“Mail.”

Mail recalled the voice. It wasn’t that long ago, just a few hours earlier. Had there been a breeze then? She couldn’t remember such minor details. But one thing was clear: her reaction when she heard her name.

The other person had called her name suddenly, catching her off guard. In hindsight, “sudden” was a fitting word. Mail felt genuinely startled, as if she’d been unexpectedly ambushed. Without warning, the sound of her name had thrown her off balance.

Her heart had pounded. It felt as though it sank slightly. She wasn’t guilty of anything or in trouble, but she felt tense and flushed. She couldn’t even look directly into the other person’s eyes.

Why was that?

“Oddly enough, though, I don’t think I’d feel the same no matter how many times you call my name, Princess.”

“Oh, there’s a flower petal in the water.”

Riela’s habit of half-listening or not really paying attention came in handy. Mail didn’t need to clarify her stray thoughts, and she briefly shook her head before joining Riela in examining the flower petal.

If she thought about it longer and more deeply, she might eventually find an answer. But somehow, she didn’t want to. It felt like something she shouldn’t do, for reasons even she couldn’t understand—an unconscious restraint within herself.

At that moment, the ordered food arrived, giving Mail a reason to shift her focus. Although Mail had the multitasking skill to eat, think, and talk simultaneously, this time she chose to deliberately suppress her abilities.

She tried her best to focus only on eating. As a result, her meal took on a strangely solemn tone.

As Mail savored each ingredient like an unexpected gourmet, someone else entered the dining hall, scanning the room without sitting down, as if searching for something. After thoroughly inspecting every corner with her gaze, she finally fixed her eyes in one spot.

“Found you, you little…”

Ormil’s brows drew together, then relaxed into a twisted smile.

“Amy actually did something useful for once.”

There was an agreement between Ena’s group and Amy when she handed over the pouch. They’d promised that if any of them happened to spot Mail, they would let Amy know right away.

With four of them, it wasn’t difficult for one to slip away for a brief moment during the day. Once Amy received the message, she immediately reported it to her lady, and so Ormil appeared here now.

“Perfect. Just walked right out. I’ll make sure she’s bawling by the time I’m done.”

“Amy, that.”

Without taking her eyes off Mail, Ormil extended her hand. Amy, who had followed her into the dining hall, quickly produced a pouch from within her cloak and placed it in her lady’s hand. The dark brown pouch was a stark contrast to Ormil’s pale hand.

Having delivered the item, Amy stepped back respectfully, though her gaze lingered on the pouch.

What could possibly be inside?

Amy recalled a few hours earlier. Ena’s group had prepared this item and handed it to her, saying it would definitely be worth the money they were getting paid.

It was a dull, dark brown pouch, fairly large but noticeably light. She had been curious to open it, but they’d warned her she wouldn’t want to see what was inside, so she restrained herself.

Ena’s group had explained how to use it.

“If she’s drinking tea, drop it in her teacup; if she’s eating, put it in her soup. She won’t just cry; if you’re lucky, she might even faint.”

They had also given her a strict reminder. If anyone questioned her later about what she’d used, she was to insist she’d obtained it herself. Under no circumstances should their names come up. Only after making this clear did Ena’s group leave.

“I’m curious.”

Her conscience still troubled her, making her feel guilty, but curiosity often won over.

Amy rose on her toes, watching intently as her lady approached Mail, the pouch in hand.

Ormil’s steps were brimming with confidence. She, too, didn’t yet know what was inside the pouch, but the promise of potentially making Mail faint made her look forward to it.

Upon reaching Mail’s side, Ormil struggled to hide her excitement, blowing air through her nose in anticipation. Mail, just about to finish her meal, looked up, startled.

“…Lady Petten?”

“Is the food to your taste?”

Mail raised her eyebrows slightly. As strange as Ormil’s sudden appearance was, her question was even stranger. Mail set her utensils down.

“The chef really did a good job. Would you like the rest?”

She didn’t know what Ormil was planning, but she decided to respond calmly. She was inwardly relieved that Rose wasn’t there with her.

At least Ormil wouldn’t be harmed, she thought. Ormil, unaware of Mail’s inner relief, nearly flared up before swiftly changing her expression.

“Oh, no need. Please, continue. I’ll make it even more delightful for you.”

Only then did Mail notice the brown pouch in Ormil’s hand. Oh, could it be that? Ormil’s words and the pouch’s presence felt ominous. Mail, recalling similar incidents back in her academy days, quickly glanced at Riela.

Riela had paused her meal and was staring blankly. She seemed irritated by Ormil’s intrusion but appeared unsure if she should be the one to react, as Ormil had only addressed Mail so far.

Mail’s now-free hands twitched, ready to cover Riela’s eyes if necessary.

“I prepared this especially for you, so don’t refuse—”

Ormil paused. She had been speaking as she loosened the pouch’s drawstring. Suddenly, she felt a strange sensation in her palm.

Did something just move?

Rustle.

“…Rustle?”

The sound reached her ears as well as her sense of touch. Just as she muttered aloud in confusion, two long antennae emerged from the half-opened pouch. Twitching.

“…”

Long, black antennae.

