Chapter 34

Still clutching her stomach with one hand, Shizuku offered him a handheld mirror. Niké snatched it—but when he saw his reflection, it left him speechless. Despite him requesting a slight trim, his ash-gray hair was almost half its previous length, so much so that he looked like a boy in his late teens. The haircut itself was fairly neat and refreshing, but the expression on his face wasn’t doing him any favors. As he looked at the veins bulging out of his forehead, Shizuku—who’d finally stopped laughing—flashed him a cheeky smile. “Sorry, baby-face,” she said. “You…” “How old are you, actually?” “Twenty-one! What did you think you were doing? Getting your own back?” “Oh. If you’re twenty-one, then I don’t see the problem. You’re young. You can get away with that haircut.” “You really think I can go out in public like this?!” “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be fine.” Despite being yelled at, Shizuku didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “We can call it square now, right? You’ve been picking on me nonstop, after all.” “You really think I deserved this?!” “Fine. I’ll give you my bouquet to make up for it.” Shizuku chucked the white flowers at him. Niké was taken aback, but ended up accepting it anyway. The fact that she’d innocently given it to him indicated that she probably didn’t know what Flower Rain Day was all about. “…Who gave you this?” asked Niké. “Huh? Willett did. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” “I see.” Why did Shizuku’s response come as a relief to him? Not wanting to dwell on it, Niké picked up his spell book and carried it under his arm, along with the flowers. He decided to go back to his room before anyone saw him, but as he turned on his heel, he heard the woman’s disconcertingly calm voice call out to him. “Hey. You protected Rio in the test, didn’t you?” “What are you talking about?” “If I’m wrong, then just forget it. Thanks.” Niké turned around to see that Shizuku was already walking away, waving at him over her shoulder. In that moment, it seemed to him as though she carried the weight of solitude on her small shoulders. She used to smile in a more charming way. Having that man beside her had reassured her, and it seemed as if she’d enjoyed every conversation they shared. There was no trace of that person left anymore. The abrupt shift in her surroundings and the constant stress of her current environment had changed her. To some extent, Niké was to blame for that. He was the one who’d told Ortea that she was the king of Farsas’s favorite. Niké understood the circumstances that had caused this inevitable change in Shizuku. He knew perfectly well how she’d struggled and how much hardship she’d been through during the month she’d spent with that child, as well as in the month since she’d lost her. Despite all that, Shizuku’s arrival had brought an end to those vile experiments and saved somebody. “I’m not going to apologize to that baby-faced woman.” The man ran his hand through his freshly cut hair. He let out a sigh, then continued making his way toward his room in the castle. From high up in his fourth-floor window, the king looked down at the now-empty garden. “What a sweet girl,” he said to himself, resting his chin in his palm. “I hope she’ll be able to support Ortea.” Beelhurse continued to lean on the window frame for a while, but he must have eventually gotten bored, because he stood up straight and disappeared into the room. It was ancient history now. The room was situated deep within the enemy-occupied building. It was an incredibly small, pitch-black room with no windows or lights. The first thing that greeted the man upon opening the door was the musty smell that lingered in the air. She must have noticed the light pour in, but the girl didn’t say a word. No crying could be heard, either, which almost made him think he’d gone to the wrong room. Eventually, though, his eyes adjusted to the light inside. He saw the girl and immediately fell to his knees. “Have you come to kill me?” she asked in a hoarse voice. He’d never expected her to say something like that. The man felt his voice catch in his throat, but before he had the chance to refute her question, the girl began to laugh. Her laughter echoed softly around the dark, enclosed room. She covered her mouth with her small hand as she continued to chuckle. Caught in the grip of that warped sound, the man found himself frozen in a deep sense of despair. Was he really too late? Seilené walked at an extremely deliberate pace. Noticing the step in front of them, Faneet wordlessly extended his hand, and she accepted it with a smile. Flowers of every color were blooming in the small, private courtyard. As Seilené strolled around, she held onto her hair, which fluttered in the breeze. “Thank you. This cheers me up.” “I’m happy to do something like this whenever you like. Just let me know.” Faneet’s response brought a serene smile to Seilené’s face. As Shizuku watched the pair converse from behind, she couldn’t help but feel they looked like a married couple. Even Faneet’s typically sour expression appeared to have softened. Caring for Seilené came incredibly naturally to him, and he treated her as cautiously as one would a fragile object. While Niké and Faneet were both Ortea’s close aides, the princess seemed to employ Niké’s help more frequently. This was presumably because Niké—a skilled mage who could use teleportation magic—could assess situations in foreign lands for her. Faneet and Ortea had apparently known each other for a long time, but being a swordsman with a somewhat inflexible personality, he sometimes