While Beauty Sleeps Read online

  While Beauty Sleeps

  Once Upon a Harem

  Ripley Proserpina

  After Glows Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Ripley Proserpina

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  Published by: Davis Raynes Publishing Group, LLC

  dba After Glows Publishing

  PO Box 224

  Middleburg, FL. 32050

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  Cover by: Takecover Designs

  Formatting by: Glowing Moon Designs

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  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Kumiko

  2. Kumiko

  3. Wataru

  4. Kumiko

  5. Kumiko

  6. Reiji

  7. Kumiko

  8. Dai

  9. Kumiko

  10. Wataru

  11. Kumiko

  12. Reiji

  13. Kumiko

  14. Goro

  15. Kumiko

  16. Dai

  17. Kumiko

  18. Reiji

  19. Kumiko

  20. Wataru

  21. Kumiko

  22. Dai

  23. Kumiko

  24. Goro

  25. Wataru

  26. Reiji

  27. Kumiko

  28. Goro

  29. Kumiko

  30. Goro

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Ripley:

  Once Upon a Harem

  Note from the Publisher

  Dedicated to Bethany.

  1

  Kumiko

  “Kumiko.” This prince’s voice was a smooth baritone. He probably cultivated the tone—watched car commercials and repeated phrases, “Best in class…off-road towing.” Perhaps as a child, he’d been enchanted by a good fairy with a voice so perfect it seduced his listener.

  Sort of like the way my face had been enchanted to keep people away from me…

  “Kumiko,” Prince Hideto said again—he loved to repeat my name, “these past days spent with you have been…” He appeared to search for the word and I rested my chin in my hand, staring at him through the glass. He was so handsome with his dark eyes and broad shoulders. And that voice. In the past week, I’d often closed my eyes just so I could listen to the cadence of his voice.

  Hideto couldn’t see me. None of the princes who arrived at my home could see my face until I showed it to them.

  And then?

  Well. Let’s just say, the evil witch who’d cursed me did a fantastic, and thorough, job.

  “…amazing.” I’d forgotten Hideto hadn’t finished his sentence, but now I let out a groan of disappointment. Amazing? I’d hoped for more. Not even his voice could mask the tone of falsity. He was lying.

  Next to the glass was an intercom and I pressed the button that would allow him to hear me. “Amazing?” I asked. “How so?” I bit my lip, and behind me, my older sister Miori gave a long suffering sigh.

  “Why are you encouraging him?” she asked.

  “Shh! Let’s see what he comes up with,” I said. Maybe he’d surprised me.

  “Just tell him to leave,” Fuyumi droned. Next to me, she stuck out her tongue at the prince. With one word, he’d gone from having potential, to being yet another liar in a long line of liars. “Haven’t you seen him posing when he thinks we aren’t here?”

  I hadn’t, but still, I flapped my hand at her. “Shut up!”

  “I haven’t seen your face,” Hideto went on, oblivious to our decision. “But each word we speak to each other only shows me how beautiful you are. The curse won’t keep me from you. It won’t keep me from seeing who you truly are.” His dark-eyed gaze traveled over the mirror as if he searched for me.

  In that instant, when he spoke about seeing who I was, who I truly was, the fight went out of me.

  “Right.” I smoothed down the pretty skirt I’d chosen to wear today and stood. A waste of a nice outfit.

  “You’re not going to just foist it on him, are you?” Fuyumi asked, but I was already moving.

  With a yank, I opened the door that was hidden cleverly in the wall next to the mirror. Then I stood in it, framed like a spotlight illuminated me, and smiled at the horrified prince. “And what do you see, Hideto?”

  The beautiful prince with the beautiful voice paled as his gaze raked me from head to foot. Part of me wished I knew what he saw when he looked at me, but another part was glad I didn’t.

  When I looked in the mirror, I saw a face that was no uglier or more beautiful than anyone else’s. I had brown eyes, evenly spaced and dark eyebrows that were a little thick for my taste, but at least there were two of them. My black hair was always staticky and my pale skin had undertones of gold that veered toward sallow, especially after I’d been stuck inside for too long.

  But when anyone else looked at me they saw everything ugly and evil. Maybe I had whiskers. Maybe I only had one eye. I would never know. The princes rarely stayed around long enough to explain how my features horrified them.

  And my sisters and parents refused to answer when I asked them, “What do I look like?”

  The people who worked for us, serving us for generations, they’d been trained not to stare at me too long, or answer my question when I asked them.

  And I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask.

  So I never knew what it was exactly that sent prince after prince running at the sight of my face.

  Except once. Once, despite my parents’ best efforts, I’d found an article penned—gosh—I bet the prince had just left my home when he was waylaid by the paparazzi. According to the article, he’d been blubbering and sweaty. But he was the only one who’d been able to describe anything.

  And all he’d been able to say was, “Disgusting. Terrifying. I’ll see it in my nightmares.”

