Prologue: The Final Boss and the Villainess

“Why, you’re Milly Asteara, right?”

The voice came as Milly sat alone in the academy garden, reading a book.

Milly looked up with a start and tucked a strand of her glossy black hair behind her ear. Her profile was so breathtakingly beautiful, it was as if a portrait had stepped out of its frame and into reality. At the moment, though, something felt subtly off, just enough to raise a quiet alarm in her head.

That’s odd. I usually notice when someone approaches, Milly thought. And yet, she hadn’t sensed a thing.

Letting out a quiet sigh at her own lapse in vigilance, Milly turned around with practiced poise.

Standing there was another girl, wearing a strangely bright and cheerful smile. Milly recognized her face, though she didn’t know the girl personally. She was a student who often made waves around campus; Milly was pretty certain this was the daughter of a count.

“Angelina Grey—the villainess.”

Milly muttered the name, the syllables barely clinging to the edge of her memory. The so-called villainess responded with a radiant smile.

Angelina Grey, the eldest daughter of Count Grey, had been a mystery ever since she first enrolled at the academy. Most notably, she had the baffling habit of referring to herself as a villainess, a title that left her fellow students thoroughly confused. Milly had no idea what it meant either, but according to Angelina, she already knew the future and could twist the world to her will.

Milly recalled overhearing one of Angelina’s close friends—the protagonist, was it?—grumbling to others with a weary look. Apparently, Angelina had a habit of unloading her delusions on anyone she was close to.

“My! I’m honored you know who I am, Lady Asteara.”

“I’m not a lady anymore.”

Angelina covered her mouth in mock surprise, as if she didn’t already know.

The Asteara ducal house—Milly’s family—had been stripped of its title just a month ago. By now, the entire Kingdom of Aviria knew about it. The academy had been buzzing with the news. There was no mistaking it. Angelina’s use of the word Lady was nothing but a veiled insult. She had probably been dying to see how the fallen duke’s daughter would react, but Milly’s response was calm and composed. She didn’t flinch. Her expression remained completely neutral, which seemed to irk Angelina, whose brows pulled together slightly.

“Regarding the grand duke of Asteara—oh wait, not anymore—your father, Kyle Asteara... Is he doing well? I heard he was imprisoned after losing his title and that he’s been in quite the state mentally.”

“He was executed. Just the other day.”

That, too, had likely been said just to provoke her. But Milly’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. In fact, she simply reopened the book she’d been reading and resumed from where she left off. That alone seemed to frustrate Angelina, who had clearly been hoping to mock her, to provoke a reaction.

“Well, my condolences,” Angelina said, though her voice lacked sincerity. “But don’t you think it’s a bit much? Execution is such a tragic punishment. There was no need for something so cruel.”

“The grand ducal house, entrusted with protecting the kingdom, sold sensitive information to a foreign power in an attempt to bring down Aviria.” Without lifting her gaze from the book, Milly continued on in the same cold, even tone. “Had my father continued down that path, you and your family would’ve been killed sooner or later. You’ve got some nerve, calling his execution ‘a bit much.’”

Milly had long suspected that her father intended to betray their kingdom and defect to a foreign power, and therefore, she had more or less suspected the fate that awaited him once his treachery came to light. Selling out Aviria for so little gain hardly seemed worth it, but she had made no move to stop him. To Milly, her father was simply an obstacle she didn’t care to cross, and whatever became of him as a result was none of her concern.

Milly Asteara was indifferent to everything. It didn’t matter to her what others did—she had no interest in anyone else’s affairs. So when someone like Angelina confused rudeness for wit and tried to mock her, Milly felt nothing at all.

But that same unshakable apathy seemed to rub Angelina the wrong way. Her voice carried the edge of anger, though she forced a brittle smile. “Even though your family’s been ruined? My, it seems the Ice-Cold Princess is exactly as heartless as I’ve heard.”

Catching the look out of the corner of her eye, Milly let out a small sigh. What was this girl even trying to say? “That’s because none of it matters to me. Certainly not you.”

“What?”

“Neither you nor your family hold the slightest interest for me. I’m sorry if you were expecting me to fly into a rage at your insults, but if all you’re after is provoking people, perhaps you should find someone else.” Although she spoke from the heart, the mere act of replying felt like a waste of effort. That only stoked Angelina’s anger further. “L-Lady Asteara... You wouldn’t even deign to take someone’s concern at face value?”

