That evening, when he declined her invitation to dinner with the excuse of a prior engagement, Iseline had come to realize.

Oh, this is dangerous. I am truly in danger. The Emperor had smiled as he turned her down, talking about this supposed prior engagement. Just who could he have in mind?

‘It must be one of the candidates. There’s no way he’d suddenly take up with some maid he’s known for a while.’

There had been no new person entering the palace recently. Given the timing and circumstances, it was certain that the Emperor’s new interest was one of the candidates from the selection.

If the person was a talker, rumors would have spread in secret by now, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Iseline blinked anxiously.

She had already consulted the Marquis about this matter previously. Back then, he had reassured her firmly that it was nothing to worry about. He had been so confident that Iseline had found some relief.

But how persistent anxiety can be. Unfortunately, her peace of mind had only lasted briefly. For a few days, she had managed, but soon enough, the worries returned, gnawing at her.

‘He said he wouldn’t abandon me. That he couldn’t. But how can I be sure?’

Her earlier relief now seemed laughable as she felt her stability slipping away. She was shaken to the core.

The Marquis’s reassurances, once a source of faith, now felt like nothing but hollow words. Indeed, her doubts were not unfounded—the Marquis had offered no actual proof.

Would the Emperor really not cast her aside? Not even if the new person who had won his heart begged him tearfully not to make her share him with another?

Really?

‘What should I do?’

The fear of loss was far greater for Iseline than the Marquis had anticipated.

‘What must I do to keep what I have now?’

Iseline’s repeatedly bitten lips were swollen and red.

* * *

On the way back to their quarters from the library, Rose seemed a bit disappointed. It was because Riela hadn’t actually chosen a bookshelf or the entire library. As an ordinary person, Mail couldn’t quite understand why that would be disappointing.

“Princess, are you really going to read all the books you borrowed?”

While she hadn’t opted to take the bookshelf or the whole library, Riela had still borrowed an impressive number of books.

Rose had to carry two towers of books piled high, fulfilling her role as a porter—though she felt a bit regretful that she hadn’t been able to show off her true carrying capacity.

The princess, who had borrowed so many books, responded cheerfully to Mail’s question.

“No!”

“You seem to know yourself surprisingly well.”

“A long time ago, back at home, whenever it was time for my afternoon nap, my nanny would come and read me a book.”

Mail flinched in surprise. So she took naps during the day, even after sleeping so much at night? If it was a proven fact that beautiful people are sleepyheads, Riela would be the living proof. Mail felt a bit envious of her ability to sleep so easily and often.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. But come to think of it, I haven’t really taken many naps since I got here. I wonder why?”

“Maybe it’s because you sleep so well at night, even covering the sleep you’d get from a nap?”

“Nope. I think it’s because of this.”

Riela pointed to the stack of books that Rose had safely transported and piled up in one corner of the room.

“There’s no one here to read to me.”

“…”

“And now, I’m going to take a nap.”

It was an unusually difficult order: to read a book aloud at her bedside. Instead of adding any remarks, Mail quietly picked up the book on the top of the stack. The ability to fall asleep again after having only been awake for a few hours—was that a blessing or something else?

“Shall I read anything, then?”

“Something interesting.”

“I can’t tell by just looking at the cover. Besides, if it’s too interesting, you won’t be able to nap because you’ll keep listening.”

“Huh? Well, that won’t do. In that case, something boring.”

Riela, now lying in bed with just her head poking out, blinked her big eyes. Each blink made her long eyelashes flutter gently like butterfly wings.

Mail, feeling like she was taking care of a very large, pretty child, opened the book in her hands.

“Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a king and a queen in a kingdom. Princess, did you borrow a fairy tale?”

“Is that a fairy tale?”

“Let’s see, the title is… ‘The Tears of the Princess’.”

“I took out everything that had the word’*princess’ in it.”

“A very fitting selection for you, Princess.”

“Anyway, keep reading. Hurry.”

