It took about a day to locate Ormil. As the Marquis had hoped, she was alive—albeit far from unscathed. Her limbs were intact, but her mind was severely damaged.

Ormil was in a state best described as madness. The Marquis subdued her outbursts by administering a drug.

Despite her fractured mind, Ormil’s face remained stunningly beautiful, a feature the Marquis found quite useful. A novice royal chef, mesmerized by the beauty of the drugged woman slumped helplessly, couldn’t resist sneaking her into the palace’s inner quarters.

Even without much knowledge of current events, anyone could have deduced that she was a criminal, especially after her public execution had been announced. Yet, blinded by her beauty, the chef must have foolishly thought he could get away with it as long as he wasn’t caught. The Marquis relished the fact that such an idiot was employed at the royal palace.

“Things are going smoothly,” the Marquis murmured leisurely. He had easily secured Ormil, just as he had intended. Now, all that remained was to position her close to the target. Given her history, whatever she did to the target would seem natural.

By coincidence, Count Ereda had announced the results of the second selection process a few hours earlier. At nightfall, there would be a banquet to celebrate—or console—those involved. The Marquis planned to stir up chaos during the banquet and send Ormil into action amidst the commotion.

Even with guards stationed, it would be difficult to monitor every maid in a crowded banquet hall. The Marquis envisioned a successful future where Ormil, disguised as a maid, would attack Mail. The thought brightened his mood.

“Even Iseline is being quiet,” he mused.

Once a constant nuisance, Iseline had recently stopped seeking him out, seemingly content to trust his word and stay out of trouble. The Marquis stroked his mustache in satisfaction.

As the sun began to set, the Marquis summoned his trusted subordinate and issued detailed instructions. The subordinate quickly departed.

***

“Ugh…”

It was a peaceful afternoon, and Riela was bedridden. Rose nervously wrung out a wet towel, while Mail recalled the events of the previous day with an exasperated look, as if expecting this outcome.

“Do you think I can’t reach it, even if I stretch my hand from here?”

Two days earlier, Riela had tossed a coin she had taken from Banther into a fountain—her first-ever coin toss.

“Nice shot, Your Highness. Perfect technique, bravo!”

It would have been nice if things had ended there. Unfortunately, Riela found the activity far too enjoyable. Her companions realized this the following day.

When they returned to the garden, Riela attempted to throw not coins but gemstones into the fountain.

What on earth is she doing? Mac Flurry, unaccustomed to such antics, nearly popped his eyes out. Even Rose and Mail were genuinely shocked for once.

After stopping her, they discovered she had only done so because she didn’t have any coins left. Rose, Mail, and Mac Flurry immediately pooled all the coins they had.

The collected coins amounted to a considerable sum. Surely this would be enough, they thought—until Riela used up the entire stash in record time. In the blink of an eye, she was empty-handed again, looking disappointed. Her companions were stunned. Her fascination then took a new turn.

“I think I could reach them if I stretch out, don’t you?”

Having thrown so many coins, Riela now became interested in retrieving them. The transparent fountain bed was littered with silver and copper coins, almost like a treasure trove.

Riela, eyes sparkling, suggested fishing them out. Mail flatly refused.

“It’s impossible.”

“No, I think I can reach.”

“You can’t. It’s impossible. I’ll bet a marigold leaf on it… Your Highness!”

“Ahhh!”

Unheeding as always, Riela stretched out with all her might and promptly lost her balance. Instead of delegating the task to someone else, she had taken matters into her own hands—with disastrous results. Rose lunged to catch her but was too late. Water splashed everywhere as Riela fell with a loud splash!

“That’s why I told you it wouldn’t reach…”

The flashback ended. Mail let out a sigh, leaning her head back. Late in the evening, Riela, who had plunged into the fountain, inevitably caught a cold. This was a textbook example of reaping what you sow. Mail reached out to Rose, who was still wringing out a wet towel.

“That’s enough, or you’ll turn it into a dry rag.”

“Oh, yes.”

Fortunately, Riela’s cold was mild. Her fever was slight, and the palace physician assured them that she’d recover within a day or two.

Mail placed the wet towel on Riela’s forehead. Riela blinked her barely-open eyes.

“It’s cold.”

“It’s less cold than an ice pack.”

“My throat hurts.”

“You’ll feel better tomorrow. Shall I bring you some porridge?”

“It tastes bad.”

“I’ll ask the chef to make it tasty.”

A sick Riela pouted like a child, though it wasn’t much different from her usual self.

