Heh. They’ll probably say things like, “She’s not the grand duke’s daughter for nothing. Even her choice of sweets is impeccable.” What if people start thinking, “I wish I could be friends with someone like her”? What if so many actually became my friend that the house overflows with them during a slumber party? That would be troublesome.
Milly herself didn’t care much for sweets, but she couldn’t afford to miss this chance. She needed to begin her market research at once. Tonight’s dinner would be full of sweets.
“Thank you, both of you,” Milly said with a smile. “I’ll start planning to add another wing to my home right away.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Gilbert said.
“Best not to overthink it, old boy,” Lucius flatly replied. “Once you get lost in those weeds, you may never find a way out.”
Milly, paying no mind to their exchange, happily resumed her meal.
Only moments ago she was out of sorts, and now she was eating with a little hum of contentment. The change was so comical that Gilbert and Lucius couldn’t help but share a smile.
✦ ✦ ✦
“What? Cake? Right now?”
That evening, as soon as she returned home, Milly asked her maid Bibi to fetch cakes from all across the capital.
She couldn’t squander such a golden opportunity to make friends. And if she wanted to earn credit within the student council, research was essential.
“Yes. I want to sample cakes to be served at the academy tea party. Collect everything you can from the city.”
“M-My lady, that’s impossible without some sort of specific—”
“Specifics? Ah, yes.”
Without further guidance, Bibi would simply bring back every delicious sweet in the city. It seemed she would require more direction. After a moment’s thought, Milly raised a finger as if struck by inspiration.
“Let’s see. The taste must be good, of course. Appearance is important too. Something pink or white perhaps. That would be best. Everyone likes pink and white, don’t they?”
“There must be a million cakes in the capital that fit that description.”
“Then a million will do nicely.”
“I’m afraid that would be beyond me, my lady.”
Bibi buried her face in her hands at the impossible request. As a maid of the grand ducal house, however, she was nothing if not capable. Though not quite a million, within a matter of hours, she had laid out a veritable parade of sweets before Milly.
“Amazing! You really are the best, Bibi. Thank you!”
“Not at all. If you could perhaps mention a raise in my wages to His Grace, that would be thanks enough.”
Milly ignored her, bracing herself as she took up her fork. “Time to begin. We’ve not a moment to waste.”
Determined not to waste her chance at making friends, Milly attacked the tasting with single-minded zeal.
She jotted scores on the evaluation sheet she had prepared, sampled, jotted again, ate through three cakes, and just as she was thinking, “That will be enough for today. All this cream is making me queasy. Maybe I’ll continue tomorrow,” a realization struck her.
“Wait, Bibi.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Perishables spoil, don’t they?”
Bibi nodded gravely at her side.
A bead of cold sweat traced down Milly’s back as she sat frozen with fork in hand.
✦ ✦ ✦
The following morning, the corridor buzzed with chatter among the first-years. “Look, it’s the grand duke’s daughter.”
“Doesn’t she look a little pale?”
“She must be in a foul mood. If you catch her eye now, who knows what she might do?”
Even teachers kept their distance from Milly—the child of the “Demon Duke,” Kyle Asteara—as she trudged down the hall. Everyone feared the grand ducal house; not one of them wanted to be involved with it.
Th-This is bad. At that moment, Milly was locked in battle with the ominous growl of her stomach. Really bad. If I let my guard down, I might actually vomit.
The reason for her pallor stretched back to the day before. After Bibi had laid out mountains of cakes for her, Milly had made the horrifying realization as she worked her way through them that perishables spoil—and cakes, especially, spoiled quickly. Which meant all those dozens of cakes would have to be eaten within a single day. The poor girl’s stomach was not an infinite void.
Even if she enlisted the maids at home to help, finishing them all would have been nearly impossible. Throwing them out had become a real possibility, but then Milly made her choice: She would finish them herself.
Mother always said to never waste food.
And so, Milly now found herself thoroughly defeated by the onslaught of cream and sugar. One solid poke to the side, and she might very well lose it all right there.