got on the princess’s nerves. When Ortea came up with outrageous ideas, Faneet was usually the first person to try to put a stop to them, while Niké would readily accept her plans. Faneet was especially attentive toward Seilené and the child she was carrying, and he regularly admonished the bored princess for being so impatient. “Faneet doesn’t have feelings for Seilené, does he?” Shizuku murmured softly to herself. She’d noticed how he silently changed positions whenever the wind shifted, so that it wouldn’t blow directly on Seilené. And he’d even mentioned wanting the baby to be saved when he’d gone to Farsas to fetch Shizuku. Perhaps Faneet had a personal attachment to the noblewoman and her unborn child. All of this, however, was mere speculation. Shizuku shook her head and went to fetch some hot water for Seilené, who would be returning to her room very soon. Before stepping back inside the castle, she casually glanced back at the pair strolling through the flowers, side by side. They really do look good together. For some reason, that thought made Shizuku feel weird. “How do you teach someone to speak when they don’t have innate language?” “You repeatedly connect objects with their respective words. People use body language and gestures, so you can communicate that way, too. Gestures are another form of language.” Shizuku had revealed that she was from another world, but the princess didn’t seem to fully believe her. In fact, she still seemed about 70 percent skeptical. The reason for the other 30 percent that couldn’t dismiss her claim, however, was the book Shizuku had shown her. The book Shizuku had brought with her contained no letters that were used on the continent, despite it being printed. When the princess saw it, her expression had shifted. “Anyone could make up something like that, if they wanted to,” she’d remarked, shoving the book away—but there was no doubt Ortea’s worldview had been shaken. Furthermore, although several people had attempted to follow Shizuku’s method of educating children, they seemed unable to replicate her success, which contributed to Ortea’s uncertainty. Shizuku wasn’t trying to withhold her expertise, but it seemed the very concept of teaching a language confused the other adults. It would take them several hours to teach a child something that Shizuku could teach in no time at all. As a result, she had to juggle creating educational materials, teaching the children in person, and conducting training sessions for aspiring teachers all at the same time. Serving Ortea, however, took precedence over all of these roles. The princess had ordered her to look after Seilené, so she had to dedicate whatever free time she had left after that to her education work. As busy as her days were, Shizuku felt a certain satisfaction from the authority she’d been given. It came with the obligation of responding to Ortea’s occasional interrogations, but the princess’s questions were always straightforward and never annoying or offensive. “I understand that it’s a form of language, but isn’t there a limit to what you can express through gestures? What if someone learns a word incorrectly?” “We just patiently correct them. They’ll get it eventually.” “That sounds like an incredibly roundabout way of teaching somebody.” “Teaching people things is rarely straightforward, though, don’t you agree? That problem isn’t unique to language,” Shizuku replied. “Progress is progress, regardless of whether it’s linear or not. It’s not a problem.” If Ortea were as academically inclined as Erik, the fact that Shizuku was from a world with no innate vocabulary would have made her question why she was able to speak the continent’s language. As perceptive as Ortea was, however, she simply took Shizuku’s claim at face value. She seemed to believe Shizuku’s assertion that her world was “not much different from this continent,” indicating that she had difficulty questioning her preconceptions when it came to situations that strayed too far from what she knew. Shizuku found this surprising. Regardless of the similarities with Shizuku’s world, it was probably hard for people in this world to understand what made Shizuku so different, considering the concept of language barriers didn’t even exist here. Shizuku had been wanting to ask Faneet how much of her and Erik’s conversation about innate language he’d heard and what he thought about it. It wasn’t an easy topic to broach, and she hadn’t found the right moment yet. Faneet had done everything he could to locate the red book, which was possibly one of the interlopers’ cursed artifacts, but both the book and the woman who owned it seemed impossible to track down. When Shizuku heard that even Farsas’s investigators had failed to capture her, she found herself looking up to the heavens in despair. Although she was supposed to be talking to Ortea, Shizuku was engrossed by these thoughts, and she suddenly noticed the silence in the room and redirected her gaze. Ortea was giving her a piercing stare, making Shizuku think her tirade of questions had come to a halt—but she was wrong. “Are you sure your arrival wasn’t what caused this outbreak?” asked the princess. “It sounds like the outbreak started shortly before I arrived. And, in the first place, I don’t have the sort of strange powers necessary to trigger something like this. You examined me, remember?” Shizuku had undergone a thorough physical examination immediately after she started working for Kisk. It seemed like this was a regular part of the civil service exam, but Shizuku, having declared that she came from another world, had undergone an even more