“All right. The king and queen loved each other, but sadly, they faced an obstacle—they couldn’t have a child. So, the king took a second wife to ensure an heir.”

Despite its fairy-tale beginning, the story quickly took on a darker and more realistic tone.

The kind but incompetent king. The jealous queen who loved him. And the gentle, modest second wife, who became pregnant with the king’s child soon after entering the palace.

The story spun itself into a whirlwind.

“When the second wife bore a beautiful princess, the king’s attention shifted to her. By royal decree, the second wife was only allowed the best food and surroundings. The queen thought this was a temporary whim of the king’s, but his interest in the second wife lasted much longer than she’d anticipated.”

Did the jealous queen just stand by and watch? Sadly, no. Though the second wife had given birth to a princess, she was powerless, coming from a lowly family, and the king was thoroughly incompetent.

“On the day the beautiful princess took her first steps on her own, the queen gave the second wife a dreadful gift. That day was the princess’s birthday. In the sunny afternoon, the second wife drank the poison sent by the queen…”

Mail frowned as she read. Should she continue? It wasn’t exactly a story with a good moral.

Riela wasn’t truly a child, but still, reading further seemed unnecessary. Mail lowered her gaze from the book, pausing.

‘She’s asleep.’

Fortunately, Riela had fallen into a gentle sleep. Relieved, Mail closed the book without hesitation.

No wonder it was called ‘The Tears of the Princess’. With a family life like that, who wouldn’t shed tears? Mail set the book aside for quick return.

With Riela asleep, Mail was free again. Having nothing else to do, she rested her chin on her hand as she watched Riela.

Riela, lost in sleep like a child. Her small face looked peaceful, her breaths steady and soft.

Mail could begin to understand why people said children looked angelic while they slept.

‘It doesn’t suit her.’

But really, it didn’t suit her at all—this angelic, serene expression and the horrific nightmare that had brought Mail to this place.

‘Is there something I’m missing?’

Mail’s gaze deepened. Her green eyes, reminiscent of leaves, took on a shadowed hue as she thoughtfully reviewed the details of the nightmare. She didn’t need to force herself to remember; it was as vivid as if she had dreamed it just yesterday.

—

“What is this noise!”

“S-Sorry for the delayed report. The emperor… the emperor of Helbern…”

“Aargh!”

“Blame your fate for having such a foolish princess. Leave no one alive! It’s the emperor’s command!”

“The princess…”

“The princess poisoned the emperor’s beloved…”

“Ah, my head hurts.” Mail loosened the hand that had been supporting her chin and pressed down firmly on her temples.

The headache that always seemed to follow when she recalled her dreams came right on cue. The familiar throbbing continued, teetering on the edge of becoming something she could get used to. Mail stopped her train of thought.

“This won’t do. I need to clear my head.”

In truth, analyzing the dream’s content now might be quite pointless. In reality, Riela hadn’t loved the emperor, hadn’t been blinded by jealousy, wasn’t even aware that the emperor had a mistress, and most of all, didn’t have the temperament to kill anyone.

The nightmare’s plot was utterly nonsensical. Even if it felt vivid now, it would fade and be forgotten soon after she left the empire.

“There’s only a few days left; let’s just fill them with bright thoughts. Bright thoughts that are good for the body and the mind.”

Mail stepped out of her quarters, repeating “bright thoughts, bright thoughts” to herself as if casting a spell. She figured she didn’t need to explain where she was headed; by this point, it could be said she had two residences.

Entering the garden, Mail took a deep breath.

“Yes, this air. A place where everything you see or smell brings only bright thoughts. The name of this place that purifies all negativity is the garden…”

Her words trailed off. Though the garden’s beauty was just as lovely as always, something else caught her attention.

Near a large tree with long, lush branches spreading wide, she saw a familiar figure in its shade. She saw him almost every time she came, enough to consider calling him the garden’s resident spirit.

She’d seen him yesterday and, perhaps, the day before. Mail quietly watched him turn around from her spot.

“Van.”