Hook, Line, and Sinker
Date: January 2026
A PV with: @Evpraksiya Vinogradova
✥─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────✥
Duty, obligation, responsibility– In theory, they were all intangible, burdensome concepts conceived and manufactured by man. These concepts, according to critics, shoved willing and unwilling participants alike into boxes drawn from necessity, lest the foundations of society fall apart. His governess said that his existence was borne out of his parents' duty to his clan. His upbringing and education was an obligation to the clan too. His governess was responsible for shaping a child who is fit for the position of heir. It was just how the world turned. Erast knew it all quite well in theory. Application, on the other hand, was... tricky.
His gunmetal blue eyes scanned the corridors, bored yet diligent. “Patrol” was what this duty was called. He was there to maintain order in his assigned areas. Erast smiled politely at a passing student rushing for the staircase, a light reminder to not run leaving his lips. That smile felt heavy once the student disappeared.
Honestly, the title of prefect came to him as a surprise. An unmerited opportunity, because Erast knew better. He had seen other prefects in school. They were warm, good role models whom people loved, deserving of the prestige that this position grants. They would use this title to do good, for noble causes. What did he do? He used his new title as an excuse to write to his father. His governess always stressed how "满招损，谦受益" Complacency leads to loss, humility leads to benefit. His first action with his newfound position was proof enough that the badge suited another student much more.
There was truly no worse role model than he. He tucked star charts and poems into his textbooks solely to keep himself awake during his lessons. He would slip away to the Astronomy Tower to read his novels to the night skies instead of his schoolmates. He had little passion for his studies outside of Astronomy, and his governess often repeated how one needed more than perfect scores to be respectable. It did not matter that he had accumulated a stack of "O" grade assignments and tests. Many people had the same level of merit.
Was being there to hold doors open, hold scrolls, hold bags, and offering directions like a navigation device really what it took to be a prefect? Erast pouted slightly, confusion leaking into his mind. Duty and responsibility should never feel so light. It was supposed to be heavy, crushing to prove one’s strength. It was an honour to be fought for. He had not fought for it, yet he still wore the badge. Could he just be doing it wrong? School did not make sense.
Doubt seeped in, a poison quick to act. Instinctively, he began tracing memorised constellations into the palm of his hand. Behind his straightened back, he traced Ursa Major, Aquila, Cygnus– Their familiar shapes took form on his palm, grounding him to the dimly-lit corridors. A poised posture and expression concealed his confusion, albeit the tiny bite of his lip escaped his control. It was moments like these where Erast thought of his governess, who surely would know all the answers and what to do. He didn't quite feel ready to put a name to the emotion coiling behind his ribcage. Quietly, he wondered all this time, if all of this had been the wrong wish.
✥─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────✥