HELT had returned to the Fifth Palace a step ahead of her, and he welcomed her back. Amelia sat down, took a sip of tea, and sighed. “Hey, Helt. Turns out that I might be a Saint.”
“Is that so?” Helt muttered curtly before placing a plate of cookies on the table. These were, of course, deliveries from Luke—tea leaves had been kneaded into the dough, granting it a mouthwatering aroma.
Amelia gave him an unimpressed glance. “What’s with that reply? Shouldn’t you be, like, a bit more shocked?”
“That is easier said than done, my princess. Allow me to remind you that I served under the fifth consort, the previous Saint. I witnessed her manifesting watermelons in bulk and picking out orison stones from them. You might not be aware, but manifesting strawberries is remarkably peculiar magic. I have always thought that I wouldn’t be surprised if you eventually turned out to be a Saint.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve never heard anything about my mother picking out orison stones from watermelons, though.”
“It is technically confidential information regarding the Saint. We wouldn’t exactly advertise it in public.”
It made sense now that he explained it. The Saints and their orison stones were so vital that even an orphan from the slums could become the king’s consort. Spreading information recklessly might cause phonies to appear, which would be a whole lot of trouble.
“That said,” Helt began, “although the fifth consort was able to manifest watermelons, she never created watermelon cuisine.”
His sentence took a moment to register. “Uh, hold on. Is watermelon cuisine even a thing?”
“From that standpoint, there is even a chance that you might have stronger magical powers as a Saint, my princess.”
Amelia suspected that her abilities stemmed from her memories of Japanese sweets, but as she reflected on the day’s events, she noted that the priest mentioned something similar at one point.
“If you are a Saint, the fourth consort and Prisca won’t be able to object to your marriage with the young Lord Klein,” he said. “You can have peace of mind on that front for the time being.”
She didn’t care about the title of Saint, and she didn’t mind being strong or weak, but she was grateful for the betrothal part. And so, she nodded.
As he watched her, Helt’s eyes softened. “He is the man whom you have yearned after for four years—no, if you include the time loops, I suppose it would be seven years. I am happy for you, my princess.”
Amelia returned his smile with a grateful one. “Yeah. Thanks, Helt.” She couldn’t fully express how much she appreciated the older man. To her, he was the lone servant who stayed behind for her sake, her guard, her brother figure, and her father figure.
After finishing her tea, Amelia took off her gorgeous gown and changed into a simple everyday dress. White lace and frills were scattered across the subdued pink fabric, while burnt umber lines served as accents around the collar and sleeves, and a ribbon of the same brown adorned her chest. The dress was cute but modest in decoration and dignified—it felt like exactly what a princess’s casual wear was supposed to be.
This dress was also one of Luke’s gifts, and there was a world of difference between it and the dull, scratchy dresses she’d worn until now. The comfy fabric felt so pleasant against her skin that its softness even tickled a bit.
Frankly, this attire wasn’t suitable for working in the fields, but it was a present from Luke. Not wearing it wasn’t an option.
She muttered to herself, “It’s been a long day… Prisca and the fourth consort visited first thing in the morning, I went into the city before going to the Klein estate, and finally, I came right back to the royal court and even attended an audience with the king. Sheesh, I’m exhausted.”
Helt was heading toward the gates, and Amelia figured she’d finish watering the fields before he came back.
However, the moment she reached for the door, a black, shadowy object dove in from the window. Assuming it was a bug, she nonchalantly turned around to look at it. Something round had fallen onto the ground. Not a moment later, it spewed out stark white smoke.
I don’t know what’s going on, but this can’t be good. Reflexively, she covered her nose and mouth with her hand before opening the door and evacuating outside. Her head felt slightly faint, likely from the white smoke earlier.
The only residents of the Fifth Palace were Amelia and Helt. And Helt would never do something like this.
Which means…it can only be an intruder. Amelia chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t know what their goals were, but she couldn’t afford to be caught. In any case, I’ve got to hurry to the gates and find Helt!
Sprinting down the corridor, she flung open the door that led outside. Instantly, something shot toward her face.
She squatted, avoided the unknown object, and tried to slip past the shadowy silhouette, but a hand grabbed her arm.
“Let me go!” she yelled.
At the same time, there was the sound of roundish things tumbling onto the ground, and the hold on her arm loosened.
“Whoa?!” someone exclaimed in surprise.
She turned around to see an unfamiliar man being gradually buried under a mountain of strawberries. She immediately attempted to get away from him, but another man closed in on her from the front, cutting off all her escape routes. Amelia whipped her head back and forth, looking for something that might serve as a weapon, but she could only see a giant pile of strawberries.
Her shoulders tense with anxiety, Amelia raised her voice. “I don’t know who you are, but there’s nothing here that’s worth stealing!”
Judging by how they’d come prepared with the round gadget that produced unusual smoke, Amelia knew that they probably weren’t just simple thieves. But she had no choice other than to catch them off guard and run for the hills, so she snatched up every strawberry she could and threw it at the still-standing man.
The man didn’t even attempt to avoid the strawberries, only smirking at her. She shouldn’t have expected anything less—throwing strawberries with a woman’s strength was less destructive than a pebble.
Normal strawberries won’t do. I need specific strawberries that can ground him here!
For a moment, she felt as if warm air ballooned out and engulfed her. Not a second later, one of the strawberries she hurled at the intruder turned green. At first, she thought a ripe strawberry had regressed to an unripe one, but upon closer inspection, it had a bushy green silhouette—it appeared to be wrapped in leaves.
The small grains on strawberries were seeds, meaning that if they all sprouted at once, a strawberry would transform into a bundle of leaves. It made theoretical sense, but it was a most uncanny sight in person.
The green strawberry, which struck the man before bouncing off him, wrapped him in a flurry of green vines as if that had been its cue. Trapped in the net of vines, the intruder shouted as he tumbled to the ground and writhed in an attempt to get out.
Admittedly, it was a surreal sight that she couldn’t make sense of, but this was her chance. I should go find Helt!
Amelia broke into a sprint, but suddenly, something tugged hard on her arm. Right. How could I have forgotten? There’s one more intruder inside the strawberries!
As realization sank in, something that felt like a piece of cloth smothered her face, not even giving her time to cry for help.
That was the last thing Amelia remembered before her vision went black.