Rose had received a proposal. Since the emperor had only announced his intentions without sending a formal proposal yet, hers was effectively the first proposal to be accepted.

Maron, the librarian of the annex, turned out to be more proactive than he initially appeared. Though he had seemed hesitant at first, once their relationship began, he became surprisingly assertive. His proposal was the natural result of this boldness.

“Rose, are you getting married?”

“Later.”

“Later when?”

“After Her Highness finds her match.”

Rose’s response to her boyfriend’s proposal was a conditional acceptance, as revealed in their conversation. She was too concerned about Riela to leave her side first. Though disappointed, Maron respected her decision.

And then, one more event shocked Mail just as much as Rose’s engagement — perhaps even more so.

Gerton Melgum sent a love letter to Telia.

“Wait… So, um, a namesake?”

“No, it’s him — the man himself.”

“Oh my goodness.”

The letter declared that she was the first woman to treat him so consistently as less than dirt, and that he had fallen for her with a fateful, passionate love. For reference, Telia immediately read the letter and proceeded to curse out loud in extreme terms.

Naturally, the social circles were abuzz with this incident. It wasn’t just a simple confession. The infamous bachelor, Count Casanova—renowned for his womanizing ways—had professed his love to none other than a Marchioness. And not just any Marchioness—the Marchioness of Cyclamin. Public opinion was unanimous: What kind of lunatic courts a married woman?!

Moreover, it wasn’t just any married woman. The Marchioness of Cyclamin was widely known to be cherished by her husband, a fact that even the least-informed person in society was aware of. Some speculated that the count, disillusioned with life, had devised a peculiar method of s*icide.

So, what became of Gerton? To cut to the chase, he fortunately (?) survived. And he survived only to retire to a rural life.

The Marquis of Cyclamin spared his life after securing a firm promise from the former Count of Melgum that Gerton would never set foot in the capital again. If, by any chance, Gerton ever secretly returned to the city, that day would mark the anniversary of his death.

Hearing about Gerton’s ultimate fate—banished to the countryside—Mail earnestly reflected on herself. Specifically, she pondered over her peculiar constitution.

In the past, Mail’s fiancé had eloped with the tutor who had disciplined him most harshly. And now, Gerton, who had once flirted with Mail at a banquet, confessed that he had fallen in love with Telia because she had treated him so condescendingly.

“…Do I have some kind of magnet for perverts?”

Not just any perverts, but a very particular type. Mail’s concerns were serious.

In any case, after all the sinners had paid for their crimes and disappeared, her days returned to peace. They were tranquil, serene, and the occasional incidents—like Gerton’s confession—provided just enough surprise and amusement to be entertaining.

Amid this uneventful routine, Mail found herself returning to the garden after a long while. Adding joy to her happiness, the experience felt much more fulfilling. Her plant friends, whom she had not seen for a while, seemed to dance—not a mere illusion, but as though they were truly swaying in celebration. A deep sense of contentment filled her.

That night, falling asleep earlier than usual, Mail encountered a nightmare she thought she’d never revisit.

And she saw the final scene of that nightmare.

***

The Kingdom of Belthier rarely had overcast skies.

That day, too, the sky was clear.

“Hmm… Is it morning already?”

She squirmed in bed, rubbing her eyes. Though she could get up on her own without anyone waking her, the only daughter of the Duke of Vizeat occasionally waited for her nanny to come in, just to indulge in a bit of pampering. The nanny chuckled at her rare display of childishness.

“If you don’t get ready soon, you’ll be late for breakfast.”

“Are there guests today? Who was it again?”

“Count Analarzum.”

“Oh.”

Mail idly watched as her nanny folded the blanket and soon nodded, recalling the name. Count Analarzum—a man said to be so secretive that he refused to answer any question. She also remembered why her father had invited him, and a frown crept onto her face.

“Ugh, so the day has finally come.”

“It’s just a brief meeting. If you don’t like him, you can be honest about it. The Count wouldn’t force you.”

“But I can’t keep rejecting everyone forever.”

“Well, that’s true.”

