“Do you have a particular book in mind?”

“Hmm…”

“Or a theme you’d like?”

“A novel with a blonde princess as the heroine.”

Riela, herself a blonde princess, made the request confidently, without a hint of embarrassment. Mail thought it was a choice very fitting of Riela and called over a nearby librarian.

“Do you need assistance with anything?”

“We’re looking for a specific book. Could I ask for your help?”

“Of course. Which book?”

Mail relayed Riela’s exact conditions to the librarian. While it felt slightly inconsiderate to ask for a book based solely on such vague criteria, at least it was better than asking for “something fun to read.”

After thanking the librarian in advance, Mail picked a book for herself nearby.

‘Since we’re here, maybe I’ll choose one to read as well.’

Mail didn’t read often but wasn’t a rare reader either—she was fairly average. Her reading frequency probably matched that of most people.

However, the difference lay in the type of books she chose. Possessing a rather dry sensibility, she felt no particular emotions toward stories of love, jealousy, or happiness.

In other words, she didn’t read romance novels. Mail’s only criteria when picking a book was one keyword: gardens.

“Oh, there it is.”

Mail’s eyes sparkled as she found her preferred keyword. The title in gold lettering on the black cover stood out even among the other tightly packed books.

Though it was shelved slightly high, Mail, being a bit taller than average, had no trouble reaching it by going on tiptoe. Just as she took the book in hand, Riela bounced over, apparently having found her book as well.

“Let’s go.”

“You found it faster than expected? Oh, you picked three volumes?”

“It’s a trilogy.”

The three-volume set was being carried by the librarian rather than Riela. Glancing at the title, Mail saw that it read ‘The Princess, the Knight, the Prince, the Dark Lord, and the Dragon’—a title that already hinted at the plot.

Mail borrowed the book under Riela’s name—a privilege given to candidates for free use of the library—and they returned to their quarters with the books in hand.

Since finding their way back was easy, they didn’t need a guide. Mail led the way, with Riela, who was terrible with directions, trailing lightly behind. They arrived just as quickly as before.

Apparently, Riela hadn’t exaggerated her boredom, as she immediately sat in a chair and opened her book upon reaching her room.

After reading a few pages, she peeked up at Mail, her gaze implying, “Aren’t you going to read?” Preparing to take a quick nap, Mail was in the middle of changing clothes and gave a brief answer. “I’ll read it tomorrow.”

Once she’d changed completely, Mail called for a maid and requested a warm cup of tea. Not blessed with the ability to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, she needed a cup of tea to warm herself up before bed.

“Here is the tea you requested…”

“Oh, thank you.”

Mail felt tired. Having walked around a large area that morning, dealt with Ormil, and then visited the library, her fatigue was understandable.

Being so worn out, she didn’t notice the maid’s slight hesitation mid-sentence or wonder why. She also failed to notice the maid’s momentary expression of surprise upon reading the title of the book on her vanity.

***

Ormil’s attempts to stir up trouble in Mail’s day had amounted to nothing more than efforts. She threw down the gauntlet to disrupt her peace, only to fail miserably.

Enraged at her own blunder, she exploded.

“That wretched girl! Worthless creature!”

“Ack!”

It was an utter failure, the kind not often seen. It wasn’t as if she had randomly picked a fight; she had gone out of her way to set the scene and make her foe miserable.

After inviting her opponent to a carefully prepared setting, every plan she’d arranged ended up failing, and she suffered a devastating counterattack. If she weren’t furious enough to lose control, it wouldn’t be Ormil but someone else entirely.

Biting her lip, Ormil swung the whip in her hand with full force.

“You stupid girl!”

*Whack!*

“Aaagh!”

Her anger rose to the top of her head, but the true culprit was absent. So where would her directionless rage go? At herself for crafting such a poor plan from the start? At her own reckless decision to invite her opponent with shoddy preparations? Or at her sheer lack of intelligence?

Unfortunately, such introspection only belonged to people with a decent mindset. Ormil’s twisted anger found its way to her personal maid, who had done nothing wrong.

