After elevating Riela to an esteemed figure in their minds, they promised to drink away the defeat later, intending to leave quietly. Or they would have, if not for—

“Hey, I just tripped over something.”

“A book?”

“A book lying here?”

“Maybe it fell while being sorted, or someone dropped it while picking up other books. Let’s take it to the librarian since we picked it up.”

“Wait? I’ve read this book before.”

Though maids typically came from common backgrounds, those serving noble households were not uneducated. Maids in count or higher-ranking households were often literate.

Occasionally, if a young maid entered the household without knowing how to read, the family would typically consider their reputation and ensure she was taught. Ena and the other three had learned to read that way.

“What book is it? ‘The Wisdom of Princess Ophelia’?”

“When did you read something like that?”

“It doesn’t seem all that interesting.”

“It’s more enjoyable than it looks. It’s not hard to understand. To summarize, the most beautiful princess in the world…”

In her quest to find a husband, she gives out riddles.

Dina didn’t get to finish her sentence. Riela, who had suddenly whipped her head around to stare at them, interrupted her. Startled, Dina’s words came out as a hiccup instead.

‘What’s going on? Did I say something wrong?’

While she was questioning herself, Riela walked briskly toward them. The four of them stared wide-eyed, unsure what was happening as Riela reached them and spoke.

“Were you talking about me?”

“What?”

“You just mentioned me, didn’t you?”

“…What?”

Ena and her three friends didn’t understand what Riela was getting at. Talking about the princess? They had been, a while ago. Could she be asking about that now?

Of course, that wasn’t the case. Riela kindly clarified.

“You were saying ‘the most beautiful princess in the world’ just now.”

“….”

“Were you talking about me?”

“…What…?”

And then, Ena, Bina, Sina, and Dina all came to a shared realization: the world is vast, naïveté comes in many forms, and the saying “mistaken beliefs are free of charge” truly is wise.

“Welcome back, Princess!”

Mail hurried over to greet Riela. She’d been alarmed to learn that Riela had gone out on her own while she’d stepped out briefly.

Though Riela hadn’t left the palace, Mail worried about her even if she just wandered down the hallway alone.

Fortunately, Riela returned as impeccable as when she left. At least she hadn’t gotten into any kind of trouble. Mail was relieved.

“Did you go to the library?”

Riela wasn’t holding a book, but there wasn’t anywhere else she might have gone, so Mail asked. She didn’t seem tired, so it appeared she hadn’t gotten lost. Riela, who’d taken the attendant’s guidance to find her way to the library, nodded.

“I met some strange kids there.”

“Strange kids?”

“They were talking badly about you.”

“…What?”

Talking to Riela had given Ena and the others a sense of life’s futility. So, she hadn’t ignored them while knowing they were talking about her. She just hadn’t realized or heard them. Bina had to support a disheartened Sina to keep her from collapsing upon learning the truth.

So, what did the four do after learning this? While they felt ridiculous for their wasted effort, they realized that this situation presented an opportunity.

The princess seemed as gullible and a bit lacking in reasoning as they had first thought. Now that they were face-to-face with Riela, they could convey whatever rumors they wanted as if they were just passing gossip, and she’d likely soak it up like a sponge.

In the face of blank-slate Riela, they began their dramatic performance.

“Princess, have you heard about this? It’s just something I heard…”

Then came a steady stream of gossip and rumors, each one more ridiculous than the last, with Mail as the main subject. The four of them each invented a story, and by the time they were done, Mail had received four different doses of slander.

Riela listened to their chatter with keen interest, even nodding along in agreement at times.

Then, she promptly relayed everything she’d heard to the person in question. This was an outcome that Ena’s group hadn’t anticipated.

Blinking in disbelief, Mail absorbed the barrage of inventive accusations.

“Really? They said all that?”

The rumors mainly centered around how Mail was secretly trying to sabotage Riela’s chances of selection by conspiring behind her back.