  “Oh, Kumiko,” Miori whispered as the prince took one stumbling step backward. He tripped over his feet and ended up splayed, in a very unprince-like fashion, on his back.

  He pushed with his hands and heels, crab walking away from me, bunching up a rug in his haste to gain purchase.

  “Watch out!” I warned before his head could hit a marble end table.

  Too late.

  With an audible crack, he hit the top of his head as he tried to stand, and fainted, dead away.

  Fuyumi popped her gum, something she would never have done if my mother was around. “Maybe he’ll awaken believing it was all a bad dream.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered. Lucky. I wish I could awaken from this nightmare. But no. I was stuck living a cursed life.

  And this wasn’t even the worst of it. I know. I know. How can having a face so ugly it frightened small children and scared away birds not be the worst?

  The worst part was this: if I couldn’t find someone to love me before my twenty-first birthday, I would prick my finger, bleed a single drop of blood, and fall asleep until I received—this was the best part of the curse—true love’s kiss.

  Now, I was a modern woman. I held a job (online). I had friends (sisters). And the course of my entire life was dependent on a kiss.

  From a prince.

  I pressed the buzzer on the end table next to Prince Hideto.

  “Your Highness?”

  “Prince Hideto will need a ride,” I answered.

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  “To the hospital,” I finished, and spun, retreating back to my room. I’d have to repeat the whole embarrassing incident soon enough, but for now, I w
as going to make like a princess and hide in my tower.

  2

  Kumiko

  Like I said, I was never ugly. Despite the whispers about my parents screaming when they saw my face, or hiding me away in their home, this wasn’t the way my life started.

  When I was born, my parents, along with a thousand other citizens of our tiny kingdom, released lanterns into the night. No one talked about it anymore. It was as if I landed, alien and strange, in their midst. The citizens may have shoved aside their memories of my birth, but my parents still remembered. Each night when I was younger, they tucked me in and told me stories about hovering over me, counting my toes and my fingers, remarking on which of my relatives I took after most.

  They even suggested the name, Kumiko, because it meant beautiful child. Nothing else, they said, would fit me. My sisters Aoi, Miori, and Fuyumi agreed, and so that’s what I became. Ironic. Some days I could laugh about it, but it grew more difficult with each crab-walking prince.

  My entire story had been re-written. No one—except my sisters, parents, and a few loyal servants—remembered I’d once been a normal baby with ten fingers and ten toes. From that moment on, I was just the poor, ugly princess.

  Miori and Fuyumi didn’t follow me into my room when I left. They’d wait until Hideto was carted away, loaded into an ambulance and zipped to the hospital. Then they’d join me here.

  Probably with my mother.

  Sigh.

  I lowered the shade that covered the two-way mirror. I didn’t want to see Hideto again, and I didn’t want to catch any sympathetic glances from the house staff or my sisters.

  Not until I had a moment to compose myself and affix a smile to my face. The last thing I wanted was for them to see how much it hurt when Hideto had run from me.

  My room had no windows. My parents didn’t want to take any chances that someone, a photographer or maybe even a private investigator from one of the royal families in the kingdom, would snap a picture of me. They thought it was best if I tried to win over suitors with my personality and then showed them my face.

  It hadn’t worked yet, but everyone was still so hopeful. I don’t know why they bothered. So I slept for eternity. So what?

  I sighed and scrubbed my hands down my face. Don’t lie to yourself. I wanted to live. I wanted a real life. One where I could contribute to the world, do something meaningful. I wanted to fall in love with someone and become a mother.

  I wanted people to see the me who had always been here.

  I wanted them to not care if I was a troll. Which reminded me…what if my skin’s green?

  Quickly, I went to my vanity and flipped on the bright lights. Leaning forward, I studied my face. Sometimes, if I was fast enough, I thought I caught a glimpse of the face the world saw. It was a smudge, like a fingerprint left on glass, and then it was gone.

  My skin was decidedly not green. I trailed my fingertips over my eyebrows and down the bridge of my nose before tracing my lips. I’m just me.

  “Kumiko.” Miori’s face appeared next to mine. We looked similar, side-by-side, like this. I had the same straight nose with a bubble tip, the same bone-straight black hair. She kissed my cheek. “He wasn’t the right one.”

  “I know,” I answered. To my shame, tears filled my eyes and I dropped my gaze to the glass-topped table. Unable to meet her stare, I played with the crystal and glass bottles that filled a tray. I never bothered with makeup, but at least I could smell pretty.

  “Hey.” Fuyumi threw herself into her favorite overstuffed chair. Even though this was my room, each of my sisters had a favorite spot. Fuyumi had the chair, and Miori liked a couch near the wall. When Aoi was here, she would lounge on the bed, all graceful arms and legs. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t like him anyway. And when I checked to make sure he was breathing, he had bad breath. Imagine if he was the one. Gross.”

