House Clarke would endure as long as Clyde, Liliana’s older brother, remained to inherit it. If losing her voice cost Liliana her chance to marry the crown prince, she would have no choice but to face a life in a monastery or a marriage into a noble family seeking to benefit from a connection to her house.
After all, it would be a scandal if I were banished from the country or became someone’s mistress.
The only exception would be if she became Riley’s mistress—but even the king’s mistresses were usually married.
No matter how she looked at it, Liliana knew that simply avoiding the game’s endings wouldn’t be enough to escape a gloomy fate. For now, at least, she had the good fortune of servants to attend to her basic needs.
As if on cue, there was a gentle knock at the door, and Liliana’s handmaiden Marianne strode into the room. “My lady!” she exclaimed, concern etched on her face. “Please go back to bed. You can’t have fully recovered yet.”
Liliana knew better than to protest. She rose from the couch and lay down on the bed, pulling the sheet over herself.
“Just a moment, please,” Marianne said, hurrying out of the room. She returned shortly after with a tray holding a pitcher and a glass, accompanied by the doctor who had seen to Liliana at the height of her fever.
With Marianne’s help, Liliana sat up and took a gulp of water.
The doctor searched through a bag of medical instruments before starting the checkup with a perfunctory “Excuse me.” A serious expression accompanied the assessment: “Your voice still hasn’t returned, most likely because your fever lasted so long. I’ve seen this happen several times before.”
“Oh dear...” Marianne murmured, her features twisted in sorrow.
“It’s all right,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “Rarely are these cases permanent. There are outliers, of course, but let’s wait and see for now. Is the master here today? I’ll give him my evaluation.”
Marianne shook her head weakly. “Oh, no... He rarely stops by.”
In the world of high-ranking nobles, it was common for family members not to spend much time together, and House Clarke was no exception. Even by those standards, however, Liliana felt cast aside. Most noble parents might not say much to their children, but they would still see them occasionally, and siblings often spent time together due to the close proximity of their bedrooms. Liliana couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen her brother, Clyde.
It didn’t help learning that, unlike me, he actually gets to spend time with father and mother.
Liliana reflected on the days before her memories of a past life had returned. Her loneliness had cut deep, and she had begun taking it out on those around her. While her actions had remained within the bounds of what was acceptable for a girl born into nobility, they might have worsened with each passing year if her memories hadn’t brought her back to her senses.
Yet, with her in-game self’s lofty ideals, strong sense of duty, and awareness of social norms, she doubted she would ever have become truly insolent.
The doctor produced a pen and some paper, paying no mind to Marianne’s bewilderment, no doubt accustomed to such situations. “In that case, I’ll write him a list of symptoms. The young lady should take things as easy as she can for a while. I’ll come see her again in a fortnight or so.”
Marianne nodded.
After packing up, the doctor bade farewell to Liliana and departed. Marianne stepped outside as well, leaving the door ajar. Despite the handmaiden’s efforts to keep her voice down, Liliana still managed to overhear their conversation.
“Is there really no way to tell when my lady’s voice might return? She’s the strongest candidate for His Highness’s fiancée, standing out even among the others. Her future as crown princess was all but set in stone...”
“I’m afraid I’ve said all I can for the moment,” the doctor said, plainly.
Marianne clearly wanted to ask more, but the chamberlain waiting outside insisted she calm down. The handmaiden apologized, and Liliana soon heard the doctor and the chamberlain take their leave.
“She had such a lovely voice, sweet as birdsong...” Marianne lamented. “For this to happen just after her sixth birthday... The poor thing...”
Marianne wiped the tears from her eyes and took a minute to regain her composure before reentering the room. She hurried over to Liliana, fluffed her pillow, and gently laid her back down.
“I know you were prescribed rest, but that might prove difficult at the moment,” the handmaiden said. “Nonetheless, I will ask the master to excuse you from visiting the palace for a while when I deliver the doctor’s note.”
Marianne gently brushed aside the locks of hair that had fallen across her lady’s forehead. An ordinary handmaiden wouldn’t have been in a position to advise the head of the family; she would have had to deliver her message through a butler. Marianne, however, was the youngest daughter of Marquess Kenneth—and while common sense dictated that the daughter of a marquess should under no circumstances serve as a handmaiden to the daughter of an eminent duke, she had once explained with a smile that her family believed in letting its members choose the path best suited to their talents. Her status meant there was a chance the duke might hear her out personally, though the odds of him agreeing to her request were slim.
“I wish your education as crown princess hadn’t already begun,” Marianne continued—an impulsive remark that might have sounded like grumbling.
Crown princess candidates were educated partly at home and partly at the royal palace. How could Liliana manage the palace portion without her voice? If she were to encounter the king or the crown prince, she wouldn’t even be able to greet them. And yet, if her father ordered it, she would have to go regardless.
It’s best to avoid contact with both the royal family and my own. I need to gather knowledge and learn to use magic without anyone noticing. To escape a grim fate, I’ll need all the power I can muster.
Next on Liliana’s curriculum were magic lessons, though they would surely be postponed now that she lacked the ability to speak incantations. She would need to find a way to tackle the subject through self-study.
Liliana opened her eyes just enough to glance at Marianne, who was diligently tending to her at her bedside.
I never really cared about my servants before, but perhaps they could help me avoid my demise.
Nobles seldom paid much attention to their servants; in their eyes, such people faded into the background, like wallpaper or a perfectly forgettable vase. Yet even the servants who had never appeared in the game had thoughts and feelings of their own. If Liliana managed to gain their favor, it wasn’t unrealistic to expect their aid.