“Concern? From you?”

“That’s right! You’re only here because you were spared execution out of mercy, and yet you have the gall to strut around the academy.”

“Hmm.”

“In the end, you’re nothing but a pathetic fool, destined to be ruined when I take Gilbert from you!”

It seemed Angelina’s patience had finally run out. Her face twisted with rage as she marched forward, screeching accusations. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white—ridiculous, really. As Angelina’s arm swung up in a most unladylike arc, Milly murmured, “Spark.” The magic flared, knocking the incoming fist aside before it could reach her.

Angelina froze, staring at the girl as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just seen.

“‘Gilbert,’ ‘ruin’... Stop spouting nonsense. You’re only making the conversation more dreary.”

“Hah?”

“We’re done here, ‘villainess.’ Next time, try saying something more substantial.”

There had been nothing about this exchange worth interrupting her reading for.

Milly dropped her gaze back to the page, turning it with a slow, disinterested flick. If Angelina’s barbs or complaints had been delivered with some wit, they might have at least been entertaining. But as they were, they were nothing but dull.

While Angelina stood in silence, making no move to leave, a thought occurred to Milly. Why did she suddenly decide to talk to me when we’ve never spoken before? This had been their first real encounter. The two had never so much as exchanged greetings in passing, let alone introduced themselves. This was completely uncalled-for. Did she really come here just to throw insults?

If so, perhaps Milly truly did look that pitiful in Angelina’s eyes. Or perhaps the wretched girl held some sort of hidden grudge. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that Angelina was an ill-mannered person. For all her self-styling as a “villainess,” her thinking was beyond Milly’s comprehension. Without lifting her eyes, Milly turned another page.

In the stillness of the garden, Angelina spoke again. “You’re nothing but a loser with no future left. You’re nothing, nothing but—”

“Was there something else?”

“In the game, you die a pathetic death. You’re nothing but a weak little extra!” Angelina’s voice brimmed with fury now, more than at any point before.

Game? Milly thought. Confused, she looked up before freezing on the spot. Right there, pointed straight at her, was the tip of Angelina’s wand.

“You shouldn’t even be alive! You, Milly, are supposed to die at the end. That’s how the true route goes!”

“What do you—?”

“You’re just a pathetic weakling who can’t even die properly! The whole scenario’s already played out, but it can’t end happily because you, the final boss, are still alive! Just die already, you stupid girl!” Angelina’s shrill voice rang out, and for the first time, Milly’s brows knit together.

“True route,” “final boss,” whatever. It was all meaningless to Milly.

“You make me sick, acting all innocent like you don’t know!”

Angelina’s grip on her wand tightened until it trembled. Sensing danger in that moment, Milly moved to knock it away with her own magic...but the spell never came. She couldn’t form the incantation. Something’s wrong.

Her heartbeat slowed to a heavy thud, and sweat broke across her brow. She could tell instinctively that Angelina’s wand wasn’t for show; the girl was actually about to cast a spell. Angelina meant to harm her. Milly’s mind screamed at her to run, but her body wouldn’t obey, almost as if the world itself were forcing her still.

“Enough. Die already, Final Boss Milly Asteara.” The tip of Angelina’s wand began to glow with a dull light. “Ah, that’s right. You can’t use any real magic anymore, can you? Not since your dear father died and you lost your... Why, yes. Of course you can’t.”

“Angelina?”

“I knew my game knowledge was right! Once you’re dead, I can finally have my happy ending.”

Angelina chuckled and murmured something under her breath, but Milly read her lips. Infernal Flame. Her blood ran cold as a flash of light burst from the tip of Angelina’s wand.

Then Milly’s body was suddenly engulfed in searing heat.

“Ghhh!”

“My, my, how glorious! The arrogant fool brought to her knees!”

The heat, the pain, the agony—it all spread throughout her body in an instant. Milly writhed, struggling for air.

As she collapsed toward the bench, Angelina kicked her away, laughing loud and triumphantly. Milly’s groans were ragged with suffering, her vision painted red. When she saw her own outstretched hand wreathed in flames, her eyes went wide.

