Chapter 1: Peaceful Days and Shadows

The dormitories in which the students of the Magic Academy lived were scattered around its expansive, verdant grounds. With the location boasting a four-hundred-year history—just like the Yulgran Empire itself—it was no wonder the ages of the buildings were diverse, and the architectural style of each dormitory reflected this.

While there had been periods of domestic conflict, the Yulgran Empire had mostly flourished in peace. Its population had steadily increased, and with that, the number of prospective students who met the academy’s admission criteria. More dormitories had been added one after the other to keep up with the demand.

Deluxe suites sat on the top floors of the oldest dormitories. While most students’ rooms were studios with a bed, a desk, and a closet, these deluxe suites were something else entirely. They were composed of a large bedroom, an equally spacious living room that doubled as a study, plus a small bedroom and kitchen for a servant’s use.

Only the scions of the imperial family and the grand ducal houses were allowed to use these luxurious rooms, which were located in historical dormitories built at the same time as the foundation of the academy. Sometimes, years would pass without anyone noble enough to stay in one of these rooms entering the academy, so there was no need for many of them. Nevertheless, the sons and daughters of the noblest families were often of similar ages, so they regularly studied at the academy at the same time.

At the moment, four deluxe suites were in use, which meant that four noble students worthy of them were attending the academy: the crown prince of the empire, Mikhail; the duke of Yulnova, Alexei; a young lady of the House of Yulnova, Ekaterina; and a son of the House of Yulmagna, Vladimir.

A young man with black hair tinged with blue climbed the stairs that led to Vladimir’s room. He had a slender frame and wasn’t particularly tall, but a peculiar strength seemed to emanate from him. In shadow, his eyes looked black, but in the light, they reflected a dark, rich blue. His features were beautiful by most people’s standards, but they held an off-putting sternness that clashed with his youth, detracting from his charm.

This young man was Vladimir’s personal attendant. However, he wasn’t a servant.

The three noble youths who occupied the other suites had each come to the academy accompanied by a servant. Ekaterina had Mina, Alexei had Ivan, and Mikhail had Lucas. All three servants had monster blood in their veins, and they not only waited on their respective masters, but also served as bodyguards.

The House of Yulmagna, however, despised monsters. They were also one of the houses that made a point of distinguishing between ranks. As such, they’d never allow a lowly servant to be the closest person to their heir.

Vladimir’s attendant was a student of the Magic Academy named Lazar Magnas. He was the son of Viscount Magnas, the head of one of the branches of the House of Yulmagna, and the great-grandson of the family’s ever-loyal elderly butler, Zakhar Magnas.

Lazar, born only a few months earlier than Vladimir, was destined to serve the successor of the main house. He’d received a thorough education from his great-grandfather and—just like members of the House of Yulmagna were expected to be—was accomplished in both the literary and military arts. The quiet seventeen-year-old had also been taught that devoting one’s life to his liege was the most natural thing in the world. It was a notion he’d taken to heart.

The top floor of the dormitory was entirely dedicated to the luxurious suite. At the top of the stairs, Lazar opened the door soundlessly yet without a hint of hesitation. It was the middle of the day, but he knew full well his master would be in his bedroom rather than the living room.

He walked up to the door of the main bedroom and opened it without asking for permission beforehand.

The curtains were drawn and the bedroom dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t make out the form of the young man lying on his bed. His skin was so pale it almost seemed to glow in the darkness of the room.

Vladimir was sleeping. His physical condition was poor once again, as it often was, so he’d taken a break from his lessons.

Without a sound, Lazar approached the bed. Then, he leaned forward, casting his shadow over his master.

Immediately, Vladimir opened his eyes. “Zamira.”

“Oh my,” the youth said, lips curving into a smile.

That minute change of expression was enough to completely change the youth’s appearance. In a heartbeat, it became obvious she was a woman. The atmosphere surrounding her had changed just as fast; the curve of her lips was bewitching.

She reached for her hair, and with a twist of her wrist, her long locks dropped down her back.

“Can you really tell at a glance?” she asked.

“Obviously. You’ve sneaked into the men’s dormitory, again. Where is Lazar?”

“No one else but you would ever notice,” she replied nonchalantly. “My brother is a serious boy, he’s in class—just as you ordered.”

Zamira Magnas, Lazar’s twin sister, smiled at Vladimir.

Since Lazar was a man and Zamira a woman, they were not identical twins. Regardless, they resembled each other very much. On top of that, Zamira had been born with a peculiar ability: She could easily imitate people’s mannerisms, speech, and even voices. If she chose to transform into her brother, with whom she’d shared her days since birth, no one besides their family and Vladimir could tell them apart. That was why Zamira could waltz into the men’s dormitory without a second thought.

House Magnas valued sobriety and honesty, so a wild girl like her was an outlier. Zamira, however, was just as talented at gathering information as she was odd.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. So, why are you here?” Vladimir asked coldly.

Zamira’s face was still hanging centimeters away from Vladimir’s as she replied. “I have a report for you. Lady Lydia suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of Lady Ekaterina. She seems to have given up on the throne of empress. She’s a graceful lady that I enjoyed having tea with, so I must admit I’m a little disappointed.”

Vladimir’s eyes widened in surprise. “Lady Lydia is giving up? She was the best candidate for our house.”

“You say the strangest things,” Zamira said after a burst of laughter. “The House of Selesnoa is ambitious. They intended to carve a path out for themselves by pushing aside the three grand ducal houses. Besides, Duke Georgi has made his intentions very clear. He’ll devote every resource to putting your younger sister on the throne.”

“It has to look that way from the outside,” Vladimir replied. “The Selesnoas wouldn’t have had the power to do much, even as maternal relatives of the emperor. The moment they realized that, they would have come running to us for support. Holding the reins from the shadows was the best path for us.” Vladimir paused. “Of all people, you shouldn’t take my father’s words at face value.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I’m looking forward to Lady Elizaveta sitting on the empress’s throne, while you lead this empire in the right direction as the duke of Yulmagna and maternal uncle of the future emperor.”

Vladimir sighed. “You know full well such a future will never come to pass.”

“I don’t,” Zamira shot back, a serious expression on her face. She gazed at Vladimir, still close to him. “What I know full well is that no one but you should become the next duke of Yulmagna. That is why I will see Lady Elizaveta become the empress—no matter the cost.”

“What are you even thinking?”

“You can’t tell? I burn with ambition.” The corners of Zamira’s lips lifted once again. “I want to become a duchess—to become your partner.”

“How peaceful...” I said during our short recess between two classes. It was about a week after I had met the former emperor and empress.

“It certainly is,” Flora replied with a smile.

“I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you,” Olga said softly. She folded forward, making herself even smaller out of guilt.

I shook my head. “Please, don’t be. I’m simply glad we can spend time with you.”

“Me too! Imagine just how much we’ll be able to brag in the future. We’re spending three years in the same class as two people who got invited to the garden of the God of Music!” Marina exclaimed.

I had no doubt the rest of the class shared this opinion. However, it was true that the previous week had been anything but restful.

Right after the summer vacation ended and the second semester started, I’d made the acquaintance of Lydia Selesnoa, the daughter of a marquess. Lydia was a blood relative of the previous empress, and her number one objective had been to become empress herself, which meant she’d seen me as a rival. The former empress had been invited to the garden of the God of Music in her youth, which had eventually led to her winning the heart of the former emperor. Hoping to earn that honor for herself and walk down the same path, Lydia had spent her life honing her singing.

Completely unaware of that, I’d organized a musical evening to deepen the friendships between everyone in my class. During that little get-together, I’d sung a big hit from my past life, while Olga and Renato—who’d only been able to participate after many twists and turns—had performed a local song from Olga’s marquessate. All three of us had ended up earning Lydia’s ire, which had in turn prompted me to put a plan into action. I’d tried to get the former emperor and empress to praise Olga’s singing and, as a result...Olga and Renato had both been summoned by the God of Music, right in front of Lydia!

This had been a triumphant victory for me and the House of Yulnova, and a crushing defeat for Lydia and the rest of the Selesnoas.

But that wasn’t important right now. Olga and Renato’s invitation to the garden of the God of Music had been recorded by the Music Sanctuary, which had informed the school. After Olga and Renato had returned, they’d gone straight from the detached palace to the Music Sanctuary. They’d only returned to the academy the following day.

Those who’d received an invitation from the God of Music were allowed to enter the sanctuary right away. If Olga and Renato had decided to do so, they would have been allowed to drop out of school. Normally, young men and women with enough mana to satisfy the admission criteria were required to attend the Magic Academy. However, those who’d been touched by divine grace were special cases and could be exempted.

However, Renato and Olga had both elected to keep attending classes. As mana wielders, they believed it was beneficial to learn mana control. They’d come to the conclusion that no matter what they did in the future, completing their educations could only benefit them. Personally, I thought that was the right choice.

So, they’d returned to the academy in a carriage from the Music Sanctuary. Plenty of students had rushed to look at the curious scene unfolding and had seen the priests bowing to them as they bid Olga and Renato farewell, before the two of them returned to their dorms.

Obviously, the story had taken the school by storm.

It was a good thing, so there was no point in concealing the truth, but we’d gone from the uproar about the musical evening to this one. Discussion topics and rumors, I’d come to realize, really tended to stretch on and on in this world. The previous commotion hadn’t even settled before another prod at the hornets’ nest set the school abuzz again.

For a while, students kept looking in from the window of our class to peek at Olga and Renato, and they’d stay close in the hope of hearing them sing or play.

It was no way for nobles to behave, but although almost every student at the academy was in fact noble, the great majority of them were lower nobles. They were also a group of teens. Curiosity and energy oftentimes won over etiquette.

Many had already caught a glimpse of Olga and Renato, and the teachers were making the rounds to shoo away unrelated students, so things had finally started to calm down.

“I must say, I’m glad you decided to stay at the academy,” I said.

“Thank you, Lady Ekaterina. Being here with everyone is so much fun. I wanted to stay until the end,” Olga replied with a smile. Her cheeks reddened, and she added, “Besides, Lord Renato said that finishing our education would make our music richer, so...”

“My! The two of you are certainly close!” Marina said, bringing her hands to her cheeks and grinning despite looking a little bashful herself.

Just like Mikhail had said, Olga and Renato shared certain feelings.

Apparently, this had started much earlier than I’d anticipated. Olga had admired Renato, the musical genius, long before they even entered the academy. She’d fallen for him immediately upon meeting him in person for the first time at the academy. According to Marina, who’d told me, it was obvious at a glance.

I must really be blind... But I’m much older! I’m the big sister! So...how?! I couldn’t help but wonder as I stared into the distance.

Just like drunkards never know they’re drunks, I imagined not accepting it only went to prove I truly was blind to the matters of the heart.

In truth, the school hadn’t been the only place where an uproar had followed the events at the detached palace; a smaller commotion had also taken place within the walls of the Yulnova residence in the capital upon my return.

On that day, I reported everything to Alexei right after getting home. As soon as he heard about the God of Music descending, he pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for coming back to me...”

B-Brother, the God of Music never invited me anywhere. He sounds so sure of himself. His Ekaterina filter is working overtime.

He relaxed when I told him Olga and Renato had been invited to the garden of the god, not I, yet he seemed puzzled.

“I’m glad nothing happened to you, but I fail to understand how anyone could not choose you.”

Oh, brother.

As it turned out, Alexei’s Ekaterina disease couldn’t infect gods. I couldn’t very well say that, so instead I told him what the God of Music had said to me—that I wasn’t his.

Alexei’s expression shifted immediately. “I see. We must call Rosen at once.”

It was my turn to be puzzled. Why did he want to call for the knight commander of the Order of Yulnova?

“Brother, why would we need to call for him?”

“As I thought, we do need to reinforce the order. I don’t know which god is targeting you, but that doesn’t matter. Unless you wish it, I will never let anyone take you away. I’ll use everything the Yulnovas have to protect you. I swear it. Don’t be scared, Ekaterina.”

Now I’m scared! You want to strengthen the order to fight against a god?! Poor Rosen! Don’t go asking the impossible of him!

“B-Brother.” I took Alexei’s hand and squeezed it. “I think that all the God of Music meant to say is that I don’t have musical talent. Besides, I have no intention of leaving your side. Even if another god invites me, I’ll make sure to tell them I wish to return to you and refuse. I’m not a child, brother. Please, do not trouble Lord Rosen over this.”

“Ekaterina.” Alexei’s gaze wavered uncharacteristically as he squeezed my hand back. “I’m just...” A pause. “Terrified of losing you...”

Alexei, who feared neither monsters nor political opponents, was trembling.

“Brother!” I looped my arms around him and hugged him tight. “I’m not going anywhere! I don’t want to be apart from you, and I don’t want to see you sad. I’ll stay right here, with you, so you needn’t be scared!”

“Ekaterina...” Alexei took a deep breath and hugged me back. “The sun could disappear from the sky, and the ground shatter under my feet, and I’d be fine if you were with me. You’re my everything, Ekaterina. My life, my beating heart...”

At the look of anguish on his face, I reached out to stroke his hair in an attempt to console him. He closed his eyes for a second and, when he opened them again, he was smiling.

As it turned out, my excessive love could undo the chaos of his rampaging excessive love.

I felt like a fool for worrying about not being able to keep up so often. If my love could calm Alexei’s, maybe I was the one winning.

“The festival is fast approaching,” Marina said. “Everyone will be focused on that soon, so we won’t see a repeat of the past week. Speaking of which, we need to start thinking about what our class will do!”

“That’s true,” I replied, before I noticed that Marina was staring at me with a peculiar grin. Somehow, I felt ill at ease.

Um...Marina? I don’t want to stand out again, all right?

Despite the tinge of apprehension Marina’s grin had instilled in my heart, I diligently studied with Flora after class. Then, when I finally found myself alone, I shifted my focus to something else: searching my memory.

Searching for what? Well, for any information on the school festival that I could recall from the game. To avoid running straight to my doom like in the game, it was probably better for me to do things differently from the Ekaterina of the game.

It’s been a while since I last worried so seriously over the doom flags.

If I recalled correctly, there was only one major event during the festival in the game. What did the villainess do during it, and how did things end?

What did she do again?

My face blanched. It wasn’t like I remembered nothing at all, but my memories were incredibly hazy! I remembered...Ekaterina in a showy gown and Alexei praising her beauty, and... Hmm...

What else? Let’s do this step by step. What did our class do for the festival?

Ah, I remember now.

Because of the villainess, the heroine was still being bullied by the rest of the class at that point, so in order for the story to progress in the right direction and to score points with the prince, you had to act independently during the festival. That was the right choice to make as a player—or so I remembered.

But what did the rest of the class do during this time? What happened to them?

I totally forgot. My memories of the game as a whole are super hazy!

My life over the summer vacation had been so far removed from the game that I’d worried I might forget, but who would have thought I’d actually do it?!

Get a grip, girl!

But I can’t help it! I have so much to do and remember!!!

I was the lady of a house; managed over a hundred servants; studied heaps of things for school—including mana control, a topic far removed from anything I’d ever done before; ran a glass workshop; and tried to remember things about my brother’s work, the empire, and this new world and its history in general!

Besides, though the process wasn’t conscious, I’d felt less and less threatened by the doom flags over time. I’d come to know this world better and had started forging deep relationships with the people around me. The Ekaterina of the game felt more distant to me every day.

Nevertheless, why can I remember the Snowball Earth hypothesis and the class system of Tosa but not the game?!

Probably because I never had much of an interest in otome games, I realized.

I’d started playing the game on a whim while I wasn’t in my right mind because of overwork, but before that, I’d never really been the type to play that sort of game. On top of that, while I’d become a die-hard Alexei fan, I hadn’t even liked the game itself that much.

I only remember the scenes with Alexei!

The smart thing to do might have been to write everything down in a notebook while I’d still remembered. The thought had crossed my mind, of course, but the fear of someone finding that notebook had always stopped me from acting on it. I’d considered writing in Japanese so that no one could read it, even if they did find it, but owning a notebook covered with peculiar signs would have also been suspicious.

Besides, I wasn’t even sure I could write it all in Japanese. Just like when I spoke, my hand automatically translated my thoughts into the language of the empire. If I wanted to write Japanese characters, I had to make a conscious effort. Otherwise, I’d revert right back to the empire’s language.

Ah... What should I do?

No, calm down. I thought things over right before the start of the second semester, didn’t I?

While it was very unlikely for my brother and me to meet the same fate as in the game, I’d reached the conclusion that it wasn’t entirely impossible. The most likely cause for our destruction would be a Yulmagna scheme. If they’d taken advantage of all the things the villainess had done to force Alexei’s hand in the game, the ruin of the House of Yulnova made sense. To avoid giving them an opportunity to do the same thing to us in this life, I couldn’t do anything villainous!

In other words, as long as I was good, it didn’t really matter what my class did during the festival.

I’m so stupid. I keep getting caught up in the logic of the game.

The second I relaxed, it rushed back to me: In the game, my class had put on a play. That was why Ekaterina had been dressed in such a showy gown—it’d been her stage costume.

In the game, however, the heroine had been sidelined. Or rather, she’d accepted her fate and given up on participating altogether, which was the right thing to do. To still enjoy the mood of the festival, she’d decided to decorate the school on her own. She’d already had plenty of allies by that point, including students from other classes, the kitchen staff, and teachers. With their help, she’d ended up doing a wonderful job and had later earned praise from all the visitors.

During the festival, she’d been voted the number one contributor toward the festival, been publicly commended, and ended up becoming the partner of the prince for the upcoming ball.

Thinking back on this, I couldn’t really tell if it sounded realistic or not. Decorating an entire school was nothing like making a few paper flowers to put up on the walls of your classroom, so when I’d played the game, my only thought had been, She’s a bit too amazing, isn’t she?

Now, however, I knew just how much potential Flora had. Maybe she could actually pull it off.

I’d finally remembered what happened during the festival, but it was of no use to me, considering the status quo was completely different.

Well, I was feeling more relaxed, so that was that.

Instead of a play, wouldn’t it be better if we sang as a choir?

A lot of people were already saying that it’d be nice if we did music one way or another, so if I put forward the idea, it’d likely be approved.

For my peace of mind, I’d rather we do something different from the game.

I wondered if Olga would agree to be our soloist. Was there any rule that said people who’d been summoned by the God of Music couldn’t perform willy-nilly in random events?

I supposed there was no point worrying over the details when my idea of a choir hadn’t even been accepted yet. I could ask her later, after discussing it with the class.

Phew! That’s one big worry out of the way!

Just as I reached a conclusion within myself, Mina spoke up. “My lady.”

“Ah... Um, yes?”

“The dorm mother called for me and gave me a letter for you. It’s from Lev,” she said. Her expression was flat, like usual.

“My! Thank you for fetching it, Mina,” I replied with a big smile as I took the letter from her.

Lev, my genius glass artisan, devoted his days to crafting more glass pens. The ones he’d made for the empress at the emperor’s request had already been delivered to her, and she apparently adored them.

According to what had been reported to me, the empress and emperor had even had the following conversation upon her receiving them:

“With such gorgeous pens, I have a feeling I’ll write nothing but beautiful words. Perhaps they’ll even make my heart beautiful.”

“You’re already more than beautiful enough. Although I must confess I’m interested in those beautiful words you speak of. Might I ask for a love letter from your hand?”

“Wouldn’t you rather hear such words directly from my lips?”

Thank you so much for your inspired words, Your Majesty. Our resident merchant intends to use them almost as is for advertisement purposes.

Also, wow, the empress and emperor are still so in love!

Our popular Lev, who’d now earned himself a reputation as a first-rate artisan thanks to the praise of the imperial family, was currently working on the duke of Yulsein’s order. Last I’d heard from Lev, he’d been poring over how to represent the Goddess of Beauty that the duke had asked for.

I quickly read through the letter and let out an excited squeal. “He finished the order for the duke of Yulsein!”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! I’m visiting the workshop next weekend,” I declared. “I shall write Lev a reply at once. Could you deliver it for me, Mina?”

“Of course, my lady,” she answered. Her tone was nonchalant, but I could see she was happy by the slight curve of the edge of her lips.

“Welcome, my lady.” Lev seemed to be in good spirits as he welcomed me into the Murano Workshop.

“It’s been a while, Lev. I’m glad to find you in good health.”

“It’s all thanks to you, my lady. Hello to you too, Miss Mina.”

After Lev politely greeted Mina, the rest of the artisans greeted us too, and I waved hello in response with a smile.

“Good morning, everyone. Please, do not pause your work on our behalf.”

Timing was key for glasswork. The moment you took the glass out of the kiln, a battle against time started. They couldn’t stop just because a noble girl had walked into the workshop.

The atmosphere of the Murano Workshop was incredibly lively. Not only had the disciples of the late Master Murano returned, but new artisans had joined them. They were all hard at work.

One after the other, beautiful works of art were being created. Some made colorful pitchers, some worked on elaborate liqueur glasses with wing decorations, while others made white vases covered with patterns so fine and delicate they resembled lace. There were also those who crafted blue and red plates and glasses with rather ordinary shapes. These would later be decorated with gold and silver paint or illustrated with enamel paint. In the end, every last piece of glassware produced here would be a dazzling masterpiece of the finest quality.

Ever since the Murano Workshop had reopened its doors, it’d been flooded with orders, not only for glass pens but also for fine tableware.

“I’m sorry you had to come all this way,” Lev said, bowing apologetically after inviting me to sit on the sofa in the corner of the workshop.

“I wanted to. I left the capital soon after the workshop became operational again, so I was curious to see how things were going.”

I was genuinely happy to be there. Seeing the artisans working with such ardor convinced me this place was headed in the right direction.

Yup. The Murano Workshop is doing great!

“Everyone loves working here,” Lev said. “Well, that’s no wonder considering no other workshop offers wages remotely as good. Everyone also appreciates that you’re so transparent about how the wages are calculated. It makes them feel like their efforts are valued.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I wanted this workshop to be a good workplace—one people are happy to go to every morning,” I answered out loud. In my heart, I held up a fist in victory and screamed, YES!!! I did it!

As someone who’d quite literally died of overwork in my previous life, this was important to me. While I was in a position to manage others now, I wanted to do so while thinking of the workers first.

I’d only come to know these things after getting my brother to buy this workshop for me, but the great majority of workshops in the capital didn’t treat their artisans very well. To put it bluntly, they forced them to work long hours for terrible wages.

The most talented artisans usually established their own workshops that did well for themselves, but those who were hired were basically treated as untalented and replaceable. Even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth! There were tons of reasons, such as failing to secure funding, that could lead to incredibly talented artisans being unable to start their own shops.

I didn’t think it was right for such talented people to be at the whim of capricious masters ready to fire them for the slightest reason.

This villainess loves her brother and hates exploitative companies!

Anyway, that was why I’d made use of the knowledge from my past life to set things up in a brand new way—while still functioning as per the standards of the empire.

At the Murano Workshop, every artisan earned base pay plus a bonus per completed piece.

It was quite similar to the basic system at most companies in my past world, where workers were paid a salary and then extra for overtime. However, awarding extra pay on a time basis meant risking that some people would stay longer even when they had nothing to do, just to rake in the extra pay. By giving bonuses based on the pieces made, wages were directly linked to how much each artisan contributed to the profit of the workshop.

Naturally, different pieces required different amounts of time to produce, so the reward for completing one varied according to its nature. To keep things fair, we calculated bonuses as a percentage of the item’s final price. This way, even if someone spent a very long time on a particularly complex piece, they’d still get rewarded for their time and efforts accordingly.

As for each artisan’s base pay, it depended on their skill level and not on the length of their employment or age. The quicker one worked, and the more difficult the pieces they could make, the higher their base pay would be.

This way of doing things prompted the artisans to give some serious thought to which pieces were more profitable for them to craft, depending on their respective skill levels, while also motivating them to learn how to make items that sold for high prices so they could get their cuts. As a result, they were all motivated to work hard, and I had high hopes for the future of the workshop.

“I’m also thankful for what you’ve done for the mistress and her daughter. I’m relieved that I don’t need to be concerned for them now,” Lev said.

He was referring to the late Master Murano’s family. Despite being known as the greatest glass artisan in the empire, Master Murano had been a poor salesman, and he’d been in debt his entire life. The investments he’d made to produce his masterpieces had been simply too expensive for him to keep up.

After his death, the workshop had been taken away from his family as collateral for their debt. While I’d bought the workshop and reopened it, Murano’s bereaved family had continued to live in poverty.

When I’d revamped the wage system and Lev had started making good money, he’d told me how glad he was that he could finally afford to help his master’s family. When I’d heard about the problem, I’d instantly thought it wouldn’t do—and gotten an idea.

“Your late master’s name and fame have great value. Since they’re allowing us to use the name of his workshop, I should compensate them as a token of my gratitude.”

In the empire, workshops were named after the master who’d founded them. Since Master Murano wasn’t there anymore, we should have renamed it. However, I’d decided to keep the name on purpose. I’d figured it was only fair for me to pay a rental fee to his wife and child for that name. I was more or less licensing a trademark, after all!

While this sounded completely natural to me, I’d still agonized over it.

In my eyes, paying for a trademarked name made sense, and it was logical for the rights to someone’s name to belong to the person and their family. However, this concept didn’t exist in the empire. It was a fee I didn’t need to pay.

In other words, from the outside, it looked like I was using money I hadn’t even earned myself for something completely illogical. Just like the rules of the Selesnoa Marquessate had sounded illogical to me, my beliefs didn’t match the common sense of the people of this world. It made me wonder if I was becoming more and more of an outlier here. Besides, I’d sworn to quickly recover the initial investment I’d asked my brother to make and to start contributing to the House of Yulnova. Would my idea be a waste of money? I wanted to be of assistance to my brother!

In the end, I’d decided to open up about my worries and ask for advice. I’d ended up receiving a very surprising answer.

“My lady, would you consider implementing that ‘name usage fee’ you mentioned the other day?” Daniil Legall, who looked strangely worn out, asked me.

Daniil had the air of an intellectual thanks to his gray hair, memorable jade-green eyes, and silver-rimmed spectacles. As the son of the president of the Supreme Court, he was practically royalty in the legal world. When we were in the duchy, he’d been instrumental in destroying Novadain’s hopes of marrying his daughter Kira to Alexei.

Today, however, even his silver-rimmed spectacles appeared clouded.

“Did something happen, Lord Daniil?”

“I carelessly let this matter come to my father’s attention. He believes the law must evolve to improve the lives of the people. Ever since, he’s been pressing me to urge the Yulnova to conduct a trial to examine the practicality and necessity of new legislation protecting rights to names. I’m afraid there is not a shred of common sense in my father’s head, only thousands of laws and judicial precedents from all ages and places... He has spent the last few days talking my ears off about every law and precedent related to this he could think of. I can’t take it anymore.”

Well, Daniil’s father was the highest legal authority in the empire.

Did he really just say that such an illustrious man doesn’t have “a shred of common sense”?

Daniil seemed to notice my shock, and he cleared his throat. Then, he gave me a few of the examples his father had been discussing and helped me put together clear arguments in favor of implementing a name usage fee.

When we were done, I asked him about Kira Novadain. She was currently working as a maid at his estate. She was apparently doing fine.

“She’s full of energy and always has interesting reactions. My father never grows tired of teasing her, which has been a great help.”

I didn’t see how that could be any help to anyone, but I gave up on asking for an explanation. Instead, my thoughts flowed in another direction entirely. I couldn’t help but think about how interesting it was that history always seemed to follow the same principles.

My previous world and this one had similar pasts. Somewhere, within these shared experiences, the idea of a licensing fee had been born. In my previous world, it had grown and developed until it had reached a point where everyone thought it was common sense. In this world too, the seed had started to sprout. Surely, it would be accepted by all someday.

Maybe I’m not an outlier.

Lev gazed at me, taken aback by the distant look in my eyes as I reminisced. I snapped out of it and smiled for him.

“Could you show me the pens you made for Duke Yulsein? I’ve been looking forward to seeing them,” I said.

“Of course. Please take a look, my lady.”

The velvet box Lev presented to me was teal. I’d never met the duke of Yulsein, but I could only assume his hair was the color of the beautiful water above coral reefs, just like that of his younger sister, Magdalena.

I opened the box to find three glass pens neatly lined up inside it. Like the empress’s, their main color was teal. The impression they gave off, however, was very different.

The first pen was made up of two filaments twisted around one another, one teal and the other jet-black. I’d heard the duke of Yulsein’s wife was a princess from beyond the Summit of the Gods. She likely was a black-haired beauty. My eyes were drawn to the black glass. It was absolutely fascinating—the dark color was so beautifully deep that I thought I might get lost in it.

The second pen was the most lavish of all the pens Lev had crafted so far. Most of the grip was covered in gold, with stylized plants painted over it with vivid enamel paint. Around the white lilies were gracious green arcs that represented ivy. The precise shapes were so perfectly symmetrical that I couldn’t stop myself from staring at them. I could hardly believe that a human hand had achieved such flawless symmetry on the curved surface of a glass pen. The gold of the lavish pen glowed under the light. Maybe Lev had chosen this design to match the aesthetic sense of the people from beyond the Summit of the Gods. The duke of Yulsein wanted to show off his pen to the foreign merchants he often met with, and this design seemed to fit this goal to perfection.

The last pen was the one dedicated to the Goddess of Beauty. As far as the shape went, it had a bulbous grip that gradually tapered to a slender end. On the bulbous part was a painting of the Goddess of Beauty.

In my previous world, the Greek Goddess of Beauty was said to have been born from sea-foam. In the famous Botticelli painting, she appeared naked, standing atop a large seashell.

Interestingly enough, in this world too, the Goddess of Beauty was said to have been born from sea-foam in the days of the ancient Astra Empire.

To evoke this theme, the bulbous end of the pen was clear like foam or perhaps nacre. It was surrounded by surging teal waves. The white crests foaming at their edges were outlined in enamel. They reminded me of a hanging curtain protecting the goddess, like a membrane protecting a pearl.

The goddess had black hair—a request from the duke of Yulsein. Her pale and voluptuous body was hidden by a thin piece of white fabric and her jet-black hair as she rested, using her arms as a pillow. She appeared comfortably asleep.

The painting was no bigger than the tip of a finger, and the teal waves obscured some of the details, making it impossible to properly see the features of the goddess’s face. Despite the missing features, she was gorgeous. The lines of her cheeks, her full lips, and the curves of her body shone with womanly charm. If anything, obscuring her face made her all the more beautiful, since everyone could picture their own personal version of the most beautiful woman in the world.

The goddess slept, protected inside a pearl, enshrouded in teal waters—an unspoiled and innocent beauty, yet to be born into the world.

To write with this pen, one would need to wrap their hand around her, further shielding her from view, all the while holding her in the palm of their hand.

I let out a deep, impressed sigh. After a long pause, I declared, “You’ve done wonderful work once more, Lev.”

In Japan, we had a saying about how a woman was the most beautiful in the dark, from a distance, or hidden under her umbrella. Not being able to see someone’s face well often made them appear more beautiful. After worrying for so long about how to draw the Goddess of Beauty, Lev had thought of obscuring her features. And he’d found such a creative, artistic way to do so.

You’re amazing!

“The duke of Yulsein must love his wife very much. I’m sure he’ll be pleased at the idea of holding the goddess in his palm,” I said. “I met the former emperor a few weeks ago. He knew of the glass pens and told me he’d like one for himself. I’m sure we’ll receive a formal order before long. When the time comes, I’ll be counting on you again, Lev.”

“His Former Majesty truly said that?! Thank you!”

Lev’s face flushed red, and he bowed respectfully.