It took her a second to fully register what she was seeing.

Ormil let out an ear-splitting scream.

“AAAAAH!”

“What’s going on?”

“What happened?”

Ormil threw the pouch she was holding with all her might. She acted on instinct rather than thinking, her body moving on its own. The pouch hit the ground with a thud, its mouth fully open. Now, she was no longer the only one screaming.

*Scurrying sounds.*

“Ahhh!”

“What is that?!”

“Oh my…!”

It was chaos. Mail rose quickly to block Riela’s view, watching the situation unfold with a bewildered expression. What had spilled from the pouch was nothing less than corpses—specifically, insect corpses. Various arthropods lay dead, scattered on the floor. But that wasn’t the end of it.

While only dead bugs had fallen out, something else had “crawled out” from among them.

A horrified voice cried out, “It’s Mr. Ba!”

*Mr. Ba.*

There was an infamous, terrifying creature on the continent, unanimously nicknamed “Mr. Ba” in a sardonic nod to its horrible appearance. Its imposing size and grotesque form led people to wish it could just behave “politely” like a gentleman. And so, it was named as a hopeful wish.

The nickname stuck, much like with an old empire known as “Inguk.” This vast, fertile empire had once been seen as barbaric, prompting other countries to call its people “Inguk Gentlemen” in the hope they’d act more refined. Over time, the descendants of Inguk indeed became more polite and civilized, shedding their barbaric image. But sadly, that wishful thinking didn’t apply to Mr. Ba.

Mr. Ba, neither polite nor refined, scurried powerfully across the floor.

“Ahhh!”

“Someone, please!”

“Eeek!”

*Crash.*

The creature’s mad dash was unstoppable, causing mayhem wherever it went. Every shriek was accompanied by chairs overturning. One young lady even pulled out a handkerchief and burst into tears.

A bead of sweat formed on Mail’s forehead.

‘I should catch it.’

All the ladies present, including Mail, candidates for the selection ceremony, and even the male staff in the restaurant, were frozen in terror. Mr. Ba was a true horror—a creature with long antennae, gleaming black wings, and powerful legs.

And this was no ordinary Mr. Ba. This was the King Ba, with size magnifying its repulsiveness tenfold. A knight once said he’d rather face a monster than attempt to catch a King Ba.

At last, Mail decided to take action. Among those present, she was likely the least afraid of Mr. Ba, having always had a particular affinity with arthropods.

The first rule of being a garden enthusiast: you must not be squeamish about bugs.

A garden is essentially a small forest. With trees and flowers comes an inevitable multitude of insects and bugs. Tending to a garden means you grow accustomed to bugs to the point where catching one bare-handed is no big deal. If there were levels to bug-catching, Mail would be maxed out.

The ranked bug-catcher Mail rolled up her sleeves and prepared to strike. She advised Riela one last time to close her eyes or focus solely on her food before leaping into action.

At that moment, Mr. Ba showcased a new trick.

“Eek! It’s flying!”

The abominable Mr. Ba had one ultimate technique—flight. His sudden leap caused more shrieks of horror to echo around the room.

One distraught servant was now openly sobbing alongside an unknown young lady. Realizing time was of the essence, Mail lunged forward.

“Save me!” cried a young lady with striking orange hair, half braided and half loose, as Mr. Ba locked onto her as its target and flew straight at her. Would she become its next victim?

As everyone stared with wide eyes at the lady’s seemingly doomed fate, Mail reached out like the wind.

*Snap!*

“…?”

“…!”

“…?!”

A stunned silence fell over the room. Mail clasped her hands securely around her catch, exhaling in relief that she hadn’t let it escape.

Everyone present shared the same, awestruck reaction.

“She… she caught it.”

“She caught Mr. Ba!”

“Wow!”

The shock quickly turned to cheers. Mail was now a hero. The pink-haired young lady was so moved she teared up. One by one, people started clapping, soon turning into applause.

Mail gave a shy smile amidst the cheers and applause and walked straight toward Ormil, holding Mr. Ba firmly in her hand.

“Lady Petten.”

Ormil was so shocked that it took her a moment to realize Mail had called her. Mail took a step closer, a kind smile on her face.

“No matter how much you want to take it for a walk, you should still keep a close eye on your pet. Be more careful next time.”

“What…?”

“Here, I’m giving it back to you.”

Mail’s hand moved like lightning. There’s a saying: “You give a little and receive a lot.” Ormil hadn’t given even a little, but what came back was larger than life. Mr. Ba, with a wildly beating heart, slipped through Ormil’s clothes as if he were gliding.

He was very much alive.

“…!”

Screams only come out when the shock is manageable; it means there’s still some sense left to process it. But the sensation against Ormil’s back was so otherworldly that her eyes rolled up in shock.

Thud.

Ormil, who had gleefully anticipated watching Mail faint, ended up losing consciousness herself. Amy, standing a bit away, could only gape helplessly.

Moments later, hearing the commotion, soldiers rushed over and bravely dealt with Mr. Ba, who had been attempting to escape from Ormil’s clothes to run wild again.

By early evening, the unexpected uproar caused by Mr. Ba had come to an end.