“Thank you, Milly. Now I can finally have my happy ending.”

“Ghhh... Ah...”

“Isn’t it wonderful? Once you’re dead, I can at last marry Prince Gilbert, the man I’ve loved and longed for since my previous life.”

Angelina scraped the sole of her shoe against the ground, as if wiping away dirt.

Then she turned her gaze aside, not sparing Milly another glance. “Good night, Final Boss. There won’t even be ashes left of you.”

In Angelina’s cold, uncaring eyes, Milly was nothing.

Moments later, writhing in pain, and with no miraculous rescue like in a story, Milly’s life came to an end. The last thing she felt as her consciousness slipped away was a sickening sensation, as if her very body were gradually being erased.

◇◇◇

When she opened her eyes, the familiar canopy of her bed filled her vision.

“What?”

She jolted upright, scanning her surroundings.

There was no sign of Angelina, no trace of the academy garden.

Throwing back the neatly tucked covers, Milly cautiously moved her body.

“Nothing’s...wrong.”

She patted herself down. Her body was perfectly healthy. Normal. Magic, too, seemed to be intact. On a whim, she murmured, “Water Bubble,” and in an instant, her nightclothes were soaked through with a loud splash.

The sensation of being drenched was unpleasant, but it drove home one thing. This wasn’t a dream.

I’m alive?

She had just died moments ago, so how could this be? That feeling of her body being erased hadn’t been a misunderstanding nor a dream.

Maybe she’d been saved somehow, but if that were the case, then why was she here? This was undeniably her bedroom on the second floor of the Asteara estate. Yet she hadn’t slept here since the ducal title had been stripped from her and she’d been cast out.

“My lady, are you awake?”

The familiar voice from beyond the door startled her. She was certain it belonged to her personal maid. Milly hadn’t seen her at all since losing her title, and yet here she was, addressing her as “my lady” again, to boot.

What is going on?

Surely this wasn’t mockery, like when Angelina had said it.

Out of habit, she said, “Come in.” The maid entered, and the moment their eyes met, she rushed to Milly’s side in alarm.

“My lady! What on earth has happened?! Your nightclothes are soaked through!”

“Ah...”

“You haven’t caught a chill, have you? Oh, what should we do? Your entrance ceremony is this weekend.”

The maid showed no sign of surprise at seeing Milly here, despite the fact she had been banished from the estate. And there was something else in her words that caught Milly’s attention. Her brows knit as she looked at the flustered woman.

Did she just say the entrance ceremony is this weekend?

She didn’t need to ask which one. It had to be the entrance ceremony for the academy, the very one she had already attended, the same academy where she had just lost her life. Yet somehow, the maid had clearly said it was this upcoming weekend.

That’s impossible. The entrance ceremony was three years ago.

Following that thread, Milly reached one startling possibility.

“Bibi,” she said.

“Yes, my lady?” the maid responded in turn.

“What year is it, in the royal calendar?”

The maid, Bibi, blinked rapidly at the sudden question, then answered.

“It’s the year 1300, of course.”

In that instant, Milly knew.

Time had been rewound.

She remembered it vividly. The stripping of the Asteara Grand Ducal title, her father’s execution by guillotine, and her own death at Angelina’s hands—all of it had happened in 1303.

There was no way those three years had been a dream or a lie. Which meant the most natural explanation was that, for some reason, time had turned back, and she retained the memories.

“I see. I see.”

There was no other possibility.

The moment she accepted that truth, Milly could no longer contain the laughter bubbling up inside her.

“My lady?”

“Yes, that’s it. I understand perfectly now. Thank you, Bibi.”

“Huh? Um, well, you’re...welcome?”

Bibi tilted her head in puzzlement.

Slipping past her maid, Milly stepped out into the hall in her soaked nightclothes.

“Ah, m-my lady! Where are you going?!”

“To wash my face! There’s so much I need to find out, and I plan to start posthaste.”

Bibi called after her, but Milly’s brisk steps didn’t slow.

Yes. Yes, that’s right. I’m not letting it end like that.

It had been eighteen years since she was born. Or rather, fifteen in this rewound world. Either way, she had never felt her heart race like this.