This was my first time visiting the white-walled residence of the duke of Yulsein. The outside was stylish and looked like it had been inspired by foreign design. Our carriage from the House of Yulnova passed through the massive gold-accented steel gates, which stood wide open to signal the duke’s intention to welcome us warmly.

As we neared the residence, I realized that the walls were not white but in fact covered with delicate light-blue tiles. It brought Mediterranean and Indian architecture to mind—the Taj Mahal in particular.

I sighed in appreciation. “What a beautiful mansion,” I said to Alexei, who was at my side. “Despite being in the capital, it has an exotic air.”

He smiled. “If you like it, I’ll have our residence remodeled in this style.”

“Oh, brother!” I chided playfully.

I had laughed, but I was sweating on the inside. If anyone else in the world had said these words, I would have assumed they were joking. Alexei, however, was definitely serious.

You can’t just rebuild our residence, brother! It’ll cost billions of yen! No! More! I remembered reading that building the State Guest House of Akasaka had cost over 100 billion yen. Please don’t be ready to toss around such amounts whenever I like something!

It would have been a very Alexei thing to do, though.

“However wonderful this place is, I like our residence the best,” I said. “I couldn’t bear to see the room in which you held my hand for the first time disappear.”

“I see... I’m glad that moment is still so dear to you. It’s also a precious memory to me—one that shines radiantly.”

I smiled at him, just as the carriage came to a stop.

When we got off the carriage, a man I assumed was the Yulseins’ butler was waiting for us. He bowed respectfully.

“Welcome, Your Grace, Lady Ekaterina.” He offered us a friendly smile.

I returned the expression.

Unlike Graham, whose bearing screamed “dignified butler of a prestigious noble house” at a glance, this man didn’t quite look the part. He was stout and not very tall, his nose was large and sharp, and his jet-black hair sat atop a wide forehead with bushy eyebrows. However, I felt like his smile had the ability to draw people in, and he immediately made us feel right at home. Since he served as the butler for the House of Yulsein, I had no doubt he was a very talented man.

Alexei escorted me as we followed the butler inside.

Many of the objects that decorated the corridors had come from outside the Yulgran Empire. There was even a life-sized camel statue that I couldn’t help but stare at in astonishment. While the shape mirrored a camel exactly, it was set with agate and quartz, making the work of art worthy of display at a grand duke’s house.

“This is a camel, Ekaterina,” Alexei explained, since I shouldn’t have seen one before. No normal young noble lady would have, so he’d assumed I was staring because I had no idea what it was.

“Thank you for telling me, brother. I read in a book that these animals were nicknamed ‘ships of the desert.’ It said the merchants beyond the Summit of the Gods travel with dozens of them in tow.”

“You’re very well-read, my lady,” the butler commented. “The previous duke of Yulsein purchased this statue when Her Imperial Majesty the Empress was still the young lady of this house. When she was little, Her Imperial Majesty often said she wanted to travel through the desert, and she was set on keeping camels. I still remember the long conversations the duke had with her, trying to convince her that the empire was far too cold for camels to thrive in, and it would be too cruel to bring them here.”

“My, what a charming story!” I said.

Still, it seemed all dukes truly were, well, dukes. Who got a life-sized camel statue set with precious stones for a child begging for a camel, instead of a stuffed animal?

We were led from there into a splendid drawing room. Before we really had time to wait, our host arrived.

“Hi, Alexei. And hello to you as well, Ekaterina. Welcome to my home,” he said cheerfully as he strode into the drawing room with his long legs.

He was a tall, handsome man in his prime, with teal hair and a stylish mustache that suited his face. He was also surprisingly tan. I assumed he was the sort of man who didn’t stay home much. Perhaps he still boarded three-masted ships and embarked on long journeys across the open sea. His teal eyes, shining next to his tan skin, reminded me of two oases in the desert. This man was Dmitri Yulsein, the current Duke of Yulsein.

He looks really cool!

“It has been a while,” Alexei said. “I’m glad to find you in good health.”

“Oh, stop being so stiff! We’re both part of the big Yul family, aren’t we?”

While they were both grand dukes and technically had the same status, Alexei spoke to Dmitri deferentially. Dmitri, on the other hand, spoke with great familiarity.

He looked at me and added, “Shouldn’t you introduce me to your treasure, Alexei?”

“Of course. Ekaterina, meet His Grace, Duke Dmitri. He serves as His Imperial Majesty’s Minister for Foreign Affairs. As you can see, he’s very amiable.”

At the moment, there was no prime minister in the empire. Konstantin didn’t want to leave the government to someone else, so he ruled directly. Under this system, the Minister for Foreign Affairs was the highest position that could be awarded, which made Dmitri the second most influential man in the empire.

Alexei glanced at me, and I performed a proper curtsy. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance. I’m Ekaterina Yulnova.”

“I’m glad to finally meet the young lady whom all the rumors are about. I hope we’ll see more of each other in the future. Call me Uncle Dmitri, all right?” he said mischievously.

I laughed. “I might really call you that, uncle.”

“Perfect,” he replied. “Your voice is beautiful. Although your face is more beautiful still.”

Yeah, he truly is a duke. His mastery of flowery flattery is perfect!

The butler soon returned, accompanied by maids, and they served us tea and snacks. I enjoyed the flavorful bite-sized pastries. Although they had a peculiar spice, the ample quantity of butter made them absolutely delicious. Dmitri watched over me warmly while I ate.

As we were exhausting the polite topics and our conversation slowed down, I straightened my posture.

“Uncle, I’ve brought you the glass pens you ordered from my humble workshop.”

“Oh! Can I see them?” he asked, excitedly leaning forward.

“Please, have a look.” I handed him the teal box.

A deep sigh escaped the duke’s lips as he opened the velvet box, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. That sigh spoke louder than words; there was no higher praise.

One by one, Dmitri took out the pens and studied them, checking how each fit in his palm. He was probably imagining how it’d feel to write with them, and he seemed to be delighted by the sensation of the glass against his fingers. First, he held the black-and-teal pen, then the lavish gold pen, and finally, the one with the painting of the Goddess of Beauty.

After gazing at his unborn Goddess of Beauty, who slept within a transparent pearl guarded by waves, Dmitri held the pen firmly, as if he cherished it. Then, he let out a soft laugh.

“Ekaterina, your artisan understands beauty. He’s absolutely right. A woman’s features are most captivating when they aren’t fully revealed—when the hidden parts titillate your yearning. This is very nice, indeed.”

“He’ll be glad to receive the praise of a man of the world known for his tastes,” I replied with a smile.

However, my harmless comment provoked an unexpected reaction. “Where did you hear this assessment of him, Ekaterina?” Alexei asked, a worried look on his face.

I’d heard it from Halil, actually. They’d been on friendly terms for years, and when Halil heard I’d be meeting Dmitri for the first time, he’d told me a few things about him. Halil had said Dmitri was an outstanding merchant, loved beautiful things, had great taste, and was easy to get along with—a true social butterfly.

The only mark on his reputation was related to his wife: She couldn’t show herself in front of other men. She was a princess from a large country beyond the Summit of the Gods and still abided by the rules of her country. This was a condition her father had insisted upon when he’d agreed to give her hand in marriage to a man from a distant land. But in the empire, it was customary for men and women to intermingle at social functions, and married couples normally appeared together. On top of that, the wife of the organizer was usually tasked with entertaining the other ladies. That wasn’t the case for the Yulseins, even if parties were held at their residence.

To make up for that, in the first years of their marriage, Dmitri had invited women whose jobs involved “entertaining” guests to help him. He’d also made his parties quite unique. At times, they’d been eccentric enough to astonish his guests; at others, they’d been so refined that they’d made even the imperial family sigh with delight. Over the years, Dmitri had become a bit of a legend in the social circles of the capital. Even foreign royals acknowledged Dmitri, and he was on friendly terms with many of them. He’d eventually been chosen as the Minister for Foreign Affairs thanks to his connections. In the end, his fortune and misfortune truly were two sides of the same coin.

That was how Dmitri had earned himself a reputation as a “man of the world.”

But Alexei had taken issue with my wording because, while the expression typically referred to a sophisticated man with experience in the broader sense, it also sometimes implied familiarity with red-light districts and their beauties. In fact, it was often reserved for true connoisseurs of the pleasure districts.

Duke Dmitri, however, despite his immense popularity with women—including those who sold their charms—was no libertine. He always handsomely paid the women he hired for his parties and used his connections to help them meet high-ranking clients, which explained their fondness for him. But he never partook himself. According to Halil, he was a devoted husband through and through. Apparently, his bride’s brothers had made it very clear that they’d have his head should he ever disrespect their sister by laying his hands on another woman outside the bounds of matrimony. In their land, it was acceptable to take several wives so long as you treated them all equally, but that was not an option in the empire.

Anyway, that was why the expression wasn’t one an innocent young lady should have known, let alone spoken aloud. Oops.

I turned to Alexei as I realized that and favored him with a cheerful smile. “Rumors have a way of reaching one’s ears without one noticing. I could hardly tell you where I heard it. Perhaps a wandering wind spirit sang my good uncle’s praise so they’d reach me on a breeze.”

Dmitri laughed. “What a delightful way to put it, my wise, kind Ekaterina. If the spirit had been a man, you’d have been hard-pressed to hear anything about me at all, for he’d surely have whispered sweet praise of your beauty without pause.”

“My, your words are more delightful still, uncle! Thank you.”

“I think people are right to applaud your refined sensitivities, Duke Dmitri,” Alexei declared solemnly.

I noticed the corners of his mouth were more relaxed than usual. The duke praising me had clearly put him in a good mood.

Dmitri tried all three glass pens. When he saw how much he could write in one go, he nodded several times in approval. “These pens aren’t simply beautiful—they’re also remarkably practical. The people beyond the Summit of the Gods will love them.”

“I’m glad to hear that! If you say so, it must be true, uncle!”

I hadn’t lacked confidence before, of course. Not only were these pens Lev’s best work yet, but Halil, someone who hailed from that area himself, had already talked to me about exporting the pens. Still, Dmitri had traded with them for years. If he was sure they’d love the pens, I had no doubts they’d sell.

My entrepreneurship dreams are growing bigger!

“Are you interested in foreign cultures, Ekaterina? If you’d like, I’d be happy to take you beyond the Summit of the Gods.”

“Truly?! How wonderful!”

By ship?! Will we sail across open waters?! Can I see scenes straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean in real life?! Aaah, that’d be amazing!!!

“Ekaterina.”

I snapped out of it at the sight of Alexei’s face, which was so pale that his unease was obvious at a glance.

“I appreciate your consideration, Duke Dmitri, but Ekaterina’s health is poor. She couldn’t possibly handle such a long journey.”

“Oh, is that so?” Dmitri asked, perplexed.

I understood his puzzlement. After all, I looked completely fine.

Alexei took my hand. “Do you want to travel abroad, Ekaterina?”

“I do... With your leave, of course,” I replied nervously.

He held my hand in both of his with a serious expression on his face.

“I want to make every one of your wishes come true, but I can’t allow you to sail there. It’s far too dangerous. The moment your ship leaves the coast, the God of the Sea will call forth a storm to take you to his palace in the depths of the sea. Your brilliance charms gods and demons alike, and I’m sure the inhabitants of the deep sea with their scales and fins will clutch you with glee. The sirens will be enraptured by your sweet singing, and after they learn to imitate you, how many more sailors will they bewitch? Soon, there won’t be a single ship afloat in the world—an alarming state of affairs, truly.”

“Oh brother! You’re incorrigible!”

And you’re blowing things a little out of proportion, don’t you think? How could my wanting to travel to another country lead to all the ships in the world sinking? The damage he was envisioning was just excessive. Your imagination really knows no bounds, brother.

“The God of the Sea would never make a storm rage just for me,” I said with a soft smile. “Still, I was mistaken. While I’m curious about foreign lands, there is no place I’d rather be than by your side, so I won’t go.”

“Ekaterina...” Alexei said, his voice shaking.

From the corner of my eye, I could see the surprise on Dmitri’s face, but I tried my hardest not to perceive it.

“About the glass pens,” Dmitri said after a long pause. “May I order another set? My wife would like to present her royal father with some. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gift, especially if I have my second son deliver it in person.”

I was delighted. “Oh, certainly! A present from his beloved daughter living in a faraway land, delivered into his hands by his grandson—of course, he’ll rejoice!”

“Please come again to meet my wife, Ekaterina. Everything in her pavilion follows the customs of her country. If you wish to have a taste of a foreign land without leaving the empire, that is the best place to visit. Since I can’t invite Alexei there, it’ll have to wait for next time, though.”

“Thank you very much for your kind offer. It would be a great honor to meet the princess of a faraway land. Brother, may I?”

Alexei seemed pleased at my request. “Of course. I’m glad to see you create connections worthy of yourself. It’ll also serve as a fine opportunity for your workshop. Having your glass pens sent as a royal gift is a great honor. People are sure to desire them all the more.”

“The birth of an object everyone craves in the empire is a boon for my house,” Dmitri said with a chuckle. “You’re wonderful, Ekaterina. I’d love to have you here more often. You can meet the rest of my family, including my sons.”

For some reason, Alexei frowned at this.

The three of us chatted a bit longer before Alexei and I took our leave.

“Send my regards to Little Halil,” Dmitri said as we were bidding each other farewell.

My eyes widened at the unexpected nickname. “If I may ask, how do you know Mr. Halil?”

“I’ve known him since he was a child. He’s the youngest of the Kamal Trading Company. Even back then, he was sensible and quick-witted. Magdalena liked him so much she offered to take him under her wing, but Duke Sergei lured him in with an advisor position, stealing him from under her nose. Magdalena was frustrated for the longest time, but no one other than Duke Sergei would have dared to give such an important position to a teenager.”

So our grandfather and the empress had practically fought each other for Halil?! That was quite something! And Sergei truly had been willing to do whatever it took to secure talent, hadn’t he?

Alexei also said something that surprised me once we were back in the carriage: “Ekaterina, I worry you’ve been a little too busy recently.”

I always said that to him, but I hadn’t expected to have the tables turned on me!

“In comparison to everything you do, one could hardly call me busy,” I said.

“I’m used to it. And I have a system in place, so I truly don’t overwork myself as much as you seem to believe I do. Besides, I have the stamina to withstand it. You, on the other hand...” Alexei paused and extended his hand, brushing my indigo hair with his fingers. “You study diligently at the academy, go through great pains for the sake of your friends, work hard to learn how to conduct yourself as the lady of the house, and are in the process of building a new venture from scratch with your glass workshop. You’ve even created a new product and are expanding into markets the Yulnovas have never touched. None of that is easy, Ekaterina, and you’re doing it despite your delicate health. I can’t help but worry when I look at you.”

“Brother.” I beamed at him. “I’m very aware of my own limits.”

I’ve died of overwork once! I know what I’m talking about! I declared inwardly, keeping my smugness to myself. I knew exactly how much work I could do before I dropped dead, and I had no intention of crossing that line again. What I was currently doing was nowhere near that line. I was just living a full life, nothing more.

Well, perhaps my perspective was a little skewed. Maybe living as a corporate drone is an illness you can never really recover from...

“I have fun every day,” I said. “I also had a nice time chatting with Uncle Dmitri today. Maybe I ought to spend time with my peers and foster social connections in accordance with my rank, but to me, my peers and rank are the true challenge. I’m unfamiliar with young noble ladies my age, and sometimes that terrifies me. This work I’ve been doing gives me an excuse to be with you, just like today. That puts my mind at ease and makes me happy.”

Alexei’s eyes narrowed like he was looking at the sun.

“Ekaterina.” He took my hand in his and squeezed it. “You’re always so wise, and you have a fitting sense of responsibility and pride as the lady of the House of Yulnova. I’m glad to have a sister like you. But that’s exactly why I can’t help but worry. I don’t want to lose you. Please promise me that you won’t take on any more roles.”

“I promise. If that’s what you want, brother, I shall do exactly as you say.”

You really love me too much!

In truth, my “work” for the glass workshop was practically no work at all. I just blurted out what I wanted, and others made it a reality. I didn’t lift a finger myself.

It hadn’t been like that in my past life. I remembered a time when, even after I’d found the one and only good way to save a dying project, I’d still had to run around getting approval from the client, getting my ideas reviewed again and again by the person in charge and then by my boss—and then again by the client’s boss! At every stage, I’d had to fight to get people to give me their time and listen to my explanations. They’d nitpicked the most unimportant things, like the size of the font on my proposals, forcing me to reformat and resubmit them. I’d done all that, and in the end, I’d had to start again from scratch anyway because of someone’s whims in the very last meeting. Actually, that had happened more than once...

The actual work’s done outside meeting rooms, guys! I couldn’t count the number of times I’d wasted precious time attending pointless pre-project meetings before I could even get started. Let me try something, and then we can talk, you idiots.

The projects that’d found their way to me had always been at critical stages, and yet they’d always wasted my time all the same!

Just thinking of all that annoys me so much that I feel like I might start throwing up blood. Let’s stop. I’m happy in this life!

My boss now was my supertalented brother, and his advisors were equally capable. A few words were enough to get the ball rolling with everyone on the same page. If anything, everyone else moved way too fast for me to follow sometimes.

That’s no good. I should get to the level where I can follow them!

Despite the House of Yulnova boasting a four-hundred-year history, decisions were made swiftly, and leadership was adaptable. I wished the big clients who’d drowned under the weight of inefficient bureaucracy in my past life could learn from them. Having competent people supporting me made all the difference. This was the best workplace in the world!

I really didn’t need Alexei to worry about how busy I was. He just didn’t want me to take on any more roles, right? I didn’t think that was likely to happen. I’d acquired the glass workshop through a very irregular process, and it’d grown much faster than I’d expected. Right now, we were completing orders from incredibly important people, one after another. Of course, none of that could have happened without Lev’s genius. Such crazy coincidences wouldn’t occur again!

Okay, that left my student life... Well, I was simply enjoying myself to the fullest there.

I was still a little worried about the doom flags looming over us, though.

Regardless, the one thing I could say was that there was no need for Alexei to worry about overwork flags on my end. I’d been through all that! In fact, Alexei was the one I had to worry about. Whatever he said, he worked much more than I ever could.

No matter what happens, I’ll protect you from the dangers of overwork, brother!

The weekend ended, and I returned to the Magic Academy.

As always, I cooked lunch with Flora every day. We were in the middle of carrying our usual baskets to my brother’s office when we turned a corner and ran into Lydia. It was the exact same corner and the exact same time as the last few times we’d run into her, so I was assaulted by a sense of déjà vu. She was once again holding a small basket.

“Oh my, Lady Lydia.”

“Good day to you, Lady Ekaterina,” she said with a smile. Then, she cleared her throat and looked at Flora. “G-Good day to you too, Lady Flora.”

“Likewise, my lady,” Flora replied politely, a gentle smile on her face.

Lydia was visibly awkward, but I supposed that was only natural. She’d been raised with the strict class division mindset of the Selesnoas. Her greeting the commoner-born adopted daughter of a baron showed she’d gone through a big change. That was a good thing, though. In the past, she would have ignored Flora entirely. As Armstrong once said, “A small step for mankind, a giant leap for Lydia!”—or something along those lines.

When I thought of it this way, Lydia’s stiffness appeared adorable in my eyes, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinning.

Ever since the events at the detached palace, we’d run into Lydia several times. These chance encounters had started after our respective houses entered some sort of peace agreement. Alexei wouldn’t tell me the specifics, so I had no idea what had truly transpired, but I’d heard that the Selesnoas had sent a gift back after Alexei sent one of his own. We were now on friendly terms.

“What did you send them, brother?” I asked.

“Just some wine, Ekaterina,” Alexei replied.

Wine was one of the specialties of the duchy, but the gleam in Alexei’s eyes as he smiled was sort of dark. That said, my main thought was: Brother, you look so handsome with that devilish smile on!

Apparently, the gift the Selesnoas had sent as a thank you was a horn—the musical instrument, to be specific. It was adorned with pearls and clearly intended more as a decorative piece than an instrument meant to be played.

Thanks to the large lake in their territory, the Selesnoas produced freshwater pearls. In this world, where aquaculture wasn’t yet a thing, pearls were far more precious and expensive than in my previous one. Moreover, since the founding father of the House of Selesnoa had been a horn player for Pyotr the Great, their choice of a horn as a gift was highly symbolic.

I imagined Alexei had sent them very fine wine, but regardless of its value, the horn was obviously a lot more precious. That imbalance only underscored the difference in status and influence between our houses. So, even though we were “working together,” the reality was that the House of Selesnoa was now beneath the House of Yulnova.

The fact that I’d rescued the former empress’s piano and saved them from their own hubris certainly played a role in that shift, but it was also clear to everyone that the Selesnoas had never posed a serious threat to the Yulnovas. They’d made the right call in choosing submission over resistance. As Sun Tzu had once written in The Art of War: To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.

Convincing the enemy they had no chance of winning so they gave up without a fight was the greatest victory possible. After all, no matter how overwhelming your power compared to your adversary’s, any battle brought loss and exhaustion. Avoiding that was always best.

Heh heh heh. I wanna brag to Sun Tzu about my brother! I thought, like the simpleton I was.

That aside, my point was that Lydia had started popping up more after the relationship between our families was settled.

And what did we talk about when she showed up?

“Thank you for the score you gave me the other day, Lady Ekaterina. It was a wonderful surprise.”

“Well, since that song happened to come up in our conversation, I thought you’d sing it beautifully,” I replied.

That was a lie. Or rather, a polite way of putting it.

The song Olga had sung at the detached palace, “Jupiter,” had come up while we chatted, but Lydia had stared at me with such intensity that I could practically hear her scream, I want to sing iiiiiit!!! When I’d returned to my dorm room that evening, I’d asked Mina to deliver the sheet music to her.

Speaking of Lydia’s, um, expressive gaze, that was also why we now called each other by name. She’d looked so envious when Flora and I used first names that I’d offered, on the condition that she do the same with Flora and treat her like a friend. Lydia had jumped at the opportunity, exclaiming, “If that’s what you want, I’m willing to do it!”

“Have you tried singing the song yet?” I asked.

“Of course. Since you were kind enough to send me the sheet music, I took it as your way of telling me to keep up my practice,” she said with a smile. At a glance, it was a confident, cool expression, but I could feel the pressure of her gaze.

How does she do that?!

“I’d like to hear you sing it one day,” I said in spite of myself.

“I wouldn’t be against it if you wanted to listen, Lady Ekaterina. I’ll sing for you as soon as I polish my performance enough!”

Every time, Lydia pounced on these openings. She was truly full of vigor. Maybe that pressure I felt in her gaze was just zealous enthusiasm.

I was pondering that when Lydia hesitantly mumbled, “I, um... I always sang hoping that the God of Music would listen. So it feels a little strange for me to sing for someone... The thought makes my heart race.” Her cheeks reddened as her smile widened.

When Lydia first spoke to me like this, I’d assumed that she was just putting on a show. I’d figured she had mixed feelings about me after the events at the detached palace. Everyone in her class knew she’d been training her hardest, hoping to be noticed by the God of Music. She’d even negotiated with the school for daily piano access after class. Yet the ones who’d been summoned by the God of Music were Olga and Renato—two vassals of her house. That must have been a blow to Lydia’s image. Even though she was the daughter of a marquess, I imagined her standing in her class must have wavered at least a little.

I still got a little freaked out when I thought about my status, but I was the lady of a grand ducal house. Being on friendly terms with me was good for her image and her position in the pecking order. Lydia knew how noble ladies fought their battles. She was definitely capable of putting her feelings aside and pretending to be my friend to save face.

At first, I’d accepted her overtures for what they were and figured if I could be useful to her in that way, it was fine. However, the longer it went on, the more I realized Lydia really wanted to be my friend. I even got the feeling her personality had shifted a bit.

We were both nobles and had to prioritize our respective houses, which meant our relationship might change again in the future depending on politics. Still, I thought it would be nice to be friends, at least while we were still just students at the same academy.

I also had high hopes for Lydia as a singer. I sensed she was in the process of reinventing herself.

“What is your class doing for the festival, Lady Lydia? If it involves singing, I’ll look forward to listening to you perform onstage.”

“W-Well, the class hasn’t decided yet. But the sound in the auditorium is quite good, so that’d be a nice stage to perform on,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

Your voice is the real deal, Lydia. I hope you’ll show everyone what you can really do. And I can’t wait to hear you at your best!

I was getting excited about it.

“What about you, Lady Ekaterina? What are your class’s plans?”

“We haven’t decided either. We’re planning to discuss it soon.”

We parted from Lydia just before reaching Mikhail’s class. Before she left, she handed me the small basket she’d been carrying. It was filled with traditional sweets from the Selesnoa Marquessate—the kind the former empress loved. They were a delicious treat made by baking a mixture of whipped egg whites and sugar: meringues. I’d already received several batches from Lydia.

Speaking of meringues, they’d stirred my culinary ambitions. Even in this era,maybe we could make macarons if we went all out...

As always, the prince was leaning out the window like he was waiting for something, and we hurried to him.

“Sorry for the wait, Prince Mikhail.”

He grinned. “You’ve made me no promises. I’m the one deciding to wait eagerly for your passage every day. Besides, I knew you’d arrive later than usual when I heard Lydia pacing back and forth in the area.”

I’d thought Lydia just had innate good timing because she was a perfect noble lady, but she’d actually been hard at work matching her timing with ours... She was like a swan, never disturbing the surface of the lake but paddling tirelessly underneath.

“Anyway, you don’t have to be so polite when you feed me every day. You could put on airs if you wanted to,” Mikhail concluded.

“My, I couldn’t,” I replied with a smile.

He wasn’t exactly wrong; we’d been feeding him every single day of class for quite a while. Still, I felt guilty making a puppy wait for its food. That was a natural feeling as a human being, right?

Actually, I probably couldn’t be more impolite if I tried. I literally think of you as a puppy. Sorry about that, Prince.

“Yes, I could never put on airs around you. I owe you far too much.”

Heh heh! I’m confident in today’s dish! I thought with inner smugness while I calmly opened my basket. “Please have one.”

“Thank you.”

Inside my basket were sandwiches. Mikhail didn’t hesitate to reach in and pick one up. When he saw the thick slice of meat inside, he beamed. I’d expected the meaty sandwich to be a hit with a growing boy like him. Clearly, I’d been right.

“Is that deep-fried?” he asked.

“Yes, we covered them in breadcrumbs before frying.”

“Looks delicious,” he said before diving in and taking a big bite. A nice crunchy sound echoed, and his summer-sky-blue eyes widened as he munched away.

“It is delicious!” he exclaimed after swallowing his first bite.

Yes!!!

It hadn’t been easy, but I was glad we’d nailed the tonkatsu sandwiches! I smiled gracefully on the outside and struck a triumphant pose on the inside.

“You like meat, don’t you, Prince Mikhail? I came up with this way of cooking it so that it’d be easier to have for lunch. I said I’d make something you liked, but since you never told me your favorite dish, I took it upon myself to think of something that might suit your tastes.”

“Every single dish I’ve gotten from you has been delicious, so I couldn’t choose. Did you really make this for me?”

“Of course!” I replied immediately.

In truth, it had been a big challenge.

Ever since I’d picked up cooking, I’d been hoping to make Japanese food, because I wanted to feed my brother something especially delicious.

The problem was that modern Japanese food relied on modern ingredients and cooking utensils. I didn’t even have the necessary condiments. Soy sauce and miso were the bare minimum, but I didn’t have tonkatsu sauce, mayonnaise, ketchup, or ponzu either—all delicious in their own right. I couldn’t remember what ingredients were necessary to make tonkatsu sauce from scratch, but I vaguely recalled the list being long and packed with tons of vegetables, fruits, and spices. It truly had been a labor of love from the famous company that’d formulated it.

The theme song of that show I watched is starting to play in my head!

Tonkatsu sauce aside, dashi was another cornerstone of Japanese cuisine. In the past, when professional foreign chefs—French chefs, for instance—visited Japan, they’d buy a few knives and leave. Nowadays, they’d also stock up on kelp to make dashi, or so I’d heard. Dashi was amazing, and before I died, it’d started gaining recognition worldwide, not just in Japan.

In the empire, however, ready-made condiments were practically nonexistent. The equipment in kitchens also paled in comparison to induction heating, gas ovens, and microwaves. All we had were stoves and ovens fueled by firewood, with wildly inconsistent heat. By and large, reproducing twenty-first-century Japanese dishes was just impossible.

Had I come to this world as the person I’d been in my past life, Yukimura Rina, I probably would’ve been dying for Japanese food. But I, Ekaterina Yulnova, had never actually tasted it. I still held the memories from my past life, but memories alone weren’t enough to make me desperate. I was more than satisfied with the dishes the chefs of the empire prepared. If anything, the shoddy food I’d grown up eating while confined made everything I tried now taste amazing in comparison.

That was why I’d been more than happy to stick with the recipes Flora had taught me so far. That said, after several months of cooking, I’d started craving new challenges. That was how I’d set my sights on tonkatsu—something I could easily procure ingredients for and which I’d imagined would be well received by a growing teenage boy.

I made a point not to overestimate my abilities, so instead of trying it for lunch right away, I’d first sought help from the House of Yulnova’s chef.

I’d heard that tonkatsu-style pork cutlets were based on Milanese cutlets. Since this world resembled Europe, I’d assumed a version of this dish would exist here too. I was wrong.

Breadcrumbs for breading ingredients did exist, but they were finer than those in Japan. To obtain Japanese-style breadcrumbs, or panko as we called them, I’d first had to find an appropriate grater.

I’d also run into a few issues with the pork. Without the centuries of selective breeding the pigs in Japan had undergone, the pork here had a strong smell and was quite tough. Our chef had tenderized it thoroughly and soaked it in yogurt to soften it and remove the smell, but it’d still been different from the tonkatsu I’d remembered—easy to bite into and mild in flavor.

The next problem had been the oil. Finding oil suitable for deep-frying was difficult, and even once I had, using that much at once was considered incredibly extravagant by this world’s standards. The chef had shuddered when I’d asked him to do a trial run.

But I’d pushed through each obstacle until I’d finally arrived at a satisfactory result!

Normally, Flora and I used ingredients from the academy’s kitchen. For today, however, I’d brought most of what we needed from home. The chef at our residence in the capital had made the panko, and the meat was high-quality pork from a species with demonic boar blood. It originated from the Yulnova Duchy, but Sergei had brought several specimens to the capital back in his day and started a breeding farm. The oil was also from the duchy.

The kitchen staff had watched with interest as we’d assembled the tonkatsu sandwiches using all the luxurious ingredients I’d brought in.

“You liked the roasted pork the chef made for us in the duchy, right?” I asked Mikhail. “My grandfather had people start raising those pigs on the outskirts of the capital. I had some of their meat brought in to make this.”

“You went that far? Thank you for going through the trouble. Knowing that you gave it that much thought for my sake makes it all the more delicious. I’m overjoyed, Ekaterina,” Mikhail said. He really did look pleased.

I nodded, quite happy myself. I knew it! Boys love meat!

Mikhail had helped me so much with Olga’s trouble that I was glad I could finally do something for him in return. I’d cooked while thinking of him the entire time. This was my way of saying thank you, after all! I didn’t like to leave debts unpaid.

“Lady Ekaterina, we should get going,” Flora interjected.

Oh no! I snapped back to reality. I’m making my brother wait. I want him to eat while the food’s still warm!

“Thank you for the reminder, Lady Flora. Well then. Prince Mikhail, we’ll be on our way.”

“Yeah... See you tomorrow.”

I got the feeling Mikhail was glaring at Flora, but it must have been my imagination.

I hope my brother says it’s good!

Alexei always said that everything I made was good, though. That was just how he was.