rigorous physical exam than was normal. The exam, however, produced the same conclusion as the one conducted in Farsas: Shizuku was just an ordinary human. Upon receiving this report, Ortea had instructed Shizuku, who’d been standing right in front of her, to show her her blood. Yet even when Shizuku cut her palm to show the princess that her blood ran red, Ortea merely frowned slightly and said nothing. Shizuku had been scared that the princess might lose interest in her if her body was normal, but she’d allowed Shizuku to live and treated her as a member of her staff. That was probably a sign that Ortea—like Lars—wasn’t entirely convinced. “Is there a possibility that killing you would suppress the outbreak?” Ortea asked. “I don’t know, but I doubt there’s any connection. When I first came to this world, I found myself in the Souit Desert in Tarys. The disease’s point of origin was farther west, though, wasn’t it?” “It seems so,” Ortea mused, contemplatively putting a finger to her chin. If Lars were in Ortea’s position, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Shizuku. Ortea, however, wanted to give Seilené’s unborn child the best upbringing possible. From her perspective, killing Shizuku wasn’t worth the risk. If Ortea were to eventually make that gamble, she’d do it when she was confident that she no longer needed Shizuku around. That said, Shizuku planned to escape from the castle before things reached that stage. “What did that man do with you?” Ortea asked. She didn’t mention his name, but she was clearly referring to Lars. Shizuku closed her eyes and forced a smile. “He tried to kill me. The princess scolded him for it, though.” A snort of laughter escaped Ortea, but Shizuku couldn’t be sure which emotion was behind it. Being royals, both Lars and Ortea possessed the same incomprehensible twisted nature. In Shizuku’s eyes, that effectively made them the same. After Shizuku left, Ortea called Niké in and listened to his brief report. “So assassinating the king of Farsas is a no-go?” she spat, making no effort to conceal her disdain. “I sincerely apologize,” Niké replied. “You fool. You never bring me any good news. But…never mind. My brother wants us to make it happen by any means necessary. Though even if our plan did succeed, it wouldn’t make things any more interesting.” Ortea flicked her pink-painted nails. The sound was quiet, but both of them could still hear it. Then she directed her nails toward Niké. “How is the situation in the Rosta region?” “The same as usual. Skirmishes occur all the time, but Tigor, the current lord of the region, is managing to keep them under control for now.” “Summon Tigor to the castle. Have his son rule over Rosta instead,” the princess commanded. “As you wish,” Niké replied simply. He’d known what Ortea was trying to do the moment she’d brought up Rosta. However, Niké knew that if he tried to inquire about the specifics or ask, “Why do you want to summon him?” he’d be reprimanded. So instead, he promptly left the princess’s room to carry out her orders. As he was walking down the long corridor, a dry chuckle escaped Niké’s lips. “A war, huh? I guess it only takes a moment to throw things off balance.” For Ortea, such changes were just another source of entertainment. A fleeting distraction to alleviate her boredom. Yet despite knowing this, the mage continued to do everything she asked of him. He stifled a sad smile. Making his way down the dim hallway, Niké felt as if the resentment left behind by people who’d lived similar lives to him was entrenched in every inch of those walls. “They’ve already failed twice. That’s probably a sign to give up.” Leuticia shrugged at her older brother’s offhand remark. While she wholeheartedly agreed with his point of view, she found it odd how little the idea of his own assassination fazed him. Danger was something that constantly followed the royal family, but there had been several other close calls following the desecration of the mausoleums—an incident triggered by a forbidden curse. She wished he’d take these threats more seriously, but she also knew that telling him so was pointless. She hoped he’d at least heed her warnings, even if she did have to repeat herself several times. “People think you’re an easy target because you don’t have a successor, Lars. And it doesn’t help matters that we’re the only direct descendants to the throne remaining,” she explained. “Even if I were to have a successor, protecting a child would be even more challenging. They’re so fragile.” “That’s no excuse not to have a successor, though.” Her argument was sound, and Lars evasively gazed up at the ceiling. Leuticia’s lectures often fell into one of two categories: extremely lengthy or very brief. On this occasion, Lars couldn’t tell which direction she was going in. He waited, dreading the former, but luckily her remonstrations stopped there. The king shifted his gaze back toward his sister. “So who do you think is behind this?” he asked. “It’s hard to say; they’ve been clever enough to use intermediaries. Still, considering their knowledge and the scope of their actions, it’s highly likely that the culprit is a mage.” “It’s either Gandona or Kisk, then.” “What makes you say that? Just a hunch?” “They’re the only other countries with mages that skilled. There’s Medial, too, but they have nothing to gain from killing me. It’s too far away.” “So it is a hunch, then.” “Yeah. A shot in the dark.” The next thing Lars knew, a wooden carving of a cat came hurtling toward him, and he caught it in one hand. Leuticia, having flung the figurine toward her brother with remarkable accuracy, gave him a disapproving look. