Glass Slipper Strange Tale 01 | The Group Date Find | Shirokuma Literature Club 《In Sandals》

“Is this not a sandal!”

Long past midnight, in the underground group date venue where the party had completely fizzled out.
He picked up the piece of footwear left behind under the table, one side only, while wondering to himself. If it were a sandal, it would still be on the elegant side; this was a proper, traditional woman's slip-on.

At that moment, the laws of the world wavered slightly. Over a mere slip-on, at that.
And my narration had touched upon it.
The laws of the world are like a heat haze that changes shape instantly upon observation.
But the trigger for such things is often trivial. You know, the 'that day, at that time, in that place' sort of thing.

Well, I suppose I shall become the wings that watch over it.Or perhaps the wind that wraps around it would be better.Both are like blades that cut if touched, though.Oh yes, think of my narration as something like an audio commentary.

“And besides, with only one foot, how on earth did she go home?”

For those of you who thought the narration from earlier was a bit too grand for someone tasked with cleaning up the venue, calm yourselves.
The time for the pumpkin carriage to arrive is soon at hand.

He is, in fact, the first in line to the throne of a certain monarchy that has continued uninterrupted since the Middle Ages, and he is a prince currently in the midst of a desperate search for a marriage partner.Think of the time as late Victorian, and the place as something like the old imperial capital of this country.

A matchmaking group date held in a 5-on-5 format.You might find it suspicious that such a classical form of matchmaking still exists these days.But this is a world where both monarchies and group dates exist—a world where anything goes.Hence, a prince of a nation is cleaning up a drinking party with his own hands.It ended up as a chaotic mess, but what was the point of the group date in the first place? They really shouldn't have drunk so much.

“What should I do about this? Still, a sandal is quite bold.”

The prince, while still holding the footwear, looked at the plates and empty glasses on the banquet table with a sense of exasperation.The mess was enough to significantly damage the dignity of the royal family.If he left it like this, it would be a disgrace to the royal name. He could not return to the castle.

The prince has a motto of being sincere and having clear accounting.Therefore, he takes responsibility for cleaning up even the first party.No, that's not the issue. I understand that the current kingdom is under austerity measures, but what happened to the attendants who were supposed to be with him?

“At this rate, am I nothing more than the party manager?”

The prince muttered to himself.
It had been a long time since the son of his trusted prime minister had triumphantly left.He had gone off to the second party for karaoke, saying, “Prince, I leave the rest to you!” with a look on his face as if he were being entrusted with the fate of the kingdom.In reality, that guy had just taken all the girls (and the attendants) away with the vibe of a party animal.The 'trusted prime minister's son' was just a title. In reality, he was the vanguard of the party crowd and a rival in love.

The prince pouted.He decided he must reprimand that reckless confidant.The prince does not understand romance.The prince is the heir to a nation's throne.Since he was young, he has studied imperial education and lived surrounded by servants.However, when it came to romance, he was more bashful than anyone else.

“...I wanted to shout along with them, too.”

He had wanted to laugh and share things with everyone, regardless of whether they were subjects or citizens.Since he was old enough to understand, he had many subordinates around him, but the only person of his age he could call a friend was the prime minister's son.And that prime minister's son had now sold his soul and fallen to the party crowd.The prince let out a deep sigh.The weight of that sigh was more steeped in the smell of daily life than in the dignity of a sheltered life.

Is this royal family going to be alright?

It is truly a time of crisis....Or so the Records Office would write, but in reality, it was just a drinking party and the cleanup afterward.If there had been a situation like an electric-shock engagement after hitting it off at tonight's party, that would be one thing, but in reality, there wasn't even enough contact to generate static electricity; there wasn't even a hint of the sparks of love.No incident worthy of being recorded in the Records Office's annual report had occurred.

But, regardless, he had to do something about this tragedy at the venue and Cinderella's lost item....No, I'm starting to feel like it's not that big of a deal after all.The scale of it is something that could be handled with the prince's pocket money.

“However... is it bold, or just careless...”At this point, it doesn't matter if that slip-on is bold or just careless. Because that is not where the problem lies.“I must, by all means, find the owner.”

The prince, while gazing at the slip-on sandal, put his wise, yet slightly intoxicated brain to full use on something completely trivial.

“...First, we shall have every woman in the country try on this footwear—”

As a storyteller, I must strongly protest here. My dear Prince, please, I implore you to stop. With the recent explosive increase in inbound tourism to our country, the scope of the search must extend beyond our borders to the rest of the world. No, even before that, spending the national budget and national dignity on searching for a slip-on sandal left behind after a group date is, by any measure, going too far. In fact, ninety percent of women could wear it.

—Yes, the only piece of evidence left behind is a loose-fitting white slip-on sandal. It is not a precision instrument like a glass slipper that can identify its owner as one and only. If anything, it would be rarer to find someone who couldn't wear it. Here, I heard the foundation of the national slip-on search plan shaking from the ground up. Literally, since it's footwear.

Here, it seemed the situation had been resolved. Nevertheless, the prince held the slip-on up to his chest and declared solemnly, as if handling a holy relic.

“First, I shall order the Prime Minister to promptly issue a royal decree, and while I'm at it, re-educate my son—”

The prince made his decision, mixed with jealousy toward the guys who were good with women. No, Prince, the Record Office will write it all down at once: 'National slip-on search conducted by a foolish monarch.'

It was at that very moment.