Sure enough, the tonkatsu sandwiches were a big hit in Alexei’s office.

“This dish is very much like you,” Alexei said. “It’s packed with amazement and delight. For the longest time, I didn’t understand why people were so hung up on their food, but I’ve come to understand their feelings in recent months. Eating the food you make fulfills my heart and body, and gives me great happiness as well.”

I’m the one who’s happy!

No, I was over the moon! Showing my brother the joy of eating was one of the main reasons I’d picked up cooking in the first place. I wanted his life to be full of fun, joy, and happiness!

And I’ll keep it up!

The sauce I’d ended up using for the sandwiches was a type of tomato sauce recommended by our chef. The harvest period of tomatoes had already passed, but he’d made a sauce using dried tomatoes as a base. It was packed with umami, and while it was very different from the tonkatsu sauce of my past world, it was still delicious. The pork cutlets that existed here—the closest thing to tonkatsu in this world—were usually paired with tomato sauce, so this was a combination the people of the empire were used to.

Well, I suppose imperial-style tonkatsu is fine this way.

The chef at our capital residence was now super motivated to serve tonkatsu to the imperial family during their next annual visit. Apparently, he even wanted to deep-fry the meat in front of the emperor and empress as a form of entertainment.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about serving Their Imperial Majesties tonkatsu, but by this world’s standards, a dish using that much oil was indeed worthy of their rank. If anything, perhaps it was the perfect thing to serve them.

No one else but me would think it’s weird, after all...

“If this becomes popular, we can expect high-quality pork to sell like hotcakes in the capital,” Halil said with a smirk.

I wondered if, one day, tonkatsu would become an emblematic dish of the empire. The thought of this European-styled empire adopting tonkatsu as its national dish made me feel incredibly apologetic.

If that ever happens... Well, I’m sorry.

The one who ended up liking tonkatsu the most among my brother’s advisors was Aaron.

“I’m once again reminded of how happy I am to serve the House of Yulnova,” he declared dramatically. “If this dish makes it into a restaurant, I’ll become a regular, no matter the price.”

It didn’t suit his scholarly looks in the slightest, but Aaron loved meat-heavy dishes best. I wondered if that was because he’d gotten used to eating wild game for survival when he went on field trips with Granduncle Isaac. Whether or not that was true, it remained my leading theory. Aaron loved Isaac so much, it wouldn’t have been surprising.

I won’t lose to you, Aaron! I love my brother just as much!

“Has your class decided what to do for the festival yet, brother?” I asked.

“They have, but I don’t take part in such events. I never have the time for them,” he replied immediately, his tone matter-of-fact.

That made my heart sink, but I still nodded. “You’re very busy, after all. It’s no wonder you can’t participate.”

The fact that work was the only thing in Alexei’s life worried me, but I wasn’t sure he’d enjoy a school event anyway. There was a good chance it’d simply tire him out further.

“You’re always so kind,” he said. “To be honest, working feels easier and more comfortable to me. I’m a boring man, you see.”

Alexei sounded indifferent as he depreciated himself, but I quickly shook my head. “The lives of the people of Yulnova depend on your work. I also believe prioritizing them is the right thing to do. I already worry enough with you handling your work as duke on top of your schoolwork, so I don’t think you should push yourself to participate in the festival.”

“Thank you, Ekaterina. However, I must say I’m far more worried about you. With the great success of the musical evening you put together, your classmates must be expecting a lot from you. Remember not to overwork yourself. They say beauties are ephemeral as dreams. If you are a dream, I never want to wake up. I beg of you to show me a never-ending dream, my sweet Ekaterina.”

Alexei’s mastery of flowery prose is through the roof as usual. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, brother!

“I won’t overwork myself, and I promise to do as you say in all things,” I assured him.

“Good girl.”

Alexei patted my head, putting me in the greatest of moods!

These days, whenever students gathered, all they talked about was the upcoming festival. It was as if asking other classes what they were planning had become some sort of password—fail to say it, and you risked being kicked out of the academy. To be perfectly honest, I’d also intended to ask Mikhail what his class was doing before Flora had reminded me we were in a hurry.

I hadn’t given it much thought before, since I’d always seen it as just another event from the game, but the festival was sort of an odd thing. The academy itself was odd, actually. Leaving aside the fact that there were monsters and magic—and that you could run into actual gods—this world closely resembled early modern Europe in terms of social structure and culture. The Magic Academy stood out conspicuously in the midst of it all. I was pretty sure a compulsory academy for noble girls and boys had never existed in Europe during that time period. The fact that it was co-ed was especially peculiar.

Strictly speaking, nobility had nothing to do with the admission criterion, since it was based on mana quantity. But when I heard about the lives of commoners from Flora, I realized that was really just a sophism. In practice, the authorities never measured the mana of commoner children, so they were never enrolled. Flora herself had only gotten her mana measured because she’d been adopted by a noble couple. Had she remained a commoner, she would very likely have slipped under the radar.

A terrible waste, if you ask me.

Commoners with large quantities of mana were incredibly rare, so this probably had to do with testing efficiency. Still, I thought there was a glaring contradiction between the lax testing policy and the fact that enrollment in the academy was compulsory for those who met the conditions.

Playing the otome game in my previous life had made the existence of the Magic Academy feel almost natural to me. I’d initially believed that its main raison d’être was to encourage the students to socialize and fall in love. However, my knowledge of both of my worlds’ histories gave me a wide perspective few could enjoy, and I’d come to see things in a different light recently.

The Magic Academy had been founded at the very beginning of the empire, and it’d already existed in the days of Pyotr the Great. At first, it hadn’t even been a school, and the class system had still been in its infancy. In its earliest stage, the Magic Academy had simply been a place where the children of the people who’d recently become Pyotr’s vassals had come to cohabitate and learn.

Essentially, what Pyotr had done was gather the heirs of his vassals in one place. When I thought of it that way, a bell finally rang in my history buff brain.

After emerging as the supreme victor of the troubled Sengoku period, the first Tokugawa shogun had implemented a key policy: The wives and children of every feudal lord had been required to reside in Edo, his capital. In other words, he’d made them his hostages.

In France, the dazzling Palace of Versailles had been constructed like a large town. It had housed not only the royal family but also many nobles. As I remembered reading in a classic shojo manga, living in Versailles had been a mark of status. However, the true reason behind the nobles’ presence there had stemmed from King Louis XIV’s fears. Having lived through a revolt of the nobility—the Fronde, or something like that—he’d wanted to keep a close eye on them and had thus forced them to move to Versailles.

As was often the case, the actions of those in power had been driven by heavy ulterior motives.

It was easy to imagine the idea of an academy where the emperor might keep the children of his potential rivals hostage blooming in the turbulent days of the empire’s founding. The academy was co-ed because the daughters were hostages too, and the reason it had felt so out of place to me was that girls had held no value whatsoever as hostages in the medieval Europe of my previous world. Although, to be fair, it hadn’t just been girls. Children, aside from the heir, had generally held very little value for nobles.

This way of thinking was also common in many places and eras in this world, as shown by the status of women in the ancient Astran society. But the key difference between this world and my previous one was the existence of mana. As long as they had strong mana, women could compete with men. In times of war, women with strong mana were just as valuable as hostages as men were.

Come to think of it, the first empress, Lyudmila, had been known as a better military commander on the field than Pyotr. According to some of the books I’d read, she’d also been a force to be reckoned with in her private life, so it stood to reason that Pyotr had decided to keep women in check too.

Wait a minute. That’s where the “giant mixer” theory comes back!

If all the girls with powerful mana were in the academy, all the best catches would be there! If the boys didn’t come, they’d miss out on the opportunity to find brides with powerful mana to strengthen their bloodlines—and eventually, their houses would fall behind! Maybe Pyotr had decided to gather the women simply to make sure the men showed up too.

Well, I was just guessing here. Maybe he’d made that call because a school full of boys would be rowdy and filthy. Who knew? The beginnings of great civilizations were sometimes more casual than one would assume.

Anyway, my initial point was that the way the admission rules were worded—as though the only important criterion was mana quantity—had been a clever trick.

To feudal lords, powerful mana users were precious. I had no doubt they hadn’t wanted to hand them over. However, pretending not to have any meant publicly admitting you had no talented individual in your family or among your vassals. Everyone would look down on you, leaving you with no choice but to send your mana users to the academy.

I imagined that many had been less opposed to sending children who weren’t their heirs. But in an era that’d directly followed times of war, remnants of chaos must have remained. What if the child you’d sent created strong connections with the emperor and returned to steal your heir’s spot?

Maybe there are such precedents. What a mess it must have been, with people overthrowing one another left and right!

Now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure Pyotr had given a push to the people under his influence so they’d rise as lords.

There are so many layers to this!

My history-buff blood was boiling, and I was starting to come up with tons of theories. Some of them were probably just wishful thinking on my part, though.

Calling the noble scions sent to the academy “hostages” sounded scary, but according to the documents that remained, Pyotr the Great had doted on the young men and women he’d summoned to the capital. He’d made sure they were taught scholarly subjects and martial arts, and encouraged them to socialize and form friendships. There was even a huge painting depicting happy students spending time with Pyotr the Great and Lyudmila in the auditorium. Apparently, Pyotr had just liked children very much. He’d raised his own children among the so-called hostages and taught them all the same way.

My general impression of Pyotr the Great was that he’d been a cheerful man. He’d liked being around others and was the sort who’d naturally found himself at the center of every room. He’d faced plenty of difficulties along the way, but the support he’d so effortlessly commanded had been what helped him reach the very top.

One of his younger brothers—and my ancestor—the first Duke Sergei, had often complained about all the work his older brother dumped on his shoulders. But whenever he saw him, he forgot it all and always agreed to do whatever Pyotr asked of him.

You were so easy, Sergei.

On the other hand, Pyotr the Great hadn’t been a simpleminded man. He’d been capable of calculations and coolheaded decisions. Underneath that, though, he’d always been a man capable of deep affection—or at least, that was my image of him.

By bringing the children of his vassals somewhere he could influence them, he’d ensured the nobility wouldn’t betray him, all while raising the next generation to be useful and trustworthy to the crown. At the same time, he’d ensured that the next generation of vassals would be less likely to wage war against one another as adults because of the strong bonds they’d formed during their teenage years.

I didn’t think Pyotr had ever seen them as the children of his enemies. Instead, he’d seen them as his younger brothers and sisters, even though fostering a sense of loyalty in them had also been a strategy to avoid them defying him or his heir.

Come to think of it, Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first Tokugawa shogun, had also spent most of his childhood as a hostage to Imagawa Yoshimoto. Imagawa had also looked after him properly and had educated him as the future lord of a fief. He’d even taught him falconry. During the Sengoku period, hostages had often been treated this way—educated by guardians who took responsibility for them.

The original form of the academy reminded me of that. The young men and women who’d been summoned by Pyotr and raised by him had become his foster children in a way. They were the children of the empire.

Even now, most of the important people in the empire were alumni of the Magic Academy. Though they belonged to different generations, they could bond over the dormitory they’d slept in, or the bronze statue where people usually met up, and so on. Thanks to the academy, the key men and women of the empire had something in common.

Compared to the situation in other countries, there was less confrontation and hostility between the nobles of the empire. The Magic Academy, which had stood for four centuries now, was certainly one of the reasons behind that.

The starting point of the festival also lay with the children Pyotr had gathered. According to the records, it had begun with the children showing one another the customs, music, and plays from their respective regions.

I wonder if it was a way of alleviating their homesickness. Either way, after four hundred years, that initial intention had long been lost to history. It was just a fun event for the students to enjoy nowadays. And I still think that’s great!

I was glad there was an event where students could enjoy themselves and make memories in peace. However, as the villainess, I still had to be mindful of the doom flags. I couldn’t just mess around without a second thought.

I’d promised my brother I wouldn’t overdo it, so I was hoping our class would soon decide on singing as a choir. That way, I could hide myself among all the other students and be as inconspicuous as possible.

Ah, I miss my high school festival. I’m so looking forward to this one!

Or so I’d hoped. How naive I’d been.

Just after our class finally decided on what to do for the festival, I ran into Alexei walking through the corridors in between classes.

“Brother!”

With a cry, I dashed toward him, then clung to him in tears.

Chapter 2: The Birth of the Villainess

“Ekaterina!” Alexei’s expression immediately shifted as he hugged me tightly. “What happened? Who hurt you? No matter who they may be, I will never allow anyone to make you sad!”

“Brother!” I repeated, sobbing even harder.

Right at that moment, the laughter of a villainess echoed from behind me.

But I, the true villainess, was currently clinging to my brother in tears. The one who’d let out those villainous, high-pitched sounds was someone else entirely: a wolf in cat’s clothing, with fiery red-and-gold hair and sparkling eyes.

Yes, it was none other than Marina Krymov.

“Oh ho ho!” Her dreadful laughter echoed once more. “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself. It was your own shining wit and intelligence that brought about this result, Lady Ekaterina!”

“Lady Marina!” I shouted, lifting my face from my brother’s chest. “How could you so blatantly overrule every one of my wishes?! You pushed everyone to pick a play, and you even put me in charge of the scenario! Just you wait, I’ll make you play a monkey!!!”

“Oh ho ho! I shall take on this challenge without fear!”

Nikolai, who was standing next to my brother, started laughing too. He’d been worried at first, but he’d picked up that this wasn’t anything serious. He looked like a muscle-brained idiot, but he was actually quite sharp.

“That’s no challenge at all,” he said. “You’re already a monkey in real life.”

Marina dashed forward and stomped on her brother’s foot.

“Yowch!”

Marina dashed back out of his reach. “Oh my, is something the matter, brother?” she asked calmly, watching Nikolai hop on one foot. She was pretending she hadn’t moved at all, but her breathing was slightly ragged. She’d done it so ostentatiously and in plain sight that I felt like whoever pointed that out would look even stupider than she did.

Not even the five kittens could safeguard her innocence at this point. She’d need at least a couple more.

“Lady Krymov,” Alexei called out to her sternly, her ridiculousness not affecting him in the slightest. “My sister is in poor health, and I personally warned her not to overdo it during the festival. That—”

“Um, brother...” I pulled on the hem of his jacket, interrupting him. My long eyelashes quivered as I looked up. “My classmates all agreed to put on a play for the festival. I’ve been put in charge of writing the script.”

In truth, my classmates had wanted me to act (the leading role at that!) in the play, but I’d desperately fought back. If I played the leading part in the play, I’d be repeating the events of the otome game. That was the one thing I wanted to avoid at all costs!

In the end, I’d bargained with them so they’d let me write the script instead; I’d told them that I might even come up with a new song or two if they agreed. That had been the only thing I could think of to make them fold. Regardless, it felt as though I’d dug my grave with my own hands. Apparently, in this world, it was natural for the person writing the script to also cast the actors and handle the direction. I was now the de facto stage director of the play, which sounded like a lot of work.

That said, there were perks.

“Um, it did give me an idea,” I continued. “I was thinking it’d be wonderful if you could see the play I wrote and enjoy yourself a little...”

The tension left Alexei’s body. He seemed to finally realize that my argument with Marina was nothing more than an act to make him agree to let me write the play.

“But, Ekaterina—”

“Please hear me out, brother. I also want you to use your time wisely to avoid straining your health. However, you’re a third-year student, so this will be your last festival. I can’t bear the thought of you spending the entire time working for the good of our house. You may not have time to prepare anything, but I was thinking that you could take a break, just long enough to watch our play and get a sense of the festival’s atmosphere. That way, you could have a little fun and make some fond memories of your last festival to look back on in the future...”

Honestly, Alexei didn’t seem like the type to enjoy plays all that much. He didn’t really like creative works in general, including novels. The only creative writing he read was poetry—a tremendous help to his flowery language skills—but that was a bit of a special case. His enjoyment of poetry seemed to be a vestige of Vladimir’s influence. Even now, Vladimir’s shadow hadn’t left Alexei’s heart.

But Alexei was kind and compassionate, so I knew he’d come to my play anyway. Through that, he’d be a part of the festival and immerse himself in its atmosphere, if only for a bit. Either way, he’d have memories of his student days!

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” I said. “You’ve lived your whole life putting our house first. For once, I want you to forget about your duties and have fun. So, please, allow me to participate in the festival with my class.”

Alexei remained silent for a few moments before he let out a deep sigh. “You’re doing this for my sake? Your kindness is more ardent than fire and could melt anything away. Even your schemes are kind.”

“Does that mean you approve?” I asked excitedly.

Alexei smiled gently. “I swore to make all of your wishes come true, my queen. But still, you must promise me to put your health first and not overdo it.”

“Thank you!” I beamed.

Marina let out an excited squeal.

“Just to confirm, Ekaterina, you planned your argument with Lady Krymov for me to hear, didn’t you?” Alexei asked.

“I really wanted you to agree, so...” I mumbled in embarrassment.

After I’d been assigned my job for the festival, I’d started worrying about how to get Alexei to allow it. Marina had been the one to suggest this little act. Flora, the ever-pure heroine, had told me I didn’t need to do any of that and Alexei would surely agree if I just asked, but I’d still ended up following Marina’s suggestion.

Speaking of Flora, she’d been watching this entire mess with an awkward smile from the start.

I knew Alexei treasured me very much, so I wouldn’t have allowed most people to play the part of the villain making me cry, lest they earn his ire. But Marina was a Krymov, and Alexei felt like he had a debt to her family because of what had happened to Sergei’s beloved horse, Zephyros. I trusted he’d never get mad at her. However, my calculations had been a little off the mark.

To Alexei, who’d always been kept at a distance by others, even a childish argument like ours must have felt important. He was a serious boy—I loved that about him—but he could stand to relax a little sometimes.

Alexei sighed. “I’ll always lend you an ear, Ekaterina. Next time you want to ask me something, you can just talk to me. You don’t need to do a bit.”

A “bit”?!

“B-Brother, did you just call it a bit?!”

“Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?”

“No! But I never thought I’d hear you use that word—let alone in the perfect context! I only learned it from Lady Marina earlier. You’re amazing, brother!”

In fact, I’d learned that word in the language of the empire just moments prior. It definitely wasn’t the sort of casual slang the lady of a ducal house ought to use. I was afraid that the more slang I learned in the language of the empire, the more inappropriate my speech might become if I wasn’t careful.

Alexei’s eyes narrowed, then he chuckled as though I’d said something incredibly funny.

“What an innocent girl you are, getting so excited over a single word. You often surprise me with your wisdom, but this part of you is adorably childish. I’m glad to see you smile.”

I’m sorry, brother, I used to be almost thirty...

Next to us, Nikolai was grinding his knuckles into the top of Marina’s head and admonishing her for putting me up to this while she fumed.

Just like that, I was officially in charge of writing the script for our play. However, the second I sat down to start writing, I regretted my decision.

Oh my god, I’m so stupiiiiid!!!

I’d been desperate to avoid playing the leading role so I wouldn’t end up doing the same thing as the Ekaterina from the game, but why had I agreed to write a script of all things?!

I wanted to punch myself for believing that being in charge of the script would be easy, and I could just casually adapt the story of Momotaro to this world for us to perform!

I couldn’t do that! Especially since we were doing a musical!

Our class had two students who’d been summoned by the God of Music and were currently the center of everyone’s attention: Olga and Renato. People wouldn’t be satisfied if we didn’t include Olga’s singing and Renato’s playing in our performance. Actually, I was people. Even if the others accepted it, I couldn’t approve of such a waste of talent. I wanted everyone to hear them!

However, that made writing a script that much harder... I had to figure out what song I wanted Olga to sing and somehow work it into the story.

Obviously, I didn’t have the skill set to write a song that would fit into the play from scratch. All I could do was use songs I already knew, which greatly restricted my options.

Besides, since I had the chance to make Olga sing anything I wanted, there was something I really wanted her to try... When I’d heard her at our musical evening, the first thing that came to mind had been that she was the Susan Boyle of this world. I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d sound like if she performed the song that had made her famous.

I’m sure she’d sound divine...

But how do I make that work with Momotaro?!

If not Momotaro, what story could I go with? The Susan Boyle song had been from a musical, but that was a grand play with a deep story—definitely not the sort amateurs could pull off at a school festival. The play’s historical backdrop was also a bit of an issue. The empire was an absolute monarchy, so performing a play set during a revolution was a tad...

Yeah, no, it’s totally impossible!

Come to think of it, Victor Hugo—the author of the original story—had been the driving force behind the Berne Convention, the international agreement that established copyright law. Back when I’d first learned about intellectual property, I’d been so surprised to hear his name that I’d looked it up. Apparently, Hugo wasn’t just a literary giant; he’d also been deeply involved with politics.

In Japan, the closest historical figure I could think of was Saijou Yaso. He was famous for his poetry—especially “Canary,” a poem about a bird that forgot its song—and had written lyrics for some of the biggest hits of the Showa era, like “Soshuu Yakyoku” and “Aoi Sanmyaku.” He’d also been a British literature professor and served as the chairman of the predecessor to JASRAC, the organization that managed copyright in Japan. He’d worked tirelessly to raise awareness of authors’ rights, or so I’d read in his biography, and...

Oops, I’m escaping from reality again.

I need to keep myself on track to unleash the full potential of Momotaro!

The popular cell phone commercials had proven that Momotaro could be anything. His possibilities were endless.

I can do this! I can make Marina play the monkey in the action scenes. She’s so athletic, I’m sure she’ll pull them off adorably.

Wait. There’s another story where I could have her as the monkey. Journey to the West—with Sun Wukong!

That actually sounded easier to adapt to this world.

All right, change of plans!

That was quick, but didn’t Momotaro always advise us to change plans quickly because it was more advantageous? In the ads, of course.

Who should I pick as Sha Wujing, the kappa, and Zhu Bajie, the pig? Actually, maybe I should cast Tang Sanzang first?

And what do I do about the song?!

“My lady.”

Aaaah!

I jumped at Mina’s voice and almost threw my silk duvet to the floor.

It was past the dormitory lights-out. I should’ve been asleep, but I’d gotten so focused on the script that I’d completely forgotten to try.

“If you can’t sleep, would you like some warm milk?” Mina asked, her expression flat as she watched me from the doorway to my bedroom.

I hadn’t heard her open the door. Actually, how had she known I wasn’t asleep with the door closed?! It was so mysterious. Although, really, I should have been used to Mina’s fearsome abilities by now. Surely my battle maid could sense people’s presence and breathing.

I considered feigning sleep, but there was no way Mina wouldn’t see right through me, so I gave up and freed my head from under the covers.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Mina. My mind was on the festival and I couldn’t find sleep. You can go back to bed. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re trying too hard,” Mina said. “You often make the extraordinary look effortless, my lady—but even you can’t always perform miracles. If anyone gives you a hard time for not putting in one hundred percent at all times, I’ll make them disappear for you.”

Her tone was monotone, but the gleam in her eyes told me she was serious.

Oh, boy, we’re back for another episode of That Time My Beautiful Maid Almost Became a Murderer.

Despite the horrific vision that ran through my mind, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“No one’s said anything or given me a hard time. I just do all this because it brings me joy. Still, I shouldn’t have made you think I was in trouble. I also promised my brother not to overdo it, so I’ll go to sleep now. Thank you, Mina.”

I’d messed up. If I didn’t sleep, Mina couldn’t sleep either. I couldn’t believe I’d been blind to such a blatant case of overwork so close to me.

I really need to do something about Mina’s ridiculous working hours.

I drank the milk Mina had brought me and lay back in bed. Then, I closed my eyes and fell asleep almost immediately.

Despite my suffering behind the scenes, my script gradually took shape.

After forcibly cramming the song that had made Susan Boyle famous into the play, my version of Journey to the West had become a tad, well, unique. But I’d decided that was fine.

In my version, Tang Sanzang, the Buddhist monk, had been replaced by a traveling saint believed to have existed in this world. She was a woman who, according to the legend, had visited many countries to help people. She was said to have been a real person, though the tales recounted her living for a ridiculously long time. Depending on the region, she had different names: Estelle in some, Anemoni in others. Personally, my theory was that several women had been conflated into one over the years.

Since the lead of the play was a saint, Flora was likely to get the role. Regardless, I intended to insist the part go to her. Tang Sanzang absolutely had to be played by a beautiful girl. That was an ironclad rule in my previous world!

But why?

Now that I thought about it, it was pretty weird to insist on casting a beautiful actress only to shave her head. Maybe the tradition had stuck because that was the way they’d done it in the famous Journey to the West drama that’d aired during the Showa era, and it had been a huge hit. The actress who’d played the role of Tang Sanzang had sadly passed away at a young age, but she’d been absolutely breathtaking.

There were plenty of odd customs like that. For instance, Okita Souji—the first unit captain in the Shinsengumi—was always a pretty boy in shows and movies. I’d heard it was because a very pretty boy had played him during the Showa era. Maybe that was true.

I’d more or less settled the distribution and attribution of the behind-the-scenes work, so I moved on to slowly approaching everyone about it one-on-one. We’d eventually have a class meeting to finalize everything, but my instincts as a former corporate drone compelled me to lay the groundwork before any big meeting.

I wasn’t pushing them to agree, of course. I just didn’t want to put anybody on the spot in front of the whole class. I didn’t want anyone to feel cornered or have a bad time at the festival. Besides, making decisions all on my own was very villainess-esque, and that terrified me.

As the famous all-female theater troupe said, I had to be pure, upright, and beautiful.

Rise above villainy, Ekaterina!

Still, there were a few people I was hell-bent on recruiting to do specific things, which was why I found myself chatting with one of the boys in my class.

“You want me to be the...lighting technician?” Yuri Rey, second son of a baron, nervously repeated. He looked dazed.

While we were in the same class, we’d almost never spoken to one another. Our only real interaction had been when another boy had grabbed his notebook and run around with it. I’d gotten it back and returned it to him. Somehow, the two of them had hit it off and become friends after that.

“I apologize for using a confusing term. Lighting technician is an expression I coined to refer to the person in charge of enlivening a play through the use of lights.”

I felt bad for pretending I’d coined the term, but oh well!

Lighting roles didn’t exist in this world’s theaters yet. I’d learned that during my visit to the national theater, the capital’s most prestigious theater—my reward from Alexei for ranking number one in my first exam session. Spotlights and the like, which were commonplace in my previous world, simply didn’t exist here.

It was only logical, really. Spotlights required electricity, and electricity hadn’t been invented. Light was still synonymous with fire. There were a few alternatives, such as rainbow stones or the white orb bugs used by the people of the forest, but none were bright enough to light a stage.

So while we could light candles to light a room, there was little we could do in the way of actual stage lighting. Hence Yuri blinking at me like I was an alien.

“Enlivening a play through the use of lights...?” he repeated, saying each word carefully.

“Yes. It’ll be wonderful! As a rare light-mana user, you’re the only one I can ask, Lord Rey.”

His attribute was light. Not as rare as Flora’s, which appeared once a generation at best, but still uncommon. There were usually only one or two light-mana users in any given grade. However, just because an attribute was rare didn’t mean it was valued.

In the fantasy worlds people imagined in my past life, light magic had a supercool image. It was heroic, the symbol of good against evil. In this world, however, light-mana users could just manipulate light. That was it.

Sure, lighting up a dark place was convenient. It was handy. But it was otherwise lackluster in the eyes of most people. Unlike common attributes like earth, wind, or fire, it couldn’t be used to attack. A sudden flash in the dark could hurt an enemy’s eyes, yeah, but that wasn’t the sort of situation that occurred every day. The empire had been at peace for ages, but offensive magic was still everyone’s favorite.

I mean, I get it.

In my old world, swordplay and archery had been considered cool despite their lack of usefulness in the peaceful country I’d lived in.

Yuri’s attribute probably contributed to his slightly gloomy personality. Being the second son of a relatively unimportant baron didn’t help his self-confidence either. Despite all that, his mana was pretty powerful, and his control over it was strong.

“Your mana control during lessons has impressed me, Lord Rey. You can direct your light anywhere you wish and even adjust the intensity at will. Your skills are excellent.”

“No, that’s too much...”

Yuri didn’t struggle with remote control either. Even from a distance, he could cast light as bright as he wanted. His precision was truly something. Unfortunately, our practical classes were held outside in broad daylight, so no one could see much of what he was doing. That was why his abilities went largely unnoticed.

I thought it was a shame.

Since I was used to modern shows and plays, I knew how indispensable lighting was. I believed Yuri could produce results that would astonish the people here—maybe even revolutionize the theater world.

Or maybe he couldn’t. There were too many unknowns to be sure.

Still, with my brother attending the play, I refused to half-ass anything. I wanted it to be the absolute best. Olga’s and Renato’s musical talents would elevate the performance a lot, but I wanted to make it a play worth watching, not just listening to.

Behold my love at work!

It wasn’t a bad deal for Yuri either. If things worked as I hoped they would, he’d prove that light mana had more value than anyone realized. Even something as simple as a spotlight on the main character would be groundbreaking in this world, and only a light-mana user could achieve that.

Yuri would probably have a lot more fun at school if everyone applauded him.

“Would you agree to at least try with me? I’d really like to work with you on this,” I begged, pressing my hands together in a prayer.

“If... If I can be of use to you, Lady Yulnova.” Yuri nodded, his cheeks bright red.

Talking to everyone had taken Ekaterina some time, but thanks to her efforts, the actual meeting went as smooth as butter. People practically clapped at all her suggestions, and it was over so fast that she wasn’t able to stop herself from asking several times—using proper, ladylike words, of course—“Wait, are you all really okay with this? None of you are forcing yourselves?”

Seeing her panic, her classmates simply smiled. Some looked at her fondly, while others couldn’t conceal slight puzzlement. Despite being the lady of a ducal family, she’d checked with all of them personally before the meeting. On top of that, she’d assigned everyone parts or jobs that fit their abilities and personalities. The students who’d ended up with roles they hadn’t expected had been given such good explanations that they were now fully on board. Some, like Yuri, had even been moved to learn that Ekaterina valued their abilities.

So, obviously, no one would raise a hand and complain now.

Everyone remembered how the musical evening Ekaterina had organized had been the talk of the school for days. If anything, her classmates were looking forward to the amazing play she’d put together this time.

Their only gripe was that Ekaterina herself would not appear on the stage!

She didn’t seem to notice it, but she was the center of everyone’s attention—not just at the academy but among the social circles of the capital as well.

While outsiders were usually forbidden from entering the academy, an exception was made for the festival. Every year, the academy bustled with the families of students eager to visit them. Even those who lived far away usually took the chance to visit the capital and see their children. Most of Ekaterina’s classmates had one goal while their families were in town: to prove they existed in the same space as Ekaterina.

This is Lady Ekaterina Yulnova, they wanted to say, pointing at her from afar. She’s a direct descendant of Pyotr the Great’s younger brother, Duke Sergei. At first, I had a hard time approaching her, but we’re now on friendly terms.

The moment they left the academy, these students would lose the ability to converse so casually with a lady of Ekaterina’s rank. That was why the idea of introducing her to their families never even occurred to them. All they wanted was to brag that they shared a classroom with her and that they got to speak to her.

Setting aside the cheerful visitors who came to see their children or siblings, some influential nobles also made their way to the academy for a different reason. They wanted to create ties with prominent figures like Mikhail or Ekaterina.

A script and songs written by Ekaterina were sure to attract attention, as would Olga and Renato thanks to their affiliation with the God of Music. But the one thing everyone was truly waiting for was Ekaterina’s appearance on the stage, and yet...

Most of her classmates had the same gripe: She simply won’t agree!

Ekaterina, however, didn’t have a clue.

“So, no one has any objections...right? Thank you for accepting my ideas,” she said. Realizing she’d been a little too insistent while confirming the plan with everyone, she cleared her throat before moving on. “W-Well, in that case, let us begin preparations. First, I’d like to ask those in charge of copying to please prepare enough copies of the script for everyone. Your handwriting is outstanding, so I have no doubt that everyone will be able to read it.”