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just me, but don’t let anyone else hear you say things like that. It could cause problems.” “I know, I know. I just wish it was easier to flush out the perpetrator.” “I’ll catch them next time,” Leuticia said, her lips curving into a callous smile. The glimmer of anger she exhibited made the king narrow his eyes at her. “Think you can win?” “Of course. No matter who they are, I’ll tear them to pieces with my own two hands.” His sister’s declaration brought a wry smile to Lars’s face. After all, she was one of the continent’s greatest mages. The undercurrents slowly stirring beneath the surface had begun to show themselves and make their mark on history. The buildings of Kisk Castle were laid out like the walls of a maze and interspersed with gardens. Shizuku had puzzled over why the castle was built this way, but it turned out that the other two unified countries had made substantial expansions to the castle when Kisk was first founded. After Yura explained this to her, Shizuku remarked, “They should have just built a new castle.” “Her Majesty the Queen didn’t want to leave this one,” Yura clarified with a sly grin. It sounded like Tryphina, the first queen of Kisk and a woman who’d married two princes, had been quite uncompromising. Shizuku turned the corner of the building, clutching a number of books in her arms. It was quicker to cross through one of the several courtyards to get to the library than to navigate through the building itself. However, immediately after rounding the second corner, she heard something hurtle through the air, followed by the sound of something smashing. When she turned around, Shizuku saw the remnants of what appeared to be a vase scattered across the ground. She bent to pick up the pieces. There was no sign of any flowers or water on the floor—just broken bits of ceramic. “That was a close one.” She could have died if the vase had hit her directly. Thanking her lucky stars, Shizuku looked up toward the higher floors of the building. She couldn’t see anyone at the open window on the third floor, but she could sense someone hiding there. It might be best to get away from here. Just as that thought ran through her mind, a hand reached out from inside the window—clutching another small vase. There was a stifled laugh. Taking that as a signal, the hand holding onto the vase let go. Shizuku dropped her heavy books and leaped backward, out of the way. It felt as though the weapon dropped on her had grazed her nose. “H-hey, watch out!” she yelled. Condemnation filled her voice, yet she heard no word of apology. That wasn’t surprising, though—they were doing it on purpose. Avoiding the spot directly beneath the window, Shizuku pondered how to retrieve the books she’d dropped. This wasn’t the first time an invisible wrongdoer had pestered her. According to Faneet, the mages who’d had their unsuccessful experiments interrupted harbored a grudge against her. “How petty!” Shizuku had blurted out upon hearing this. If someone had overheard her reaction, though, it would have only made the harassment worse. When Shizuku learned that it wasn’t the princess but the mages who disliked her who’d insisted she not be allowed to see Rio again after the test, she’d been more horrified than angry. While she’d never been targeted so directly before, by now Shizuku had been subjected to all sorts of aggravations including having suspicious parcels sent to her room and strange rumors circulating about her. “It happens to me all the time,” Niké had said with an unbothered look. “But I fight back.” This suggested that such treatment was a natural part of working for the princess. At least, Shizuku hoped that was all there was to it. She would be deeply offended if she were grouped with Niké for any reason other than their direct service to the princess. “I guess it’s on me to pick up these pieces, too? How infuriating,” Shizuku muttered as she cautiously approached the shattered vase. Just then, a voice from behind attempted to stop her. “It’s dangerous. I’ll pick them up for you.” A man walked in front of her, then bent and started gathering her books spread out on the ground. For a moment, this unexpected assistance left Shizuku dumbstruck—but once she’d returned to her senses, she hurried over and picked up the rest. The man put together the books he’d picked up and returned them to her. “Here you go. Are they okay like this?” he said. “Th-thank you so much!” From the front, he appeared exceptionally well-dressed. He must have been in his mid-thirties and looked to be a gentle and refined man of status. Shizuku felt grateful for his help, yet wary at the same time. She wasn’t very fond of nobles, likely due to the ideas Erik had implanted in her, and wanted to avoid any involvement with them, if possible. The man noticed Shizuku looking around restlessly even after receiving her books and cocked his head in confusion. “Is something the matter? Are you missing one?” “Oh, no. I was just wondering if there was a broom around…” “Ah, were you planning on cleaning this up? You weren’t the one who broke the vases, were you?” “Well, no. But still…” “Just leave it be. The cleaning staff will come by eventually.” The man’s assertion was oddly forceful. Shizuku made an ambivalent, uncomfortable expression. Regardless of what the man said, Shizuku found the idea of abandoning the scene extremely unsettling. Was it really okay for her to just leave it like this? As if having read her mind, the man glanced up at the still-open window and chuckled. “You don’t have to clean everything up yourself; that’s