Pouting her cheeks, Mail sat up in bed. A maid approached to help her change and comb her hair. While waiting for her washing water, Mail lamented, as she often did, about the kingdom’s unwillingness to legalize marriage to one’s garden.

“You know, nanny, I think the only thing that can make my frozen heart beat is plants.”

“What nonsense.”

“I’m serious.”

“Anyway, which dress will you wear? The one on the right?”

“No, the left.”

The preparations didn’t take long. If the nanny had a favorite saying, it was, “The finishing touch to any outfit is the face.” With her father’s balanced, harmonious features, Mail’s natural beauty stood out even without elaborate makeup or adornments.

Whenever the nanny dressed Mail, she often recalled the heyday of the Duke of Vizeat, who had made waves in society purely on his good looks.

“As always… In my eyes, you’re the most beautiful lady in the kingdom. Truly.”

“Wow. Thank you, but nanny, please don’t say that at the palace. They’ll arrest you.”

“Hoho, I know better than that.”

After exchanging lighthearted banter, they descended the stairs. As the dining room drew closer, the scent of something savory wafted through the air. Since it was a breakfast with guests, Cook must have been up since dawn. I should thank him for his hard work, Mail thought, just as she arrived at the dining room.

“…Mail.”

She realized something was wrong the moment she entered. More precisely, the moment her eyes met her father’s.

“Father?”

“A letter has arrived…”

Mail swore she hadn’t seen her father make such an expression in recent memory. No, even broadening the timeline to several years, she’d never seen him look like this.

The duke threw the letter aside with a frustrated gesture and hurried toward her. His steps were unusually rushed.

“What’s wrong? What about Count Analarzum?”

“He’s not coming. No, he can’t come.”

“Why…?”

“Mail, pack your things. Right now. Only the bare essentials.”

“Father, what are you—”

“There’s no time to explain in detail. I’ll tell you one thing: the Empire’s army is marching toward Belthier.”

“…What?”

“It’s war. If war… can even be established, that is.”

The duke said this and quickly urged Mail to head upstairs. Stunned, Mail began packing her belongings as instructed, still trying to process the situation. She couldn’t fully grasp what was happening.

The Empire? If it was an empire, it must mean Helvern. But why would Helvern’s army suddenly…?

Even amidst her confusion, her hands moved steadily, gathering what was necessary. This wasn’t the time for hesitation—she couldn’t be a burden. When Mail finished her frantic preparations, she realized something shocking: her father wasn’t coming with her in the carriage.

“I’ve spoken to the coachman. Head south. I’ve already sent word to the Count’s estate, your maternal relatives.”

“What about you, Father?”

“When this is resolved, I’ll contact you first.”

“Father—”

“It’ll be fine. The imperial forces are advancing from the north. They won’t reach as far as the southernmost lands of the Count.”

“Father!”

“Leave now. Viscountess, I entrust Mail to your care.”

The Viscountess, who was also Mail’s nanny, nodded solemnly. Following the duke’s orders, the carriage set off. Watching her father and the mansion fade into the distance, Mail felt as though everything was a dream or a lie.

But the real lie hadn’t even begun.

Mail realized this upon arriving in the southern region.

Neighhh!

“By His Majesty’s orders, wipe them all out!”

“P-please spare me— Aghhh!”

“Leave no one alive! Not even an ant! No prisoners—k*ll them all!”

“Arghhh!”

It was chaos. No other word fit as well. The sound of horses crying was eerie, like the wailing of death itself, more chilling than anything Mail had ever heard. The nanny stopped Mail repeatedly from looking back.

Fleeing on foot after abandoning the carriage, Mail pieced together why the south had fallen into such devastation. The emperor had split his army into two forces. The situation in the capital was likely no different from here. When Mail heard the news, it left her breathless.

The emperor himself was leading the army. He had marched from the empire to personally crush the kingdom underfoot.

Why? Why would the emperor do this? Even as Mail ran until her throat felt dry, she couldn’t fathom why a ruler she had never even seen would do something so heinous.

The reason became clear when she arrived at the lord’s castle, having nowhere else to turn.

“What… What is this madness?!”