There were no photocopiers or printers in this world. While the printing press did exist, its costs and logistics made it impractical for a school play. The script would be reproduced by hand instead.

It was a tedious task, but everyone looked at the chosen copyists with envy. Why, you might ask? For one very good reason: Ekaterina had offered to lend them glass pens.

They were clear trial pens without colors or embellishments, but glass pens were still coveted objects that only Ekaterina, Flora, and Mikhail—the top three students of their year—had access to. Though she’d offered to “lend” them, Ekaterina had added that the copyists could keep the pens if they liked them. In effect, she was giving them away.

The students had no way of knowing this, but Ekaterina actually had tons of clear glass pens made by the artisans in her workshop for practice.

Glass could be melted and reused easily, so the artisans typically took advantage of that for practice, but Ekaterina had instructed them to set some pens aside for research. Her reasoning was that by having people write with differently shaped pens, they could see which ones were easier to use and what issues arose. She intended to use the copyist team for feedback.

She had already given glass pens to Novak, Halil, Aaron, and the rest of Alexei’s advisors. Thinking it’d be a bit mean to ask them for feedback, she’d simply picked designs she thought they’d like and gifted the pens with little ribbons tied around them. It was meant as a thank-you for everything they did for the House of Yulnova. Naturally, everyone had been pleasantly surprised.

“Next, for the costumes,” Ekaterina continued. “I hope the team in charge can start as soon as possible.”

At her words, those chosen for their sewing talents nodded.

In the empire, skill in needlework was a prized virtue for women, regardless of rank. It was common for noble ladies to sew everyday clothes for their families. The practice of buying mostly ready-made clothes, like Ekaterina was used to, was a relatively recent development even in her past world. It’d only become widespread after World War II. Before that, people either ordered tailor-made garments, sewed them at home, or bought them secondhand.

Displaying their sewing skills so publicly would no doubt improve the marriage prospects of those Ekaterina had selected. The young ladies were burning with passion at this rare chance to showcase their talents.

“I trust those in charge of the backgrounds will use their excellent painting skills to produce beautiful scenery. Rocky mountains and ominous forests may be hard to visualize, so I’ll show you the preliminary drawings I made to help you. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could paint small versions first for approval.”

After a pause, Ekaterina turned to another group. “Those in charge of the props are all quite adroit, so I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just remember that the play is set during the era of the ancient Astra Empire. That said, the props do not necessarily need to be historically accurate—they’re from a mysterious, imaginary land. I drew simple illustrations of the weapons the characters use, so please refer to them.”

Ekaterina was rather good at drawing. It had been a favorite pastime of her mother, Anastasia, who had started teaching Ekaterina when she was very young. On top of that, Ekaterina had been close to a girl who loved to draw in her previous life, and she’d taught her the basics as well.

Ekaterina never would have guessed those lessons would come in handy in her next life. She chuckled to herself before adding, “I’ll explain the gist of the story once again so that everyone has it in mind.”

During the festival, plays were usually performed in the auditorium.

Of course, that meant that no single class could monopolize it for the entire day. Each class was given a time slot during which they set up, performed, and dismantled the backgrounds and such. Apparently, several classes failed to take the time for setup and cleanup into account every year, and delays were common.

One of the reasons I’d assigned so many people to backgrounds and props was to ensure we had enough people to set up and tear down everything on the day of the performance. As a former systems engineer, I knew every task had to be properly integrated into the timetable to stay on schedule.

My corporate drone blood is boiling!

After striking a triumphant pose in my mind, I (mentally) slapped myself on the head. I’d literally died of overwork, so what was I doing celebrating my past?!

Anyway, because of the time limit, most performances were either simple original plays or acts from famous ones.

The one who’d warned us about all this was Nikolai. He was in his final year and very sociable, so he was well-informed.

“You’re doing a musical?! What were you guys thinking?” he’d asked Marina, playfully knuckling her scalp again.

Then, he’d told us about past performances. “You’ll run out of time in a heartbeat if you sing every other scene. You know, every year, some classes have no choice but to start dismantling while the play is still going!”

Just picturing it had me on the verge of laughter.

“But, brother, our class has Lady Olga, Lord Selesar, and Lady Ekaterina! We can’t not do music!” Marina had argued.

“That’s exactly why Lady Ekaterina suggested a choir! Why did you have to overrule that and insist on a play?!”

A very fair argument, if I daresay so myself!

At the time, everyone had been hell-bent on having me act the lead in a play. Marina had simply gone along with the consensus, so I’d felt a little bad watching her get scolded as if it were entirely her fault.

Still, while Nikolai’s concerns were valid, this was an original play, which meant I could write it however I wanted. I’d kept it short and straightforward, and although we called it a musical, I’d only included a few songs.

I explained all that to my classmates and told them the time restrictions had forced me to structure it that way. Then, I went over the plot.

The main character was Anemoni the traveling saint. She was best known for healing countless people during epidemics and was sometimes referred to as the Holy Mother for the many orphans she’d raised. However, she wasn’t just a gentle and affectionate savior; records also recounted her fierce bravery. Anemoni subdued brigands and punished corrupt officials who cared more about lining their pockets than helping their people. The story I’d written focused more on that second side of her.

As I’d mentioned before, Anemoni was famous under several different names, including Estelle. I chose the name Anemoni—a flower—because Flora would be playing her.

In my play, Anemoni traveled the remote areas of the ancient Astra Empire with only one companion. Exhausted, the pair stopped to rest by a spring, but a man calling himself a hunter appeared and tried to chase them away. The saint’s companion shot him down, prompting the man to reveal his true nature. Unleashing his power as a water demon, he challenged them again. In response, Anemoni’s companion revealed her identity as a demonic monkey and beat him up.

Of course, the demonic monkey would be played by Marina.

As the water demon surrendered, he bitterly spat that none of this would’ve happened if he’d been at his own pond and his dear pal had been healthy.

At this point, Anemoni kindly offered to heal his friend, the tree demon. He should’ve been Zhu Bajie the pig, but since no one knew that, I’d made him a tree demon, since plants and water seemed compatible. She even cured the water demon’s wounds after that. I had no idea whether holy mana could heal monsters or not, but that was how it went in my story!

At any rate, the two demons were impressed by Anemoni’s mana control and mercy and pledged to serve her for the rest of their lives. Just like that, the saint gained two more companions. Sidenote: I’d picked the two boys who’d sung with Marina for the roles of the water demon and tree demon.

After gaining her new companions, Anemoni asked why the water demon had left his pond and how the tree demon had gotten hurt. The two explained that their dwelling had been stolen by mysterious intruders. At first, they’d tried to talk it out, but the intruders wouldn’t listen. Eventually, they’d fought—and lost.

“We’re not the only ones who were chased away!”

“My, how sad...”

“Saint, you don’t need anyone else but me as your companion. Let’s return these two to where they came from and continue our journey, just the two of us!”

At the demonic monkey’s suggestion, the group left to challenge the intruders.

Whenever I reread that part, I was struck by how incredibly representative it was of the popular period dramas I’d watched in my past life. I hadn’t seen that many, yet I just knew. This trope was practically engraved in the DNA of Japanese people. Even though I’d been reborn as a citizen of this empire, that mark still hadn’t left my soul. It got me thinking about the true nature of reincarnation...

Not the time for that! Focus on the story, Ekaterina!

I was getting better at dragging myself back on track after escaping into my thoughts.

So, the saint and her friends arrived at the water demon and tree demon’s dwelling. There, they found a man and a woman in odious dress, roaring with laughter.

The saint tried talking to them, but they retorted that they had nothing to discuss with her. With a snap of the woman’s fingers, countless monsters appeared, and the pair drove the saint away with their powerful mana and summoned beasts.

That was the entrance of the villainess!

The saint’s companions were eager to fight back, but she calmed them and swiftly retreated.

“Why flee when you could easily defeat her?!”

“Because she doesn’t seem like a bad person to me.”

While saints were always the type to say kind things like that, I’d cast Olga as the villainess. She was just like a little rabbit or a chihuahua, so I could hardly imagine anything less suited to her than villainous laughter. I had no doubt the audience would agree with the saint’s assessment.

Cut to black! In the sequence that followed, the villainess reappeared to sing a heart-wrenching song. She’d always believed love and hope would lead her down a noble path—but her life had turned to hell, her dreams to ashes, and now she didn’t know how to turn back.

After that, the saint and the villainess faced off again. The saint won, and the villainess’s circumstances were finally revealed.

She was, in fact, the princess of a ruined country. Her homeland had been destroyed by a volcanic eruption, and she’d led what few remained of her people in search of refuge. But every time they tried to settle, they were driven away. No one trusted their intentions. At last, the princess had to face the truth: If she wanted her exhausted people to survive, she had no choice but to take land by force. That was why she’d acted as she had.

As for the army of monsters under her command, it was in fact her own people in disguise. When they removed their costumes, a group of wounded humans appeared.

It was as though she were pleading, Be nice to me! I’m not a real villainess!

Well, she’s no villainess at all, I thought. But let’s not get hung up on details.

In the end, the saint called back those who’d been driven away, and everyone agreed to live together in peace. As for the water demon and the tree demon, they straight up gave their dwelling to the princess, saying they didn’t need it anymore. They were going to follow the saint for life.

“Live well!”

With that, they brought the story to its denouement.

The last scene had everyone singing together in harmony. I’d modified the lyrics of a famous song about encouraging a friend through heartbreak, turning it into one about new beginnings and prioritizing dreams over love.

I’m sorry for taking such liberties, dear singer-songwriter!

Now, I did have a bit of an ulterior motive for writing the story this way. Villainesses all have their own circumstances! So let’s not condemn them without knowing the whole story, okay? was the message I hoped to convey.

Obviously, I wasn’t sharing any of that with the class.

“The main themes of this story are peace and cohabitation,” I declared, having finished my overview of the script.

Everyone seemed very impressed, and they applauded.

“I tried to balance pathos and tone in my arrangement. What do you think?” Renato asked, lifting his fingers from the piano keys in the music room.

My first response was to clap.

“It was wonderful! Although I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Lord Renato. I could feel the princess’s strong resolve to move forward despite the pain. She feels like a true queen in your version. I believe you’ve grasped her essence perfectly, and I have no doubt this song will resonate with the audience. Surely you agree, Lady Olga, Lady Flora?”

The two of them were clapping as well. They nodded, bright smiles on their faces.

I’d put Renato in charge of transcribing—putting the songs into sheet music—as well as arranging them. I didn’t have a talent for music and would have been hard-pressed to do it all myself.

“I’m sorry for asking so much of you, Lord Renato.”

Renato was playing the villainess’s retainer in the musical, would perform onstage at the piano, and not only was he arranging all the songs, he’d also started composing background music for every scene.

In the empire, dance numbers in plays accompanied by instrumental music were very popular. In my opinion, they were more or less a primitive form of ballet.

I’d personally never seen an opera or dance number in the empire, so I was relying heavily on Renato for pretty much anything music-related. He was basically the music director of this play.

What sort of school play has a music director?

But Renato laughed off my apology. “I’m having a lot of fun now that my days are filled with music. I’ve always believed I was born for music, but until now, no one allowed me to live for its sake. Now, however, everyone around me understands and respects my path.”

A statement worthy of a genius. He truly has nothing but music on his mind.

Come to think of it, Renato’s father had struck him on the face not long ago. He was a nobleman and a hot-blooded one at that. Renato had probably been told to give up on music and live for his house a million times.

For those born with exceptional talents, letting those talents flourish was often the surest path to fulfillment. Renato seemed happier than ever, and I rejoiced for him.

“Besides, your songs are incredible once again,” he added. “They’re so novel. I can’t believe you’re letting me tweak them to my tastes... Truly, I’m always impressed by the depth of your imagination! Where do you get your ideas from?”

Urgh. Sorry, I didn’t invent anything at all!

“I, um...haven’t really come up with anything that groundbreaking. I’m just piecing together things I’ve heard in the past... I don’t have your musical talent, Lord Renato,” I replied vaguely.

Renato stared at me. “I honestly can’t wrap my mind around it. You can’t play any instrument, can you?”

Uh-oh! He’d hit the nail on the head. I flushed red. “Y-You’re right. I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t.”

Music was part of noble culture. As the daughter of a ducal house, I should’ve mastered an instrument or two—enough to perform in front of people without bringing shame to my house. However, I hadn’t received the education of a noble lady, and I lacked that particular skill. My mother had taught me piano for a while when I was small, but after my grandfather died, the old hag had taken the piano away, so I’d never had a chance to progress. After regaining my memories from my past life, I’d started studying like crazy to bridge the gap with other noble kids, but the piano wasn’t something you could master overnight with superficial study.

The same went for sewing. I wasn’t very good at that either.

“And still, the melodies you come up with are bold yet perfectly calculated, innovative yet harmonious. To write melodies that polished, I have to play them again and again and go through a long process of trial and error. That’s why I just can’t believe that someone who can’t play any instrument could write them.”

“You’re completely correct! As expected of you, Lord Renato, your keen insight knows no bounds,” I practically interrupted, relieved.

He really is a genius.

“It’s as you said,” I continued. “I didn’t write anything at all. I don’t have the ability. I can’t tell you—or anyone—where I heard these melodies, so I reluctantly let people believe I’d written them. But I’m glad someone finally saw the truth for what it is...”

I’m so glad.

Every time someone spoke about my songs, cold sweat ran down my back, and I apologized again and again to the composers, lyricists, and translators whose work I’d borrowed so carelessly. But if I admitted they weren’t my songs, the next question would naturally be: Then whose are they?—so I couldn’t deny authorship too strongly.

That was why I was so grateful Renato had figured it out on his own. As a composer, he knew: Only someone who could play an instrument could have written them.

Even a genius like you has to go through trial and error, huh? A genuine smile spread across my face.

Renato chuckled. “You really don’t feel greed, do you? You seem almost detached from worldly matters sometimes.”

That isn’t true! I was so swallowed up by worldly matters that I literally died of overwork!

Obviously, I couldn’t scream that out loud, so I hesitated on how to answer.

“If they’re not your songs,” Renato continued, “then whose songs are they, I wonder? You’re not the sort of person who’d steal someone else’s hard work. Knowing you, you’d applaud them endlessly if you knew who they were and do everything in your power to get them recognition, just like you did for Olga and me.”

That...was true. If I personally knew the composers of these songs, I’d sing their praises with all my might.

“This song I just arranged isn’t something anyone could create without musical knowledge. It’s nothing like the local songs that are passed down from parents to children in some regions. It’s polished and sophisticated, calculated down to the last pause. Only someone with broad musical knowledge could have written it.”

The great detective Renato was once again absolutely correct.

“I’m sure a great house like yours has things it’d rather keep secret...” he whispered.

Oh, the great detective halted his investigation. He seems to be hesitating.

He looked like he was picturing some sort of dark secret. I supposed it made sense. If he’d actually guessed I’d been reborn with my memories intact, he wouldn’t be a detective—he’d be a psychic!

Still, this time he was completely off the mark. But I couldn’t say a thing!

“I know I’m the one who brought up the subject, but the identity of the composer is of little importance,” he finally said. “The song is a masterpiece, and it has the power to move the hearts of those who listen to it. That’s all that matters. I’m glad I get to be a part of bringing it to the world.”

His obsession with music never wavers.

He seemed to have decided to conceal the fact that I hadn’t actually written the song...hadn’t he? Olga and Flora were nodding intently, as though they completely agreed with him.

Are you guys sure this is okay?! While patents exist, copyrights haven’t really been invented yet, so I guess so...

I had the sinking feeling that, if I didn’t do anything about this, I’d eventually fall to the depths of a bottomless pit. That terrified me, but I didn’t know what to do!

BOOHOO!!! I want my brother!

“Brother!” I exclaimed.

I was waiting in front of the carriage that would take us home for the weekend, and the second I saw Alexei’s face, I couldn’t stop myself from running into his arms.

“Ekaterina,” he said, gently embracing me. His kind neon-blue eyes found mine, and I could read the worry in them. “My sweet Ekaterina. I’m glad you’re depending on me, but are you all right? I knew it—the burden of preparing for the festival is too much for you, isn’t it?”

“No, I’m just glad I get to spend time with you again. I love the carriage rides home because they mean I get to be with you,” I replied with a smile.

And being with you always makes me happy!

“The preparations for the festival are progressing without a hitch,” I told him. “I’m especially looking forward to seeing the completed costumes. They seem very promising.”

Needles were practically weapons in the race to marriage, and the costume team was super fired up. The preliminary sketches they’d shown me were so detailed and showy that I’d been a tad put off.

Although, of course, I’d approved of them.

Marina absolutely adored them, while Flora—and most of the others—had smiled awkwardly upon seeing them and blurted out a half-convinced, “If Lady Ekaterina says they’re fine, then sure...”

Poor Olga had almost passed out imagining herself in the villainess costume. In her case, the mismatch between her sweet appearance and the costume was an important plot point, so I hoped she’d get over her shock and wear it.

Interestingly enough, the Right Right Trio had actually argued that their outfits were too simple and urged the costume team to make them flashier. Despite that, they didn’t have actual roles and only appeared between acts to explain the plot. Their job was to be what kyogen was to Noh—a funny interlude—so there was no need for them to wear showy costumes. But if they wanted to so desperately, it wasn’t really an issue.

If they’re going to be showy, I want them to stand out as much as the final boss of the annual Kohaku Uta Gassen.

Regardless, I was thankful that the costume team was so driven. I wasn’t about to imitate the catchphrase of the founder of a certain multinational beverage company—Go for it!—but I did think challenging oneself was a good thing. Some parts of the sketches didn’t look physically possible to me, but I was a total amateur when it came to sewing, so I had no issue letting them try. Who knew? Maybe they’d pull it off. Or maybe they’d realize on their own that the time constraints didn’t allow for such wild designs and go for something more subdued. My years of experience told me the latter was more likely.

This reminded me of something that I’d once read online: The fiery, inspirational tennis player I sometimes thought of was actually related to the “Go for it!” businessman. Feeling a bit of a connection there, I decided to believe in the costume team until the end! Besides, we’d need lots of fabric for the costumes, and I intended to provide it through my grandmother’s dresses I still hadn’t gotten rid of!

There’d been enough of her dresses to fill up entire reception rooms in both our capital residence and the Yulnova Fortress. I’d already given away almost every dress in the capital, but the ones from the fortress still remained. Their fabric would be perfect for flashy costumes.

I’d also given the costume team some samples of the vivid, natural-dyed fabrics I’d gotten from the people of the forest and asked if they could work with them. They were very different from the sorts of fabrics typically worn in the empire, so I figured they’d help give the audience a sense that they were watching a play from another time.

I’d also brought Halil into the loop. Celestial Blue had already gained popularity in the capital, but I told him this was a good opportunity to promote it to the families of students from other regions. He’d agreed and would provide us with fabric for the costumes and pigments for the backdrops.

“I’ll look forward to seeing how you utilize these in the play,” he’d told me with a grin.

It’d made me feel like I’d just dug my own grave. It hadn’t actually changed anything, though, because my brother’s advisors had already decided to watch the play the moment they’d heard I was involved.

Well, heavy expectations were fine. At the end of the day, the final result depended on my classmates’ efforts.

Go for it, friends!

I was also expecting great things from some other people, especially Yuri. I couldn’t wait to see how his light mana elevated the show! I didn’t want him to overwork himself, though.

Unlike last time with Lydia, Olga’s family treasure wasn’t at stake, so I had no intention of overdoing it. I just wanted to have fun and enjoy the festival.

During the carriage ride, I spoke of all these things to Alexei. Suddenly, I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand.

“My! I kept talking without pause this entire time! How impolite. I’m sorry, brother.”

Alexei wasn’t very talkative, so I always spoke more than he did. However, when our topic was his work or my glass workshop, he had things to say. I usually made sure not to monologue and listen to him too. Today, however, I’d just kept babbling about something he probably had no interest in whatsoever. Why should he care about the details of the play’s preparations? Especially the costumes!

I committed a terrible blunder!

I bitterly regretted my carelessness. But after a flash of surprise crossed his features, Alexei just smiled.

“I was having fun. There’s nothing I’d rather listen to than your voice when you’re in high spirits. People praise the chirping of birds, the melody of a gentle breeze caressing the leaves, or the murmuring of a clear stream in the spring, but none of them can compare to the sound of your soft, sagacious voice. Your every word lights a candle, bedazzling and warm, in the hearts of those who listen. If you were a little bird, I’d keep you on my shoulder and listen to your voice at all times...”

The back of Alexei’s fingers trailed along my cheek, oh so soft, as though he were petting a finch. “How nice would that be? At the very least, allow me to bask in your gentle voice when we’re together, my beloved heavenly bird.”

“Oh, brother!”

Alexei’s Ekaterina filter never stops evolving, as expected! Urgh, I can’t let him get ahead. I have to get stronger!

Part of me wondered what I was hoping to achieve by strengthening my obsession, though.

I rested my head on Alexei’s shoulder and looked up at him warmly. “If you’d like, take my heart with you and keep it on your shoulder. It’ll whisper to you, always. Whenever you’re lonely, remember that my heart is right there with you.”

“You’re too good,” Alexei said, using his other hand to stroke my hair.

Alexei pampering me always feels so nice...

I only meant to stay there a few minutes, but before I knew it, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was shocked to discover we were already home.

“My lady, Madam DiDonato has arrived.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Graham. Please show her to the music room.”

“At once.” Graham smiled and bowed, giving me a great view of his perfectly combed silver hair.

“It’s been a while, my lady.”

I greeted her with a smile. “Welcome, Madam DiDonato.”

She wore an apologetic expression. “I’m terribly sorry for disrupting the timing of our lessons so many times.”

With Olga being summoned by the God of Music and joining the Music Sanctuary, Madam DiDonato’s fame as a teacher had skyrocketed. She was drowning under the requests and struggling to handle everything.

We hadn’t exactly publicized the fact that she’d taught Olga, so part of me found it odd that they all seemed to know somehow. Then again, everyone knew I was supporting Olga, and in the weeks leading up to her performance at the detached palace, Madam DiDonato had refused all other requests to make time for me. I supposed it wasn’t so strange that people had drawn their own conclusions.

“I’m glad your teaching skills are finally being recognized as they should,” I said. “In fact, I feel a little guilty for making you teach me when I’m only learning as a hobby.”

I imagined most of those seeking lessons from Madam DiDonato now hoped to become professional musicians. Teaching them was probably far more rewarding. I’d even considered canceling our contract and finding another teacher.

“It’s a great honor for me to teach the lady of an exalted house like your own,” Madam DiDonato answered immediately.

Graham had stopped me from canceling for that very reason. Regardless of the recognition she’d earned, being allowed into the residence of one of the three grand ducal houses held great value.

Her sudden fame was sure to attract the jealousy of others in her field, and there was a real risk she might be harassed—or worse. A connection to a great house offered protection.

For the House of Yulnova, Madam DiDonato wasn’t the sort of talent we could easily give up either. She was an excellent teacher and had no shady affiliations.

Apparently, the reason it had taken so much time for my lessons to begin after requesting a teacher was that Alexei had ordered background checks on every candidate.

“They don’t have particularly deep connections with the world of music, but one’s never too cautious,” Graham had told me.

At the time, his words had shocked me—I hadn’t considered any of that. However, I’d quickly realized he was right. Since we were on hostile terms with a house of equal rank, the House of Yulmagna, we had to watch our backs. It would be incredibly dangerous to have one of their spies as my teacher.

When I first arrived in the capital, Mr. Moldo had been chosen as my teacher even though he was from a branch of the Magna. I wasn’t sure if that was because the antagonism between our houses hadn’t yet solidified, or because I wasn’t as important as I was now. Maybe it was a bit of both.

Either way, Graham’s words had shown me a glimpse of just how deep the darkness ran when two major houses faced off.

“Besides, your songs are so novel and interesting. I’ve studied music in Astra, but I’ve never heard anything like them, not even there. I’m sure my friends from Astra would be just as impressed by your compositions,” Madam DiDonato said.

The Astra she referred to was the present-day city-state, still embroiled in a war with neighboring states, but renowned for its flourishing arts and music.

DiDonato wasn’t a traditional name of the empire; its sound was distinctly Astran. It was, in fact, her husband’s name, which she’d taken during her studies there. The patronym had served her career well, as Astra’s musical reputation was nothing short of stellar.

“They aren’t my compositions,” I said. “I just heard these songs somewhere. I’m afraid speaking of this topic might hurt your spotless reputation, so I ask that you please keep it under wraps.”

Please, don’t spread any more rumors.

Everyone at school thought I’d written the songs, so it was only a matter of time before stories spread further, but I didn’t want people in other countries knowing about it.

“Leaving that aside,” I continued, “I was hoping to ask you for advice about another song today. We will be presenting a musical at the academy’s festival, and Lord Rena—um, Lord Selesar—and I were wondering how best to present a certain piece.”

“Oh, a musical, you say?”

Madam DiDonato’s eyes gleamed. This was her domain.

I quickly waved my hand. “It’s nothing more than a little student’s play—nothing like the operas you performed. I’m sure you’ll find it quite laughable.”

“Eh heh heh! I wonder about that.”

Her laughter was somehow loaded with meaning.

I swear, it’s just a school play! My script is super lazy too!

Little did I know that no one believed me anymore when I tried to downplay things.

“Lady Olga couldn’t be here, as she had to head to the Music Sanctuary,” I said. “It’s most belated, but I’d like to devote myself to studying with you again, so I may learn from you and share your expertise with my class to make our musical the best it can be.”

Now that Olga had the full backing of the Music Sanctuary, she no longer needed my support when it came to lessons. The priests were all elite musicians who’d entered the sanctuary in their own right. From now on, I wanted to return to studying singing myself.

I’d initially picked it up again to build stamina, but with everything that had happened along the way, I’d started neglecting my own practice. I wanted to get back to it—and also hoped to get some pointers from Madam DiDonato about performing onstage.

“Gladly, my lady,” she said. “Might I take a look at the score you wish to practice?”

Madam DiDonato could hardly hide her excitement as she began reading through the sheet music Renato had transcribed for me.

I eagerly waited for her to finish, having forgotten one crucial thing: Madam DiDonato was a true sadist when she taught.

“Wait. You’ve improved by leaps and bounds since the last time, haven’t you?” Renato stared at me, eyes wide.

“Oh ho ho. I haven’t improved that much,” I answered, a smug smile curling my lips despite myself.

My progress was, in fact, visible at first glance—or rather, audible at first listen.

A little while ago, I’d sung the main song of the musical for Renato to transcribe. While I’d managed to stay on pitch, I hadn’t been able to express much, and the climax had fallen flat. Given my priorities at the time, I’d focused on the pitch over all else, but the result had still been rather mediocre. I’d had to explain the nuances to Renato with words.

Today, however, after returning to the academy and sharing Madam DiDonato’s advice with Renato and Olga, they’d asked me to sing the song again to demonstrate. Renato played the accompaniment for me and I’d done a pretty good job, if I dared say so myself.

“All the credit should go to Madam DiDonato,” I said. “Her guidance is always precise and on point.”

Although...it had been hard.

Remembering that lesson had me looking in the distance with a grave expression.

“Impossible! I can’t!”

“Aha! The word impossible is strictly forbidden during lessons, my lady. Picture yourself slashing it in half with a sword and never utter it again! You’re close to getting it right—close to snuffing out impossible for good! Come now, my lady, let us finish it off together! Let your voice echo, high and strong! You’re almost there!”

Why does she always have to say things in the scariest way possible?! And what’s the deal with that smile of hers?! There’s no mercy in her eyes! I’m so scared!!!

As it turned out, Madam DiDonato was right. The light was right there at the end of the tunnel, and the more I sang, the closer it came. Thanks to her dangling the carrot of progress in front of me, I eventually made it to the other side.

Olga must have felt the same way when Madam DiDonato drilled all that technique into her in such a short time. It was thanks to her that Olga had been able to proudly accept the God of Music’s summons.

Madam DiDonato’s lessons were brutal, but she always seemed to be having the time of her life, like the true sadist she was.

Somehow, I was reminded of a sentence I’d read somewhere in my previous life: The S of sadist is the S of service. A true sadist must have the ability to torment and tease their partner while simultaneously guiding them to pleasure—sadism is born of the desire to provide devoted service.

While Madam DiDonato didn’t lead her students toward carnal pleasure, she was undoubtedly an accomplished sadist. The king—or rather, the queen of all sadists!

I just gave her a crazy nickname, didn’t I?

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that a whip would look divine in her hand, even if I was sorry for that.

Though it definitely would. Look good, that is.

I was quite happy with my progress, but the moment Olga started singing, I had to laugh at myself.

Yeaaaah. The gap really is something.

She made me realize all over again the difference between an amateur who enjoys singing and a professional.

Olga didn’t just sing—she made you feel every bit of tension and release. That was the kind of performance that earned standing ovations, and proof that she was a true songstress!

I clapped with all my might as soon as she finished.

Aside from singing practice, we started rehearsing lines in groups.

Some lines that had looked perfectly fine on paper now proved difficult to say—confusing, awkward, or clunky—and I started revising the script with zeal almost every day.

Another issue was timing. The length of the play I’d envisioned while writing the script didn’t match the time it took for everyone to get in position and deliver their lines.

This will never fit in our time slot! I need to make cuts somewhere!

For the first time in my life, I learned that a script was never truly complete. Not until the performance was over and done with.

But, seriously... How do I make everything fit?

The nice thing about everyone living in the dorms was that no one could skip after-class practice with easy excuses like My house is far away, so I have to leave early.

Or so I’d thought. As it turned out, some of my classmates—all boys—were surprisingly busy. One had martial training after school, while another belonged to a research society or seminar, or something along those lines.

Their explanations convinced me at first, but when I asked more in depth, I discovered the truth wasn’t so simple.

All three were second sons of minor noble families. They wouldn’t inherit and had to find their own paths after graduation, whether through adoption into another family, marrying into their wife’s family, or getting a job.

In this day and age, the most common career paths for second sons were knight and government official. They didn’t have many options, so from their first year onward, they had to devote their time to training, networking, and other activities useful for their future. For people like them, the Magic Academy wasn’t just a place to find a spouse; it was their best shot at securing a job.

Well, it makes sense.

There was a university in the empire, but very few students advanced to higher education. College was more like joining an elite research institution, so unless one aimed to become a scholar, it wasn’t even considered. Even among Alexei’s advisors, Aaron was the only university graduate.

It was common to find a job right after graduating from the Magic Academy. Plenty of youths our age already worked, or at least helped with the family business if they weren’t in school. If one’s family business was prosperous enough to offer work, that was a blessing.

I suddenly remembered an expression I’d once read in a historical novel: Burdensome uncles.

When second and third sons couldn’t find another family to take them in or a job to support themselves, they usually stayed with their birth family, and the firstborn son had to take care of them. That expression referred to people like that. There were a few more, like room dwellers or leftover rice eaters.

They were a little different from the shut-ins and NEETs of the twenty-first century but a societal issue in their own right during the Edo period.

The novel I’d read—about boys who didn’t want to turn out this way and did everything they could to find a bride whose family would take them in—was funny, but seeing that happen in real life to classmates of mine was the exact opposite.

To be accepted into the Magic Academy, one had to have a certain amount of mana. Their families surely hoped they’d find a good job or marry into a good family. It was probably expected of them. I couldn’t fathom the pressure.

The great benefit of having mana was the possibility of aiming for the military. If one’s mana was suited for combat and one’s martial skills were strong enough, one could even join the imperial knights, although that was no easy feat.

