Riches of the Heart - A Short Story

A Short Story - Riches of the Heart

Penulis: Grace Prikasih – UKI

“Once the son of a wealthy family, loses everything after tragedy strikes. Now living frugally and attending a public school. One faithful meeting changes it all.”

The Boy in The Peaceful Forest

The rain had long since stopped, but the scent of it still lingered in the air—fresh, cold, and faintly metallic. Ace stood beneath the eaves of his apartment complex, staring at the gray clouds that seemed to stretch endlessly above Hanayume.

This city wasn’t home. It was a place where dreams went to rest, a quiet corner where no one remembered his name—or his family’s. Once, the Yuzushiro family name carried weight, a symphony of prestige and elegance. His father’s enterprise had adorned the headlines, his mother’s grace the gossip columns. Now, all that remained was silence.

He lived in a one-room apartment now. The kind that echoed with the hum of the refrigerator and the neighbor’s late-night television. Dinner was usually a bowl of rice and whatever side dish he could find discounted at the convenience store. Still, he ate with the same upright posture, with the same composed gestures his mother had once praised.

Old habits die hard. So did pride.

At Hanayume High, he was a curiosity—the transfer student with the strange accent and noble mannerisms. His polished diction and calm restraint made him sound as though he’d stepped out of another era. Classmates whispered behind his back, glancing at his mannerism that didn’t quite fit right, at his tidy handwriting, at the way he bowed slightly before speaking.

He had tried, at first, to blend in. But laughter came too easily to others and too stiffly to him. Now, during lunch, he escaped.

Beyond the athletic fields and past the narrow trail lined with hydrangeas, there was a small forest where the wind murmured through the leaves like soft voices. It was there, in the dappled sunlight, that Ace found his solace. Sitting beneath an old maple tree, he unwrapped his plain meal—rice sprinkled with salt, perhaps a sliver of dried fish—and ate quietly, away from the world that no longer recognized him.

He liked the stillness. No curious eyes, no whispers. Just the rustle of the trees and the distant song of cicadas. In that solitude, he could almost pretend that dignity wasn’t something one could lose.

Sometimes, he would glance at the faint reflection of himself in the water’s surface—a boy with pale skin, glasses sliding slightly down his nose, black hair brushing his shoulders, red eyes dulled by exhaustion. In that fragile, silent world that Ace believed he could keep living—quietly, unbothered, unseen.

But even peace can meet adversaries when the time has come.

The Loud Eagle, The Sly Fox, and The Reclusive Snow Leopard

It began, as most intrusions do, with noise.

A rustle of branches. A thud. Then—an unmistakable crunch of someone stepping directly into his lunch spot.

Ace looked up from his modest bento—rice, pickled radish, and a single egg slice—to find a boy standing at the edge of the clearing. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and balancing what could only be described as an absurd mountain of food: two lunchboxes stacked high, a thermos, and, inexplicably, a whole loaf of bread tucked under his arm.

“Oh! There’s someone here!” the boy said, blinking as though discovering a deer mid-meal.

Ace blinked nervously and sigh. “Uhm-,” he murmured, adjusting his glasses.

The boy grinned, unbothered by the tone. “I’m Sora! You don’t mind if I sit here, do you? It’s a long walk back to the cafeteria, and this place looks peaceful!”

Before Ace could protest, Sora plopped down onto the grass, unpacking his food with all the restraint of a small tornado. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air.

Then came the second disturbance.

“Come here kitty~ Meow~ Meow~”

The voice was calm and soft but obviously calling for something. From a bush emerged another student—Aome—Uniform strewn relaxed than neat for a class president, those cat headphones with bright RGB lights on his head, and leaf stuck on his hair as he crawls on all four. In one hand he held a small bento box, in the other, a cat tail he swishes around to lure a cat out.

“Ah-” Aome immediately straightened his posture from crawling on the forest floor and throwing away the cat tail plant he used to lure a cat he’s been chasing upon noticing Ace, bowing slightly in apology. “My apologies, I didn’t know there’s other people.” His eyes drift to Sora and an exasperated sigh escape him, “and I apologize for Sora’s intrusion, he is too thick skulled to realize he intrude someone.” And yet, despite his word, Aome sit as well.

“I heard that!” Sora said with his mouth full of bread.

Ace blinked, quietly wondering how his serene retreat had turned into a picnic site.

It was awkwardly silent, at first, of course. All but focusing on their own lunch until Sora opens a conversation with Aome regarding his latest creation and from there the silence evolve into the two chatting between each other.

Ace can’t help but a bit bothered. ‘Why are they here? Why did they stay?! Please go away already!’ he thinks before looking at the duo with annoyance and a hint of wariness, “U-Uhm… Why are you both… still here?”

Silence stretch between the three before Aome and Sora exchange glances and then look back to Ace “To eat lunch”/”Eating lunch, duh!” The both of them answer simultaneously like it’s obvious.
And Ace just… blinked. “W-What do you mean ‘Having Lunch’?! Why are you specifically having it here?!” He said, not furious, just… flustered.