what the cleaners are paid to do, after all. When they discover these suspicious broken fragments, they’ll report it to their superiors, and the subsequent investigation will determine who dropped what, and from which window. If the object turns out to be castle property, the likely culprit will be given a warning. It’s sometimes necessary for matters to be dealt with in such a way. You understand that, don’t you?” The man seemed to know that Shizuku was being harassed, and he was basically telling her not to hide it. Shizuku felt like she was the one being given a warning, never mind the culprit. After thinking things over for a moment, she bowed. “…I’m sorry.” “It’s no problem. Anyway, I assume that you’re in a hurry since you were taking a shortcut. Don’t let me keep you.” The man pointed in the direction of the library, and Shizuku bowed to him repeatedly before leaving. She’d thought that making a fuss about the harassment would only please the perpetrators, so she’d been ignoring it. From the castle’s perspective, though, that probably wasn’t the best response. Given how things had escalated, Shizuku decided that she’d report the next incident to her superiors. Bizarrely, however, the harassment came to a stop right then and there. No one in the castle considered Yura to be anything but diligent. She was always rushing around the castle, attending to not only her primary duties but also extra tasks she stumbled upon by chance. Since she always seemed to be in the middle of some kind of job, Shizuku barely ever saw her in the break room. That day, though, was an exception. When Yura spotted Shizuku, she quickly moved past pleasantries. “Shizuku, about those scissors…” “Oh, thanks so much for lending them to me. It was a big help,” Shizuku replied. “No, that’s fine. I was just wondering…” “Yes, I used them to cut Niké’s hair.” “I knew it.” It seemed like the news of Niké’s new hairstyle had spread like wildfire among the court ladies. The orders he received from Ortea meant that he was away regularly, so spotting him inside the castle was a rarity—despite this, everyone seemed to be talking about it. Shizuku was delighted to hear all the gossip, knowing that Niké would be furious if he caught wind of it himself. “I think it really suits him. Don’t you think that fresh new look helps hide how sly he really is?” “Shizuku…didn’t you get scolded for that?” “He got mad at me, yes, but the princess just found it funny.” One time, when Shizuku went to report to the princess, Ortea had asked her whether she was the one who’d cut Niké’s hair. When Shizuku said yes, the princess had roared with laughter, her face hidden behind her fan—a very unusual sight. Nevertheless, it sounded like most of the women had a favorable opinion of Niké’s new hairstyle. Was Yura the exception? She was giving Shizuku a stern look. Shizuku didn’t care what Niké thought, but perhaps it was best to apologize to Yura. After all, she’d been the one to lend Shizuku the scissors. Shizuku went to bow, but before she had the chance to say anything, Yura slowly began to speak. “Please be more careful, Shizuku. He’s already put you in danger several times, hasn’t he?” “H-he has?” “Yes! Mages are dangerous! It’s careless to let yourself be alone with him!” “But I thought we were colleagues…” “You’re so naive!” “I’m sorry!” said Shizuku. Despite apologizing, she didn’t really understand what Yura meant. Nevertheless, the other woman kept talking. “The same goes for Faneet. It’s unavoidable when you have to work together, but you shouldn’t let your guard down any more than you need to. You never know what’s going to happen. If you ever find yourself in trouble, just let me know. I’ll beat whoever’s troubling you to a pulp… Got it?” “G-got it,” replied Shizuku, standing up straight. Yura gave a satisfied smile, then excused herself and strode out of the break room. In contrast to her typically serene demeanor, Yura had been acting remarkably tempestuous. “You’ll beat them to a pulp…? How are you going to do that, Yura…?” Shizuku muttered to herself, astonished. Both Niké and Faneet were competent individuals, and Yura was just a court lady. What could she have up her sleeve? A vision of Yura brandishing a meat cleaver came to mind, but Shizuku shuddered and shrugged off the thought. “Hey, baby-face.” Shizuku was in the vicinity of the princess’s room when the mage called out to her in the corridor. She stared intently at him. “To a pulp…” “Huh? What’s the matter?” Niké asked. “Oh, nothing. Anyway, what’s this?” Shizuku asked him, looking at the papers he’d handed her. The man looked visibly displeased. “Can’t you tell by looking at it? You wanted to know what that Aetea adherent claimed when he experimented on that child. This is the thesis he submitted.” “Oh! I didn’t know you had something like that.” “It seems like it was mixed with his initial petition to the princess. I found it when I was sorting through some documents.” It had completely slipped Shizuku’s mind, but the theory that innate vocabulary wasn’t always fixed had caught her interest when she’d been helping Rio study for her test. “Thank you—but these papers might be tricky for me.” “Huh? You’ll understand them. I know you’re young, but you are an educator, aren’t you?” “I—I might not understand most of it… Do you?” To be precise, it wasn’t that Shizuku couldn’t understand the documents but that she was unable to read them. However, since Niké wasn’t aware of her origins, she couldn’t afford to divulge any more information than necessary. If he skimmed through the material, perhaps he could give her the key points. As Shizuku