In that moment when her body wouldn’t move—when the wand was aimed at her and death loomed before her—Milly had been filled with confusion and hatred. She had been completely at a loss, yet consumed with loathing for Angelina. She’d wanted to sew shut the mouth that spewed nonsense, and in her final moments, she had even thought of cursing her.

And now? Now time had turned back, as if Heaven itself had granted her the chance to do it over; nothing could be more welcome.

“‘Villainess,’ was it?” Striding down the corridor with a bright, almost cheerful air, Milly’s lips curled into a smirk.

A passing maid glanced at Milly as if spellbound. Blushing faintly, she could have no idea just how light and clear Milly’s thoughts were in that moment.

“I’ll never forgive you. This time, I won’t let you have your way.” Murmuring a declaration, Milly spun lightly on her heel, her mood buoyant.

The fresh morning air felt invigorating, as though it carried the promise of a new reason to live. It drew a smile to her lips, one far more fearsome than anything a so-called villainess could muster—a sneer, in fact, worthy of the title “final boss.”

Chapter 1: The Final Boss’s Resolve

When time rewinds, what’s the very first thing you should do?

There were any number of “right” answers, but Milly had concluded that gathering information came first. She needed to reacquaint herself with the world as it had been three years ago and investigate what was happening right now. Without that understanding, she couldn’t begin to act.

So, once she finished her morning preparations, Milly headed straight for the Grand Ducal House of Asteara’s archive. With a collection rivaling that of any royal library, it had always been like a second home to Milly, who had spent countless hours there reading and studying.

It seems there aren’t any major differences between this world and the one before the rewind.

If she wanted information quickly, this was the best place to get it. She began working her way through the stored newspapers from the past several months.

Every paper is reporting things I remember, and nothing seems out of place. It doesn’t appear that I’m in a parallel world after all. It feels as though the world has been rewound.

As far as her own surroundings were concerned, life after the rewind was perfectly calm. There was no sign that anyone else had noticed time turning back, and everything seemed to be a faithful recreation of life exactly three years prior.

That didn’t mean the rewind was cause for celebration, however. Pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, Milly let out a sigh.

Well, if I keep living the same as before, I’ll be met with the exact same fate.

Exactly so. If this world had simply turned back the clock, then three years from now Milly would once again be killed at Angelina’s hands. That, at least, had to be prevented. If she allowed herself to follow the same path to the same ignoble death, then what was the point of getting another chance? She would have to take action now and change the future.

“That’s easier said than done, though,” Milly muttered to herself as she leaned back in her chair.

It was one thing to say she’d change the future, quite another to actually do it. The biggest obstacle was undoubtedly whatever Angelina had used in the garden that day. When Milly had been killed there, she hadn’t been able to offer any resistance at all. She hadn’t just been unable to use magic; she couldn’t even move her body. There was no question that some kind of power had been at work. Unless she could find a way to counter that inexplicable ability, her fate would not change.

Though Heaven had given her a chance, reality was proving it to be far from a simple fix.

Milly stretched long and slow as if to shake off the stiffness in her thoughts. In any case, first I need to find a way to fight back against that strange power. I couldn’t do it alone last time. Maybe I’ll need someone’s help.

She was still mulling that over when there came a discreet knock at the library door.

“Come in.”

Bibi peeked her head through the open door. “Pardon me, my lady. It’s nearly time for lunch.”

Has it gotten that late already? Milly blinked in mild surprise. “All right. I was just starting to get hungry anyway. I’ll be right there.”

“Ah, um, well...” Bibi babbled. When Milly narrowed her eyes at her, the maid’s brows dropped in resignation. “I-I have something to tell you, but I worry it may anger you...”

“Depends on what it is,” Milly replied coldly.

“Eh?!”

“I jest. So what is it? Don’t tell me you broke something of mine.”

Tilting her head as she asked, Milly watched Bibi shake her head furiously, her face going pale. The maid’s gaze darted around before she finally confessed in a small voice, “Well, um, you see...the master will be joining us for lunch today.”

Milly caught herself just before blurting out, What, has my father’s ghost decided to show up?

She’d completely forgotten, but in this rewound world, her father Kyle—who had been executed for treason in the original timeline—was, of course, still alive. Only now did she remember that fact.

“Hah. Him being alive is going to be its own kind of hassle,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself. It’s unusual for father to be home, isn’t it?”

