The Profen Grand Conference Hall.
Gray carpeting with a matte black table at the center, decorated with beautiful pale blue vases and abstract paintings in austere frames. Less a castle in a fantasy world than a venue in a luxury hotel—a very modern business place. If they had a computer, the vibe would totally be “waiting for the remote party to dial into the video conference.”
And assembled around that table, leaders from various countries.
Anzu and Threonine looked more like they were here to do crime, or at the least were well-versed in the lingo—cooked books, laundered money.
“This could mean war? I’m always ready to throw down.”
“Let’s see how she plays it first. I’m packing heat, so I’ll pop off at her if I have to. Not sure it’ll do much, though.”
Okay, they were actually a tad more violent.
Meanwhile, Sardin was maintaining his dazzling smile…but with Anzu and Threonine around, he looked more like the kind of mafia ringleader who treated wetwork as another business deal. Which made Ubi look like an emotionless aide.
Next, Renge and Allan… He was so stressed he was openly rubbing his sore stomach, so he must be the boss’s useless son. Renge was threatening…ahem, encouraging him softly. “Get a grip!”
Between them, Lloyd and Marie were here representing the Azami Kingdom. No one would mistake either of them for criminals, but…
“Urp… I drank too much… My head hurts…”
Marie wasn’t in great shape—she embodied the feminine concept of “disaster.” She was suffering from a hangover, oblivious to the frosty looks this earned her.
Lloyd was trying to nurse her through it. He’d brought her water and was rubbing her back, completely forgetting he was representing the king, here. He looked much more like a nurse.
“Arguably impressive.”
“Once Selen gets sarcastic, you’re done.”
“……Mm.”
The usual trio were on standby in the back, ready to pounce in the event of an emergency—primarily Marie doing anything weird to Lloyd.
“Fah, are you in any shape to face her? Some princess,” Anzu growled.
“Sh-she’ll be fine!” Lloyd insisted. “Marie shines when the chips are down! She’s already saved Azami time and—”
“L-Lloyd! Keep your voice down… I’m about to throw up here…”
“You can’t do that!”
Next to Sardin, Mena stifled a laugh.
“Snerk! She’s definitely the court jester here. Let’s hope this makes Eve lower her guard a bit.”
“Ugh, if I lower my guard, everything’s gonna come back up!”
“……I wish she was joking.”
Mena strived to provide comic relief, but Marie was so far gone that even she was looking serious.
And then the lady of the hour arrived.
“Yoo-hoo! Joy to the world, for I am here! Welcome to my little home!”
The door slammed open, and a veritable electrical parade of maids sailed in.
“Huh? What?”
The maids marched in perfect step, and at their center was a very suspicious bunny mascot, waving her hands at the assembly.
Ordinarily, this would have seemed like a dimwitted ruler wasting money on pomp, but everyone here knew the truth—and smelled a rat.
The servants were either used to this or just that well-trained; they paid no attention to their guests’ consternation, merely bustling around providing tea and crumpets.
“Okay, okay! Thank you very much!”
A hand shot out of the costume’s mouth, and Eve snapped her fingers. The majority of the maids swooped right back out.
Eve waved good-bye, as everyone looked on, stunned.
This was a display of power, designed to shock and shift the reins to Eve’s hand. It created two powerful impressions designed to make her visitors quiver and convinced them they couldn’t afford a false move: “This place is mine.” “Everyone working for me is just that good.”
And the looks on their faces proved it had worked. Eve grinned.
But our boy was still doing his thing.
“Wow, such orderly lines! Very impressive!”
Lloyd was offering earnest compliments. Schemes and insinuations were entirely lost on him; his eyes just sparkled like a child’s.
“You must have practiced a lot!” he said, turning to one of the maids still here.
“Er, uh… Yes,” she stammered, having not expected anyone to speak to her.
“I knew it! It’s very hard to pour tea from that height. Do you train every day?”
“Um…twice a week.”
She couldn’t quite stop herself from answering. Half the intimidation factor was already gone, and Eve was cringing.
“I thought I was in control, too… That boy’s a thorn in my side.”