contemplated how to ask for his help, she glanced up at Niké—only to find him glaring at her with disgust in his eyes. “There really isn’t much going on in that head of yours, is there? When I get back, I’ll explain it to you. Until then, just look over the parts you can understand.” “Huh? You’re going somewhere?” “I’ll be away from the castle for a while,” he told her. It was normal for Niké to be absent from the castle, so Shizuku nodded, opting not to probe further. He was probably up to no good, but there was no point asking him about it. Even if Shizuku pressed the princess, her master, for answers, she probably wouldn’t tell her the truth. “You always get the troublesome tasks, don’t you? Like with Lyshien—” Shizuku began, only to receive a sharp tap on her forehead. “Do not speak that name. As far as anyone is concerned, I failed to locate the princess of Anneli,” Niké interjected sharply. “Oh…” In other words, Niké had decided not to tell the princess that he’d let Lyshien get away. He’d likely done so out of sympathy for the young girl’s circumstances. After all, she had lived the life of a prisoner. Shizuku had mixed feelings about this, but she pushed them from her mind. “The princess must have been really angry… Thank you.” “She wasn’t. I had a substitute.” “A substitute?” Shizuku asked, momentarily confused by what the man was talking about. Niké frowned at her. “It’s nothing you need to know about. Anyway, I’d better get going.” “Oh, sure. Try not to get beaten to a pulp, okay?” “What an ominous way of saying good-bye.” With that, Niké left. Shizuku watched him walk away, then went back to her work. That evening in her room, Shizuku tried to decipher the thesis she’d been given with the help of a dictionary. However, extracting words she recognized from the huge number of sentences didn’t help her grasp its meaning. Shizuku had already given up on starting at the beginning and picked out several words that were written in bold. “God… Ludia, the god’s wife, words, books, records, immigrants, god-given, mysterious, continent, dialect, understanding…” The words were like pieces of a puzzle that wouldn’t join together. Dictionary in hand, Shizuku struggled over the words until late into the night, but ultimately, she gave up and went to bed. For the first time in a long while, Shizuku dreamed of standing in front of three books. The navy-blue book she’d picked up told the story of the woman involved in the founding of Kisk. The life of the queen, tainted by deceit and self-sacrifice, wasn’t confined by only the complex structure of her castle but also by the sentiments of several other entwined individuals. Tryphina—the woman who’d had two husbands and given birth to a new royal lineage—had had an incredibly lonely existence shrouded in secrecy, like a labyrinth with no way out. Kisk was known for being a country in constant conflict, especially within the Rosta region. This turmoil had begun sixty years earlier when Farsas, ruled by the disgraced king Dysral, had conquered the neighboring nation of Casola. The king of Kisk at the time had generously welcomed refugees from Casola, allowing them to settle in the Rosta region. This had all been a part of his strategy to claim Casola’s territory for himself. However, within a year, Farsas—which had a new king by then—was already helping Casola rebuild. Kisk’s plans had gone awry, as it was no longer able to justify its intervention in the matter, and the nation encouraged the many Casola refugees to return home. Yet the refugees refused to leave, having braved the war to reach their neighboring country. It was the original inhabitants of the Rosta region who were most aggrieved, though. The kingdom had assured them that Casola would soon be captured and promised them special privileges upon its acquisition. However, far from receiving those promised privileges, the original inhabitants had to share even their lands with the refugees—leading them to direct their anger toward Kisk. The people appealed directly to the king, but he ignored their complaints as there was a chance that Farsas would intervene if the refugees were expelled. Instead, he decided to build a town near the border for the former citizens of Casola, effectively isolating them from the rest of the populace. The king was probably thinking tactically, hoping that living close to the border would eventually encourage them to return to their homeland. Yet even sixty years later, they hadn’t gone back and had maintained close trade links with their motherland, which was under Farsas’s dominion. No matter how many years went by, the view that the Rosta region’s original habitants held regarding the refugees didn’t become any more positive. “Tigor hasn’t been blessed with the most reliable of successors.” Niké had pieced together the various pieces of information he’d purchased from informants with the fruits of his own research, and he let out a laugh. For over two decades, Tigor, the lord of the Rosta region, had skillfully managed to keep the inhabitants of his region at bay, despite their conflicting views. However, merely a week after he had been unexpectedly summoned to the castle, the region he’d left behind had descended into chaos. Tigor’s son, who was now the acting lord, seemed oblivious to how precarious the situation in his region truly was. Overjoyed that his troublesome father was out of the picture, he had ignored the complaints of his subjects and reveled in his newfound freedom. Yet numerous issues were already beginning to arise as a result. A derisive smile appeared on Niké’s face. “Still, it would be a problem if he was