Both Sora and Aome exchange a subtle glance with each other and a smirk before back to calm neutrality and smile.

“Well, we didn’t though anyone would be here so why not~” Sora said with a playful lilt and a grin.
“Technically speaking, having lunch in nature improve mood while eating, I don’t see the problem in it.” Aome add with a sly smirk of his own before asking “And why are you here?”

Ace was shocked to say the least. None of his classmate talked to him so casually before, usually they avoid him because of how he speaks. He looks away flustered and mutters, “I… was just having lunch here… I like the peacefulness of the place, before you two arrived that is…” He realized what he said and backtrack a bit, “N-Not that I mind but-! I-I was just… startled… t-that’s all.” blush crept on his cheek as he immediately looks away. He thought to himself ‘good going Ace… it was your chance to make a friend and you blew it-‘

The thought wasn’t even given time to finish stewing before Sora grins and laughs, “Then we can stay here, right? Nice!”
“How kind of you, thanks for having us.” Aome added. The both of them talk with each other for a while before dragging Ace into the conversation. Ace was bewildered, he didn’t know what to do but answer each question awkwardly flustered. Despite it, both Aome and Sora never exclude him out of the conversation, even if Ace asked for something mundane like, ‘how do you boil cup noodle?’ ‘what’s a coupon?’ ‘you can grill rice?’ etc. And so on. It was weird for Ace, but in the end… Curiosity tugged at Ace. Against his better judgment, he stayed.

The next day, they came again. And the next. Sora even straight up carry Ace when he got impatient at one point, resulting in a smack of his head.

Lunch beneath the maple became a quiet ritual. Sora brought ridiculous portions—croquettes, curry bread, fried chicken—and always offered to share. Aome introduced Ace to his mechanical creations: self-stirring teacups, paper cranes that could actually flap their wings, even a lunchbox warmer powered by tiny gears.

Ace, at first reserved, began to respond. He would comment on the taste of Sora’s food, ask Aome how his devices worked, or laugh softly at their banter. The forest was no longer silent—but it was warmer than it had ever been.

Part Time Intermission

Outside of school, Ace’s life pressed on. He has been searching for a part time job to help with an extra income, found one via an add he cross when he scrolled on his social.

He manages to find a part time job at Prussian Blues, the small café tucked between a flower shop and a tailor’s, Ace was startled to find out that the owner was his former head butler. The owner, Gilbert, upon knowing that Ace was applying for a position, accept it since he does needs help around the shops. He treated Ace with a mix of teasing fondness and old familiarity. “You’ll ruin your hands with that dish soap, young master,” he often said, and Ace would flush and stammer, “Please don’t call me that.”

He fumbled countless times—spilling coffee, burning his first batch of scones—but Gilbert only chuckled and made him try again. Slowly, Ace learned the rhythm of responsibility, the quiet satisfaction of earning something through his own effort.

Kagami, his former manservant, lingered at the edges of his life—always watching, always worrying. Despite working multiple jobs, Kagami would still drop by the café with a packed dinner or a stern reminder to rest.

And amidst it all, Ace began to change. He still walked with grace, still spoke politely, but his laughter no longer sounded rehearsed. He found himself smiling—not out of courtesy, but because he wanted to.

Yet somewhere, buried beneath that newfound warmth, a small voice whispered:
You don’t belong here. You’re a fallen heir pretending to be one of them.

That voice, as it turned out, would not stay quiet for long.

A Blizzard Descend on The Snow Leopard Territory

It started with whispers.

Rumors have a way of spreading faster than truth ever could. Someone had found out—about his father’s company, about the bankruptcy, about the once-grand Yuzushiro estate that now stood abandoned on a hill outside the city.

By Monday, the story had twisted itself into something cruel:
The fallen aristocrat. The rich boy playing pauper.

Ace heard the laughter before he saw the glances.
“Did you hear? He used to have a chauffeur!”
“I bet he’s just pretending to be humble.”
“Guess even nobles end up washing dishes eventually.”

Their words stung sharper than he’d ever admit.

He tried to ignore them, tried to keep his composure through the day—but humiliation has a way of crawling under one’s skin, festering until it turns to anger.

By the time he reached the grove after school, his chest felt tight. The sunlight filtered weakly through the trees, the wind carrying the faint scent of early summer. Sora was already there, waving a sandwich like a flag.
“Yo, Ace! You’re late! I was about to eat your share—”

“Stop that,” Ace interrupted. His tone was sharper than intended.

Aome, sensing something off, looked up from the half-assembled gadget in his lap. “Did something happen?”

Ace’s hands trembled as he set down his bag. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sora blinked. “Tell you what?”

“That it’s an act,” Ace spat, voice rising. “All of this was an act isn’t it? Something out of pity.”

The forest fell silent except for the faint hum of cicadas.

Sora frowned, confused. “What do you mean-”

“Stop your acting at once!” Ace’s composure shattered, his voice cracking like glass. “You—both of you—you only sit with me out of pity, don’t you? The poor noble boy who fell from grace. It must be so charitable of you to keep me company.”

