From the day she had spoken with Sierra in the garden until the morning of the tea party, Milly had nothing but time on her hands. Even with her limited human interaction experience, she understood it would be best to leave some distance before dealing with Ike again. There wasn’t anything useful she could contribute to the student council in the meantime, and of course, she still had no friends to spend her afternoons with.
Burying herself in study like before the rewind felt empty. So, with a wealth of idle hours at her disposal, Milly came up with a new way to spend this hollow holiday. Today, I’ll do all sorts of wicked things, because I’m going to be a truly evil final boss!
With that rather skewed resolve, Milly now stood in her chambers at the grand duke’s estate, feet planted wide, arms folded proudly across her chest in a grand stance, though no one was there to see it. This was a pose she had invented herself, the “Final Boss Stance.” After all, appearances mattered. One had to look the part before becoming it.
Calling me a “good person” is one thing when it’s Gilbert, but then Sierra did the same thing. That’s unacceptable! If I mean to be the final boss, I need to start acting bad right away. In Milly’s view, a final boss had to be unquestionably evil. To be praised as kind was unthinkable. She needed to be feared, to have an awe-inspiring presence. And right now, Milly simply wasn’t wicked enough. She needed to change that, and soon. All right, time to get serious about being bad. But where to start? Well, obviously with the classics.
With a self-satisfied sniffle, Milly crouched down on the spot. She spread her knees wide, tucked in her chin, and glared at the goat-shaped wall carving. This daring pose was something she’d read in a book the other day, and it was called the “delinquent squat.”
Supposedly, it was all the rage among rough young men on the streets. It had become so much the symbol of badness that the book insisted anyone truly wicked was sure to be doing it.
Milly, catching sight of herself in the mirror, couldn’t help but grin at how thoroughly villainous she looked. It was perfect. Heh. This is almost too wicked. If a stranger saw me like this, they might mistake me for an actual criminal! But she didn’t stop there. Milly narrowed her eyes at the goat carving, dropped her voice as low as she could, and growled, “Hand over the money.”
“Eeeek!” The door burst open, and several maids shrieked, faces pale with terror. One even toppled to the floor in a faint.
Milly frowned at the unseemly display. How rude, to react that way to their mistress—though, admittedly, seeing their normally stone-faced lady muttering nonsense while crouched in such a bizarre pose might have been a shock.
“L-Lady Milly?! Whatever are you doing?!”
“My, this? I read about it in a novel and wanted to try it out. But never mind that. Whatever happened to knocking?”
“We did knock! And what’s happened to this room?! A b-burglar?!”
“Hm? Oh, I made the mess myself. I was bored.”
At present, Milly’s room looked like the aftermath of a bandit raid. She’d overturned the desk, spun the shelves around, and strewn books across the bed, her logic being that a villain’s room ought to look villainous. By her own estimation, the effect was quite wicked indeed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up later.”
“Uh, that’s not exactly the problem, my lady...”
“But more importantly,” Milly interrupted, “what do you think of this pose? Doesn’t it just reek of villainy?” This was the perfect chance to get an objective opinion. Fixing the goat carving with another fierce glare, Milly growled in a gravelly whisper, “Hand over the money.”
The maid gasped. “Our lady is possessed by some prowler’s spirit!” She backed away, trembling. Encouraged by the reaction, Milly added a theatrical click of the tongue. Well, she couldn’t really do it properly, so she just said “tch” aloud. The maid clutched at her apron as though an evil spirit had taken hold of her mistress, while Milly chuckled in satisfaction at the display.
“P-Please stop this, my lady!” insisted the maid. “What’s come over you?! Compose yourself!”
“Heh. Thank you for your feedback. Personally, I think I’ve achieved quite the wicked effect.”
“W-Wicked?!”
“Yes, especially the tongue-click. Don’t you think it added just the right flavor? I put a great deal of effort into getting the tone right.”
“What the devil are you doing with your afternoon off?”
Just as Milly was about to explain the finer points of cultivating villainous aura, another figure stepped into the open doorway. That glinting golden hair was unmistakable—Gilbert.
“Oh, good day, Gilbert. What brings you here?”
“I came to see you.” He paused. “And what in the world is that bizarre pose?”
“It’s not bizarre. It’s a carefully designed stance, meant to strike fear into all who see it.”
In other words, mastering the squat had brought her one step closer to becoming a proper final boss. Rising with a smug air, Milly cocked her head at her childhood friend, who looked distinctly put off as he glanced around the wrecked room.
“So, what’s your business?” she asked. “Something urgent?” If the busy second prince had gone out of his way to visit her, surely it must be important.
At her question, Gilbert blinked, visibly surprised. “What do you mean? Didn’t His Imperial Highness tell you?”
“Father? No, we hardly exchange proper words these days.”
“You say that like it’s perfectly normal.” Gilbert sighed, then turned to the maids still frozen in the room. “Thank you for showing me the way. That’ll be all.”
His easy smile sent them scurrying out with cheeks aflame. That, Milly thought with begrudging admiration, was exactly why he was the most beloved prince in the kingdom. Hard to believe this was the same boy who once burst into tears when she chased him around with a beetle.
“You just remembered something irrelevant, didn’t you?”
“No, not at all. So, what about my father?”
Gilbert let out a long breath. “You really didn’t hear? His Imperial Highness asked me to come. Said you’d been acting strangely, and I should sort it out as soon as possible.”
“What?” Milly blurted, staring at him in disbelief.