competent. The princess wants flames to rise from these embers.” Selecting a few pieces of information, Niké began to manipulate them to further fan the flames of discord. The dispute between the inhabitants of the Rosta region was on the verge of developing into something even bloodier. A conflict between the population of what had once been Casola, before Farsas took over, and the people of Kisk was looming in the not-too-distant future. Seilené said she wanted to take a brief nap, so Shizuku left her room. As she was making her way back, however, a man called out to her and stopped her in her tracks. “Hey, you over there!” he shouted from a distance. Shizuku stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment. The man appeared to be about her father’s age, with a few specks of grey running through his brown hair. He was dressed in extravagant clothing that made it immediately obvious he was a nobleman, yet the panicked manner in which he ran to Shizuku didn’t seem to fit with his smart appearance. He gently grabbed her by the shoulders. “Is it true that you’re a close aide to Her Highness?” “I work for her, but I’m not sure I’d call myself a ‘close aide.’” “I must meet with her! Tell her it’s Tigor, and she’ll understand. Please, go and speak to her at once!” Shizuku didn’t have the authority to get someone an audience with the princess. Ortea seemed to be more adept at governance than her brother, so she must play a role in most of the kingdom’s affairs, yet she rarely left her private chambers. Magistrates visited the princess with documents in hand a few times a day, but Shizuku wasn’t involved in any of that. “I doubt I can be of any help,” Shizuku told the man. “You can put in a good word for me, though, can’t you? Some magistrates have told me they’d act as an intermediary, but they don’t follow up on their promises. I beg you! My people’s lives are at stake! War could break out if we’re not careful. Can you tell the princess that Tigor wants to speak with her?” The way the man was grasping her shoulders and the gravity of his plea left Shizuku speechless. Just what was going on? She was confused, but after explaining that passing on the message was the best she could do, Shizuku ultimately agreed to the man’s request. “So this man named Tigor wishes to speak with you.” “I refuse.” Ortea dismissed the idea instantly. “I thought as much,” Shizuku wanted to retort, but the princess’s expression caught her off-guard, making her frown. Usually, Ortea would turn down any inconvenient requests with a bitter look on her face—yet today was different. The corners of her mouth were curled upward in what looked like a contemptuous smile. Maybe she’s carrying out another cruel plan. “Why don’t you just meet with him very briefly? It sounds like the lives of his people are in danger.” “Didn’t you hear me say ‘I refuse’?” “I did. But you wouldn’t want a war to break out, would you?” Ortea let out a snicker. Her beautiful smile was filled with confidence. Shizuku’s eyes widened slightly. “…You’re not doing this on purpose, are you?” “Doing what?” “Are you refusing to meet with him because there could be a war?” Shizuku didn’t know why she’d leaped to that conclusion, but she was convinced she was right. Ortea knew what was happening, yet she still wouldn’t meet with Tigor. There was no way the magistrates would ignore Tigor, having heard that lives were on the line. It wasn’t that they’d disregarded him—his pleas had reached the princess, after all. “Isn’t there anything we can do? There’s nothing more important than stopping a war, right?” “Didn’t you have wars in your world?” “We did, but I never experienced one personally.” “Then sit back and enjoy. You’ll get to see a side to people you’ve never witnessed before.” “Huh?” Shizuku was completely taken aback, but Ortea just cackled with laughter, her bewitching voice echoing around the room. When Shizuku eventually came back to her senses, she lowered her tone. “Do you enjoy seeing people die in vain? That’s depraved.” “War is unavoidable,” the princess argued back. “Sometimes, a little war’s all you need to fix things.” “Then why don’t you tell that to Tigor’s face? You can tell him you’re sacrificing his people for the greater good.” As soon as Shizuku finished speaking, she felt red liquid splash against her face, making her close her eyes. Something cold slid down her cheek, and when she wiped it off with her hand, the sweet smell of liquor invaded her nasal passages. She glared at the princess, who’d thrown the contents of her cup at her. “What a waste of alcohol. Argue your point verbally before resorting to those sorts of tactics.” “Don’t get too big for your boots, girl.” “I understand what you’re trying to say, but it’s part of a retainer’s job to offer sound advice. If you don’t like it, you can disregard it.” Shizuku knew she was acting grouchy, but she couldn’t suppress her emotions quickly enough. Ortea seemed equally displeased, but Shizuku faced her anger head-on. She didn’t know what went through the head of a ruler. She couldn’t understand their struggles. There may have been times when war truly was unavoidable, but to revel in the reality of it—not as a bluff or to put up a strong front—you’d have to be truly corrupt. Shizuku looked down at the princess, incensed. “If it’s for the greater good, at least have the decency to explain that to the lord,” she said. “Sacrificing the people of your nation in silence will only invite distrust. Continue down this path, and the foundation of trust you stand on will crumble away.” Shizuku’s lecture to the princess was as uptight as an elder might give, yet