Closing the book she’d been reading, Milly rested her chin on one hand against the armrest. Her father, His Grace, Grand Duke Kyle Asteara, was the sort of man whose mind seemed almost entirely occupied with work at all times. His temperament was cold and high-handed. In society, people often referred to him as the Devil, the Demon Duke, or simply “the grand duke.” Truth be told, Milly herself did not have a favorable impression of him.

Relations within the family were utterly frigid. In fact, she might have gotten along better with strangers. Milly had often gone out of her way to avoid dining with Kyle. Nothing good ever came of facing him across a table.

“Um, would you prefer to take your meal later after all? I could bring it to your room.” Bibi’s brows drooped in concern as she tried to read Milly’s expression.

Before the rewind, Milly would have nodded without hesitation. She might even have added a snide remark, such as “Do I really have to spell that out for you?”

Things had changed. If she didn’t act, the future where she would be murdered three years from now would never change.

Milly’s lips curved slightly as she shook her head. “No, it’s quite all right. I should at least see father’s face after so long.”

“Huh?”

“Come along, Bibi. I’m in a rather good mood today.”

With that, she stepped lightly out of the library, leaving Bibi standing there, mouth agape.

The maid hurried after her, asking, “Are you sure? Is this really all right?”

Milly could only give a wry smile and nod. Did their relationship really look that bad to anyone peering in from the outside? She wasn’t exactly eager, but if she was going to change the humiliating future in which she was murdered, she would have to start by changing the small things. Even a conversation with her father—something she had avoided before the rewind—might hold some clue to altering her fate. The clock had been turned back. She couldn’t afford to waste this chance.

At the door to the dining room, Milly took a deep breath. For some reason, Bibi’s expression was even more severe than her own as she opened the door, revealing the vast room beyond, where her father Kyle sat eating alone.

He gave her a single glance, narrowing his eyes in mild surprise.

“Good day to you, father.”

The sight of his face after so long delayed her greeting for just a heartbeat. This was the first time she’d met him in this rewound world. The last time she had seen her father had been when his head was cleanly severed from his body, so to see him now, alive and eating in good health, was an odd sensation.

“Didn’t expect you to share a table with me.” Oblivious to his daughter’s thoughts, Kyle promptly looked away. He didn’t even return her greeting, an unvarnished reflection of their frigid relationship.

Feeling her mind cool into focus, Milly took a seat in a chair a short distance from his. “Surprised?”

“I am. You seem to be in quite a good mood today.” With a short, dry chuckle, Kyle pressed his lips into a thin line.

Watching his profile, Milly found herself thinking about the father who had been executed in the world before the rewind.

If you’re already a grand duke and still want to climb higher, that’s your business, but aren’t the risks far greater than the rewards?

In the previous timeline, Kyle Asteara had been executed for playing the traitor, selling his country’s secrets to another nation. He had betrayed Aviria in exchange for a promise of rank in a foreign court.

The whole thing had never quite made sense to Milly. Kyle was the only man in the Kingdom of Aviria to hold the title of grand duke. He had money in obscene abundance, power in spades, and, on top of that, a highly capable only daughter in Milly.

Why would a man who had achieved such unquestionable success covet status abroad, knowing full well that if his scheme fell through, the guillotine awaited him? Precisely because she knew her father’s rational, calculating nature, Milly had always found it suspicious.

Even with rank and honor, he still betrayed the kingdom. What was he thinking? She let out a quiet breath into the silence of the table.

With ducal authority, there was little Kyle could not do. In fact, before the rewind, he had wielded that authority as a carte blanche to act as he pleased, seizing wealth and land from nobles who displeased him, sometimes driving them to ruin entirely. To the other lords, he must have seemed like a demon.

And yet, despite having that much power, Kyle still sold out his country.

Milly could never understand this line of thinking. Her father must have been in quite a state of madness at the time. That was as far as her thoughts went before another idea struck her.

That’s it. I should get father to help me!

Milly would need allies if she was to stand against Angelina. And if possible, those allies should be powerful. On that note, while Kyle’s character left much to be desired, he would make an exceptionally capable partner.

Most troublesome matters could be swept aside with ducal authority, and his skill in magic was impressive enough for Milly to admire. He would be a formidable card to have in her hand against Angelina.