If one’s mana wasn’t very powerful, one could try to become government officials. The problem was that mana had nothing to do with that job, so plenty of people applied, even those who hadn’t attended the academy. Competition was fierce.

Now, if someone had powerful mana but an attribute deemed useless, and they weren’t really suited to either the military or civil service... Well. Let’s say their path would be tough.

To be honest, I couldn’t stop thinking about Yuri.

I’d explained a few things to him about stage lighting and was letting him experiment by himself for the time being, but I truly hoped this experience would become a boon for him in the future.

“You seem to be having fun, Ekaterina,” Mikhail told me after I shared some food with him, as I did every day at noon.

I blinked at him. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yes. You’re so lively, you’re practically sparkling.”

I’m...sparkling?

I’m the villainess, good sir. Sparkles are the furthest thing from my image. There should be dark clouds and lightning striking behind me!

I glanced at Flora seeking help, but my beautiful, pink-haired friend nodded with a bright smile. “I agree. You’re shining more than ever. Our classmates are all working hard because they’re so happy they get to prepare for the play with you.”

Flora... You aren’t the heroine for nothing. What a pure, innocent statement!

Our classmates are working hard because they want to show off their qualities and secure good matches for their future! Some may be hoping to find employment with the Yulnova, so they’re specifically showing off to me, sure—but that’s it.

Well, they do seem to be having fun for real, so I’ll give you that.

That said, I thought it was for the best. I wasn’t opposed to hiring some of my classmates if I thought their skills could be put to good use. After all, I’d fought the arduous battle of job hunting and had experienced the pain of rejection emails firsthand. I hadn’t been nearly as prepared as they were. I’d enjoyed my university years to the fullest and had only started looking for a job at the last minute. That was probably why I found them so commendable for fighting so hard from their first year at the academy.

As far as I was concerned, my little Flora was shining far brighter than I ever could. Her purple eyes looked like gemstones and literally sparkled!

Ah! She’s so cute!

Besides, I thought standing in the midst of a tempest suited me well. School events were meant to be equal parts chaos and fun, and I loved that. Compared to the daily death marches of my corporate drone days, this was a refreshing walk in the park.

“At first glance, you look the part of a composed, highborn lady,” Mikhail said, “but you always seem to have the most fun when you’re running around and taking care of many things at once. It just seems to be in your nature,” Mikhail said.

I-I don’t know if it’s in my nature or if my corporate days rubbed off on me. Am I still a corporate drone deep down? Was my soul always meant to be one? That’d be a bit sad...

“It’s a good thing!” Mikhail added after seeing my smile falter. “My mother is just like that. She’s also from a ducal house, but she could never stay still, even in her youth... I really didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he insisted. “Last time, you told me you wished Lydia would enjoy her time as a student. Somehow, I was reminded of that. When I look at you, I get the feeling you’re enjoying your student life with everything you have. That makes me happy...so...um... Anyway, that’s really all I meant.”

Uncharacteristically flustered, Mikhail scratched his sky-blue hair. He always seemed so composed, and the contrast made me smile.

“It’s a great honor to be compared to Her Imperial Majesty, as I deeply respect her. Tell me, Prince Mikhail, what is your class doing for the festival?”

Mikhail looked visibly relieved at the change of topic. “We’re making and serving snacks.”

Oh! A refreshment stand!

Such stands had been a key part of the original festivals, with the youths Pyotr had gathered making recipes from their hometowns for the emperor and their friends to try. Of course, that tradition had long been forgotten, and nowadays, students just served popular snacks and sweets. They usually made the things they themselves wanted to eat while playing shopkeeper.

The prince will be manning a refreshment stand? That makes it an imperial refreshment stand!

“We’ll only be cooking simple things, but we’ll borrow a large tent and tables to set up a café. The girls are even making clothes for those who’ll be in charge of waiting on tables. They’re very motivated.”

I see the girls in his class are also eager to show off their sewing skills.

Unlike the stage costumes, people would see the waiters’ outfits up close, so that might have been an even better way to showcase their work. Maybe they’d even chosen their class project with that in mind! I was genuinely impressed—they’d really thought this through. What ingenuity!

Speaking of which, I remembered how the girls in my class had kept giggling while taking the boys’ measurements. I couldn’t imagine the commotion that must’ve erupted in Mikhail’s class when they’d measured him!

Wait... What about the commotion that’s sure to break out if the crown prince of the empire waits on tables? This won’t be an imperial refreshment stand! It’ll be a maid café—I mean, a prince café!

Oh boy, the line is going to be so, so, so long.

“Will you be waiting on tables, Prince Mikhail?”

“I wanted to, but, well...you know.”

At his words, I realized what a security nightmare that would have been. Outsiders were usually forbidden in the academy, but during the festival, people would be coming and going in droves. It was far too risky to let unfamiliar guests get that close to the crown prince.

“I get to do what I wanted to do the most, though, so I’m pretty satisfied,” he added. “I’m on the cooking team.”

“My! You’ll be cooking?!”

“You always seem to be having so much fun doing it. It made me want to try it and see how it feels to have others eat what I’ve made.”

Imperial homemade cooking... That’s precious!

“Have you ever cooked before?”

“Never. But I’ll do my best to learn in the meantime, so I’d like it if you came by. I want you to eat something I’ve made—to thank you for always sharing food with me,” he said ardently.

I imagined him mixing something in a bowl while wearing a chef’s hat, and I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. He would look positively adorable.

“I’ll definitely come. Although, I’m sure it will be very crowded,” I replied.

With the prince personally cooking, the line was sure to be endless. There was a real chance I wouldn’t even get in.

“If you can’t make it... I’ll cook something else for you after the festival. Will you eat it? I can serve it to you at the gazebo we sometimes use...”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Oh...?”

I did feed him pretty much every day, but there was no need for him to be so hell-bent on giving something back to me. He really had a strong sense of responsibility, but I kind of understood—being on the receiving end all the time could be a little stressful.

“Thank you. It’ll be my pleasure,” I said with a smile.

Mikhail smiled back, delighted.

To my great surprise, when Flora and I reached Alexei’s office and I told him about my conversation with Mikhail, his face soured dramatically. Then the impact of his response was so intense, it practically blew everyone in the room away with the power of an ICBM.

“Perhaps I should try my hand at cooking as well!” Alexei declared. “I’ll make you something far better than he will.”

Chapter 3: The Blue Rose and the Black Narcissus

A violent shock wave, indeed, I thought, recalling what had happened during the lunch break.

After I’d told him that the prince would be cooking for the festival, my brother had declared he wanted to try cooking as well. It hadn’t come entirely out of nowhere—we had been talking about cooking—but I hadn’t expected the tremor that rippled through the room.

I guess this world is still too bound to tradition for boys who cook to be commonplace.

No, wait. Aaron cooks for Isaac, doesn’t he? And Halil definitely told me that it’s customary for the head of the house to cook the main dish for celebrations in his homeland beyond the Summit of the Gods. Neither of them strike me as against men cooking on principle.

Incidentally, Japanese history had at least one emperor whose pastime was cooking in the Heian period—classified as classical history, far older than the current era of the empire. He was also the author of one of the poems of the Hyakunin Isshu, the one that went:

“For you, I venture,

to the fields of early springs.

Young greens in my hand,

while upon my trailing sleeves,

falls the softly drifting snow.”

I remembered his story very well, because I’d been so surprised when I’d realized the poem was probably about picking ingredients to cook! I’d had a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that men already cooked to woo women so long ago. That emperor had had over forty children, so clearly the cooking had been doing something for him!

That said, I couldn’t recall his name. I had a vague feeling it contained the ideogram for “light,” but that was about it.

Sorry, Mr. Emperor.

Anyway, maybe my brother’s advisors had been so shocked because he was already the Duke of Yulnova. Maybe it had to do with his dignity as a duke, or maybe they’d just been shocked because it was so out of character for him.

I couldn’t forget the way Novak had gone stiff. When he’d recovered and opened his mouth to speak, though, I’d feared that he might try to stop Alexei.

I felt bad for Novak, but my brother wanted to cook. As an Alexei fangirl, there’d only been one thing for me to do:

“In that case, I’ll teach you!” I’d exclaimed before Novak could cut in. “I’d love to spend time with you in the kitchen.”

Now that I thought back on that moment, Novak had definitely gone stiff again when I said that.

But every single person needed to eat! Learning to cook was a good thing.

On the off chance I really dragged my brother into misery and we had to give up on our titles and wealth...being able to feed ourselves would be far better than despairing because we didn’t know how.

Although it would be better if our house didn’t collapse at all.

Remember, Ekaterina: pure, upright, and beautiful!

I worried less and less about the doom flags, but sometimes fear struck my heart all over again...

Anyway, I wouldn’t be teaching Alexei anytime soon, because he’d suddenly snapped out of it and shaken his head.

“That won’t do,” he’d said. “You’re too busy at the moment. I shouldn’t take up any more of your time.”

It had been quite a cold shower on my enthusiasm, since I’d gotten so excited at the idea of cooking with him. I’d already been wondering what color of apron I wanted him to wear, picturing myself teaching him how to peel potatoes and other such basic skills thoroughly and gently. I’d even toyed with the idea of getting him to wear a white chef’s uniform and hat!

I still think it’d fit him so well!!!

Even though the thought had only lasted a minute, I’d contemplated it with great intensity.

“Then I shall teach you after the festival is over,” I’d declared. “Please promise not to learn from anyone else!”

“As you wish,” he’d replied with a smile.

Alexei was too soft on me. Not that I expected anything else.

For some reason, Novak had looked only a little relieved.

Come to think of it, I’d heard Novak had been rather harsh when he was younger, so perhaps he believed men had no place in the kitchen. Personally, I thought it was a shame. He should learn how to cook too, so he could make something for his wife, Adelina.

“Um... Lady Yulnova?”

Ah!

I snapped out of my thoughts at the sound of my name.

I pressed my hands to my reddening cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I was lost in thought while the two of you worked hard. How embarrassing...”

“Please, don’t worry. I simply wanted to tell you we were done with this,” Yuri replied. His cheeks were just as red as mine, and he wore an apologetic expression on his face.

The boy working with him to replace the curtains with black ones was called Korneli Ephme. He’d also flushed red and was nodding along.

In my past life, I’d always taken the initiative, so I hated to let them do it all while I was zoned out. In this life, though, I was a highborn lady. I probably shouldn’t climb on chairs to change curtains.

“You’ve done a great job. Thank you both,” I said.

The two boys looked even more bashful, scratching their heads and mumbling in tandem, “We didn’t do much...”

As a big sister, I thought they were adorable.

Classes were over for the day, and I’d invited these two to a vacant room. I wanted Yuri to show me what he could do with his light mana. He seemed reserved, and I figured he’d be too shy in front of everyone, so I had asked the teachers if I could borrow a room. Thankfully, there were plenty of empty rooms in the academy because the number of students varied greatly from year to year.

Unlike the schools of my previous world, the Magic Academy had no fixed intake. Every youth who fulfilled the admission criteria was accepted, so the school never knew how many new students would enroll until after the year’s mana testing.

As a former working adult, I thought this system was terrifying. Still, it had endured for years, and the teachers knew how to adapt. They also had a lot of leeway to make adjustments. For instance, the university cooperated with the academy, and student “teachers” sometimes filled gaps if more teachers were needed.

You might be thinking: Are students qualified to be teachers?! But in this world, there was no such thing as a teaching license or diploma.

“The sun has started setting, so it’s not so bright outside anymore. Once we close these curtains, we should be able to see your light very well. Please show me what you can do, Lord Rey.”

Yuri’s face went rigid, and he gulped.

“First, please cast a light on an actor as you would if they were on the stage. Lady Flora, are you ready?”

“Yes, Lady Ekaterina.”

First, I wanted him to act like a basic spotlight. The classroom was dim but not so dark that you couldn’t see the people around you, so I watched Flora stand up.

I felt Yuri’s mana twirl through the air, and the next moment, light appeared around Flora.

Ooooh!

I stared at her, eyes wide.

My past life had led me to expect a cone-shaped light descending from above, but Flora was lit by an oval glow. It almost looked like she was emitting light.

So that’s the sort of thing you can do with mana! Of course, it would differ from the spotlights of my past world!

I adjusted my mental image. The point of using spotlights was to make the actors stand out. As long as that goal was achieved, the process didn’t matter.

Actually, this might be even better than a spotlight! Flora looks wrapped in a cocoon of light.

If such a thing had been possible in my previous world, plenty of stage directors would have wanted to use it!

“This is wonderful! Lady Flora, you look divine, just like a holy saint!”

“It feels...so strange,” Flora said.

She seemed a little disoriented, but I could see she was enjoying herself as she stretched out her hand, moving it in and out of the light.

“Lord Rey, does this tire you out?”

“Not at all. I can maintain this light a lot longer without issues,” he said with a little laugh, scratching the top of his head again. He seemed to be doing just fine.

“Could you try to gather the light atop Flora’s hand? I want it to look like it’s resting there.”

At my request, the light shrank and floated to Flora’s hand. Concentrated in a single spot, it was brighter than before, but Yuri quickly adapted, dimming it back to the same intensity.

A soft ball of light floating above the hand of a beautiful girl... The spectacle looked straight out of a fantasy story.

“Perfect! Your skills are truly impressive! To think you’re able to control your mana with such precision!”

“Th-This isn’t much... My family used to use me as a lamp, and my older siblings would yell at me if the light was too strong or too dim, so...”

I was speechless. He reminded me of another big sister I’d met in the duchy who was a little, well...let’s say forceful.

Maybe little brothers are really meant to be ordered around.

“How beautiful. The light stays above my hand!”

I’d rarely seen Flora so excited. She moved her hand up and down, marveling that the little ball of light seemed to follow it. Of course, it was all Yuri’s doing.

“Lady Ekaterina, catch!” she exclaimed, making a throwing motion.

I reflexively extended my hands, and the ball of light slowly floated into them.

“Wow...” I grinned despite myself.

Th-This is fun! I feel like I’m in a manga or an anime, only this is real life!

After playing around with the little sphere for a while, I threw it back toward Flora. Suddenly, the ball split into two. One landed in Flora’s hands, while the second returned to mine.

I couldn’t stop myself from exclaiming: “You can control several lights at the same time?! That’s incredible!”

The two spheres split again and again, until a dozen lights floated around, then they started flickering.

Whoa!!! This is so magical!

Just as that thought crossed my mind, most of the balls vanished, leaving only two.

“S-Sorry. I overdid it a little...”

Apparently, Yuri hadn’t made them flicker on purpose; he’d been near his limit.

Still, when I asked, he gladly made the two balls flicker. He enlarged and shrank them, moved them around Flora, and even burst them into flashes of light. We could definitely use some of these effects to make the fighting scenes more believable! While the dozen lights had been too much for him, Yuri could handle up to four or five without issue.

“Do you not feel tired?” I asked.

“I can handle this intensity for a while yet.”

Sure enough, the quantity of mana I sensed wasn’t all that large. Compared to my earth mana, it was about the amount I’d need to raise a tiny bump on the ground. The true difference lay in Yuri’s control. To match him, I’d have to engrave a realistic portrait on that tiny bump, or something along those lines. That sounded impossible to me, but Yuri didn’t seem to struggle.

After wrapping up our experiments, we opened the black curtains. Only a dim afterglow remained in the sky, but it was enough to brighten the classroom since our eyes had acclimated to the darkness.

Yuri looked a little tired but still energetic. He also seemed in better spirits than before. He hadn’t used much mana, but remaining lively after such intricate control was impressive. That was the power of youth, I supposed.

High school boys are always so full of energy!

Of course, I’d completely missed the obvious: A boy in the middle of puberty would naturally be in top form after being showered with praise by the prettiest girls in his grade. I was older in my past life, so I assumed I had a full grasp of the situation.

“Your mana truly is magnificent, Lord Rey,” I said once more, applauding him. “Please use it for the sake of our play!”

To be honest, Yuri’s abilities were so cool that he could put on a show all by himself. It was a mystery how light mana had never been used that way before.

“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that...” he said. “I always thought people would get angry at me if I used it like this... That they’d say I was playing around.”

“Oh...”

That explained the mystery. In the empire, mana was the birthright of the nobility. Yuri was right. Some people would definitely scold him for using mana in such a frivolous way.

Flora’s adoptive mother, Baroness Cherny, used her fire mana to cook, and I was sure she’d be mocked if people knew. Mana wasn’t meant to ease daily life—it was a weapon.

“I hadn’t thought of this, but you’re right. Many visitors will come to the academy during the festival. Some may think this way. We must take this into consideration,” I said.

“Right...” Yuri seemed to assume I meant we wouldn’t use his light mana for the play, and his shoulders slumped.

I quickly continued, “I believe we should publicly announce that our play is simply research into the undiscovered possibilities of light mana control. Honing our mana control is our main duty as students of this academy. If we frame it this way, no one can criticize you.”

I’d learned this trick during my corporate years. When you knew something would be criticized to hell and back but had to do it anyway, the best solution was to sell the idea attractively to whoever was in charge. I used to do this every other day at work, so even as a noble lady, the words flowed easily.

“Huh?” Yuri muttered, not quite following.

Korneli laughed at his good friend. “She’s saying we’ll pretend the only reason for the play is to show off what your light mana can do! Aren’t you happy? You just earned yourself the lead role!”

“What?!”

“You’re still ugly, though, so no standing on the stage for you.”

“What did you just—”

“Please stop, Lord Ephme. Teasing your friends isn’t nice,” I told him with a severe look.

Korneli lowered his face obediently, but for some reason he seemed very pleased. I was baffled.

“It’s merely an excuse I made up, Lord Rey. I hope you won’t take it to heart and enjoy the festival as a member of our class.”

“O-Okay... But, if we’re pretending the play is a mana control demonstration, shouldn’t we display, well...other sorts of mana?” he asked hesitantly. “My sister says only fire and lightning are cool because they can burn and blow away things. I’m afraid people will think our class is a joke if we only show light mana...”

“That’s not the case at all!” I interjected firmly. “Your mana is wonderful, Lord Rey. When I think of light, I think of fireworks at celebrations. Your light mana is just like that—a beautiful thing that will make our play shine. Everyone should see it this way!”

The light magic Yuri had shown us had a unique charm, distinct even from the LED and laser light shows of my previous world.

You’re competing with hundreds of years of technological innovation all on your own, Yuri! That’s an amazing thing!

“I’ve heard that even the foundation of the empire is celebrated with music and fireworks,” I added. Since I’d gone from confinement to shutting myself in, I’d never attended that celebration, but I’d heard about it. “I think we should keep testing the possibilities of light mana so that one day it may move the hearts of people during this important celebration and heighten the empire’s prestige!”

“N-No way! I could never—”

“At least, that’s the excuse we’ll give,” I concluded with a smile.

Yuri gave a start.

He’s so cute! It sounds like his siblings tease him a lot at home, and I’m starting to understand them.

Korneli hesitantly raised his hand. “Um... Lady Yulnova? I’ve got an ide—um, I mean I have a suggestion, if that’s all right. One of my relatives works for the Office of Rites, the one in charge of the Foundation Day celebrations. I could invite him to have a look. If he does come, then maybe...” he trailed off.

Oho?

“D-Don’t. You can’t tell a government official you want to use light mana during those celebrations. He may get mad.”

Despite his refusal, Yuri looked restless—as if he was secretly hoping it would happen. After all, if he were given such a role, he wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job anymore. Joining the Office of Rites was an honor, and Yuri didn’t seem to know what to do with the hopes and matching anxiety that had sprouted in his heart.

“There are no guarantees he’ll come even if I invite him, but we do have Lady Florus and Lord Selesar in the class, so...who knows? Musicians who received a summons from the God of Music take part in national celebrations.”

“My, you’re absolutely right! He might come since it’ll be the perfect occasion for him to see Lady Olga’s and Lord Renato’s talents,” I said.

Yuri froze, and I smiled at him gently.

“Lord Rey, attributes like fire and lightning have remained prized because of their applications in times of war, and because of Pyotr the Great’s legacy. Of course, strength is important. My own brother trains tirelessly every day so that he may be of use to His Imperial Majesty should anything happen. But that is exactly why I’ve always held one belief close to my heart—nothing is more precious than peace!”

I’d likely been influenced by modern Japanese values, but that wasn’t the most important thing. I didn’t want my brother dying from overwork, but there was one thing I feared more than that: him dying in battle.

I won’t have that! Never! Never! Never!

Yuri and Korneli both seemed surprised by my sudden ardent declaration.

“I refuse to value only mana attributes that can be used in battle,” I continued. “Those that bring joy and delight to our daily lives are just as important.”

What’s wrong with using fire mana to cook?! What’s wrong with using earth mana to plow fields?! I know some may criticize me, but I’ll never regret having done it. The villagers were glad I did, and that’s all that matters.

There’s nothing wrong with reveling in the beauty of light mana either.

“I’d understand giving priority to sheer power in times of war, but we’re at peace. Our ancestors worked tirelessly to maintain this peace. I take great joy in our empire’s stability and prosperity, and I’ve vowed to protect them. For that sake, I believe it’s high time we cultivated values beyond the pursuit of martial strength,” I said.

I was struggling to put my feelings into words.

While the empire had gone a fairly long time without any major war, it had stood on the brink several times. Novak had once told me that one had almost broken out as recently as when my grandfather, Sergei, was prime minister.

In the end, Sergei had managed to resolve the conflict through negotiations, but the hardest obstacle in his way hadn’t even been the foreign country with which the empire had been locked in a dispute. It had been the voices advocating for war from within.

“We must go to war to protect the empire’s honor,” they’d tirelessly insisted.

Eventually, Sergei had addressed them at a meeting, in the presence of the emperor:

“Going to war for the sake of honor would be nothing but a waste of national resources. What honor is there in shedding the blood of imperial citizens? There is nothing for us to gain in this conflict that could justify wasting countless lives and tremendous amounts of money. Folly under the name of honor would disgrace this empire much quicker than anything else ever could.”

I had a feeling Sun Tzu had also described war as a waste of national resources in similar terms in The Art of War. Weapons, equipment, and provisions were incredibly costly, and he’d written something along the lines of You’d better be sure whatever you’re getting out of this makes it worth it!

Wasn’t Sergei amazing? His way of thinking aligned with that of a strategist respected for over two thousand years.

To be fair, I also thought it was only logical. There were times war couldn’t be avoided. Sometimes, blindly calling for peace without facing reality was hopeless. Unlike Japan, the empire had land borders with its neighbors. If the need arose, it had to be able to strike without delay. However, fighting for honor, pride, or glory alone was misguided.

Being strong was cool. But that didn’t mean that you were automatically uncool if you weren’t.

Ah, I can’t formulate my thoughts properly. Whatever, I’ll just say it however it comes out!

“Your light mana was beautiful, and beauty is good. Your mana control is also impeccable, and I want everyone to see it because you bring pride to our class. Please, don’t belittle yourself anymore.”

“Lady Yulnova...” Yuri sounded moved.

“Besides, the other students with light mana might rejoice too when they see what you can do. Let’s all keep working hard so we can put together a wonderful show, yes?”

“Thank you... I’ll do my best!”

A few days later, Yuri did another demonstration for the rest of the class.

We’d made our classroom darker to see his performance better. Everyone was enraptured upon witnessing the delicate shifts and flickers of his light. In the end, he received a standing ovation. I thought unanimous approval would follow, but instead I was hit with an unexpected question:

“It was very beautiful, but are we really going to make the stage that dark? The spectators won’t be able to see the costumes or the backdrops...will they?”

The girl who’d just spoken up was a talented seamstress, part of the costume team. At her remark, others in charge of costumes, backdrops, and accessories gasped. The costume team seemed especially against it.

But I didn’t panic. Instead, I affixed a calm smile to my face.

“Thank you for pointing this out. To be honest, I’ve been giving this some thought, and I concluded that it would be a shame if the costumes, backdrops, and accessories you’re working so hard on were only on display for a few moments onstage. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but another class will be setting up a café and making special outfits for the servers. Compared to that, the stage costumes will be far and hard to see. That’s why I thought it’d be nice if visitors could see them up close. That way they’ll be able to take in all the details.”

My suggestion was for our actors to wear the costumes from the morning of the festival and walk around in them.

“If you’re asked why you’re wearing such a thing, you can say you’re going to be in a play. That way, you can advertise our play at the same time and attract more spectators. As for the backdrops and accessories, I was thinking of displaying them in our class until the end of the festival. If Lord Rey’s light helps make the play a success, I’m sure people will be curious about the props. Besides, many of you will invite your families. You’ll be able to take them to the classroom and personally show them everything you’ve made. That’ll be an occasion to create some fond memories, don’t you think?”

I’d been sitting on this idea since I’d heard that the girls of Mikhail’s class were making outfits for the servers.

This was another soft skill I’d picked up in my past life. The bigger the company you dealt with, the more likely you were to be hit with unexpected interferences. Sometimes, you found yourself in the middle of an internal influence battle between the general manager of the systems division and a random director of the same company. While you were inwardly screaming at them to handle their infighting another day, you still had to figure out ways to benefit both sides so they’d stop arguing and let you move on with the project...

At the time, those experiences had only stressed me out. I never would have thought what I learned would come in handy in another life!

The girls from the costume team loved my idea, and their eyes sparkled. The teams in charge of the backdrops and accessories also nodded.

Just like that, light magic officially became part of our show!

The student council, which also doubled as the executive committee of the festival, functioned very much like the student councils of my past world, with students voting to fill every position. Apparently, the method they used had been employed by the ancient Astrans to elect their parliament.

The student council organized both the festival and the ball held at the end of the second semester. In my past life, handling the school festival would have been the responsibility of a festival committee—a separate entity from the student council—so I imagined the members of the student council of this academy were busier than their Japanese peers.

The time they dedicated was worth it, though. The boys who belonged to the student council were often headhunted by government offices, while the girls could use it as a selling point on the marriage market. It was a rare occurrence, but some of the girls even managed to snatch jobs in government offices for themselves.

It was customary for titled students, already burdened with many responsibilities, to refrain from joining the student council. That was why Alexei wasn’t a member. The same went for Mikhail. Being an imperial prince was hard work, so he wouldn’t run for the council, even after his first year—or so I’d heard.

I’d come to submit documents and was about to hand them to a girl who looked like the secretary, when someone rose from his desk in the back to greet me personally.

“Welcome to the student council’s room, Lady Yulnova,” said Aristarkh Kroell, the president of the council.

It was my first time seeing him up close. His features were quite feminine and so harmonious that I couldn’t describe him as anything other than beautiful. Dark green hair framed his gentle, downturned green eyes, and a mole under one of them lent him a certain charm. His presence radiated kindness, the sort that invited people to confide in him. From what I’d heard, he was also skilled in martial arts and hailed from a prominent house. No wonder the girls in my class squealed over him.

Now that I’d finally met him in person, a little light bulb went off in my head. He might be one of the game’s male leads!

I didn’t really remember any of the romanceable characters besides Mikhail, but I knew they all had different hair colors. So far, I had identified four of them: Mikhail with blue hair, Nikolai with red, Renato with white, and Vladforen, the hidden lead, with black. Aristarkh’s green hair didn’t overlap with any of theirs.

“Is something the matter?” Aristarkh asked, a soft smile curling his lips.

His gentle voice brought me out of my thoughts. “No... I just felt a little guilty for making our president forgo his work to welcome me.”

“Please don’t worry. I’ve imposed on your brother several times, so this is the least I can do,” he replied, his tone as polite as his voice was soft.

I suddenly recalled the speech Alexei had given at the entrance ceremony. It felt like it’d been so long ago already.

“His Highness Mikhail has enrolled this year, and your brother speaking to him directly instead of someone like me is more appropriate,” Aristarkh added.

His strained smile suggested that this wasn’t his opinion but an order from the academy. I knew too well how it felt to dance at the mercy of higher-ups’ whims, so I sympathized with him.

I’d become good friends with Renato, another of the game’s love interests, so even if Aristarkh was one too, I saw no issue with befriending him. I didn’t think Ekaterina’s doom was tied to his route—probably. I really couldn’t say, but there were no connections I knew of.

“So, you’ve come to correct your class’s activities description for the brochure. Did you also want to request more time in the auditorium?”

The festival’s brochure would be ordered from a business with a printing press. Considering the era, printing likely came at a steep cost, but this was an academy for noble children. Unlike our play’s script, the school needed a large number of brochures, so outsourcing probably made sense from a cost-performance standpoint.

“No, we’ll make do with the time that was allocated to us,” I assured him. “I’ve corrected the script to make sure we’d be done in time.”

“Thank you. We get many requests for the auditorium, and some classes have very specific needs. Those who adhere to the schedule help a lot. Most ask for more time or for different time slots altogether because of their families’ availability...”

Aristarkh sounded relieved. Scheduling so many groups was already a headache, but constant adjustment requests must have had Aristarkh at the end of his rope. The class system probably forced him to accept some outrageous demands. With my status, if I’d insisted on more time, he’d have had no choice but to make it work somehow.

I understand your woes, President. I can’t count how many times I’ve tortured straw dolls in my mind while arguing with selfish clients!

But Aristarkh had no way to know the lady of a ducal house thought such things.

He let out a surprised hum after reading through the revisions I’d just submitted. “You’re researching the applications of light mana? That’s a direction none of the other classes have taken.”

He’d just finished speaking when another voice came from behind. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, Lady Yulnova. You’re always seeking novelty.”

It was a low, husky, feminine voice, more mature than that of most students. The first word that came to mind wasn’t all that common. It was sirenic—oozing with allure.

Who is she? I wondered, turning around. My eyes met those of a young woman who seemed to have come to submit a document, just like me.

Her black hair, tinged with blue, ran all the way down her back to her hips. Her sharp almond eyes were the same color as her hair, and her nose was straight and tall. As for her lips, they were painted a vivid crimson. She looked as beautiful and mature as her voice sounded.

She smiled at me, so I returned her smile.

I had the voluptuous body and striking face of a true villainess, but I felt like I was losing to her, somehow. Unlike me, she had a slender, almost androgynous frame. Despite that, she practically dripped seductive charm...

She was a second-year student, I realized, noting the badge on her uniform. That made her a little bit older than me, but I still had trouble believing someone could project such allure at sixteen or seventeen. I certainly didn’t.

I guess my personality not being the least bit sexy offsets my looks. I’m wasting my figure, aren’t I?

Unbeknownst to me, boys blushed every time I entered a room. Needless to say, I noticed none of that.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, Lady Magnas, if you could please wait,” Aristarkh said.

The beautiful woman laughed, glancing my way. “No need to rush. I’d much rather speak with the Lady Yulnova.” She turned to me. “If I may be so bold, allow me to introduce myself since I was lucky enough to run into you. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. I’m Zamira Magnas.”

Her name gave me pause. I knew it. The Magnas were a branch family of House Yulmagna—their most devoted retainers. Alexei had instructed me to be wary around them.

“Understood. I’ll be with you in a moment, then,” Aristarkh said with a polite nod.

He looked at the secretary, and she also nodded, lowering the hand she’d lifted to accept Zamira’s papers. She quickly stood and said, “Please excuse me,” then left the room as if she had urgent business.

Now that everyone had gone out of their way to give us privacy, I had no choice but to talk to Zamira. Putting it that way was ridiculous, really—she was just a teenage girl—but she somehow created an oppressive atmosphere that made it feel like a challenge.

Flora, who’d been beside me this entire time, stepped closer. “Lady Ekaterina?”

“I’m sorry, Lady Flora, but could I leave the paperwork in your hands?”

“Of course,” Flora said, her gaze shifting curiously to Zamira. She seemed puzzled, as though peering into a mystery.