She glared balefully at him from inside the costume.
✦ ✦ ✦
Eve Profen. Her name in the old world—Eva.
Born into a successful fortune-telling empire, she’d grown up wanting for nothing.
Her family gifted her connections and wealth, and taught her psychology and the means to control the minds of others.
But those techniques worked best on the corrupted minds of grown-ups. She had always struggled with the pure, the innocent, and the guileless.
Politicians and mobsters alike danced in the palm of her hand. But the one thing Eve could not handle was—a sweet kid.
Makes sense, right? When up against a child, how would you use your bag of mentalist mind tricks? The best you can do is divine their romantic prospects. It was safe to say she had absolutely no experience points earned from fighting children.
Thus, Lloyd Belladonna was Eve Profen’s natural enemy.
She was glaring pointedly at him through the costume’s mouth.
My plans, my sarcasm, my insinuations—none of that will work on him. He’ll take it all at face value. And top that off with a misunderstanding cherry. He’s always the one who sets the pace.
Like a vizier struggling with a child king who knows nothing of politics, Eve had a lot more sympathy for all Eug’s grumbling now.
Sorry, Eugy. You were right! This kid’s bad news.
President Eva had founded a new country while preventing the United States from objecting. She’d dropped a meteor with rune magic and kept that from becoming an international incident. Her kit of techniques had made both easy.
But here she was, about to engage in the greatest battle of wits she’d faced since getting teleported to another world—and that just had her worked up.
Bring it on! I’m going back to my world with a monopoly on the immortality rune, ready to make them all dance in the palm of my hand. And the final enemy in the way of that plan—a sweet, innocent boy. Well worth conquering!
Eve grinned, gazing at Lloyd like you would a final boss. Technically, that would be her.
Recovering, she moved to launch her own accusation summit.
To avoid anyone from realizing how Lloyd frustrated her, she folded her arms, doing her goofy act.
“So…what was this summit about, again? Best ingredients for miso soup?”
Her flippant joke just earned Anzu’s ire.
“Hah? What the hell is wrong with you, Lady Eve?!”
Gotcha, Anzy. You’re already scared!
For Eve, jokes and how people took them were a form of examination, digging into each individual’s state of mind. Did they play along? Bluff? Rage? Or shake their heads?
Classic mentalism. Naturally, only the nefarious would need to rely on tricks like this—I prove that on the daily.
But knowing where your foes were at helped you maintain the advantage. Eve glanced at each face, like a doctor doing rounds.
“Lady Eve, today is not an occasion for frivolity.”
Threoniny dismisses it. His role is to keep things moving. Odds are he’s the one who decides when to present evidence of my misdeeds.
Sardin—to no one’s surprise—played along.
“Ha-ha-ha! I’ll down any miso soup, as long as my wife makes it! Even if it’s missing the miso!”
“That would be just water, dear,” Ubi pointed out, and Sardin just guffawed again.
“Bwa-ha-ha! I’d forgive my wife for it, but I’m not partial to cleaning up anyone else’s hot water. If you catch my drift?”
“I doooo!”
The man was laughing, but his eyes were not, and Eve was secretly quite impressed.
King Sardin is legit. Confident enough to keep his sense of humor. But Rokujou was at the heart of a lot of my schemes, and his family fell prey to them… He may be a bit too emotionally invested.
The deeper the emotions—or the more eager someone was to look good in front of their children—the easier it was for Eve to knock them over.
Easiest to hardest, I’d say Anzy, King Sardin, then Threoniny. King Sardin would normally be the toughest, so if he’s a bit overeager, that works for me.
Putting her plans together, Eve glanced at Lloyd.
But how will he take that joke? Let’s see what you got.
Would he play along? Get mad? If she handled his reaction appropriately, even a sweet kid—but then his hand shot up.
“Excuse me!”
“Mm? What is it, Lloyd? No need for formality, we’re just talking about soup.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“Um, Marie…the princess is at her limit, so we’re gonna step out for a minute. And if you could direct us to the nearest restroom…”
“The smell of these crumpets! Urghhh!”