Yes, it was a brilliant notion. Tearing off a small piece of bread, Milly looked positively pleased with herself as she spoke up. “Father, there’s something I’d like to ask of you.”

It had been ten years since she’d approached him with a request of her own accord. Kyle had noticed this himself. His brows drew together in suspicion as he looked at her.

Milly didn’t so much as flinch, keeping her smile as she made her proposal. “You see, father, I’d like you to protect me.”

“What?”

“Well, I’ll be enrolling at the academy this weekend, won’t I? There’s always the chance that someone might try to take my life.”

That someone, of course, was Angelina, but surely even she would think twice about making a move if Milly were under the grand duke’s protection. Still smiling, Milly continued.

“I’ve kept up with my magic training, of course, but there are limits. Still, if you were by my side, I could feel at ease. What do you think?”

For a moment, Kyle simply sat there, mouth slightly open. Then, apparently grasping the meaning of her words, he narrowed his eyes and fixed them on the cheerful Milly as she presented her “brilliant” idea.

“I see. I was wondering what on earth you were going to say. So you want my protection, do you?”

“Yes. What do you say?”

Even if he was the coldhearted grand duke nicknamed the Demon Duke, surely he wouldn’t dismiss his own daughter’s request out of hand. Or so Milly thought, until his next words made her eyes widen.

“There’s nothing in it for me.” His expression remained unchanged.

“Pardon?”

When Milly instinctively frowned, Kyle went on, sounding almost bored. “There’s no return that would justify expending my magic to guard you.”

“But father, my point is—”

“Well, my point is that what happens to you is none of my concern. Which means I have no intention of giving you anything more, nor any obligation to lend you my aid. Understood?”

With that, Kyle set down his cutlery and rose from his chair. He cleared his throat, and the butler, who had been watching the exchange in open-mouthed astonishment, rushed over to help him into his coat.

Snapping out of her speechless daze, Milly lifted her head and called to his back as he made for the dining room doors. “So, father, you mean to say that even if my life were in danger, it would be of no concern to you?”

“That’s right. If you can grasp that much, then make sure you don’t entertain such foolish ideas in the future.”

The dining room doors slammed shut, leaving behind a heavy silence between Milly and the household staff.

The awkward glances from Bibi, the cook, and another maid who had happened to be present all pricked at her. She hadn’t expected to be cut down quite so cleanly.

I’d completely forgotten what father is like.

She hadn’t seen him in so long that she’d let herself forget, but at his core, her father was a man without the slightest shred of affection. Or, at least, she hadn’t felt an ounce of it from him in years, and judging by the display he had just put on, Kyle truly didn’t love her at all. To him, “family” was likely nothing more than a tool for diplomacy.

If anything, he’d probably just have another child if Milly died. Even knowing this was her own father, she couldn’t help but be appalled. She sighed again and stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth.

Thinking back, he’d always been that way.

When she was five years old, after her mother had passed away from an illness, Milly had clung to her mother’s lifeless body, sobbing. Even then, Kyle’s only words had been, “What’s the use of pouting?” His demeanor made it clear he cared nothing for the loss of his wife.

From that day on, Milly had stopped expecting anything from her father.

Driven by the single-minded desire to one day live without relying on a man like him, she had thrown herself into her studies, and the effort had paid off with excellent marks at the academy.

How could she have forgotten? Milly lifted her head from where it had drooped and gave both cheeks a sharp slap with her hands.

“To even entertain the idea of relying on that man...I must’ve just gotten carried away from the rewind. I need to get a grip.”

That exchange had driven the lesson home. Asking for her father’s help was pointless.

From here on, she would manage on her own strength.

Milly took a sip of her soup. Her lips curved at the familiar seasoning, and the sight was so beautiful that even Bibi, who had been watching her like she might explode at any moment, found herself momentarily captivated.

All right. Things are going to get busy.

First and foremost, she needed information. Before the academy’s entrance ceremony began, she had to put her own affairs in order. Time was finite. With only three years until her deadline, she would see to it that every necessary step was taken.

◇◇◇

Several days had passed since time rewound.

The human capacity to adapt was a frightening thing. By this point, Milly had grown quite accustomed to the world of three years ago.