Zamira’s eyes, however, remained fixed on me, her smile unwavering. It was as though she didn’t even register Flora’s existence.

All right, I see what you’re doing. I already knew the Yulmagnas placed great importance on social standing, much like the Selesnoas, and I was now witnessing their ways in person.

“You said your name was Magnas, did you not? I have heard of your house. It’s a subordinate branch of House Yulmagna, yes?” I said with a magnanimous smile. I’d mastered the proper facial expression of a ducal lady over the summer.

“You are the most exalted lady in this academy, and the center of everyone’s attention,” Zamira said, her smile deepening. “I hear your class will perform a musical for the festival. I’m sure everyone is dying to see you onstage.”

“My... I’m afraid I will have to disappoint them, as I won’t be there at all. I’m merely in charge of some behind-the-scenes work,” I replied with feigned embarrassment.

Well, it wasn’t entirely feigned. I was from a ducal house, and I’d made a name for myself selling glass pens, but I’d done my utmost to avoid playing a role. I hadn’t gone through all that for her to bring it back to the table!

“Since you came here to submit changes, I’d hoped we’d get to see you stand on the stage after all. What a shame,” she said, her expression tinged with disappointment. “Well, I’ve heard you inherited your grandfather’s wit and genius, so I’m sure we can expect an innovative play. You’ll certainly be chosen as this year’s greatest contributor. It’s practically set in stone.” She paused meaningfully. “Which means you’ll be His Highness’s partner for the first dance at the ball.”

Stop it!

My expression hadn’t shifted, but deep down, I had turned into The Scream. Or maybe not, since I’d heard the figure was actually covering their ears to block out a scream rather than screaming themselves.

Regardless, why was the first dance I’d struggled to escape in the duchy coming back to haunt me?! Did it come with a tracking device?!

“Not at all,” I insisted. “As I just mentioned, I have a minor job behind the scenes. I’m hardly contributing anything at all. I’m sure my seniors will come up with far more interesting projects. Speaking of which, what is your class doing, Lady Magnas?”

In times of doubt, redirect.

Zamira laughed. “Oh, Lady Yulnova. The daughter of a ducal house will certainly attract far more attention than the measly daughter of a viscount such as myself.”

She tossed the hot potato right back at me.

“I’m not sure I understand,” I said, tilting my head to the side in practiced confusion. “Status has no bearing here in the academy. We’re all students, so only our achievements should be assessed.”

I actually meant that. In the game, Flora had been chosen for her initiative. This world didn’t seem to be an exact copy of the game, but the students who’d been voted MVP in the past weren’t necessarily the highest-ranking ones.

I pressed further. “I believe House Yulmagna also has a young lady. Lady Elizaveta, isn’t it? I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl. I’d certainly like to meet her.”

The corners of Zamira’s lips lifted. My words had sounded more like a declaration of war than I’d intended, I realized.

Just then, the door of the student council’s room opened.

“Ekaterina.”

“Brother!”

I was an Alexei fangirl first and foremost, so no matter the circumstances, I squealed happily whenever I saw him. He’d walked into the room with a stern expression, but his neon-blue eyes softened as soon as they found my face, just like they always did.

“My Ekaterina.”

Alexei extended his hand to me, so I let out a quick “Do excuse me” to Zamira and hurried over to him. “What brings you here, brother?”

“I heard you were here, so I came by,” Alexei said, taking my hands in his.

I belatedly noticed the secretary behind him, smiling at me. “I ran into him, so I let him know you were here in passing.”

I had a feeling this wasn’t the full story. In fact, I suspected she’d stepped out specifically to fetch Alexei. At this time, he should have been in his office working, not wandering the halls. It was pretty far from here too, so he must have rushed over deliberately.

But why?

I could feel Zamira’s sharp gaze digging into my back. Alexei wrapped an arm around my shoulders and murmured to me, “The quality of the Magnas attendants has certainly dropped. To think one would dare disrespect the lady of the House of Yulnova.”

This was a common way for nobles to rebuke those unworthy of direct address. At his words, the air tensed. No member of the council was foolish enough to disregard the wrath of the duke of Yulnova.

Zamira, however, murmured a response without directly addressing Alexei. “My, the young lord of Yulnova is as overprotective as always.”

Calling a duke a “young lord” was offensive enough, but the remark itself was a clear provocation. The members of the student council paled. Zamira took notice of that.

“How embarrassing,” she said. “I let myself get swept up by our old familiarity. The duke used to be very close to my master, so I often saw him. I couldn’t help but remember the way he used to lead Lord Vladimir by the hand around the Yulnovas’ rose garden so he wouldn’t get lost. A heartwarming story, don’t you think?”

I pictured the scene and almost nodded enthusiastically. Little Alexei had been such a cute boy, and I had no doubt Vladimir had been just as handsome as a child. The two of them holding hands in the rose garden made an adorable picture!

“A shame their friendship was so fleeting,” Zamira said with a sigh. “Two equally great houses, quarreling... Ah, what a shame, indeed. My master does not speak of this, but I’m sure chagrin eats away at him. It is sad that his former friend doesn’t seem to notice.”

Alexei’s eyes blazed as he glared at Zamira. She didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated, her eyes gleaming with their own dark light.

“If you have any words for my master, it’d be my pleasure to pass them on to him, Your Grace.”

The temperature of the room dropped.

“Brother,” I said, trailing my hand down Alexei’s arm before taking his hand in mine. “I know you, so I know that person must have gotten the wrong idea. You’re a faithful friend, and you never abandon those to whom you’ve opened your heart. Still, you are the duke of Yulnova—the heart of Yulnova itself. You can’t prioritize your feelings over the future of our house. Your precious friend surely understands that, and I would expect any attendant to have some sense too. Alas, I’ve yet to hear anything sensible.”

Alexei didn’t really share these things with me, but considering Zamira’s public provocation, it sounded like the feud between House Yulmagna and House Yulnova had intensified.

I didn’t know Vladimir at all, but I knew Alexei. He was an old-school tsundere, which meant that he wanted nothing more than to dote on those to whom he’d opened his heart. Whatever had happened with Vladimir had hurt him deeply.

“Ekaterina...” Alexei squeezed my hand, affection in his eyes. “You’re always so perceptive and kind. You have no idea how much your presence soothes me... Nothing is greater than a family coming together as one.”

Alexei embraced me, and I hugged him back. His usual flowery soliloquies had been replaced by concise words, but his voice was thick with emotion. With our father and grandmother, Alexei had faced enemies in his own household. After our grandfather passed, he’d had no one until we were reunited.

I wonder if you spoke to Vladimir with such unabashed affection.

“It appears my master has served his purpose in His Grace’s eyes,” Zamira whispered. She curtsied elegantly and added, louder, “I apologize for my insolence. I do hope you’ll forgive me. Now then, have a good day.”

She turned on her heel and left the room, her blue-black hair swaying with each step.

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness,” Alexei told the secretary after a pause.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she replied, “I-I didn’t do much. We’re classmates, and I know you treasure your sister very much...”

Her high-pitched voice rang a bell. She’s definitely one of the girls who squeals whenever Alexei does anything!

Leaving that aside, I thought it was overkill to call on Alexei just because I was exchanging a few words with a girl from a branch family of the House of Yulmagna.

I was pondering this when Aristarkh spoke up, “I’m glad you came, Your Grace. Lady Magnas is something of an inconspicuous celebrity in our academy. Although she keeps a low profile, she wields considerable influence in the shadows. Lord Yulmagna is in poor health, and her twin brother, Lord Lazar, has no time for much else as Lord Yulmagna’s attendant. She may be managing academy affairs on their behalf. If she wishes, she’ll likely be the next president of the student council.”

My eyes widened. I could see Zamira swaying boys with her allure, and the prestige of House Yulmagna gave her another push, but the empire was even more sexist than Japan in my past life (though still better than most countries in this world). If she was a serious contender for president, there had to be more to her than her looks and family backing.

Aristarkh noticed my surprise and smiled. “Still, I doubt she’ll run. Lady Magnas conceals herself in the shadows, and it’s no secret that House Yulmagna does not favor women in positions of power. What weighs on my mind is that I don’t understand how she came to wield such influence. She’s not the type to make shows of leadership, yet somehow, before anyone noticed, countless students followed her will... I just think we should be wary of that.”

Come to think of it, the president had immediately tried to handle Zamira himself without letting the secretary speak to her. That proved he believed she was both important—and dangerous—enough to warrant his personal attention. He was also aware of the tensions between House Yulnova and House Yulmagna and worried she might say or do something strange to me, which was why he’d tasked the secretary with getting my brother. Well, he’d likely just asked her to get someone, and she’d made the executive decision to go to Alexei.

Had the president assumed he would be held responsible if something happened to me in the student council’s room? I had no way of knowing.

Alexei’s lips eased into a smile. “I will remember your quick wit.”

“I-I just...” Aristarkh trailed off, shaking his head awkwardly, but he looked pleased. He hadn’t planned any of this, but if he could earn Alexei’s gratitude, he wasn’t about to let the chance slip.

Flora kindly offered to finish the paperwork for me, so I left the room with Alexei and followed him to his office.

Novak and the rest of Alexei’s close aides welcomed us with worried faces. All they seemed to know was that Alexei had rushed off to save me after I’d fallen into the clutches of the Yulmagnas. I didn’t think the situation had been anywhere near that dire, so I was honestly confused.

Nonetheless, if Novak and the others were so quick to worry, it had to mean the conflict between our houses had worsened.

“You’ve known her for a very long time, haven’t you, brother?”

“It’d be more accurate to say that I used to know her,” Alexei replied.

Ivan quickly brought a chair for me next to Alexei’s desk, and my brother gestured for me to sit.

“Back when Vladimir and I were close,” Alexei continued, “Zamira was always around him. The same went for her twin brother, Lazar. He’s very different from her and has always known his place. Zamira, on the other hand, often behaved this way even then. Despite their differences, the twins have always had one common point: Even as children, they were exceedingly loyal to Vladimir. Whenever Vladimir and I tried to go anywhere alone, one of them would follow without fail—most of the time, both of them did.”

“My...” One detail stood out. “The two of you, two dukes-to-be, tried to go places without an escort?”

Alexei chuckled. “We were children.”

Grandfather had been still alive at the time, and Alexei had been just a boy—one who didn’t yet have to worry about the responsibilities of a duchy. Like most kids, he’d tried to sneak out with his friend.

Looking at the young man Alexei had become, a dignified duke despite being only eighteen, gave me an indescribable feeling. He was still so young. Some of that childish foolishness should have remained.

An adorable picture filled my mind: little Alexei trying to sneak out with little Vladimir and the twins getting in their way... Their antics must have been so cute. Just thinking about it soothed my heart. And Vladimir had had the twins and Alexei all to himself. He’d practically had a harem of his own!

Alexei’s tone hardened, pulling me out of my silly thoughts. “Even then, I thought of her as the tail of a cockatrice. It has a mind of its own and hurts its main body despite trying to help.”

“The tail of a cockatrice...”

In this world, the cockatrice was a real type of monster. Its main body resembled a rooster’s, with a large red comb crowning its head, but its tail was a poisonous snake. The rooster and the snake had separate minds, and it was common for the snake to damage its main body with venom while trying to chase away enemies. Being “the tail of a cockatrice” had become a set phrase that referred to those who harmed their allies without meaning to.

“The twins were both very clever,” Alexei said. “Neither were prodigies like Vladimir, but they were far smarter than most children and knew a great deal. None of the children of the Yulnova branch families were anything like them, so I used to worry about finding capable talents to aid me.”

That made me grin. Even as a child, Alexei had kept an eye out for talent, aware of his position as heir to the Yulnova Duchy. He was quite something.

“I wouldn’t have had such thoughts if you’d been there at the time. Why would I need anyone else with you by my side, my wise Ekaterina?” he said with a soft look.

His Ekaterina filter was quite something too!

“Anyway,” Alexei went on, “I don’t know what she’s after, but seeing her today reminded me of something. Back then, the twins strongly opposed my friendship with Vladimir. What she said at the end... She said it to let me know she’ll convey those exact words to Vladimir. She made sure I knew she would, so I wouldn’t think of reconnecting with him.”

“It appears my master has served his purpose in His Grace’s eyes.”

Alexei gazed into the distance. I could tell exactly what he was worried about. Our houses were enemies now, but would those words hurt his former friend?

I mentally tapped him with the back of my hand and dramatically exclaimed (in my head): Of course not! He doesn’t care!

Wait a minute...

The first time we met, Vladimir had been awful to me. But maybe he’d acted that way because he felt like I’d stolen his place.

I was suddenly reminded of the English phrase that had popped up in my mind when I’d seen him: green-eyed monster, the metaphor for envy and jealousy.

If I was right, Zamira had chosen the worst possible course of action. She was about to tear the rift between Alexei and Vladimir even wider.

“How presumptuous...how insolent of her. Seeing you unhappy saddens me as well, brother.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. Someone as pure as you may have trouble fathoming it, but many harbor malice and lay traps for others. I remain concerned about Zamira’s intentions. One thing is certain—Magna wants to see Elizaveta crowned empress, so your radiance is a thorn in his side. We mustn’t lower our guard.”

“Thank you for your warning, brother.” I nodded, uneasy. “She seemed to know a lot about the play my class will be putting on... I wonder if I’ve been standing out in a negative way. I even caused a problem for you today. I shall take a step back after the festival ends.”

I hadn’t planned for this, but making my brother waste time when he was so busy hurt my soul. On top of that, I absolutely didn’t want Zamira and the rest of them to take advantage of my weakness to trouble my brother!

“How could you ever stand out in a negative way? What is meant to shine will shine. If that was a negative, the sun, the moon, the morning dew, every thing of beauty in this world would be equally guilty. Don’t you think that’d be ridiculous?” Alexei’s fingers brushed my cheek. “You don’t need to stop yourself from doing anything on behalf of Magna. Everything you’ve done has brought honor to the Yulnova name. I will handle them, so there is only one thing you need to do. Please, do not allow that woman anywhere near you. Besides, you could never stop yourself from standing out. Your light shines whenever you walk into a room. That is how beautiful you are, Ekaterina.”

“Oh, brother!”

His Ekaterina filter and his built-in flowery declaration feature were in perfect shape today!

As a former corporate drone, I felt absolutely unqualified to navigate a full-blown war between two major noble houses, yet there I was, standing in the eye of the storm.

Still, if my brother told me to press on, I would! I’d do everything in my power to stage a great play and support my classmates in their quests for careers and marriages alike!

I waited for Flora to finish the paperwork and join me in Alexei’s office so we could walk back to our dorm together.

When she arrived, I turned to Alexei and his advisors. “I’m sorry for stealing so much of your precious time, brother. I’ve disrupted everyone’s work, and I apologize. Still, I urge you to wrap up quickly and rest as much as possible.”

Everyone smiled at my usual nagging.

“You’re the one who keeps overdoing it,” Alexei said fondly. “Hurry along and rest well, Ekaterina.”

“I shall do as you say, brother. Have a good evening, everyone.”

With that, Flora and I left, and Ivan closed the door behind us.

The atmosphere inside the room shifted in the blink of an eye.

“Novak, carry on with your report.”

“As I was saying, the body of an elderly woman was found beneath a bridge over the Serno River. I’ve received confirmation that the deceased woman was actually Nonna Zares,” Novak declared, his tone matter-of-fact.

Alexei listened, his expression neutral.

Nonna Zares had been one of his grandmother’s waiting maids. Even after Alexandra’s death, she’d continued to worship her and had dared tell Ekaterina she wasn’t acting like a proper lady, promising to correct her ways so she’d better resemble Alexandra. All Nonna had achieved was provoking Alexei’s ire, and he had fired her for embezzling contractor funds.

She’d sought refuge with the Yulmagnas but had been chased away. Out of options, she was living out the rest of her days in a gloomy corner of the capital—or at least, so said the last report Alexei had received.

“They eliminated her instead of leaving her be. That suggests the person who sent her to the House of Yulnova was central to Magna’s embezzlement scheme,” Alexei said.

“That is indeed likely. She played her part as the canary in the mines.”

After Sergei’s passing, Alexandra had taken full control of the House of Yulnova. During that time, the House of Yulmagna had received vast sums of embezzled funds. Alexei and his advisors were tracing the flow of the money to secure proof of Alexandra’s wrongdoing.

Because Nonna had been close to Alexandra, they had long suspected her involvement in Alexandra and the Yulmagnas’ schemes. After Alexei had fired her, shortly before summer vacation, Novak had sent a subordinate to approach her. Concealing his affiliation with the House of Yulnova, the man had pretended to lament the poor old woman’s circumstances.

He had guided her with sweet, deceitful words: She had labored tirelessly for two noble houses for years, so it was only natural she should receive compensation. Since they had refused, he would help her claim what she was owed. All they needed was to find the embezzled money’s hiding place.

Nonna had jumped at the idea. With his help, she’d begun snooping, visiting Yulmagna servants she’d known while working for Alexandra. She’d disappeared mid-quest, only to be found dead, floating in the river that ran through the capital. Her body might have been carried to the sea and disappeared, but instead it had caught on a bridge pier. It was a final testament to her tenacity, or perhaps her deep-seated grudge.

To the end, Nonna had clung to her misguided pride and obsession with money, and neither Alexei nor Novak grieved her death.

Alexei had been born to rule. Standing atop corpses didn’t faze him. Some ruled, some died; that was the natural order of the world.

He glanced at the door through which Ekaterina had left and whispered, “You don’t need me to say this, but make sure Ekaterina never hears of this. Nonna insulted her to her face, but her heart will ache if she learns of her death. I want her to see only goodness, to feel only warmth. She should receive what she gives the world.”

“I shall make sure her ladyship remains unaware,” Novak replied at once.

Novak had grown increasingly soft on the lady of the House of Yulnova. Little did he know that she despaired over his indulgence of Alexei’s increasingly outrageous statements and decisions about her.

“The tricky part will be deciding what to do next,” Novak continued. “The Yulmagnas were complacent, but now they’re erasing their traces with the swiftness and ruthlessness of a venomous snake. I could send men to investigate, but they might end up like Nonna—or worse, alert Magna that we’re onto them.”

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat. They have their backs to the wall. Let us pressure their finances openly. They’ll eventually crack, don’t you think?” Alexei said, turning to his trade advisor.

A grin formed on Halil’s beautiful face. “On that field, they’re neither swift nor ruthless. If you’ll allow me to wage war with trade, I shall raid them thoroughly, Your Grace.”

“Very well, but don’t go overboard, lest Magna go crying to His Imperial Majesty. Cut deep, but don’t cross the line.”

Halil shrugged, his smile unwavering. “As you command.”

“In the meantime, I shall tear through their faction. Unrest is spreading with the sudden change in allegiance of the House of Selesnoa. Now is the perfect time to strike,” Novak said with a nonchalant air.

Novak had served Sergei when he had the entire empire under his thumb as prime minister. He had experience manipulating noble factions. The nobles’ agitation stemmed not only from Selesnoa’s defection but also from growing belief that the next empress would hail from Yulnova.

Novak wouldn’t touch upon that, though. It was too early.

Aaron raised a hand. “I’d like to call the professor back to the capital, just in case. Is that all right?”

“My granduncle?” Alexei looked puzzled, then nodded. “You’re thinking of the prism circles. If people hear of his research, many will turn against us, and the status quo may shift.”

When she’d learned of them, Ekaterina had compared the prism circles to the steam engine. What her and Alexei’s Granduncle Isaac had invented was a magic circle sustained by the innate properties of rainbow stones. The prism circles were still experimental, but if they succeeded, the world would be transformed. His invention had the potential to spark an industrial revolution.

As things stood, nobles monopolized mana and its benefits. Isaac’s prism circles would make that accessible to everyone, commoners included. Opposition was inevitable, and his research remained top secret.

“I think he’d be safe in the old mine, but people come and go. There’s no telling when an intruder might sneak in. Besides, he might leave without a word to conduct research elsewhere. He’s just that sort of person. If he were to fall into their hands... Well, it’s likely he wouldn’t be able to hide his research from them. They would know everything before long. Calling him to the capital so we can protect him and distracting him with her ladyship’s glass workshop—or whatever else catches his interest—would be far safer in my opinion. He might even be of help to her with his talents.”

Despite his calm, scholarly looks, Aaron spoke ardently. Alexei’s mine advisor had once been Isaac’s assistant, and he was still endlessly devoted to him.

Alexei hummed pensively before nodding. “All right. My granduncle is a member of the House of Yulnova and an eminent scholar whose work has been celebrated by Their Imperial Majesties on many occasions. Magna wouldn’t dare harm him in the middle of the capital. Summon him here.”

“At once,” Aaron replied, bowing happily.

“If he returns now, he’ll spend the winter in the capital. I’m glad another Yulnova will be with us for the festivities and the new year,” Novak said.

Halil smiled. “Her ladyship’s birthday is also coming up in December. She’ll be overjoyed to have the professor celebrate it with her.”

“You’re right. I want to make it a special day for her.” Alexei smiled as he thought of the preparations he was making. He only allowed himself to enjoy these sweet thoughts for a moment before schooling his expression into the coolheaded face of a duke. “What is next on the agenda?”

“I am Goku, the protector of the Saint, Lady Anemoni! You wish to lay hands on my saint? How laughable! I’ll crush you and teach you your place!”

Marina held up her weapon as she spoke her lines, smooth and confident. Cheers erupted.

“You’re wonderful, Lady Marina!”

“Your costume suits you so well! How awe-inspiring!”

We’d come a long way in our preparations and were now tweaking the final details of the play. The sewing team had nearly finished the costumes, and the actors had learned their lines. We were on the dress-rehearsal stage.

Marina’s outfit was dominated by red to match her fiery hair streaked with gold. Because she had many action scenes, I’d known she’d need to wear masculine clothes, but I’d given the sewing team freedom to design them. They’d ended up producing exotic baggy pants that were tight at the ankles. Marina had a great figure and legs for days, so the pants enhanced her silhouette while concealing her shape, preserving her dignity as a noble lady. They were also easy to move in. Her upper garment was a long vest embroidered in gold that fluttered with every motion and made the action scenes look even cooler.

Athletic as ever, Marina swished her long staff with ease. It was loosely inspired by Sun Wukong’s magical weapon in Journey to the West. She had cast away her five-strong army of kittens and seemed delighted to run freely across the stage. I enjoyed watching her have fun, and her chemistry with Flora, the saint in pure white, was perfect.

Marina had always been popular with girls, and her current outfit had the class’s girls squealing nonstop. She seemed pretty pleased with herself—very pleased—judging by her grin, which provoked another round of squeals. I felt as though I were watching a performance by a certain all-female musical theater troupe.

A true gem she is.

I remembered thinking Empress Magdalena resembled a certain theater star when I first met her. I wondered if she’d been admired by her female classmates just as Marina was. Apparently, the emperor had once been desperate for her to look his way. How had he felt watching other girls fawn over Magdalena? I had a hard time picturing our dignified emperor as a lovestruck teenager struggling for his crush’s attention.

By the way, I’d named Sun Wukong “Goku,” his Japanese name, because it was easier for the empire’s people to pronounce.

“You’ve made the role your own, Lady Marina,” I told her. “What a dependable performer you are!”

“Oh ho ho! You can count on me!” Marina laughed loudly as she waved the tail sewn onto her costume. Clearly, the five kittens had made way for five monkeys—though, according to her brother, she hardly needed them, being naturally monkey-like.

Jokes aside, I was glad we’d finished in time.

The play now fit within the allotted time, but achieving that had not been easy. I’d given the matter a lot of thought, and had scrapped the final group-song scene entirely. Cutting lines or adjusting action scenes risked confusing the actors, so I’d chosen the cleaner solution.

The costumes, backdrops, and props were nearly complete, and Yuri had a good grasp on what he ought to do with his light mana. He’d worked tirelessly to implement everyone’s ideas, with magnificent results. For instance, he used light to make Olga’s follower appear as a shadow at first, heightening the impact.

Olga’s singing, accompanied by Renato, was equally incredible. Each rehearsal drew crowds to our classroom’s window, and silence fell as she sang. When the song ended, I always heard at least a few sniffles. The song had already become a student favorite.

See how amazing our Olga is?! I boasted inwardly every time.

Our classmates reveled in the attention, and the atmosphere was wonderful. Everyone had fun and contributed ideas enthusiastically instead of leaving decisions to me alone, which I greatly appreciated. Thanks to them, I felt less like the lady of a ducal house and more like a regular student among equals! I loved it.

That said, our class wasn’t the only one garnering attention. Mikhail’s did as well. He’d gone to the kitchen after school to practice cooking, and stories of the prince in an apron had spread across the academy at the speed of light. A huge crowd had rushed to catch a glimpse.

I still remembered a classmate bursting in, screaming, “His apron is blue!!!”

That’s the important part?! I’d thought—but apparently the color was cause for excitement. Ah, youth...

To be fair, I was sure the blue apron suited him. I was even a little curious to see it myself.

Surprisingly, the dark horse was Lydia’s class.

Raised to care deeply about rank, Lydia had long ignored the petty nobles that made up the majority of her class. She’d shocked everyone by declaring she wanted the entire class to perform as a choir for the festival. In true Lydia fashion, she was quite assertive.

As the daughter of a marquess, Lydia was the highest-ranking lady in her class. Her classmates had accepted the choir idea as a matter of course, and she’d been given the solos. At first, her classmates had kept their distance from her, but it seemed most had become huge fans after hearing her sing during rehearsals.

Some had started looking down on her, just as I feared. Lydia had devoted years to being noticed by the God of Music, only for that honor to fall to her vassal, Olga. That fact hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Lydia silenced her detractors with flawless singing. Students often spied on other classes’ rehearsals, so Lydia had gradually gained fans outside her own class. Her long effort spoke for itself.

Needless to say, our seniors had their share of popular students too.

My brother didn’t involve himself in his class’s productions; Nikolai had taken charge instead. They had planned mock jousting matches in full armor. Nikolai was popular, so I expected his matches would attract large crowds.

To be honest, I totally wanted to watch a few matches myself.

Mounted knights in full armor, lances at the ready...! It sounded so cool! My history-buff blood boiled at the thought.

I loved the bubbly atmosphere and energy that had taken over the academy. The festival was almost here, and I could hardly wait.

Chapter 4: The Festival Goes Up in Flames?

At long last, the first day of the festival arrived. The air was crisp now that fall had settled in, and the sky stretched high and clear, dotted with a few cotton-like clouds—the promise of a beautiful day.

Our play was scheduled for the afternoon. On such a bright, glimmering day, we would need to close the slatted shutters from outside to darken the auditorium. We’d spent a long time balancing light for visibility onstage with enough shadow for Yuri’s light mana to shine, and we knew exactly how to proceed.

We’d done everything possible to prepare. My past work had taught me that no matter how thorough the planning, unexpected issues always arose on the day itself. There was only so much one could prepare ahead of time. No matter what, we would do our utmost to make the play a success!

Or so I had thought.

“Let us enjoy the festival tomorrow morning. We’ll gather in the auditorium at the agreed time for the last preparations,” I’d told everyone yesterday, planning to spend the morning looking at other classes’ displays with Flora.

Now, however, on the morning of the festival, I found myself on a battlefield.

“It’s not long enough! We need more fabric! Where’s the spare roll?!”

“We need more thread here! Hurry, fetch silk thread in this color! Hey, who’s hogging the marking pins?!”

“Wait, her waist is that tiny?! That makes no sense... I’m so jealous.”

“Me too, but forget that—focus on fixing this!”

We’d turned a small empty room into a girls-only changing space, and the mighty warriors of the sewing team bustled around me, taking my measurements and shouting orders. I stood motionless, dazed, holding the costume Olga should have been wearing.

Why have things come to this?

This was a stupid question. I knew the answer. It was the fault of the God of Music!

I hate you! Wait, will divine punishment strike me for thinking that?

I shouldn’t bear a grudge against a god, and I shouldn’t have been surprised that a divine being didn’t care about human circumstances, but this was too much.

How could you take Olga away now of all times?!

The incident had taken place soon after the start of the festival.

Our classmates dashed out of the classroom—some straight to the refreshment booth for snacks they wanted to try, others to explore other classes’ exhibits. Our actors wore their costumes to promote our play and to assist the sewing team in their “husband hunt.”

All, except one: Olga, who was in her uniform. Her costume had been deliberately designed to look extra villainous, clashing with her usual cuteness. It didn’t suit her vibe, and we’d exempted her from advertising duty so she could enjoy the festival without worrying.

Yet she sat motionless in the middle of the room. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to move; it was as if she couldn’t.

Worried she might be nervous, I asked, “You’re not going to look around, Lady Olga? I thought you’d walk with Lord Renato.”

Her boyfriend (who also acted as her coach and producer) had hurried off after whispering something to her. They hadn’t fought, so the sight puzzled me.

The classroom was almost empty at the moment. Even Marina had dashed away, almost as quickly as Renato, to check on her brother while he prepared for his matches.

“Today...Lord Renato’s father and brothers are coming to the academy,” Olga said.

Flora and I gasped.

Renato was the third son of the House of Selesar, a branch family of the House of Selesnoa. I’d heard his father, a close aide to the marquess, valued military arts above all else. I’d once seen Renato with a bruise on his face—punishment from his father for opposing Lydia when she targeted me. But Renato and his father had never really gotten along, even before that. A genius musician and a proud warrior found little in common.

Renato would have to face his father today, and his brothers as well. Apparently, they resembled their father far more than Renato did.

“Does that mean he’ll introduce you to them?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

Olga nodded nervously. “They’ll watch the play, and then...” She paused before managing to say, “H-he’ll introduce me to them.”

Oh! She’s meeting her boyfriend’s family for the first time—her future father-in-law and brothers-in-law!

These things were always daunting, but as a branch family of the House of Selesnoa, they would be strict about status. Worse, despite the recent shift, Selesnoa had long regarded Yulnova as a rival. Olga was my friend, and she’d impeded Lydia’s rise by winning the God of Music’s favor... Who knew what they thought of her?

Even as an adult who’d almost made it to thirty in my past life, I would have been nervous in her shoes.

Renato! Why did you add this to her plate on top of the stage performance?!

No, he’s shrewd...

I meant that as a compliment. After hearing Olga sing, his father was sure to be moved. He had planned this.

“I’m sure Lord Renato’s father will be touched by your singing, so much so that he’ll be glad to meet you,” I said, hoping to cheer her up.

“I-I’m going to practice a little more,” Olga said, gulping as she jumped to her feet.

Flora and I joined her. Practicing was a good thing, but the play was this afternoon. I was worried she’d overdo it and hurt her voice. Olga seemed to feel guilty for imposing, but I think she knew she needed us too. She accepted our company without argument.

Visitors already filled the corridors, so we left the main building and headed toward the lake on the edge of the grounds. It was private there.

Olga warmed up with a few vocal exercises, then sang the play’s song a cappella.

It was beautiful. Quiet as she was, she had a knack for turning pressure into strength. She had done the same before the retired emperor and empress. It was a shame Renato’s family wasn’t here. I had no doubt they would have been moved to tears.

At that moment, colorful rays poured down from the clear sky, and the God of Music descended.

“A beautiful voice and a curious melody. How pleasing.” He extended a magnificent hand toward Olga. “My dear children wish to listen to this song. Come to my garden, Olga, and sing for them.”

The God of Music’s “dear children” were in fact a handful of humans he liked so much he’d kept them in his garden. He’d given them perpetual youth and doted on them.

Since inviting Olga to his garden once and granting her his protection, he could hear her singing at all times. He must have heard this song a thousand times, but now he’d mentioned it to his dear children, and they’d grown curious.