“If only you’d done your job properly!”

All Ormil had tasked her maid Amy with was to bring Mail to her room. Beyond that, there were no further orders. Amy had performed her role impeccably.

Which meant she had absolutely no reason to be scolded or whipped like this.

Ormil was simply taking out her frustration on Amy.

“Pathetic creature…hah, I should never have brought you from the kingdom.” She tossed the whip aside and muttered to herself, her breaths heavy. Amy lay facedown, her back covered in torn fabric, hands trembling against the floor.

Amy was a commoner, with neither wealth nor a family of status. She couldn’t even open her mouth in protest against such treatment.

In fact, Ormil had specifically chosen Amy to accompany her to the Empire precisely because she was an easy target for venting her frustrations.

Exhausted from the whipping, Ormil slumped onto her bed and tossed the whip aside. After catching her breath, she spoke up.

“Amy.”

“Yes…yes, my lady.”

“There must be a way to fix this, isn’t there?”

“…Pardon?”

Amy failed to understand immediately, and Ormil reached for the glass on the side table. She picked it up and threw it directly at Amy.

*Crash!* The glass narrowly missed her, shattering against the wall with a sharp sound. Amy, sobbing, let out a hiccup.

“There’s a way to fix this, isn’t there?”

“Yes, y-yes. There is a way. I’ll think of something.”

Bowing her head, Amy answered earnestly, and Ormil finally stretched her red lips into a satisfied smile.

Her sky-blue eyes, praised since childhood for their beauty, gleamed with malice.

‘Do you think I’ll let this slide? Just wait.’

Mail once thought Ormil had traded her brain for boldness. But, in truth, Ormil had exchanged it not only for her daring lack of fear toward Rose but also for surprising tenacity. It only showed in undesirable circumstances, though.

‘I won’t let it go. Not ever!’

Despite suffering repeatedly, Ormil still didn’t know the meaning of giving up. Meanwhile, Amy lay trembling on the floor, now forced to think of ways to hurt others on her mistress’s behalf.

***

The day after visiting the library was entirely peaceful. Mail woke up from a pleasant nap, enjoyed a fulfilling dinner in her quarters, took a bath, received a brief massage, shared some of the dessert ordered by Riela, and then went to bed.

The next morning, Mail thought, how delightful.

‘I wish it would stay like this until I return to my homeland.’

Pouring water into the cup on the table, she estimated the remaining days.

With the size of the selection process and the number of candidates, each round would likely take about a week to ten days. If it was a week, then there were roughly four days left until the first selection.

If luck favored her, she could go home then. If not, she might have to stay another week or ten days.

Mail drank half the water in one gulp and quietly wished for Ormil’s elimination. It would be ideal if she caused a big enough incident to be kicked out on her own.

‘Alright, let’s stay positive. I’ll be going home soon. Should I have breakfast or lunch in the garden from now on?’

The thought struck her. Once she left the Empire, she would no longer see the garden she now frequented. It would be a real shame to leave without fully enjoying it.

She quickly made up her mind.

“Oh, you’re here again. Shall I prepare a basket for you as usual?” The head chef greeted her, growing familiar with her third visit. Mail returned his greeting with a slightly shy smile.

Arriving at the garden with her food basket, she expertly laid out a mat at her favorite spot. Having done this a few times, she now felt like this spot was meant for dining.

Yes, the shade next to the Violet sapling—henceforth, I declare this my private dining area, she mused as she sat down.

Just as she settled and adjusted her skirts, a refreshing breeze blew past. Placing the basket down, Mail paused for a moment to focus on the wind.

The gentle morning breeze that lightly tickled her hair felt especially fresh and invigorating. In the garden, Mail’s usual lack of sentimentality gave way to a moment of appreciation. She even closed her eyes to savor it.

The breeze brushed her nose, carrying the pleasant scent of flowers and grass. Concentrating, she could also hear the subtle sounds of the garden’s inhabitants all around her.

Mail kept her eyes closed, listening intently to the sounds around her: the chirping of insects, the rustling of leaves, and… footsteps?