She no longer looked at the king of Aviria—long dead in the world before the rewind—and thought, The dead are walking?! Nor did she leap for joy upon acquiring books that, three years later, would be out of print, only to have Bibi recoil in disbelief.

And so, today as always, Milly was in the archive, hard at work gathering information.

Laying it all out like this, I can’t help but feel there are quite a few suspicious points in what Angelina said.

At present, she was writing down key words Angelina had mentioned in the garden and trying to guess their meaning. She still remembered with perfect clarity the events leading up to her murder. What stood out most was a name—Gilbert. That name, which Milly also knew, was a particularly important piece for deducing Angelina’s motive.

Gilbert Fritzner, second prince of the Kingdom of Aviria. Milly traced the long-unspoken name in her mind and let out a small sigh.

As the only daughter of the grand ducal house and the second prince of Aviria, she and Gilbert had once been classic childhood friends. That said, their play together hadn’t lasted past the age of five or so. After her mother’s death, Milly had devoted herself to her studies over friendships and naturally drifted apart from Gilbert.

And yet, that was the name that had come out of Angelina’s mouth.

There was no way he could be unrelated. From the way Angelina had said “I can at last marry Prince Gilbert” and “now I can finally have my happy ending,” she was almost certainly in love with him.

Looking back on her words with that in mind, a certain logic began to take shape. Milly’s guess was that Angelina had tried to kill her for the sake of a happy ending with Gilbert. In other words, Milly was nothing but an obstacle standing in the way of Angelina’s union with him.

Of course, that’s all speculation.

It was frustrating not to be able to say anything for certain, no matter how much she turned it over in her head.

Stretching her arms, Milly slumped forward onto the desk with a groan. If Bibi had been there, she would scold the girl for such unladylike behavior, but with no one around, Milly could sprawl as much as she pleased.

“Still, it might be worth talking to Gilbert,” she murmured the thought aloud, pressing her cheek against the cool surface of the desk.

If she could speak with him, she might gain far more useful information than she ever would sitting here at her desk. If things went well, she might even uncover the motive behind Angelina’s attempt on her life.

Resolved, Milly bolted upright. Right. In that case, I need to decide when to meet him. The sooner the better, but is there even a day when both the grand duke’s daughter and the second prince are free?

She opened her planner, then froze. “It’s...completely blank.” Yes. Absolutely blank. Nothing in the schedule at all.

No way. It’s the middle of the social season, and I don’t have a single tea party or invitation?!

Thinking it had to be a mistake, she shut the planner and opened it again. But no, the pages remained empty. Milly was stunned. Could she really be seeing this right?

I-I’m of marriageable age, for heaven’s sake. Isn’t it abnormal that no one’s invited me anywhere? Wait, could this mean I’m already considered a spinster?

Now that she thought about it, ever since her mother’s death, Milly had scarcely shown her face at social gatherings.

The reason, of course, was her studies. Kyle, who despised socializing just as much as she did, had never scolded her for it, and on the rare occasions they did attend, the grand duke and his daughter would be back home within minutes. Considering that, it might be more accurate to say that the blank planner was exactly what one would expect.

“Since time’s been rewound, maybe I should try showing up at a few more places.”

With a groan that was half complaint, half resignation, Milly closed the nearly pristine planner. No, looked at positively, an empty schedule meant she could arrange a meeting with Gilbert whenever it suited him. She should think of it as convenient, even fortunate.

As she was forcing herself into that hollow optimism, a knock came at the library door.

“My lady, may I?” It was Bibi.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Pardon me. A letter has just arrived from the academy, regarding this weekend’s entrance ceremony.”

“Ah.” Taking the letter, Milly glanced at the sender’s name and curled her lip. Oh, right, there was that event coming up. “A personal letter for a mere incoming student? The prestigious Grandor Magic Academy must have nothing better to do.” She pursed her lips in dissatisfaction.

Bibi smiled in turn. “They can’t help it, my lady. With the grand duke’s daughter enrolling, the academy has no choice but to show consideration.”

“Hmph.”

Grandor Magic Academy, where she had studied in the previous timeline, was the premier institution for learning magic in the kingdom. Its history stretched far back, and many great researchers had emerged from its alumni. Thanks to that, the level of instruction was correspondingly high, and for Milly, who was something of a bookworm, it had been a relatively comfortable place.