Overwhelmed, Olga took the God of Music’s hand in a daze. I also felt as though I were dreaming, unable to speak. The most I mustered was a voiceless cry in the privacy of my mind.

Wait!

When I regained control, it was too late. The God of Music had vanished as swiftly as he’d appeared, and Olga was gone.

An uproar followed. Tons of people had seen the colorful lights dancing in the sky and the god himself, and they rushed toward the lake. Flora and I explained the situation to a teacher we saw in the crowd, who rejoiced. To him, what had just happened was an auspicious omen and a great honor for the academy.

Fair enough—but that wasn’t the point! With Olga gone, how were we supposed to put on our play?!

I was finally able to share my woes when Renato and some of our classmates came running. He arrived first; he must have known something had happened the moment he saw the lights in the sky.

Behind Renato were three giants, their attention fixed above us. Their bulky frames contrasted comically with Renato, a slender pretty boy. Upon closer inspection, I realized the two younger men had beautiful features that resembled Renato’s. This group was undoubtedly his brothers and father.

“She was summoned a second time...” Renato’s father said, almost with a groan, but he sounded impressed nonetheless. Relief washed over me. He didn’t seem inclined to reject Olga.

Now’s definitely not the time to feel relieved!

“If she has to sing for the god’s children, it will take a while. Last time, they showed interest in your song and wanted to perform it with us. They debated how they would have sung it. I urged them to let us return quickly because the retired empress was waiting, but Olga has no such excuse this time. I doubt they’ll release her after she sings once or twice, and she isn’t the type to refuse...”

Renato’s words added to the gravity of the situation. The villainess was a key character in the play, and it didn’t sound like Olga would return before the show.

“We must gather and discuss this as a class,” I said.

Renato’s father and brothers stared at me, confused that the lady of a ducal house would bother consulting those beneath her. I ignored them, though, because I had no time to worry about their opinions.

We returned to the classroom, gathering classmates along the way. Before long, we were all there.

“Olga’s role is important, and the song is the highlight of the play. We can’t go on without her... I’m afraid we must consider canceling the play,” I said after explaining everything.

Even I could hear the heartbreak in my own voice. The atmosphere grew heavy.

“It’s such a shame... This should have been a beautiful moment we remembered for years,” Marina said, dejected.

Everyone’s heads hung low. All our efforts seemed about to go to waste.

Then, someone unexpected spoke up. “Isn’t there a way to put on the play anyway? We could change the plot a little, or perform part of the story, or...”

It was Korneli Ephme. He was good friends with Yuri Rey, the boy in charge of the light effects, but he had no major role himself. Everyone turned to him, wondering why he, of all people, was so intent on saving the play. Korneli looked down under the weight of their heavy gazes.

“My relative...” he muttered. “I have a relative who works for the Office of Rites, and, um...I’ve asked him to come so many times. He always said no, but he finally agreed to come today...”

I gasped.

I’d almost forgotten. When I’d mentioned Yuri’s mana could enhance ceremonies, Korneli had brought up that relative of his. They didn’t sound close, but he’d still done his best to get him to come. He’d probably had to bow his head again and again to secure this chance. If we canceled, his relative might be angered—or at least unwilling to give Korneli another chance.

Korneli often teased Yuri, so I had doubted their friendship was all that sincere. Yet, clearly, he cared a great deal when his friend’s future was at stake. He’d done everything possible to give Yuri a fighting chance at a career.

It moved me quite a bit.

“Doing only part of the play might be a good idea,” one classmate said. “I was so excited for today that I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I don’t want to give up entirely. Maybe we could explain the situation to the audience and perform a shorter version...”

“But what part? Wouldn’t it be better to wait until next year instead of staging something incomplete?”

“I don’t want to live with this frustration for an entire year! There’s got to be a way. Let’s think together!”

My classmates started arguing. Eventually, their gazes turned to me. More and more, they had begun to see me as the class leader. They were waiting for my opinion.

Thoughts raced through my mind under their desperate gazes.

It’s reckless...and I really don’t want to...

Performing without ever rehearsing was pushing it. I really, really didn’t want to do that. Actually, I’d rather die than do it. Just imagining it made my stomach churn and legs tremble. But there were no other solutions. This was the only way to honor everyone’s efforts.

Even if I made an absolute fool of myself, momentary embarrassment weighed less than the future of my classmates.

But I don’t wannaaaaa!!!

Wait. There’s another reason I have to do it. My brother’s coming to watch!

If the play were canceled, he’d just return to his office and work, as he had every other year. This would be his last festival as a student. I wanted him to experience the academy’s atmosphere at least once. I’d written the script for that very reason.

There is nothing I couldn’t do for his sake. I’m an Alexei fangirl through and through!

“I... I know all of Lady Olga’s lines.” The words had left my mouth before I realized I was speaking. Of course I remembered them—I’d written them. “I’m nowhere near Lady Olga’s level in singing, but I can manage the song, with difficulty.”

My classmates’ eyes fixed on me.

“I’ll be direct... I’m aware the result will be subpar. I haven’t practiced the role, not once. But I can’t bear to let our efforts go to waste, so I...”

The spectators would be expecting a songstress chosen by the God of Music. My performance would disappoint them. Some might laugh behind my back. But I was the lady of a ducal house. Few would dare mock me to my face, so I...

I...

AAAAH!!! I don’t wanna say it, but there’s no other way!

“I, Ekaterina Yulnova, will fill in for Lady Olga. Let us proceed with the play as planned!”

My classmates erupted into cheers at my sacrifice.

The sewing team, armed with cloth rolls and thread in place of swords and shields, took my measurements with astonishing speed, then got to work. While they sewed, I hurried away to practice with Renato.

I spent every spare moment I had staring at the script. I’d written the story and every line myself—though my classmates had contributed many great ideas—but I’d never read the script as an actor. Now I had to think of how to speak the words and how to move as I did.

There was another issue. Unlike Olga, who could never look villainous, I was the villainess. I had no choice but to embrace that and use it to my advantage. A half-baked performance would be the worst outcome.

I ended up following the course of the game...

It wasn’t exactly the same, because I wasn’t playing the protagonist, but I was still in the play.

It’s these things happening over and over again that keeps me on edge. I can’t dismiss my house’s doom as unthinkable. Every time I think fate can’t possibly mirror the game, it proves me wrong!

Despite my silent laments, time flew, and soon it was almost time for the play to start.

The sewing team had done an incredible job; Olga’s costume now fit me perfectly. I removed it and changed back into my uniform. First, I would have to explain the situation to the audience.

I waited in the wings. The curtain was down, the previous class clearing their equipment while my classmates set the stage at lightning speed.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, I saw the auditorium was packed—a full house.

Oh boy. I’m terrified.

They had come to hear Olga. What if they left the moment I explained? Anxiety gnawed at me, and my legs trembled like a fawn’s. It wasn’t like me to shake this much, but the thought of fate’s gears forcing me down the game’s path filled me with dread. An unfamiliar terror had settled in my stomach.

Snap out of it, I told myself. You’ve given speeches against worse odds in your past life!

I remembered being dragged into a huge conference room to explain to furious clients why their system was bugging and how to prevent it from happening again. Their anger had practically conjured a severe typhoon, winds raging at fifty meters per second—the kind that could uproot trees! Yet I’d stood tall against that storm. Compared to that, this was nothing.

Besides, I would see more than just angry faces. My brother and his advisors would be here. Maybe the prince would come too.

“You were very brave.”

The words Mikhail had spoken to me after the monster attack floated through my mind, and my lips lifted into a small smile.

You’ve got to praise me again this time, Prince... I’m counting on you.

Mikhail had always been kind, and he’d helped me through the Lydia and Olga incident. I feared I relied on him too much. It was a little pathetic, really. What was I doing, leaning on a sixteen-year-old who was a walking doom flag to avoid setting off more flags?

No matter what, my brother would be there. If people booed, he would surely rush onto the stage, silence the audience with a glare, and comfort me. He loved me too much not to.

He might even lead me off stage, telling me I didn’t have to subject myself to that. Maybe he’d carry me away like a princess. He loved me a lot, after all.

Oh god. The Alexei of my fantasies is too cool!

He’s tall, so he’d look great onstage... His gorgeous voice carries so well... Ah, I can’t take it anymore. I want to see him onstage!!!

I’d let my thoughts drift far from reality.

Oops. Now is not the time to daydream.

Alexei crashing the play would damage his prestige as a duke. I couldn’t let the nobles of the capital to look down on him.

I have to be okay so he won’t need to rescue me. I have to show him I’m fine.

How could I call myself an Alexei fangirl if I couldn’t manage that much?

I knew I was using fangirl devotion as justification for everything. It was about time someone called me out...but no one could. These little skits only played in my head!

“Lady Ekaterina.”

“Oh, Lady Flora,” I said, coming to my senses.

In her white costume, Flora looked divine, like a true saint. It was a shame her pretty features were clouded by worry.

“Are you all right?” she asked, taking my hands.

“Yes, of course.” Despite what I’d said, Flora could see my trembling legs. “It’s just... This is so sudden, and I’m causing trouble for everyone.”

“How could you say that?” Flora squeezed my hands tight. “We’re all grateful. We rehearsed so much and worked so hard that canceling would have been heartbreaking. Thanks to you, it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m so relieved. Yes, something might go wrong—you haven’t had any time to practice—but none of us will blame you, no matter what. Please, don’t call it ‘causing trouble’ again.”

Flora beamed at me. “If someone else were in your shoes, you would tell them the same, right? You’re always kind to others but harsh on yourself. I wish you’d spare some kindness for yourself from time to time.”

“Ah...” Flora, you’re an angel! “With a best friend as sweet as you, I don’t need to be kind to myself.”

She giggled, her purple eyes gleaming like crystals. “I get the feeling...” She paused to hug me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it will all work out.”

You’re right, Flora. With the cutest, purest heroine by my side and everyone doing so well, the villainess messing up will only add spice to the show.

“Thank you, Lady Flora. You’re right. Everything will work out.” I hugged her back, and the trembling finally stopped.

The stage crew signaled they were all set. I nodded, left Flora’s embrace, and stepped onto the stage.

Spectators hurried into the auditorium one after the other. By now, the large room was so packed that people had to stand along the walls.

“This way!”

The refreshment booth had been a success, and Mikhail had been so busy cooking that he’d only just arrived. His sharp-eyed attendant, Lucas, spotted him instantly and waved. He’d secured seats in advance for his prince.

Lucas intended to watch the play as well. He’d already been seated some time, with an empty chair beside him. Despite the crowd, no one dared claim it or even ask for it. His palace servant’s uniform made it obvious who that extra seat was reserved for.

As soon as people realized Mikhail was present, they moved to let him through.

“Thank you, Lucas,” Mikhail said. “You’re watching too?”

“I must protect you, so naturally. Though, to be honest, I’m quite interested in Lady Yulnova’s play. Let us say my job comes with perks,” Lucas replied with a satisfied smile, his narrow eyes glinting. “His Grace and his retainers have also come.”

Mikhail followed his gaze and quickly found Alexei and his advisors. They were all sitting side by side, rather close to Mikhail and Lucas. Ivan, Alexei’s attendant, had clearly secured their places just as Lucas had for him.

Ivan whispered something to Alexei, who turned and gave Mikhail a polite nod. Mikhail returned the courtesy. The fact that Alexei hadn’t noticed him until Ivan spoke showed how distracted he was.

Worried about Ekaterina, Mikhail surmised.

Ivan shot Lucas a sharp glare, and Mikhail forced a smile. The Yulnova attendant still distrusted Lucas, perhaps because Mikhail had once asked him to buy time so he could speak privately with Ekaterina in the duchy. Or maybe it was simpler: Ivan’s monster blood clashed with Lucas’s fox monster blood. Mikhail didn’t know Ivan’s heritage, but judging by his loyalty and combat prowess, he probably had demonic wolves among his ancestors.

“The room is packed,” Lucas said. “Lady Ekaterina is even more popular than I thought.”

“She certainly is. And it would have been even fuller if she were in the play.”

Among the students, Ekaterina’s class had garnered the most attention before the festival. And though few outside the academy knew her personally, she was the talk of high society. The state of the auditorium made perfect sense.

The House of Selesnoa, long hostile toward the three grand ducal houses, had suddenly submitted to the House of Yulnova, shaking the capital’s politics. No one knew the details, but many connected it to the two youths summoned by the God of Music instead of Lydia—both backed by Ekaterina.

Discovering and nurturing talent was a great virtue for a noble, and the success of one’s protégés reflected on their patron. Ekaterina, at fifteen, had already picked out not one but two geniuses worthy of divine summons. After her Celestial Blue dresses and her glass pens, music had become the hot topic surrounding the mysterious young lady everyone wanted to meet.

The festival was the perfect occasion to glimpse her, or at least watch a play she’d written. On top of that, many nobles considered her the likeliest contender to become Mikhail’s bride. Some had come in an early attempt to curry favor with the “future empress.”

Neither Mikhail nor his parents had encouraged such thinking. Gossip about his future wife was constant among the nobility, and rumors—true and false—circulated all the time. Controlling that was almost impossible, as was swaying people’s opinions on the matter.

Besides, Mikhail didn’t need to influence public opinion for people to see the obvious. He would have hidden his affection better if he could, but he didn’t want Ekaterina to look at him like a horrid insect anymore. He’d managed to upgrade from caterpillar to friend, but she never seemed to view him as anything more. She certainly never noticed his feelings. The stark contrast between high society’s excitement over their match and her obliviousness disheartened him.

“I’ve noticed quite a few prominent nobles with no family members at the academy here,” Lucas said. “His Grace, the Duke of Yulmagna, is also in attendance.”

“Magna is?!” Mikhail’s voice came out harsher than intended.

Before he could ask more, a stir ran through the auditorium. The curtains were still down, but a young woman walked out from the wings.

Her back was straight, her gait graceful and dignified. Long indigo-blue hair framed skin so fair it seemed translucent. She slowly moved to the center of the stage. Her profile was so beautiful and mature that no one would have guessed she was a student, save for her uniform.

It was Ekaterina.

Whispers and gasps rippled as the students who knew her informed their family members that this was the Ekaterina Yulnova.

Ekaterina? Why would you...?

Mikhail, busy in the kitchen all morning, had no idea that the God of Music had descended or that Olga was gone. Others might have guessed, but it was a complete mystery to him why Ekaterina was there.

She turned to the audience, smiling, and curtsied elegantly.

“Welcome, everyone. My name is Ekaterina Yulnova, and on behalf of our class, I thank you for coming to watch our play.”

Whispers echoed once again. This was the young woman they’d hoped to lay eyes on, now standing center stage.

Unfazed, Ekaterina continued warmly, her voice carrying to every corner of the auditorium. “Before the play begins, I have the pleasure of sharing some wonderful news with you. Our class’s talented songstress, Lady Olga Florus, has been summoned by the God of Music for the second time this morning. As we speak, she sings in his garden with his beloved children. Alas, this means Lady Florus will not be part of our musical today. I’m sure you were eager to hear her masterful voice, so allow me to apologize.”

Ekaterina bowed, elegant and sincere, then raised her head again. “Thanks to the God of Music’s benevolence, our genius musician, Lord Renato Selesar, remains with us and will perform today for your pleasure. In addition, the role Lord Florus was meant to play will be assumed by...” She placed a hand to her chest. “Yours truly.”

This time, the audience was even louder, their voices closer to cheers. Everyone had thought it was a shame Ekaterina wouldn’t perform, and she’d just announced she would.

“Of course, I could never compare to our great songstress, but I promise to do my utmost to give a satisfying performance. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Mikhail’s fists clenched. He was worried for her. She was clever and mature, but also innocent, far too kind, and ignorant to the ways of the world. Despite her looks, she was just a young girl—one Mikhail couldn’t bring himself to leave alone. Even if she hid it well, she must’ve been nervous, having to appear in the play at the last minute.

And if he was panicking, Alexei must have been worse. Mikhail glanced at the duke. Sure enough, his advisors were struggling to keep him in his seat.

Ekaterina’s clear voice rang out again, reclaiming Mikhail’s attention. “Please enjoy the show.”

She bowed once more, polite and dignified as always. She looked so good on the stage that Mikhail almost felt as though the show had already begun.

Behind her, the curtain started rising. Ekaterina slowly disappeared into the wings to thunderous applause.

I’m doing a wonderful job, aren’t I? A wonderful job...of panicking!

I was changing in a hurry, brimming with confidence in the strangest things. Backstage changing was risky, especially for a villainess with a voluptuous figure like mine. Thankfully, the sewing team was holding up large sheets of fabric to shield me from straying eyes. If they dropped the fabric, Alexei would probably gouge out the eyes of any unlucky onlookers.

Ugh. I’m grateful they’re doing so well at hiding me.

Still, the fabric blockade was in everyone’s way, so I had to hurry. However, I didn’t actually have much to do because Mina was dressing me with blistering efficiency. She shouldn’t have been here, technically, but when I’d returned backstage after my little speech, she’d been waiting with her usual blank face and my costume. I was too rushed to question her help.

Once she was nearly finished, I managed to say, “Thank you for helping me change so quickly, Mina. But what are you doing here?”

“Dressing you is my job, my lady,” she responded flatly.

Servants were forbidden at the academy except for those of the imperial princes, princesses, and members of the grand ducal houses. I had no idea that Ivan and Lucas were also in the auditorium.

Keeping Mina here flaunts my status in my classmates’ faces, doesn’t it? Should I ask her to leave? But things are so hectic right now! Maybe it’s okay if she stays, just this once?

My brain was overheating, so I decided that desperate times called for desperate measures and gave up worrying. Mina could stay.

Suddenly, loud voices rose from the auditorium. They were cries of surprise and delight, so it didn’t sound like anything had gone wrong. I paused, trying to figure out what scene was happening right now. I smiled to myself when I figured it out.

Good for you, Yuri.

The timing matched Yuri’s first display of light mana, during the fight between the water demon trying to drive away the saint and Marina’s Goku. He made their weapons gleam, scattering flashes of light with every blow. Drums mimicked the clash of steel as if to confirm I was right.

In this world, using sound effects during plays was common. The team in charge of the background noises had been coached by Renato, and their drumming was no doubt making the spectators sit on the edge of their seats as the tension rose.

With every blow, I heard more surprised cheers. Light effects were new to the empire, and the dazzling visuals seemed to have gripped the spectators. After an especially loud wave of screams, the audience started clapping. Goku had triumphed over the water demon with a final flash of light.

By the time I was ready and waiting in the wings, loud sighs of admiration echoed.

I peeked at the stage as two orbs of light floated away from the saint’s hands. They drifted all the way to the water demon, who’d been hurt in the fight against Goku, and his friend, who was already wounded (as per the story). Flora’s holy mana glowed white, but Yuri’s light lasted longer and looked better onstage, so we used him for this scene. The stage was a dream come true, and the audience seemed enraptured.

The orbs of light melted into the two demons. They started jumping around, exclaiming, “We’re healed! We’re healed!”

More clapping ensued. The audience was into it!

“They’ve really immersed themselves in the story!” one of the girls of the sewing team squealed as quietly as she could.

“Naturally. I’ve never seen anything like this, not even at the national theater,” her friend replied in the same hushed yet excited tone.

“The actual play is even more beautiful than the rehearsals. Lord Ray is doing a superb job!”

I agreed. He was incredible, the type who performed best under pressure. I just hoped he wouldn’t let the enthusiastic atmosphere get to him and use too much mana.

“Could someone check on Lord Ray? Please warn him to pace himself. I’m worried he may overexert himself,” I whispered.

One of the girls started, realizing that was a real risk, and nodded. “I’ll go tell him.”

Yuri was on the other side of the auditorium, stationed in the middle of a narrow staircase that led to the ceiling and was normally used for maintenance. It gave him a good view of the stage so he could time his spells perfectly. The girl hurried to the dark, slightly precarious staircase to deliver my message.

Onstage, the saint and Goku questioned the tree demon about his injuries. The demons explained their woes, and the group decided to chase away the intruders and reclaim their homes. The actors exited the stage at the opposite wing, and the curtain fell.

It was time for the Right Right Trio’s interlude. They dragged their fancy gowns to center stage, their huge hats covered with showy ornaments bobbing like roosters’ combs the whole way. The three girls were so confident that they somehow pulled off the looks in an endearing, ridiculous way. Their outfits were enough to make everyone laugh, so the public couldn’t really hear their commentary on the plot—or the chorus of “Right! Right!” that punctuated every sentence. The girls appeared satisfied, though, so that was all that mattered. They left the stage with their heads held high right as the curtain rose again.

The backdrop had been changed to a sinister forest. The saint and her party entered, discovering the villainess’s domain. Soon, the villainess would appear with loud laughter.

That was the plan, at least.

My heart hammered in my chest. I have to laugh? Loud and unabashed?

That meant showing everyone the game’s true villainess in all her glory! Wasn’t that the worst flag of all?!

I’m so stupid. How could I have chosen to do this?! I’m so scared... Save me, brother!!!

I clenched my fists, closed my eyes, and focused on breathing slowly.

In and out. In and out.

It was far too late for second thoughts.

I can do this.

I’d lived an entire life before this one. I’d been reborn, blessed with my brother and everyone else by my side. I was incredibly fortunate; every day was filled with joy. I knew to be grateful, and the time had come to give back. Nothing else mattered right now.

That’s right. Nothing else matters. Forget the curse of the villainess, and just go for it, Ekaterina. Do it for them. See things through!

I raised my head.

“Are you okay?” Renato, my minion in the play, whispered.

There was a smile on my lips as I nodded. “Of course, I am.” I straightened my back. “Follow me. Let’s surprise them all.”

With Renato right behind me, I stepped onto the stage.

On the other side of the stage, the saint and her group searched for the culprits who’d taken over the tree demon and water demon’s turf.

“I’ll beat them all up in a jiffy!” Marina—Goku, really—exclaimed.

But the saint rebuked her. “No. We will try to speak with them first.”

Suddenly, energetic laughter split the air. “Oh ho ho ho!!!” Ekaterina appeared with it, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, pinky raised. “So you have come to seek me. You wish to talk things out? Ah, how laughable!”

The sound of her heels reverberated with every step as she walked toward the center of the stage. She stopped a few paces from the saint, planted a hand on her hip, threw out her chest, and lifted her chin, a cruel grin on her lips.

The villainess had appeared, wrapped in Yuri’s light.

Marina and the two boys playing the water and tree demons stared at her, mouths agape. Their expressions were hard to read—anything from Who are you?! to Lady Ekaterina, have you gone mad?!

Or perhaps they were simply wondering what to do.

The role of the villainess should have belonged to Olga, a short, adorable girl whose costume and sharp lines never quite fit her. That mismatch was meant to be the focal point of the scene. The saint and her companions were supposed to be startled by a tiny villainess. She was hostile but harmless, like a barking chihuahua they couldn’t help wanting to protect. They’d practiced that version a hundred times.

Instead, they now faced true evil—a villainess whose intensity mirrored every provocative line. Ekaterina didn’t even sound as if she were reciting lines from a script. Protecting her was out of the question.

This was also the first time any of them had seen her in the costume. The sewing team had finished altering it moments before the play began. Ekaterina had tried it on once, then immediately removed it to give her address to the public. No one but the sewing team had seen her wearing it.

The costume was black and blue. It had originally been meant to be entirely black, but there hadn’t been enough black fabric to make alterations, so the seamstresses had supplemented it with lapis-lazuli-colored cloth. Parts of the sleeves, the hems, and some added chest coverage were now Celestial Blue, provided to the sewing team by Halil on Ekaterina’s orders.

The concept behind the dress’s design was “black flames.” When the sewing team had explained it, Ekaterina had muttered, “Urgh, so chuuni...”

Gorgeous as it was, the twisted, fluttering black fabric made its villainy unmistakable. The finished gown reminded Ekaterina of the evil stepmother’s in Snow White or the witch’s in Sleeping Beauty. The added dark blue fabric lengthened the sleeves, making them look like pieces of the night sky, stolen away from a moonless night so dark only a hint of blue remained.

Well, the night was not entirely moonless. Whether due to a mismeasurement or fate, Ekaterina had never worn anything so open, and her milky cleavage cast its own light in the midst of the dark. The neckline was deep but still barely acceptable for an unmarried young woman. It added a sinful edge that enhanced her villainous aura.

Alexei often praised his sister by comparing her to the Queen of the Night, and he had never been more right. On the stage, the Goddess of Night had descended to rule over the dark, dark hour.

The monkey and her two friends continued staring in confusion. The first to step forward and act was the saint.

Flora, who played Anemoni, looked every bit the pure heroine of an otome game. Born a commoner yet attending a school full of nobles, she had—in the game—snatched her happy ending with one of the male leads after overcoming countless trials.

That quality shone onstage. She didn’t need to play a saint; she was a saint. When Ekaterina had handed her the script, she’d told her to perform however she wanted. Whatever Flora chose would be correct.

The play couldn’t progress unless the saint responded to the villainess. No one had rehearsed this version even once, but Flora seemed ready to take on the challenge.

Anemoni’s dress was pure white, the only color coming from Flora’s light pink hair and violet eyes. The simple design suited her role. It enhanced her natural sweetness and gentle face but also her strength. She stood tall, back straight.

Her white against Ekaterina’s black and blue created a stark contrast as saint and villainess stood there, wrapped in Yuri’s light, neither losing in terms of impact.

“I’ve been told you chased away those who lived in these lands and unjustly claimed them for yourself. Why have you done such a thing?” the saint asked.

“That has nothing to do with you!” the villainess shot back.

“Still, I cannot ignore this. People are suffering,” the saint said, holding firm.

Flora and Ekaterina were close friends, but now that they clashed, neither held back. Sparks flew.

They were evenly matched.

“Let them suffer!” Ekaterina humphed, then lifted one hand. “There is no point in wasting our breaths. Everyone!” She brought her hand down. “Rid me of them!”

The drums thundered as a herd of monsters popped onto the backdrop.

“W-Wait!” Marina and her friends cried in unison, finally snapping out of their daze.

They pretended to dodge the onslaught of monsters while chasing after the villainess, who walked away at an unhurried pace. With a wave of Renato’s hand, a flash of light hit the three of them, making them topple over (they threw themselves to the ground on purpose, of course).

Renato followed Ekaterina offstage, with Marina and her two friends rushing to follow them.

“Wait!” the saint said, stopping them. “Let us retreat for now.”

“Why flee when you could easily defeat her?!” Goku protested.

Anemoni gazed in the direction the villainess had disappeared. “Because she doesn’t seem like a bad person to me.”

This line had been written with tiny, harmless Olga in mind and should not have worked here. And yet, against all odds, the spectators found themselves agreeing with the saint.

“That was so much fun!” Renato told me with a smile as soon as we were back in the coulisse.

He seemed especially pleased with the light he’d flashed with a wave of his hand. He’d practiced the motion and timing with Yuri many times during rehearsal, but nothing beat doing it onstage. In every world, boys loved that sort of thing, didn’t they?

I was a little jealous. How could he relax enough to enjoy himself that much?

“Aren’t you nervous, Lord Renato?”

“Nervous? What does that word mean, I wonder?” he replied, tilting his head in exaggerated confusion before laughing.

That made me laugh too. Had he just told this world’s version of the classic “What’s this? Can I eat it?” joke?

Come to think of it, Renato hadn’t looked stressed at all while performing in front of the former emperor and empress and talking to them afterward.

Geniuses chosen by the gods are just built different.

“Thank you for cheering me up. The next scene rests on your shoulders. The public has come to listen to great music, so please make it worth their while.”

“Of course. You can leave that to me.”

The saint and her group left the stage, and for a few moments it remained empty.

Another round of whispers ran through the auditorium. Most spectators were impressed by the light effects, surprised by how intense they had made the battle scenes feel.

Naturally, the name Ekaterina Yulnova was on many lips. Some laughed as they discussed her, while groups of men exchanged comments in low voices. Her appearance had been so striking that it was no wonder she dominated the conversation. Alexei’s advisors, however, prayed their master wouldn’t hear anything too compromising.

Fortunately, Alexei was far too worried about his poor darling sister—forced to play a role so diametrically opposed to her sweet nature—that he didn’t hear a thing.

“She has to say such cruel things, things she’d never mean... Her heart must ache.”

Alexei wasn’t used to the theater, and he fretted over Ekaterina so much that the distinction between fiction and reality blurred in his mind. His advisors (especially Aaron and Halil) listened to his muttering, equal parts relieved and concerned, all while mentally cataloging every remark they heard about Ekaterina and who had said it.

Not far from them, someone else was just as shaken as Alexei.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?”

“I...don’t know. My feelings are a mess right now.”

It was in the midst of this confusion that Renato took to the stage.

The whispering died down in an instant, replaced by a heated silence.

Renato had become an overnight celebrity at the academy. For a time, clusters of students had crowded the windows of Ekaterina’s class, hoping to catch a glimpse of him and Olga. By now, every student knew his face, and with his good looks, he had gathered quite a few admirers.

He crossed the stage briskly and descended a small staircase at the edge. To the spectators’ surprise, he stepped off the stage and headed straight for the orchestra pit, where the drum players had been stationed since the beginning of the play.

He surprised them further by opening the fallboard and sitting down.

Renato had originally been meant to accompany Olga with a lute—a half-pear-shaped string instrument that resembled the mandolin and the biwa. As Ekaterina vaguely recalled, the lute had been popular in Europe from the Middle Ages to the early modern period before the guitar replaced it in most contexts. Renato had chosen it because it could be played onstage without disrupting the context of the story.

However, Olga had been spirited away. The lute’s delicate, elegant tone wasn’t very loud; it would have complemented Olga’s masterful singing, but Ekaterina could barely manage the song. She needed more support than the lute could offer. Renato also wanted to cover up any mistakes she might make. The public had come to hear a genius songstress, and they had to meet their expectations somehow. That was why Renato himself had suggested switching to the piano.

That decision created the surreal sight of an actor leaving the stage mid-play to head to the orchestra pit.

Renato was about to play a solo he’d never practiced, but he wasn’t nervous at all—he didn’t even know what the word meant, by his own admission.

He rested his fingers against the keys, then they began to dance, light and airy.

Bright, cheerful notes spilled from the piano. Renato was playing the retainer of a villainess who hurt people, and quizzical looks spread across the audience. They weren’t sure what was happening, but the lighthearted music swept them along.

Every note seemed to bounce, filled to the brim with dreams and hope, like early summer sunlight. The melody started soft and sweet before shifting into something refined and noble. Through every variation, it was breathtakingly beautiful.

The audience listened, enraptured by the comfortable tune, until Renato paused for a beat. Then, he slammed his fingers against the keys, bringing the melody back—a violent tempest, cold and dark. The tempo surged, notes rushing forward, dizzyingly fast, yet low, dark, and relentless like pouring rain. Violent bursts, reminiscent of desperate screams, broke the rhythm here and there. It was as though the heavens were collapsing onto the earth at the command of a furious god.

Some of those watching clutched each other’s hands; others curled into themselves in fear.

The melody shifted once more. Fury ebbed into sorrow—a depressed, hopeless trudge in the dark. The glimmering hope of the first bars vanished, along with the dreams and sweet nobility of the earlier notes. They were gone, never to return, though the audience did not yet know it.

Renato had woven the tragic fate of the villainess and her people in the piece: the abruptness of the disaster that shattered her homeland, the hopeless wandering that followed.

Ideas might have taken shape in his mind as he practiced his role. Perhaps the piece had been almost complete in his imagination. But he’d never played it before today, in front of a full house.

His talent spoke for him, and he moved every person within earshot.

Deep hopelessness settled over the auditorium as he played the last notes. Around him, the colorful hues of the God of Music’s light glimmered.