◇

A hard clatter-clatter-clatter—no, a light slapping sound came tumbling down the stairs.

Then, a whir. The uninspired automatic door slid open. However, this is not the glittering city of music. I repeat, it is just a basement group date venue.

Out of breath, a girl rushes in. Barefoot on one side. Frayed, thin gauze trousers. Her hair is a tangled mess, and the canned chuhai in her left hand is sweating in the humidity of the night. It is as if iron, touching the outside air for the first time, is harboring a secret heat—.

“Th-that is my shoe!”

The princess of the neighboring country who had enthusiastically joined tonight's group date. Was she not just holding a potato shochu and passionately talking about the convenience of the PASMO card? She had such a strong sense of everyday life that I remember worrying about the future of the neighboring country.

My 'shoe', you say? The prince held up the 'slip-on' with a solemnity that was completely inappropriate.

“Are you the owner of this magnificent piece of footwear?”

The princess puffed out her chest and replied.

“Yes. ...Though, I am just a 'Drunkerella'.”

In the edge of those words lived a mix of drunkenness, pride, a little bit of cuteness, and the smell of a life where empty cans might be scattered in a messy room. And the national situation of a neighboring country where a princess comes to a group date in slip-ons seems rather precarious. Could the neighboring country be facing a financial collapse? At the very least, this is not a moment to puff out one's chest with pride. And I will absolutely not make a retort. I am tired now. The swaying of the bathtub is calling to me.

“What about the karaoke with the Prime Minister (omitted)?”

“Hmph. A guy like that... I felt like smacking him with my slip-on.”

Deep in the princess's eyes, a tiny flame flickered for a split second, only to vanish in the next.

“That’s when I realized. I’d left behind both my slip-on and my cleanup.”

The princess hadn't been left behind by the party crowd. She had dumped the prime minister's son and suddenly shifted her focus to retrieving her slip-on. She seems like the kind of girl who doesn't leave even the smallest thing behind. As for the priority between the slip-on and the cleanup, one can only leave that to her own heart, but either way, it is certain that she has returned to the prince at the mixer venue.

“Are you okay with your curfew?”

“When I was looking for it, I missed my last train—or rather, I missed my curfew...”

I feel like this girl's priorities have been a bit strange since earlier. A princess of a nation, participating in a national diplomatic event, and she doesn't even have a ride from her home country? And is a single sandal really something worth missing a curfew to find?

“Then how about we change venues and spend the night together? I’ll treat you to the drink bar.”

The prince invited the princess to a dazzling night like that. However, the stage was a sofa seat at a chain family restaurant. Not a luxurious ball. Shining above were energy-saving LED lights, not elegant chandeliers.

Fine, I’ll make the party crowd pay for the late-night surcharge. The prince made a commoner-like resolution unbecoming of the son of a head of state. Hmm, I’m starting to worry about our nation’s fiscal policy and the economic sense of the heir to the throne.

Meanwhile, the princess was blushing, looking strangely shy for some reason.

“I would be happy to accept. But will the dress code be alright?”

Contrary to the absurdity of the slip-on, I felt the princess's voice was strangely modest.

Ah, it seems the princess is concerned about the harmony between the commoner diner and her footwear. And Prince, that was a very easy toss. A smart conversationalist would have jumped right on it. But to let it slide is a bit of a pity.

Well, isn't it fine? A late-night family restaurant is inherently that kind of place. Rather than worrying about the dress code at this late hour, I wish you would worry about a different future. Just—that doesn't explain the flush on her cheeks. It’s too innocent to be the glow of intoxication. Truly, the terror of strong chuhai.

“Yes, it doesn't feel right unless it's like this.”

The princess muttered to herself, ignoring my doubts entirely. She must be talking about a tailor-made fit that can speak to the comfort of a slip-on. If there is a fiscal collapse in a neighboring country, could it be due to this wasteful habit of theirs?

But her tone was strangely soft. Could it be that the slip-on is... no, absolutely not. I barely managed to swallow the tacky pun that was rising to my throat.

I don't know how the prince's heart moved through all this interaction. But for this moment, I sympathize with him from the bottom of my heart. A boy-meets-girl story starting from a slip-on—is it real or not? The only thing I can say is that the prince, having reached his limit, asked one thing as expected.

“Why... in sandals...?”

That is the polar opposite of romance. At a place for meeting people, glass slippers are the classic of classics, aren't they?

"Heels? Hmph. You couldn't run in those, could you? These are the best."

The princess smiled sweetly. Then, like a supple black cat, she stretched once.

General pause—

◇

"—Hmm."

A moment later, the rebooted prince gave a deep nod, and then held his breath.

……

Ah, this is beyond a matter of romance. But what happened tonight at the underground mixer was the most primitive, the most simple, and the most intense tectonic shift. I can never retort to this.

However, life is truly a strange thing.
This girl, who rushed in holding a canned chuhai in one hand and a pair of slip-ons in the other—

is the person who will later cause a major incident that shakes the nation... no, who will become our country's next queen.

Well, it is certain in the sense that the royal family will be shaken, but at the same time, we will surely welcome an interesting future.

I suppose I will be worried enough that I won't be able to take my eyes off her. But if a country has a girl like this as its queen, its steering might actually be secure.

◇

Well, if you will allow me one meta-commentary here—

Life is the kind of thing where the future changes with just a pair of slip-ons.
It seems that, like a worn-out pair of shoes, it fits your feet unexpectedly well.

The end.

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