Sora’s sandwich slipped from his hand as his eyes blown wide from the outburst.

Aome’s eyes widened, then narrowed—not in anger, but in quiet hurt. “Ace…”

Ace couldn’t stop. The words had built up too long. “I never asked for your sympathy. I don’t need it. I don’t—”

“Oi. Shut up for a second, will ya?”

Sora’s voice cut through, low and steady—completely unlike his usual cheerfulness. He stood, brushing the crumbs off his uniform. “You think I hang out with you because I pity you?” His tone rose, frustration leaking through. “You’re fun to be around, you idiot! You make the quiet days less boring! You argue about everything, you quote poetry at lunch, you scold me when I eat too fast—And I find it hilarious! So stop your yammering about pity!”

Ace froze, caught off guard.

Sora stepped closer. “I don’t care where you came from! A big ass manor or a cardboard box, who cares about that!” His eyes blazing as he grabs Ace’s collar and yanks him closer, “You’re Ace. That’s it. You’re our friend, damn it!”

Aome closed his gadget gently, speaking in that calm and relaxed way of his. “I admit, when we first met, I thought you were difficult… odd even. But honestly? Who am I to talk. I thinker with gadgets and machinery, building things and making things our of scrap metal, do you think that’s normal? Hell no. And who cares?”

Aome stood up and put a hand on Sora’s shoulder to make him lower Ace and then look at Ace sternly. “I can give zero cares about what you were before, I like you because you’re you, not your past status or wealth. You’re odd, like me. You always give your all even if the odds are against you—at school, at work, and with us. You’re honest about how you feel, even when it hurts. That’s not something money can buy.”

Ace’s throat tightened. He was ready for them to lash out, to hate him, to cast him away like all the other kids… but they never did. They just grip his shoulders. Grounding him. The wind rustled the leaves above, scattering sunlight across their faces.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, quietly, almost childlike, Ace asked, “…You’re… serious?” His voice a choked whisper as if holding back tears.

“Dead serious,” Sora said, arms crossed. “Now sit down before your rice gets cold.”

Aome smiled faintly. “And please, don’t shout in the forest again. The squirrels will file a complaint.”

The laughter that followed was shaky, uneven, but real. Ace sat down slowly, feeling something unfamiliar settle in his chest—something lighter than shame, warmer than pride.

It was the beginning of forgiveness—of himself, and of the life he’d been so afraid to embrace.

The Quiet of Belonging

The next morning, the forest was still damp with dew. Sunlight spilled softly through the leaves, glinting off the thin threads of spider silk stretched between branches. Ace Yuzushiro sat beneath the familiar maple tree once more, this time with two lunches beside him—not one.

He had arrived early, uncertain if Sora or Aome would actually come. After what happened, he wouldn’t have blamed them for needing space. But before long, he heard footsteps—two sets, unmistakable.

“Morning!” Sora’s voice rang out, far too loud for the hour. He was balancing three stacked lunchboxes again, a determined grin on his face. “I brought tricolor sandwiches today! You’re not allowed to sulk while eating rainbow bread.”

Behind him, Aome sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He spent all night making those. I had to stop him from using food dye.”

Ace blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. Then, slowly, he laughed. It was the kind of laugh that didn’t feel restrained—soft, real, almost free.

When they sat together, the air felt different—not as fragile, not as awkward. The silence that had once been Ace’s shield now became something peaceful, shared rather than isolating.

“…I’m sorry for lashing out on you both…” Ace admitted quietly between bites. “For saying those things.”

“Hmph? No big deal, it was overdue with how much things those clowns in school has been saying.” Sora said bluntly, chewing. “But you’re also our friend, so we forgive you. Just talk to us when you doubt yourself.”

Aome nodded, sipping from his thermos. “Besides, it would be out of character for you not to overthink things.”

Ace pouts and mutters softly, “You make me sound insufferable.”

“You are,” Sora grinned. “But we love that part of you anyway.”

The laughter came easily this time—three voices blending with the rustling leaves.

Outside the grove, life moved on.

It wasn’t perfect.
They argued, teased, and sometimes went days without meeting because of work or exhaustion. But when they gathered again, the laughter came easily, as if the silence between them had never existed.

Ace often thought about how fragile life could be—how quickly everything he once held had slipped through his fingers. Yet, as he watched Sora chase after a runaway lunchbox and Aome sigh dramatically while fixing it with pliers, Ace found himself smiling.

He no longer needed marble halls or silk suits to feel worthy.

He no longer mistook loneliness for dignity.

What he had now was simple, messy, and real—a shared lunch under a noisy sky, the scent of grass and bread, the warmth of two friends who never treated him as anything other than himself.

As they walked to school that morning—Sora grumbling about being late, Aome scolding him for it, and Ace quietly laughing between them—he realized that though his wealth was gone, something far greater had taken its place.

A sense of belonging.
A life that, while imperfect, was his own.

*****