Lost as they’d been in the music, no one had noticed the blessing until the very end. When they finally did, thunderous applause erupted. Renato ignored it entirely. His eyes were fixed on the stage.

The public followed his gaze—and there they saw a beautiful young woman draped in black flames: the villainess played by the lady of the House of Yulnova.

I’m so stressed I feel like my heart might jump out of my chest.

Alone on the stage, the auditorium seemed larger and fuller than ever, yet strangely distant. Maybe it was Yuri’s light, wrapping me like a cocoon, but everything felt dreamlike.

Somehow, I was reminded of a dream I’d seen many times in the past. In it, I walked through endless ruins. I couldn’t tell whether it was something I had dreamed as a child or something I had seen in my previous life.

I wondered, absently, if this was what being in a trance felt like. Even my nervousness seemed far away, blurred at the edges.

Ekaterina was still beautiful onstage, even standing motionless, her pale face shadowed with sorrow. Despite being clad in the villainess’s costume, her natural elegance as the lady of a ducal family shone through.

The audience stared, wide-eyed. She looked nothing like the villainess who’d opposed the saint moments ago. It was as though she might disappear if they blinked.

She and Renato exchanged a glance. His fingers pressed the first keys, and Ekaterina began to sing, her expression as dazed as a dreamer’s.

The song she’d chosen was one of the most famous musical numbers from her past world. In its original context, the heroine sang it in despair after all her hopes had been crushed.

It was about despair here as well—the despair of a princess whose dreams had been stolen by a natural disaster, forcing her down the path of evil.

Renato had altered the key to make the song easier on a mezzo-soprano like Ekaterina. Her tone was gentle and subdued, her deep sorrow hidden beneath a thin layer of ice.

Aside from the piano and her voice, the auditorium was silent as a grave. When she first appeared, Ekaterina had made an impression with her malevolent laughter. Everyone had heard rumors about her—the lady of the House of Yulnova, the likely future empress—but they hadn’t expected that. Many had mistaken her role for her true personality, hence the laughter.

But now...her voice was beautiful.

She was nowhere near Olga’s level, and some of the students who’d heard Olga practice for weeks could tell something was missing. Even so, the standard that the people of this world sought was not especially high. In the empire, there were no social media sites, no video streaming, not even phonographs. To hear music, one either invited musicians to one’s home or went to the theater. The audience consisted entirely of nobles, who did have access to music at times, but those from the countryside seldom heard first-rate songstresses.

Ekaterina had learned from one such songstress, Madam DiDonato, had been in a choir in her previous life, and had been born with a good ear. As a result, her singing was appreciated far more than she realized by the audience.

She also benefited from Renato’s genius accompaniment. She had sung this piece many times in front of him while sharing Madam DiDonato’s advice with Olga, so he knew exactly how she performed it. He matched her preferences, supported her, and covered her small mistakes. His entire focus was on making her voice and the piano blend beautifully.

And the song itself was extraordinary. It came from a world where music theory had advanced for centuries, and even there it had been a global hit—a masterpiece among masterpieces. To this audience, it sounded like the pinnacle of refinement. How could they resist its appeal?

Many found themselves thinking that they had never heard anything so magnificent.

Ekaterina kept singing of her lost hopes and dreams, of the lofty ideals she’d once believed in, and of the cruel fate that had torn her life apart like a wild beast.

She reached the most difficult and important part of the song—the section where the pitch rose and rose. Her hazy expression twisted into pain, but she forced the notes out, raising her arms in a desperate attempt to grasp something beyond reach. She looked like a butterfly, unable to escape a spider’s web.

By now, the audience understood that the villainess had turned to evil because of some cruel twist of fate. Her agonized expression as she struggled to keep singing was so pitiful that some spectators lifted handkerchiefs to their eyes.

In truth, Ekaterina had lifted her arms because it made high notes easier. She’d learned the technique in her past life from a famous voice trainer’s video she’d watched with her choir friends. Madam DiDonato had taught her something similar here. She was so desperate to get the notes out that anything would do.

She hadn’t planned for it, but the motion looked perfect in the scene—a complete fluke.

With the perilous verse behind her, Ekaterina continued. In the original song, that next part was about the heroine’s love interest who had forsaken her. It reminded Ekaterina of her mother, who’d waited for the man who cast her aside until the end. She couldn’t bring herself to understand her mother’s choice, so she’d drastically rewritten the lyrics while apologizing silently to the original lyricist.

Right now, though, she couldn’t think about any of that. The climax of the song was coming up in a fleeting, sorrowful scream.

After reminiscing over her foolish, meaningless life, the villainess curled her fingers into hooks and bent forward as she howled her despair.

The spectators held their breaths.

From the scream emerged a long, sustained tone, heavy with grief. Ekaterina’s fists closed, and she pressed them to her chest, holding the note with every bit of air in her lungs.

Right before the last phrase, she let out a deep sigh—a desperate attempt to catch enough breath to finish.

It came out as a heart-wrenching expression of sorrow in the face of crushed dreams. Alas, Ekaterina failed to draw in enough air, and the last few words vanished into the piano.

It was finally over; Ekaterina rejoiced. Her chest hurt. Her entire body hurt. She just managed to stay upright, but she was so starved for oxygen she felt on the verge of fainting. The sound of her blood pumping echoed painfully in her ears.

Because of that, she didn’t hear the turbulent applause that filled the room, nor did she notice the audience rising one after the other, like a wave.

When the cocoon of light disappeared, the audience was shocked to find that Ekaterina had disappeared from the stage. Impressed oohs and aahs erupted as the crowd, still emotional from the song, remembered that the music wasn’t the only amazing part of this play.

In truth, Mina had wrapped herself in a spare blackout curtain, rushed onstage, and whisked away the woozy Ekaterina before anyone noticed. Ekaterina’s battle maid was also a master of stealth.

Renato stood up and walked back to the wings on his own two feet, the audience applauding him the whole way. Meanwhile, comments from the crowd surged and muddled together.

“I never thought I’d hear something like that in the middle of a students’ play.”

“It was wonderful! Truly! I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so touching in my life. So sorrowful... So heart-wrenching... I cried the entire time.”

“I loved how the piano solo and the song connected thematically. I think that’s why I got so lost in the song. Brilliant idea. I wish I could hear it all again!”

“That villainess looked wicked at first, but she had her reasons... She was so pitiful while she sang that I wanted to rescue her. I’d certainly like to meet Lady Ekaterina.”

“She’s the lady of a grand ducal house—completely out of your league. Still...it felt like a dream.”

“She’s a far better actress and singer than your average performer. I suppose that’s how she finds so many geniuses. She’s multitalented herself.”

Everyone’s perception of Ekaterina had flipped after this scene, and praise swept through the auditorium. Alexei’s advisors were relieved by the positive—and harmless—comments, but none of them dared say a word. They waited for Alexei’s reaction in silence.

“How could I be so blind! I didn’t realize she was suffering so much, all this time...” Alexei whispered, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.

At first, Ekaterina had refused to speak to him. The years of oppression must have crushed her hopes and dreams, Alexei thought, heartbroken.

Despite that, he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful, how noble she had looked while singing.

He was most definitely mixing reality and fiction, but to him, the song embodied Ekaterina’s sorrow during her years of imprisonment. The only reason he hadn’t leaped onto the stage to embrace her was that he knew his sister’s sense of responsibility. She would never want him to interrupt her class’s play. Still, knowing he couldn’t go to her and forcing himself not to had been absolute torment.

If Ekaterina had seen his face at that moment, she would have screamed inside: I did my best so my brother would enjoy the festival! I don’t want him to be sad!

A few seats away, Mikhail was clenching his fists just as hard.

“Your Highness?”

“No need to worry, Lucas. I just got too into it.” Mikhail sighed. “I know she’s acting, but it’s hard to see her hurting and not be able to do anything.”

She’d looked like she was suffering—truly suffering—and all he had wanted to do was rush to her and promise her that everything would be all right.

How nice that would have been.

But he didn’t have the right. Besides, such words wouldn’t make Ekaterina happy. She didn’t want to be protected. She always tried to protect others, despite not being all that strong herself.

Mikhail was irritated, and his chest ached. But he also felt warm, and light, and soft.

I love her, he thought.

It was as though someone had squeezed his heart in their palm. Overcome by conflicting emotions, he understood once again: Love hurt.

“Why don’t you rescue her?” Lucas asked nonchalantly. “You’re clearly not the only man in this room who wants to.”

“Stop it. Do you want me to turn into a tyrant?”

The men staring at Ekaterina with heated eyes annoyed Mikhail to no end. They’d been irritating him for a while—ever since she first stepped onstage before the play, in fact—and he wanted to throw them out of the auditorium one by one. The fact that he could do it made the urge that much harder to suppress.

Lucas laughed at his lord’s pained tone, his narrow eyes narrowing further.

“I didn’t mean to imply that. Only that, perhaps, you shouldn’t always force yourself to be a good boy when it comes to love.”

“Breathe, my lady,” Mina told me, her tone even.

At long last, my awareness was returning to me. The first thing I saw was Mina’s face.

Ah. It was all a dream, I assumed. I was just waking up in my deluxe room, like I did every morning. None of that had happened. After all, dreaming of being thrust onto the stage at the last moment was common before a play.

But then I coughed and realized I was gasping for air. I hadn’t been dreaming!

I managed to finish the song, right? I didn’t run out of juice before the end, did I?

“M-Mina...”

“Please breathe,” she repeated, holding me like a princess as she stroked my back.

Grateful for her help, I focused on taking in the oxygen I desperately lacked. I remembered a manga in which a singer ran to the wings to use a portable oxygen can. I understood that scene a lot better now.

“You always work too hard, my lady.” Her tone remained indifferent, but I could sense a sigh hiding under the surface.

When my breathing finally settled, Mina set me on a small stool, then produced a teapot and a cup from who-knows-where and poured me tea so I could rehydrate. My classmates watched from afar with worried expressions, but with the terrifying aura Mina was giving off, no one dared approach.

“The public was happy. You’ve done enough. I’ll take you back to your room so you can rest,” Mina said.

She didn’t sound like she was joking, so I shook my head. I had suspected Mina of being infected by Alexei’s Ekaterina virus for a long time, but it seemed the disease had progressed a lot more than I’d thought.

“Thank you for worrying about me, Mina, but I’m fine. I’ve done the hardest part already, and the play will be over soon.”

All that was left was for me to lose to the saint and for Renato to explain our circumstances. Justice would triumph over evil, and everything would end well.

I, the villainess, would do an excellent job of being defeated. I could do it! I just had to power through. Everything was fine.

Despite how confidently I said it, I was exhausted. And I also happened to have forgotten a great lesson my past life had taught me: Things always went sour when you least expected it.

Onstage, the saint and her friends were fighting off the villainess’s people, who were disguised as monsters. The fight scene was intentionally straightforward, with Goku, the water demon, and the tree demon easily defeating the monsters. However, thanks to the advice Ekaterina had given the actors who were taking the beating—advice drawn from the countless fight scenes she’d seen in her previous life—the segment looked nothing like what the people of the empire were used to. It was far more dynamic and fast-paced, and the public loved it.

The saint and her group reached the evil mastermind at last.

“You again, Saint?” Ekaterina asked with a sneer, stepping back onto the stage.

“I can’t ignore suffering when I see it,” Flora replied, like a true champion of justice.

Yuri’s light shone on both of them.

Ekaterina’s song had clearly affected the audience; people started clapping the moment she appeared again. Flora, the sweet-looking saint, was also very popular. Students watching the play with their families whispered about her—how she truly had holy mana, how her grades rivaled Ekaterina’s and Mikhail’s, and how she was actually Ekaterina’s closest friend. Those bits of information spread across the auditorium at the speed of light.

Black and white. Evil and good. The public’s attention fixed on the two beauties that represented these opposing forces, and everyone held their breath, desperate to know how their confrontation would end.

“Is there any way I could convince you to leave?” the saint asked.

“None. I have no such intentions.”

“Stealing people’s homes is unjust. I’m sure even you can see that you are not in the right.”

“Unjust? Not in the right? Justice is for the strong to define! I say what is right!”

The villainess lifted one hand, and the saint readied herself for battle. As the drums began to sound, the light surrounding the two young women vanished. In its place, two orbs of light appeared in midair. They flew back and forth, clashing to illustrate a magic showdown. Cheers erupted.

When Ekaterina brought down her hand, the orb she was “controlling” shifted into a flash of light that struck the saint and her friends. The saint’s companions immediately collapsed as if injured.

The saint, however, held her ground. She extended her left hand toward the villainess, and white light burst forward. This time, it wasn’t Yuri’s light mana but Flora’s holy mana. She couldn’t control its intensity like Yuri could, but it was more vivid and powerful, so they’d decided Flora could handle this one visual effect herself.

Ekaterina screamed, staggering backward, until she finally allowed herself to collapse onto the stage floor.

Of course, holy mana couldn’t hurt humans. It helped cure fatigue and minor illnesses, in fact. Ekaterina was just imitating the way bad guys always collapsed in the anime and TV shows of her past life.

“This is the end,” Flora said.

“N-No... Not yet! I haven’t lost!” Ekaterina shouted back.

The villainess mustered her strength, but all she could do was sit up, propping herself on her arms with the lower half of her body on the floor. Unfortunately, Ekaterina’s ridiculously good figure made this position quite sensual, though she didn’t seem to realize it.

The villainess’s retainer fell to one knee in front of his mistress. “Please stop, Princess. We’ll look for another place.”

“There are no more places!” the villainess screamed, her voice a broken cry.

Ekaterina herself was on the verge of tears, so it sounded very believable.

“Princess,” Renato said. He paused to seize the spectators’ attention. The fact that he had the leeway to consider such things proved he truly was immune to nerves. “This is not our beautiful homeland. That place is gone, wiped away by the eruption. Your surviving people are exhausted from the long journey and countless rejections, but I know they would rather wander for eternity than see you, their dear princess, hurt.”

A chorus of “Aah!” erupted from the audience. The villainess was the princess of a ruined country, they realized. And these so-called monsters were refugees.

They’d already surmised the villainess had her reasons, and now that they knew the truth, they understood her actions. Ekaterina could sense the crowd’s satisfaction, and relief washed over her.

She’d done her job. She’d been defeated by the saint as planned, and the audience had accepted her character’s backstory. Everything had gone according to plan, and the play was almost over. It would be fine now. They’d all pulled through.

But relaxing was Ekaterina’s biggest mistake.

At this point, the villainess’s people were supposed to shed their disguises and reveal themselves as wounded humans.

They didn’t. Instead, the saint’s companions acted surprised, exclaiming, “So that’s why you did all this!”

Huh? Ekaterina thought. Ah, right! I’m thinking of the old version!

The villainess’s people only shed their disguises in the first version of the play—the one where the actors all sang together at the end. Ekaterina had scrapped that entire scene because it took too long.

She’d scrapped it, but...

What had she replaced it with?

Ekaterina felt the color drain from her face. She couldn’t remember! She’d remembered the entire script moments prior, yet she’d somehow forgotten everything—not just her lines, but even the flow of the scene.

Why?! she screamed inwardly. I wrote it all myself!

But even professional actors sometimes forgot the plot mid-performance, and professional singers forgot lyrics they sang every day.

Dread washed over Ekaterina.

I have to remember. Come on, do your work, brain!

No matter how hard she searched for the memories, they didn’t return. It was common enough: The more desperate you became, the less you could focus.

Wh-Wh-What am I supposed to do? It’s almost over, so why now? Why?!

She’d been stressed before the play, but this was something else entirely. She was frozen, her body shaking with anxiety. And yet, despite it all, she could feel Flora, Renato, and the others looking at her. They were waiting for her to do something.

I... It’s my turn to speak, isn’t it? I have to say something...

Ekaterina trembled even harder.

In her panic, she had not heard another line: “Have you been fighting all this time to give the people you swore to protect a new place to call home?”

That was the question she was supposed to answer, and every one of her classmates on the stage—as well as all the spectators—was waiting for that answer.

However, the villainess didn’t say a word.

Despite her strong tone and haughty laughter earlier, the villainess now appeared feeble and delicate in a way that captivated every person in the room. Her mouth opened and closed as though she wanted to speak, but she only shivered in silence. She looked like she was about to cry.

In that moment, the truth hit the spectators in the face. This was her true nature. She’d only pretended to be strong for her people after disaster destroyed her nation. Beneath the bravado, she was a sweet, adorable girl. The gap between their first impression and her real personality created a whirlwind that raged at fifty meters per second, devastating everyone in its path.

Meanwhile, Ekaterina still couldn’t remember how the ending was supposed to go. She didn’t even realize she’d been asked a question. She couldn’t answer and grew more frightened by the second.

Thankfully, a savior descended from the heavens.

Well, to be precise, that savior was already standing onstage. It was none other than Saint Anemoni, aka Flora.

She knew Ekaterina well. She’d seen her sink to the ground after fighting the monster that had appeared at the academy, coolheaded until the danger passed. She knew Ekaterina was human, and like anyone else, she sometimes got scared and cried.

Their classmates, on the other hand, didn’t notice a thing. They overestimated Ekaterina’s acting, perhaps even more than the audience. She had done splendid work in everything leading up to the festival. To them, their class leader, the great lady they trusted blindly, simply happened to be an incredible actress on top of everything else.

Flora could tell her friend was genuinely lost and alarmed; she wasn’t the heroine for nothing. Just as she’d adapted instantly when the play’s villainess changed from a tiny chihuahua to a true villainess, she adapted once again.

She walked forward with a solemn gait befitting a saint, then sank to one knee before Ekaterina, meeting her gaze with a gentle smile.

“I’m sure you’re about to answer that you aren’t such a virtuous woman,” she said.

That’s it! Thanks to Flora essentially saying the line for her, Ekaterina finally connected the dots. Her eyes widened. She nearly nodded enthusiastically but stopped herself at the last second. That wasn’t what she was supposed to do. She turned her face away in a hurry.

She can’t bring herself to be honest... the crowd interpreted. You don’t need to carry all the burden alone! they thought, cheering for the villainess in silence.

“You’ve experienced hardships that left you unable to trust others. I won’t ask you to place your trust in me, but...” Flora paused and looked at her companions.

They were a little confused by the slight script change, but the water demon hid it well as he nodded with a smile. “Now that I’ve heard all this, I don’t mind giving her my dwelling.”

“And neither do I,” the tree demon added. “We’ll be coming with you after all, Saint!”

“I’ll allow it...but only for a bit,” Goku muttered.

Marina had insisted many times that the saint needed no one but her, so her reluctant agreement drew laughter from the audience.

The saint took the villainess’s hands in hers. “I could tell from the start. You’re not a bad person.”

Ekaterina stared at Flora’s smile almost in a daze. She made it work beautifully, she thought.

The villainess and the saint were supposed to exchange a few more lines, but Flora had managed to abridge the ending with incredible smoothness.

She’s amazing! I should have known. My little Flora’s not the heroine for nothing!

“Th...” Ekaterina found she was able to produce sounds again. Her voice shook with the remnants of her tempestuous emotions, but she managed to force out the villainess’s final line: “Thank you...”

The saint and the villainess embraced as several small orbs of light rose behind them. They burst into countless tiny glimmers, making the pair look as though they were sparkling, blessed by the light itself.

Surging cheers and applause erupted from the audience as the curtain slowly descended. Renato hadn’t noticed Ekaterina’s change as quickly as Flora had, but he’d eventually caught on and urged his classmates to lower the curtain the moment Ekaterina spoke her last sentence.

The spectators rose in a standing ovation—an unprecedented achievement for a school play. In the midst of applause that only grew louder, Ekaterina and her classmates’ performance finally came to an end.

“It’s over, Lady Ekaterina. Thank you for stepping in. You were amazing,” Flora told me.

Despite her praise, I was so lost in my own head that I couldn’t move.

Aaaaah! How could I forget the script I wrote myself?!

I buried my face in Flora’s shoulder and tried my hardest to hold back the tears. I was embarrassed, relieved it was over, and grateful she had saved me.

Flora let out a little laugh and hugged me tighter. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

Her statement reminded me of the monster attack. That time, too, Flora had saved me before sinking to the ground with me, out of strength.

“I’m glad I could be of help to you,” she murmured.

“You’re always rescuing me, Lady Flora...” I replied.

Even in our daily lives, Flora supported me in countless small ways. All the little things she did—the way she was forever ready to extend a hand—were irreplaceable treasures, the sort with a quiet importance you noticed only in their absence.

I... I knew that, but...

“Are you all right?” Renato asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I gasped and finally became aware of the situation.

Oh no! We’ve got to start cleaning up!

The next class was already bringing in their props, and a student council member was urging us to make space.

“I’m so sorry. Lady Flora, I’m fine now,” I said, letting her go and trying to stand.

I discovered my legs still felt like jelly, and I staggered. Thankfully, a hand caught me before I fell. Suddenly, I was pulled into someone’s arms.

“Ekaterina.”

“Brother!”

Of course the person holding me was my dear brother, Alexei. I clung to him instinctively.

Boohoo!!! Brother! I’m so sorry I messed up at the end!

“Ekaterina.” Alexei whispered my name softly again. “Ekaterina...” He pressed his cheek to my forehead, holding me close as he repeated my name again and again.

I was the first to snap out of it. “B-Brother. Your presence here will inconvenience my classmates. We need to clean up so the next class can use the auditorium.”

As I spoke, I realized belatedly that it was odd for Alexei to be here at all. He’d been watching the play. How had he gotten backstage?!

Alexei nodded. “I understand.”

With that, he carried me toward the wings.

“B-Brother! I can walk on my own!”

Besides, I take up a lot of space horizontally right now, so I’m being a bother to everyone!

Alexei didn’t put me down. He looked into my eyes, and at such close range, I could see the sadness in his neon-blue gaze.

“Please, stay right here, in my arms... Listen to the applause, Ekaterina.”

Only then did I notice the loud clapping and cheering beyond the curtain.

“You shone so brightly on the stage—so beautifully. The public was moved by your singing and shed tears for the noble princess sacrificing herself for her people. But the longer I watched, the more terrified I grew that the gods would descend and steal you away... You’re so talented, I’m sure the God of Music and the God of Theater are after you. If you step under the rays of the sun, the God of the Sun will come for you, and when the curtain of night lowers upon us, it’ll be the gods of the dark. Will I be strong enough to oppose them...? I know this wretched realm we lowly humans call home isn’t worthy of you. I know keeping you here when you belong with the gods isn’t right, but...my heart feels heavy, and I just can’t bring myself to let go of you.”

“Brother...”

What am I supposed to do with him? I belong with the gods? His filter got an ultimate-edition update. His love is about to explode!

Had Alexei discovered the secret of teleportation through sheer obsessive love? I was starting to worry he would abandon his humanity for me.

Wait. Should I abandon my own humanity to evolve into the ultimate Alexei fangirl?

I was on the verge of exploding myself. I later learned that Alexei hadn’t mastered teleportation. He’d simply left his seat the moment the standing ovation began and rushed to me.

“Brother, please don’t ever make me leave your side,” I pleaded, clinging to him. “I will never go anywhere. Where else could I feel as safe and happy if not with you, my dear brother, who treasures me so much?”

“You’re so kind, my sweet, gentle Ekaterina.” Alexei tried to smile, but sadness overtook his features once again. “I have sinned. You had to endure such tragedy, such pain, and I couldn’t save you.”

It was all a play, brother...

I’d wanted him to enjoy himself, but it seemed I’d only reminded him of the painful past. Alexei had lived a life just as tragic, carrying the burden of a grand ducal house alone from a young age. He’d even tried to protect me and our mother by avoiding contact with us. I knew he’d thought of us the entire time.

“I swear I won’t let sorrow find you ever again. I’ll do everything it takes to make you happy,” he declared.

“Then please smile, brother,” I said, resting my hands on his cheeks. “I’m happy as long as you are. Seeing you sad makes me feel the same. If you want me to be happy, please be happy as well.”

I’m your number one fangirl, after all!

I studied his face, searching for a way to lift his spirits. Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I pressed my forehead to his. Alexei’s eyes widened in surprise, but he finally smiled—truly smiled.

“Thank you, my Ekaterina.”

Alexei was still standing on the stage. The curtain was down and probably would remain so for the foreseeable future, but the public kept clapping. Some were even calling for an encore. I heard footsteps on the other side of the curtain, followed by the student council president’s voice as he tried to explain that the schedule didn’t allow for encores.

Aristarkh’s speech bought our class a bit more time to tidy up, so no one disturbed Alexei and me. A few students from the next class stared, heads tilted in confusion, as though wondering if this was part of our play. Most didn’t seem eager to set up too quickly; performing after a standing ovation was intimidating.

The student council member in charge of hurrying things up backstage didn’t say a word either. She watched us quietly from afar.

I recognized her. She was the one who’d rushed to warn Alexei when I’d run into Zamira.

Little did I know that she’d specifically requested this job because she’d expected a scene like this to unfold.

She observed my classmates dismantling everything and tidying up, and Alexei carrying me off the stage in his arms, before taking a deep breath and whispering to herself:

“As expected of the Yulnova siblings... They’re even more touching after the curtain comes down.”

Alexei and Nikolai (Or Nikolai’s Reflections)

The festival was approaching, and most students were busy with preparations.

“Nikolai.”

Nikolai turned at the sound of Alexei calling his name, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t the sort to be easily fazed, so the reaction took Alexei aback. Only after thinking about it did he realize why: Until now, he’d only ever addressed Nikolai by his family name.

Inwardly, Alexei was flustered by that realization. Outwardly, his expression didn’t budge.

After a pause, Nikolai smiled. “Hey there, Alexei.”

Several emotions welled up in Alexei’s chest, like a rising tide. No one his age had called him by his given name in a long time. Nikolai always called him “Duke,” and hearing “Alexei” made him feel strange—almost ticklish. At the same time, he was pleased, amused at himself for being so shaken by such a small thing, and, above all, deeply relieved.

“Did you need me?” Nikolai asked.

“Not really... I just came to see the horses. They’re the renowned horses of Krymov, after all.”

“Oh!” Nikolai beamed.

They were standing on the academy’s riding grounds. Riding lessons were part of the boys’ curriculum. It was unthinkable for a nobleman to be unable to ride, so the lessons focused on advanced skills like fighting on horseback rather than learning how to ride. For that purpose, the academy kept many horses.

However, the seven imposing horses before them did not belong to the academy. Their glossy coats and dignified demeanor showed the attentive care and strict discipline they received. Even in an unfamiliar place, they were perfectly calm, responding eagerly to the smallest movements of the young men riding them. At times, they even seemed to guide their riders in the right direction.

The riders were classmates of Nikolai and Alexei. They’d be recreating a jousting tournament for the festival. It had been Nikolai’s idea, and to motivate his classmates, he’d offered to bring several warhorses from House Krymov.

Nikolai’s house was famous for providing demonic horses to the imperial family and a select few nobles. But those weren’t the only coveted horses they bred. The horses used to mate with monsters and refine bloodlines were also highly sought after. Some of those prized horses had just arrived at the academy, and the students participating in the matches were currently practicing with them.

“Any of them catch your eye?” Nikolai asked.

Alexei chose his words carefully. “They’re all fine horses. My knights would be desperate to ride any of them.”

It was praise—with a hidden meaning. Knights would be thrilled to have them. In other words, they were not the sort of horse the duke of Yulnova himself sought. Alexei had to balance consideration for his friend with his pride as a duke, and the comment struck that balance.

Nikolai nodded, satisfied. “I’m sure you have better horses in your stable.”

“I do. Horses of Krymov lineage, of course.”

Nikolai laughed.

“I heard,” Alexei said, recalling something, “that the real treasure of the House of Krymov isn’t one of the demonic horses renowned throughout the empire, but a mare.”

“That’s true. Our princess is a beauty who’s charmed a monster so thoroughly it keeps returning to her.” Nikolai’s tone was light, but this was one of his house’s trade secrets. He wouldn’t have said it to just anyone—he trusted Alexei.

Alexei smiled. “Nothing is more powerful than a truly charming woman, is it? I’ve come to understand that recently.”

His eyes were still on their classmates practicing when Nikolai glanced over. Alexei wore a soft expression, quite unlike the ones he usually showed.

It made Nikolai reflect. He’d been in Alexei’s class for three years and had seen him ride. He knew Alexei loved horses. As the heir to House Krymov, he also considered Alexei an impressive rider. Since the start of this school year, Alexei had changed a great deal. It was something Nikolai attributed to Ekaterina’s influence.

Nikolai’s father, the count of Krymov, wanted to give Alexei a demonic horse. He’d found Alexei promising ever since their first meeting, when the boy was only ten. One of the great missions of the head of House Krymov—or hobbies, depending on how you framed it—was to find promising individuals and gift them horses to help them succeed.

However, Alexei felt responsible for allowing his father’s followers to kill the demonic horse that had belonged to his grandfather. He’d sworn never to covet one for himself, and he was an incredibly stubborn person who lived by his oaths.

He’s too damn serious!

It was painfully obvious how much Alexei admired and respected demonic horses, and Nikolai wanted him to have one. Simple as that.

The power of a woman, huh?

Despite his obstinance, Alexei often changed his mind when his darling sister was involved. Nikolai had seen it many times.

He hummed before asking, “Speaking of charming women... I heard Ekaterina’s birthday is in December. Is that right?”

“It is. I’m planning a grand celebration for her, so I’d be glad if you came.”

“Sure thing.” Nikolai smiled brightly. “Look forward to celebrating with you guys. I’ll have to think of a present that’ll make her really happy.”

Afterword

Thank you very much for reading this book. I’m Chidori Hama, and I’m very sorry for the long wait.

At last, the seventh volume is here. We’re already quite a few volumes in, so why hasn’t the story progressed all that much? I plan on continuing for a long time, so please bear with me. Is it just me, or have I ended up apologizing in every afterword these past few volumes?

Still, I’m having a lot of fun writing everything I want to write! I hope you’re also enjoying reading all that. If you are, that makes me very happy!

Despite what I’ve just said, the story has been progressing. Fall has settled in, meaning the season of school festivals has arrived. Ekaterina is taking care of her glass workshop and shivering at the thought of the doom flags, but she’s still bustling about and enjoying her first school festival in this world. She’s also ready to pitch in and help for the sake of her classmates’ marriage and work prospects.

In the background, the feud between the two great houses of Yulnova and Yulmagna deepens in secret, and a new character on the side of the Yulmagnas makes her appearance—the bewitching beauty, Zamira. How will the battle of the Blue Rose of Yulnova and the Black Narcissus of Yulmagna end, I wonder?

Of course, Ekaterina is just as obsessed with her dear brother as always, and Alexei matches her energy! While I was publishing this part of the story on the internet, someone left a comment comparing Alexei’s sister complex to a high-end home appliance and wondering where they could find one as powerful. I laughed for ages without being able to stop. The other characters are gradually getting softer on these two, aren’t they? Well, maybe they’ve always been soft on them.

It’s been a long time since volume 6 came out, and quite a lot has changed in my life in the meantime. My pet dog, who had been sick for years, has sadly crossed the rainbow bridge... Some time has passed already since then, but my cat is still incredibly lonely without him, and I’ve been considering adopting a little sister or a little brother for my kitty from the rescue cat café my family manages.

Despite this, I’ve managed to finish this seventh volume of Goodbye, Overtime! thanks to the support of many people. I’m genuinely so happy and thankful. I’ve been working with a new editor who has been very considerate and helped me focus on the creative process serenely despite the circumstances. They’ve truly saved me.

As always, I’m also incredibly thankful to you, my dear readers.

Please keep supporting Ekaterina, Alexei, and this series!

Chidori Hama