“Perfectly.”

Mail nodded, then gave him a bright smile. It was her way of expressing gratitude, and also a little encouragement for a positive future.

They often describe a beautiful smile as flower-like. A beauty with a floral smile. The flower-like gesture Rohayden had jokingly made with his hands earlier suited Mail even better now.

Flowers are beautiful. They’re compared to flowers because they’re lovely. So naturally, in this moment, Mail too…

‘…This is driving me crazy.’

Rohayden’s confusion deepened. Outside, the leaves of the velvet tree fluttered in the breeze, as if offering him some comfort.

Rohayden returned from the garden, where he had gone to tease Mail, only to double his own confusion. He had indeed teased her, but his mind was left even more tangled, making it feel like he hadn’t gained much.

Banther, meanwhile, had grown accustomed to his superior’s unusual behavior within a day and was no longer surprised by the Emperor’s unpredictable approach to his work.

—

The five days left until the first selection day steadily passed, regardless of everything else. Day after day, time never stopped. Dates and days changed, the daytime air grew a bit warmer, and each day seemed peaceful.

Correction: it was peaceful *for Mail.*

Who was it not peaceful for? Ormil, of course.

Every day for those five days, Ormil met with new humiliations and hardships, a storm of difficulties. The worst part was that all these troubles were of her own making.

After fainting from the Mr. Ba incident, Ormil, once recovered, burned with even more malice. Usually, one’s will fades after enduring such humiliation.

But unfortunately, Ormil was anything but ordinary. Fueled by her stubbornness, she began to cause trouble even more persistently.

And the result? No need to elaborate; the repeated humiliations she endured speak for themselves.

Ormil tried splashing a cup of water on Mail, only to end up drenched herself. She attempted to tear Mail’s dress, only to end up in rags.

Later, she even attempted to use another faction to her advantage, only to have her hair grabbed by them.

At this point, most people would say she’d tried enough. Anyone watching Ormil’s antics would agree.

Ormil had done more than enough, and perhaps it was time for her to give up. For her own sake, it would be best to let go.

But her malice was astounding. It was like a cancer, feeding off the failures and humiliations of its host and growing bigger.

Each time Ormil’s plans backfired, her malice grew. Larger and larger. The cancer knew no bounds.

“I have to kill her.”

“…What?”

“No, no, I can’t do that yet. How about crippling her instead?”

Amy, who was lying flat, glanced up nervously. Her mistress, who had been screaming like a madwoman and throwing things, was now seated on the bed, muttering to herself. What had she just said? Then Ormil called her.

“Amy.”

“Y-yes?”

“Is there any way to make that wench crawl? So she’ll never walk on two legs again?”

For a moment, Amy doubted her ears. Making her “crawl” alone was something she could understand—it was a common expression to imply breaking someone’s spirit. But the following words were different. Never walk on two legs?

“Do you mean…?”

“Oh, stupid Amy, why can’t you understand things the first time?”

I’ll have to hit you again, even though I’m tired. Ormil added this, then reached out toward the table. After a few misses, she remembered something. Ah, she’d put the cane away earlier. Disappointed, she picked up a glass instead.

*Thud!*

“Agh!”

“Now you understand, don’t you? Right?”

Blood trickled down Amy’s forehead where the glass had struck. Wincing in pain, she covered her wound quickly. Though she was used to violence, the pain felt new every time.

Lately, Ormil had become more violent than ever, and Amy, who always bore the brunt of her mistress’s fury, felt it each time.

“Y-yes, I understand…”

“That’s right. You should.”

Amy stared at her blood-stained hands, trembling as they held her wound.

Repeatedly being the target of Ormil’s anger, she no longer cried from the pain. However, that didn’t mean her fear had diminished. Amy was terrified that one day she might die from these beatings.

‘But still…’

With a face drained of color, Amy looked up at Ormil. Even so, her lady’s demand this time was outrageous. Trembling in fear, she couldn’t bring herself to quickly agree or promise to find a way, her lips moving silently with no words coming out.

How could she do that? How could she think of such a thing—injuring someone so severely—so easily?

“Time is running out, Amy. I absolutely cannot stand seeing that girl celebrating her entry into the selection ceremony. I just can’t.”

At another time, Amy might have been surprised that her lady even knew a sophisticated word like “celebrating.” But the situation was too terrifying and painful for her to think of such idle thoughts. Amy stared at the blood staining the carpet bit by bit.

Ormil would surely do it.

Her lady would most certainly beat her again. She wouldn’t hesitate to hurl things or use violence toward her maid, whose forehead was already bleeding profusely. If she was unlucky, yes—she could even be struck in the same spot again. It might go beyond just bleeding; she could end up spilling blood.

Trembling even more violently, Amy closed her eyes tightly.

“Amy.”

“……”

“Isn’t your own leg more precious than someone else’s? Right?”

“Leave… it to me.”

Amy, head bowed, murmured silently to herself over and over. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Truly, I’m sorry. The apology, unheard, endlessly echoed in the maid’s mouth alone.

—

Musik was a lucky man. A former back-alley mercenary, he had just been appointed to work within the inner palace as of yesterday.

That alone suggested how fortunate he truly was. Strutting down the corridor, he carried himself as if the palace was his own.

“If only it were the main palace… but still, even the annex is something.”

Although no one was watching, Musik deliberately puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders, his steps brimming with confidence.

Most regular soldiers were commoners, yet not just anyone could get in. Furthermore, he was now a palace guard. A smirk formed on Musik’s face, which soon turned into a barely suppressed laugh.

“Heh-heh! Flowers have bloomed in Musik’s life, yes they have. A rise in status! Proud day! Now then, let’s see… they say the palace maids are lovely…”

“Excuse me.”

A voice called to Musik from behind. It was soft, but he caught it immediately, noting it sounded young and feminine. Turning around, he instantly rejoiced.

“Ah, did you call for me?”

Musik imitated the refined tone he’d heard knights use. The maid who had called him wasn’t a stunning beauty, but she had a certain cuteness to her.

Facing him, Amy swallowed hard.

“Excuse me, but could I borrow a little of your time, sir?”

“Hmm? Me? I suppose I’m not too busy. Haha!”

Chuckling, Musik then cautiously asked, “So, what business do you have?”

His large face was filled with expectation. Yes, this was why men needed status. See how women flocked to him as soon as he became a palace guard?

Amy didn’t bother stopping Musik from looking her up and down in his delusion. Soon, he’d lose all interest in her. He’d be entirely captivated by someone far, far more beautiful.

Apologizing silently once more, Amy spoke. Musik, oblivious as ever, failed to notice the darkened expression on her face.

“There’s someone who wishes to meet you.”

And soon after, Musik would meet the water spirit. It was the moment love found the palace guard, Musik.

***

The night of the banquet arrived.

Mail leaned against the railing, gazing blankly outside. The view wasn’t grand since she was on the first floor, but she wasn’t looking for scenery anyway.

Lost in thought, she suddenly snapped back to reality. The terrace door opened, and Riela entered.

“What are you doing?”

“Princess, it’s cold outside.”

“I just had something warm.”

Riela had been drinking cocoa. Mail could tell, as some was still on her lips. Shaking her head, Mail took out a handkerchief and wiped it off, more like a nanny than a companion.

“Would you go back inside and finish it?”

“You should come in too. Mustache just arrived.”