  I snorted, but it was pathetic even to my own ears. The truth was, I hadn’t met anyone I wanted to be the one, but in the early days of being introduced to a prince, there was hope.

  It would take me a little while to bounce back after it all went to hell, but I would.

  I always did.

  “Aoi said she met some guys at university,” Miori stated.

  “Can’t you give me a little time?” I asked. “I just got my heart broken.”

  Fuyumi threw a pillow at my head, but Miori knocked it away before it could hit me. “No you didn’t. Don’t be dramatic.”

  “I’m not being dramatic,” I muttered. Admittedly, I hadn’t gotten my heart broken, and I was being dramatic, but whenever a guy cringed when he saw my face—it hurt.

  “What guys did Aoi meet?” Fuyumi asked, my drama and heart forgotten.

  “Some lower level royals.” Miori stood behind me and began to brush my hair.

  “What’s a lower level royal?” I asked, and then went on horrified. “Not a cousin!”

  Miori giggled and shook her head. “Of course not. They’re from a very small province in the south. It’s a village really. They’re at school learning about marine biology or ecology, or something.”

  “Brothers?” I asked.

  Miori shook her head and then drew her eyebrows together. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “That’s a lot of royals for a small province,” Fuyumi murmured.

  “I think that’s why they’re so poor,” Miori answered.

  In Sara, our small nation made up of dozens of islands, there were a lot of royals. In the old days, each of those families ruled whatever island they inhabited in my family’s stead. Now, we had a constitutional monarchy and a government who ruled according to written law. There was no off with their heads here.

  Not anymore anyway.

  The Saran monarchy was comprised of my father, the king, my mother, the queen, and my sisters and me. The other princedoms had been created generations ago when my great, great, great whoever granted islands to loyal generals, friends, and servants. Long ago, those royals lived off their subject’s labor, but now, we worked. As king, my father toiled continuously with the government. We received a stipend, but were expected to earn it.

  “Aoi is dating them?” I asked. It wasn’t unheard of for my older sister to date more than one man at a time. She blamed it on her inability to stay focused.

  “What?” Miori let hair slip through her fingers. “What are you talking about? She met them and told them about you. I think they’re coming.”

  “Everyone already knows all about me,” I answered.

  “You’re not wrong,” Fuyumi said before blowing a big pink bubble. “But the clock’s ticking. Your birthday is right around the corner and if we don’t find your prince by then—” She cocked her head to the side, shut her eyes, and snored.

  Besides royals, our kingdom had something else. Something strange and unexpected in a modern world—magic.

  Ignoring Fuyumi, I pulled the stopper from one of the bottles to sniff at the perfume. It held notes of gardenia and honeysuckle. My stomach, still balled up in knots from my earlier performance with the prince, soured at the smell and I quickly replaced the stopper.

  As soon as I had, the bottle lifted off the vanity and floated toward Fuyumi, who held out a hand. It landed gently in her palm before the glass stopper floated from the delicate neck and wafted in front of Fuyumi’s face. “Ugh. Too sweet.”

  Miori waved a hand and the stopper flew toward her nose, slowing at the last second. “I think it’s pretty.”

  “You would,” Fuyumi muttered. The uncorked bottle tipped, the contents pouring onto my sister. “Come on!” she yelled, sitting up and swiping at her now drenched shirt. “You’re killing me, Miori.”

  “Evil never dies,” she said prettily. With another wave, the bottle landed on my vanity.

  My older sister gagged and I couldn’t help covering my nose as the sweet smell filled my windowless room. Somehow, I’d again become the witless victim in a magical war between literal witches.

 
; “Sorry,” Miori said and the smell disappeared, the empty bottle filling up with the previous spilled perfume before the stopper replaced itself.

  I shrugged, used to being in the middle of their pissing contests. It didn’t bother me—much. Facing the mirror, I gathered my hair in my hands and began to braid it down my back. The lights brought out the colors in my hair. On first glance, it appeared to be depthless black, but the light reflected the colors I’d gotten Fuyumi to put in it—violets and reds. She said she couldn’t see it, my hair stayed the same color it’d always been to her, but I could see it. So I guess that was all that mattered.

  “Still like the color?” Fuyumi asked.

  “I do,” I answered, reaching for a tie to finish off my braid. I turned my head in the light. “It’s kept up well, even with washings.”

  Over my shoulder, Fuyumi squinted.

  “Can you see it?” I asked, even though I knew better.

  She shrugged which I knew meant, no. A wave of disappointment surged in my chest. I just wanted one pretty thing, just one.

  “How about the braid?”

  “I can see the braid,” Miori answered kindly. “It’s a little crooked, but nice.”

  My fingers curled into themselves before I clutched them on my lap. My braid was not crooked. Whatever it was Miori saw was another fun curse detail. The sigh I let out had Miori frowning. “Not crooked.”

  “No,” I answered and yanked the tie from the end of the braid. My fingers slipped through my hair before I dropped my head in my hands. This sucked. It sucked.