it also bore the idealism of a student’s grievances. Ortea’s mouth twisted into a cynical smile, and a barbed voice began to crawl from her red lips. “I could explain, but he wouldn’t understand. It would merely result in him tiresomely squawking at me, just like you’re doing now. Also, you seem to be mistaken about something: The relationship between the royal family and their people is not built on mutual trust, but it’s one of convenience where both parties leech off one another.” “They leech off one another? That’s an exaggeration. It’s only natural that people want to rely on the kingdom in times of need.” Ortea was always blunt, but on this occasion, her words sounded particularly spiteful. Shizuku’s admonition made the princess raise her eyebrows. “You say they want to rely on the kingdom? These people act like they should be protected, only to betray their country for their own gain. They scream about how weak they are, then take our sacrifices for granted. What kind of relationship can we possibly build with such people?” Her master’s uncharacteristically emotional tone of voice made Shizuku frown. “That only counts for part of the population, though. Not everyone is like that.” “Don’t make me laugh. Who is this ‘everyone’ you speak of? How much do you really know about the people of this country?” “Well…,” Shizuku began, but when she caught sight of Ortea’s amber eyes, she was left speechless. At some point, indignation had surfaced in them—the indignation of someone who’d been hurt. Her master looked as though she was moments away from descending into a fury, yet her beautiful face looked almost pitiful. “The more a person blends into the masses, the more oblivious they become of their own actions. They believe any deed is justifiable, as long as it’s ‘for the good of everyone.’ All the while, they pretend to be distressed by their choices. They feign ignorance and virtue—” Ortea had begun to raise her voice, but she cut herself off as soon as she noticed it. The light of reason swiftly returned to her eyes. She looked at Shizuku, who stood there utterly dumbfounded, and erased all expression from her face. Holding her fan, Ortea rose from the chaise longue. “I don’t care how complacent the country you come from is, Shizuku. Just don’t brandish your baseless delusions in front of me. They’re an eyesore.” “Princess, wait—” Ortea turned on her heel and disappeared into the bedroom at the back of the room. The door slammed shut. Shizuku simply stared at the pale gray door, an anomaly among the other red-hued furnishings. You couldn’t redeem yourself by burning bridges. Nor could you make up for a lack of understanding. And yet Shizuku’s final glimpse of the princess as she scuttled away had seemed to emit both a sense of resolute arrogance and a hint of dejection. Shizuku gritted her teeth, having been left with a bitter taste in her mouth. After leaving Ortea’s room, Shizuku made her way through the courtyard toward her own chambers. The smell of the wine that had been thrown in her face was stronger than she’d expected, which put her off the idea of traversing the indoor corridors. Shizuku untangled her alcohol-drenched hair as she cut across the garden, when suddenly she heard a familiar voice. “It looks like someone got you good,” said the man who’d picked up Shizuku’s books a few days prior. Shizuku’s shoulders drooped slightly. “I wouldn’t say that. In fact…I think I was the one who pushed the princess’s buttons.” Shizuku wasn’t entirely certain what she’d done wrong, but Ortea’s behavior had clearly been abnormal. She felt guilty, as though she’d touched on a sore point. Up until then, Ortea had been nothing more than a cruel member of the royal family, but now, for the first time, Shizuku had seen a different side to the princess. She stifled a sigh, unsure of her own feelings. The man chuckled at her from where he sat on a bench. “Ortea has a fiery temper. She must be hard to handle.” “Huh…?” His words were kind and sympathetic, but the fact that the man referred to the princess by her first name made Shizuku shudder. Everyone in the castle avoided referring to the princess by name. They usually called her “Her Highness” instead. There was only one person who could possibly be on a first-name basis with her. In blank amazement, Shizuku turned toward the man. “You’re not…His Majesty, are you?” “That’s right. My name’s Beelhurse.” This man was undoubtedly the king of the country—Ortea’s half-brother, sixteen years her senior. Shizuku, who was currently in the employ of the nation of Kisk, hurriedly knelt on the grass. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. Please forgive my lack of decorum…” “It’s fine. Not everyone knows what I look like, after all. And besides, I was hoping to converse with you as equals. Just think of me as Ortea’s big brother.” Surprised, Shizuku looked up to find the king smiling gently at her. He gestured to the seat next to him on the bench. “Why don’t you sit here?” “O-okay…” Shizuku gingerly sat down beside him, leaving a space between them. She tied her hair back into a tight ponytail to prevent the smell of alcohol from drifting through the air. Beelhurse seemed relaxed as he continued the conversation. “I heard that Ortea had a girl her age working for her and wondered what you were like. It’s rare that someone has the guts to lash out at my sister nowadays.” “…I apologize for that.” “What do you think of her? Somewhat of an enigma, isn’t she? Have you run out of patience with her yet?” It momentarily upset Shizuku to hear a family member talk about the princess like that, but she quickly shook her head.