I agree with Ratte. Values fostered over many months and years don’t change that easily. In a nation where misogynistic beliefs remain, I will always be an eyesore, no matter what I do as a female feudal lord. I was prepared for that. However, it seems I was remiss in this instance—when I’m disrespected, it can hurt the people who treasure me. I realize that now after seeing how furious Ratte is.
“No, it won’t end with just that. The more your fame grows, the more he’ll come to resent you, and who knows what he’ll plan then.”
“Ratte...”
“I can’t allow that to happen. I won’t.” He looked down, and suddenly, the light from his eyes disappeared, turning them into bottomless swamps. His hand on the table was tense, and his nails scraped against the metal surface, making an unpleasant noise. “Before that happens—”
Trying to drown out his hoarse mutterings, I stuck out both hands in front of his face and brought them together as hard as I could. It was a sumo technique called nekodamashi. The loud clap stunned Ratte’s eyes into wide saucers—he looked just like a startled cat.
“Ratte,” I said.
He blinked at me and held his tongue.
“Thank you for worrying about me.”
Evidently, he had been readying himself for a scolding, because he froze in shock.
“And, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand,” he replied. Though he’d sulkily snubbed me, I could tell he’d probably understood what I wanted to convey.
“I’m always worrying you because I’m not dependable,” I said. As an assassin, Ratte witnesses the dark side of the nation night and day. More than anyone else, he’s familiar with the might of money and authority, as well as the fragility of justice. In his eyes, a fledgling feudal lord like me who only speaks about idealistic pipe dreams is definitely unreliable. “But you don’t need to go that far.”
“Princess, I—”
“You’re currently my spy, correct?”
Ratte froze, and his eyes widened even further. I looked straight at him. And that means...you’re not an assassin anymore.
“That sort of thing is outside of your job description,” I told him with a bright smile.
Like melting ice, Ratte’s stiff expression slowly broke into a smile. “What’re you on about?”
I was relieved to see a teary smile on his face. When I first met Ratte, he only ever wore those shady smiles, but he’s become quite expressive. I think it’s proof that he’s opened up to me, which I’m somewhat proud of. He may be ruthless toward our enemies, but if he’s comfortable in his current environment, then I’m glad.
“I need to become powerful,” I declared.
There are so many things I need to protect now. My family, friends, retainers, servants...everyone at the medical facility and the citizens of my domain too—I need to protect them so they can live happily. And also so I don’t dirty the hands of the people who cherish me. I must become powerful.
“First, economic might.” My resolve renewed, I clenched my hand into a fist.
I consulted with Sir Leonhart about returning to Prelier, and he agreed without resistance. If I were to stay in the capital, I would continue to receive invitations to tea parties, soirees, and other events. He was worried that it would stress me out since I didn’t like socializing. My aides also approved, likely because I’d come down with a fever recently. Thus, we returned to our territory without waiting for the high season to end.
Apparently, there had been no major incidents while we’d been away, and everything had been peaceful. When I saw the ever-energetic faces of those who welcomed us back, I was relieved. Although I had lived many more years in the capital, Prelier had already become my home.
I spent two weeks sifting through detailed reports, completing handovers, and dealing with miscellaneous tasks. Sir Leonhart and my aides let me rest at every opportunity, but I had no issue working in moderation. Actually, once they realized that work was a good change of pace for me, they let me do as I pleased. When I said I wanted to go on an outing, Sir Leonhart readily permitted it under the condition that he escort me.
My destination was at the end of the block lined with shops for nobility. We made our way down the large main road—wide enough for horse-drawn carriages to pass each other with room to spare—and entered a path at its end. My carriage stopped in front of a small storefront. Though the old stone building was part of the commerce district, it didn’t have a single sign, let alone any decorations. It looked like an empty house.
I stepped down from the carriage with Sir Leonhart’s help and rapped firmly on the door.
A few seconds later, a man called out from inside. “Yes? Who is it?” His tone was gentle; his voice was neither high nor low.
“It’s Rosemary,” I replied.
I heard the click of the door unlocking, and then it immediately swung open, revealing a slender man. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He wore his long, dark-silver hair in a single braid that reached his waist. Though he was dressed in black Osten garments, the design differed somewhat from what the third prince of Osten had worn. This man’s attire resembled a kung fu uniform from my previous life.
“Welcome,” he said, wearing a businesslike smile.
Perhaps it was his narrow, upturned eyes, or maybe it was his elusive and breezy disposition, but he reminded me of a fox. His name was Hiiragi, and he was a merchant from the nation of Osten.
“I’ve been waiting for your safe return,” he said.
“Thank you. Is everyone doing well?” I asked.
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“Is Ayame-san...”—as soon as I mentioned the name of the girl who was from the same village as him, his face twitched slightly—“...working?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
I could guess what the situation was based on his noncommittal tone. “Has she been taking breaks?”
Frowning, Hiiragi sighed. “I tell her to, but she doesn’t listen.”
I joined him, my own brow knitting together. “It feels a bit gauche to disrupt an artisan at work, but I’ll try talking to her.”
“Please do.”
“I’ll wait here with him,” Sir Leonhart said as I proceeded inside.
“Yes, I think that would be for the best,” I replied.
On top of being incredibly shy, Ayame was also bad with men. Hiiragi was the only exception to that rule since he was her childhood friend, but she shrank in the presence of any man besides him. I stood in front of the room at the very end of the hall and raised my hand to knock, but then I stopped. Instead, I soundlessly pulled open the door and caught a whiff of a strange, bittersweet smell.
Inside the room was a petite girl with straight, green-black hair tied behind her. She faced her desk, focused on her work, and didn’t seem to notice my arrival whatsoever. Her gaze and attention were concentrated solely on her craft. I watched her earnest profile and waited for a while.
When she breathed out and relaxed her concentration, I knocked on the door. Her dainty shoulders jumped up with a start. Her eyes rounded when she saw me, and then her cheeks turned red.
“I’m sorry for breaking your concentration,” I said.
“N-No, I’m sorry for not noticing you there... My deepest apologies.” Embarrassed, she looked down. Her demeanor had turned so timid, like that of a small animal—I almost suspected that her borderline fearsome and serious expression from seconds ago had been an illusion.
Her large eyes were the same color as her straight, dark hair. She had the appearance of a lovely, purehearted princess from a Japanese historical play, though she wasn’t clad in fine kosode—instead, she wore work clothes that resembled the samue of Japanese Buddhist monks.
The girl—Ayame—was an artisan from the Kingdom of Osten. The raden accessories my family and I had worn to the soiree were her creations.