While she’d once tried to discourage the Emperor with electrical theory, she’d never planned to team up with another candidate to betray him. The accusations were detailed to an absurd degree.

“Yes, that’s what they said.”

“Why would they do that? We barely know each other.”

“I’m not sure.”

Riela didn’t seem particularly interested. She’d merely passed along what she’d heard about Mail, but she wasn’t especially invested in the matter.

Mail could guess why Riela hadn’t shown any reaction to the insults. There were no remarks about her appearance, after all.

“Well… I can guess who’s behind this.”

Mail had little difficulty identifying the culprit. There was no need for a lengthy investigation. Who else in this place, where she was surrounded by strangers, would harbor that much ill will against her?

Whether directly or indirectly, Ormil Petten was almost certainly involved. It was too obvious.

“If it’s just this much, well, I’d be fine if they kept it at this level.”

Counting the recent dinner invitation, this was her third clash with Ormil. She had no illusions that her opponent would remain quiet from now on.

Mail had expected that Ormil would act out in some way, and considered her attempt at sowing discord to be relatively tame. It was something she could endure or ignore without much trouble.

Naturally, Ormil’s provocations wouldn’t go on forever. If she simply left the empire, that would be the end of their association. Mail decided to quietly endure Ormil’s antics until she was eliminated from the selection process. If each attempt ended as futilely as the failed rumor-spreading, there would be no need for patience or tolerance anyway.

‘At least she isn’t fixated on the princess.’

Since the incident where Ormil was tripped in the corridor, her arrows were now directed at Mail rather than Riela.

Mail actually thought this was better. If Ormil had continued targeting Riela, it would have doubled Mail’s emotional strain and workload. Watching over both her adversary and the princess would have been far more taxing. Handling things herself was preferable.

Just as Mail thought how nice it would be if things continued this way, the door opened and Rose, who had been sent on an errand, returned. Her strong muscles visibly flexed as she opened the door.

“I’m back.”

“Rose!”

Mail greeted her warmly. She’d asked Rose to look into something, though it wasn’t anything complicated—just a small inquiry. Rose had returned, her sturdy frame standing proud.

“It wasn’t hard to find out what you asked for. They said about six days are left.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Six days.

Mail thought about this information internally. What exactly would happen in about six days? It referred to the time left until the first elimination day of the selection process.

It was the day when half of the candidates currently staying in the imperial palace would pack their belongings and prepare to return home. Mail had a reason for asking Rose to find out that date. While it wasn’t classified information, she had suspected that imperial maids might already be aware of it.

And she was right—Rose had easily gathered the information.

All Rose had to do was approach a group of maids and politely ask if they knew the selection process schedule. Politely. With her biceps bulging.

With her mission accomplished, Rose received Mail’s gratitude and proudly flexed her shoulder muscles.

“Six days should be… alright.”

The first elimination. Until now, Mail had only had a rough estimate, but now she had a concrete date. She had recently found herself needing to know this, though she hadn’t been sure why.

Last night, before she fell asleep, she’d felt a faint sense of unease.

“Van.”

“…”

“Just call me Van.”

It had only been a day since that moment. She had learned his name for the first time as they sat across from each other in the garden, bathed in the colors of the sunset. It was the first piece of information about him she had gained.

Mail thought his name was lovely, something that had a pleasant ring to it even if she repeated it. And she then felt a bewildering sensation of danger.

She might not want to leave.

What could that feeling even mean? It was absurd. Ever since she arrived in the empire—or even before—her thoughts had always been on returning home.

Her primary objective was to be eliminated from the selection process without incident and leave the empire. That had never changed.

So how could she possibly not want to leave?

Wanting to stay here? Why? No matter how much she admired the gardens here, it didn’t make sense.

The imperial gardens were beautiful, but not irreplaceable. If she had to rank her attachments, the garden she’d tended herself at her home would certainly come first. Mail couldn’t determine the cause of this strange premonition.

“What a strange feeling.”