I knew it. Finishing off yesterday’s leftovers for breakfast was a mistake. My digestion’s slow enough as it is.
At this rate, she wasn’t even sure she’d be in shape for the student council meeting after school. With a weary sigh, she barely managed to swallow back something threatening to rise with it.
What do I have for first period today? If it’s just a lecture, my stomach might stand a chance. She had just about made it halfway down the corridor with that thought when a ripple of noise reached her from ahead. She lifted her head. Hm? What’s going on there?
Up ahead, near the Class A room, a crowd had gathered.
Something was clearly happening inside. Students loitering outside wore anxious expressions, and when Milly drew closer, she could hear raised voices.
“Honestly, how could you be so foolish?! What would your mother say if she knew?” a shrill voice rang clear enough to carry into the hall.
Peering through a gap in the crowd, Milly caught sight of the scene inside. The Class A room, unusually empty of students, contained one girl flanked by a handful of attendants, berating another who stood before her bowing frantically.
“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“An apology won’t fix this! You slashed my face! Oh, daughters of petty barons really are despicable creatures!”
“I-I just tripped! It wasn’t on purpose!”
It’s that girl from yesterday. The one with the hair ornament.
Indeed, it was the classmate who had collided with Milly’s chair the previous morning.
But why is she in Class A? And what is this business about “slashing”?
Scattered around the two were bits of metal. Looking closer, Milly spotted the bergamot ornament, and realized it was the very hairpiece that had been broken in their accident yesterday.
Perhaps, when she tripped, the shards accidentally cut the other girl. As that thought crossed her mind, Milly’s eyes shifted to the one flanked by attendants, and she froze. She knew that face. Angelina Grey.
The girl shouting furiously, a small cut marring her cheek, was none other than Angelina Grey, the self-proclaimed “villainess.”
It was the first time Milly had seen her face since the entrance celebration party. Narrowing her eyes, she looked back and forth between Angelina and the cowering classmate.
Angelina was still berating the girl without pause.
Her tirade was little more than outright character assassination, dragging even the girl’s baronial family name through the mud.
“So I can assume your pauper father will be covering the damages?”
“Er, I-I...”
“Don’t tell me he can’t. Ten gold coins, precisely. If you want a peaceful school life, you’ll see he pays it today.” Angelina gave a mocking laugh and clicked her tongue sharply.
Milly could only scowl at the display. Ten gold coins. That’s enough to buy a house on the outskirts of the capital. No one in their right mind would pay such a sum for a scratch that small.
From what Milly could see, Angelina’s wound was in fact a mere nick. But that was Angelina Grey all over: flying into a rage over something trivial. And now she was demanding compensation, proof her avarice hadn’t changed at all from before the rewind. Utterly absurd.
Just then, the crowd behind Milly erupted in a stir.
“All right, all right, make way, everyone. Clear the aisle, gawkers, clear the aisle.”
Milly turned reflexively. Two boys were striding forward, pushing their way through the throng. As nearby girls squealed at the sight, Milly covered her ears.
“Ugh. Edgar, I can’t. There are too many people. I’m going to faint.”
“Seriously? Can you get any frailer? Pathetic.”
“I-I’m dying. My breakfast’s about to come back up.”
“Enough whining. Come on. Student council handles disputes at the academy, so this is our duty.”
With that, the sturdier of the pair—apparently the “Edgar” just mentioned—grabbed the collar of the bespectacled boy beside him and hauled him forward. More squeals rose from the watching girls.
The two of them, it seemed, had come to resolve the commotion. They marched straight into the Class A room and shut the door firmly behind them.
Student council? Milly stared absently after them, the words sticking in her mind. Could they really be fellow council members?
“Urk.”
Just then, her stomach gave another dreadful gurgle, and Milly clapped a hand over her mouth. This was worse than anything she’d felt before.
I-I must...make it to the lavatory!
She couldn’t disgrace herself here. She bolted from the crowd and sprinted toward the nearest restroom.