Mail skillfully handled her complaints while checking her fever. Rose, who had lived her life strong and never sick, worried incessantly that the fragile and delicate princess might succumb.

Looking at Rose, who had returned with fresh water, Mail struck up a conversation.

“I heard the princess caught a cold before. Was it worse than this?”

“Yes, it was quite severe.”

“Compared to then, this is just a passing discomfort.”

“That’s true, but… I wasn’t in the capital back then due to another task. The princess wanted to see what a monster looked like, so I went to capture a small one for her.”

“…”

At this point, Mail couldn’t help but wonder why Rose held the title of a maid. Was it simply because she liked the uniform?

In any case, this was Rose’s first time seeing Riela bedridden. As a strong warrior who associated sickness with fatal conditions, Rose couldn’t be reassured despite the physician’s diagnosis.

As a result, Mail had her hands full not only tending to Riela, who had reverted to a whiny four-year-old, but also calming Rose’s excessive concern.

The sun, which had been high in the sky, soon began its descent. As Riela drifted into colorful dreams, Rose suddenly remarked, as if something had just occurred to her.

“Come to think of it, the second announcement was today.”

The results of the selection process had been revealed. This was the second round. The initial pool of over forty candidates had now narrowed to just over twenty.

Mail nodded in acknowledgment. Riela had passed.

“Still, they inform each candidate of their results but continue to keep the evaluation criteria a mystery. It does make one curious. What qualities are they scoring to determine who passes or fails?”

“…Indeed.”

“Even so, given that the princess has passed every time, it must be a rational and reliable standard befitting the empire. Haha.”

“…”

Mail didn’t respond. She felt like she should gaze off into the distance, but there was no distant view to look at.

“In any case, there will be a banquet tonight to mark the occasion. Will you attend?”

“Huh?”

Mail, caught off guard by the unexpected topic, reflexively asked back. Rose elaborated.

“You’ve stayed inside the residence all day. It might do you good to step out for a bit. The princess is asleep now, after all.”

“In that case… doesn’t that mean you’re cooped up too?”

“I’m fine. I went out earlier to fetch the physician. I’ll stay here and watch over her.”

Mail gazed at Rose quietly. Ah. She could understand why Rose was making this suggestion. It was her way of expressing gratitude. For calming her excessive worries with patience and kindness.

‘You used up your energy because of me. Go and recharge.’

That was her meaning. Reading Rose’s intent, Mail smiled faintly. If that was the case…

“Thank you. I’ll go out for a little stroll.”

Indeed, she felt drained after staying in the same space, tending to Riela’s whims all day. Even if she didn’t attend the banquet, a short walk around the area wouldn’t hurt.

Mail gave Rose a nod of thanks and prepared for a brief outing. When she opened the door to the residence, Mac, who had been leaning against the wall, straightened his posture.

Mail became newly aware of Mac’s vigilance.

“You’ve been standing here since morning, haven’t you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Your legs must be tired.”

“I’m fine. Where are you going?”

“Just out for a stroll.”

As they spoke, Mail recalled something. Mac was stationed to guard her against potential beast attacks. The issue was that such an attack still hadn’t occurred.

‘Am I being too impatient?’

Mail counted the days. Two had passed since she’d set the bait. It felt ambiguous. It seemed too early for any movement, yet if it was such a sensitive matter, wouldn’t there have been action already?

‘It can’t be that they’re holding back because of Mac, can it?’

Few in the royal capital knew Mac Flurry’s true identity. To all appearances, Mac was just an ordinary low-ranking soldier.

It made no sense for assassins or hired mercenaries to exercise caution over a mere soldier. After all, the very reason Mac was disguised as a soldier was to make adversaries underestimate him and act rashly.

“Sir Mac.”

“Please, just call me Mac.”

“Alright, Mac. I’m asking this purely out of curiosity—where is it most difficult for you to guard me within the capital?”

“Pardon?”

“Not when I’m in my quarters, but like now, when I’m out and about. What’s the place where protecting me is the hardest?”

“Well…”

The answer came quickly.

“I’d say the banquet hall. The more crowded and chaotic it is, the more my movements are restricted, and the more there is to keep an eye on.”

“I see.”

Mail nodded as though satisfied. Then she spoke again.

“Let’s go.”

“Go where…?”

“The banquet hall. If we leave now, we’ll arrive just in time for it to start.”

Her decision was made. If someone was biding their time to strike, why not create the perfect opportunity?

Mac retraced the conversation in his mind, bewildered. He couldn’t understand how it had led to this conclusion. But Mail didn’t wait for him, already walking ahead. Mac hurried to follow.

***