorious sight, indeed. I would… feel like my soul has known hers for eternity. I would feel like she's someone familiar - someone warm, someone who makes me feel like I'm home. Then, she would smile at me – a smile as wide and as expressive as the horizon line. And I would think, yes, I want to see her smile this way for the rest of my life." 

Lady was in complete awe by the time he finished. She never heard Weiss talk that way before.

"Oh, wow. That's... so beautiful," she breathed, her heart tap-dancing its way out of her chest. 

"Surely, you can write something better," was his abashed response.

"I don't think I can." 

"Of course, you can." 

"Why am I the writer again? You'd be winning medals with your poetry." 

"That didn't even rhyme." 

"Does poetry have to rhyme?" 

"The best poetry rhyme." 

"Ms. Mirabella would probably disagree with you." 

The two of them talk late into the afternoon, engaging in their usual banter.