If only they would curb this blatant fawning over her title.

Reluctantly, she slit the seal with her finger. Inside was a sheet of stationery crammed with writing and a single card of some sort. An invitation.

She lost all desire to read the letter at first glance, but tossing it aside unread wasn’t an option. With no real choice, she began skimming. It proved to be a long-winded greeting from the headmaster.

“He says my intelligence reminds him of my father. I can only hope he didn’t mean it as an insult.”

Having grasped the gist, Milly handed the stationery over to Bibi. The maid’s eyes widened at the speed with which she had finished.

“Y-You’ve already read it?”

“I read enough.”

“My, but so quickly, and with a letter this long! That’s called speed-reading, my lady.”

“Nothing so grand. I merely skipped over all the useless lines.”

Resting her cheek on one hand against the armrest, Milly lowered her eyes. Alongside all the long-winded flattery, the headmaster’s letter had included a request.

An invitation to join the student council. He asked me the same thing before the rewind.

“The academy’s student government cannot do without your abilities.” That was the gist of the latter half of the headmaster’s message.

Grandor Magic Academy, unlike most schools of magic, had a student council. It was said to wield considerable authority within the academy, heavily involved in its management. Naturally, not just anyone could join it; a direct invitation from the headmaster was required. For the daughter of the ducal house, such a request was only to be expected.

Of course, she had been asked the same thing in the previous timeline. Back then she had flatly refused. Unsurprising, given that she preferred to devote all her time to study.

“My lady? Is something the matter?”

Roused by Bibi’s voice, Milly blinked a few times. “No, it’s nothing. Could you bring me some stationery? I’ll write a reply now.”

“At once!”

“I’d like the scented paper, with the floral fragrance.”

Watching Bibi bow and leave the room, Milly sifted through the hazy fragments of her memory. Now, who was it that served on the student council?

In the previous timeline, Milly had had no interest whatsoever in the student council. She couldn’t say what they had done, let alone recall the roster of members with any clarity.

She did remember that the second prince, Gilbert, and the son of the knight commander had been involved, but that was about the extent of it. In hindsight, her utter disinterest in those around her had been something of a flaw.

I do recall, though, that there were very few girls on the council. At the time, I suspected the headmaster of blatant sexism.

Once she enrolled, however, she had been surprised to find rules that seemed to favor female students, and events that clearly catered to the tastes of girls their age.

Milly still didn’t understand the necessity of that one event where boys and girls were paired off to do stargazing together. Just thinking back on it was unpleasant. She remembered the pitying looks cast on the poor boy who had been paired with her, terrified into silence by her own. That, at least, was a nostalgic memory now.

“I suppose there’s no harm in at least hearing them out,” she murmured the thought aloud, picking up the envelope once again.

Inside was the invitation that had accompanied the letter. Ostentatiously decorated, it announced the welcome party to be held in the academy courtyard following the entrance ceremony.

Judging by the wording, the invitations had gone out to students whose families had made substantial donations upon enrollment. Naturally, that meant most of those present would be from high-ranking noble families, and the student council members would certainly be among them.

Last time, I handed this straight to Bibi and told her to throw it out.

But this time was different.

Now that she had developed an interest in the people around her, even this sort of gathering piqued Milly’s curiosity. In the end, if she didn’t change something about herself, the future would remain unchanged. If she wanted to still be alive and well three years from now, she needed to start reexamining the small things.

If that were the case, then it would only make sense to attend the sorts of parties she’d ignored before the rewind. As that thought carried her along, an idea struck her.

“That’s it. At that party, I can see Gilbert.”

A stroke of pure genius, to pat herself on the back.

Gilbert would surely attend the entrance welcome party, and she could take the opportunity to ask him directly about his connection to Angelina. More than that, it would make a perfect first step toward filling in that starkly empty planner of hers.

Yes. I’ll write to Gilbert. If I tell him I’d like to meet at the party after the entrance ceremony, I’m sure he’ll agree.

With that, Milly suddenly found herself looking forward to the party. She wrote the date carefully into her planner and closed it as delicately as if it were made of glass.

“My lady! I’ve brought them!”

Turning at the bright voice, she saw Bibi carrying a bundle of stationery.

Milly let out a small, cheeky smile at the sight, then immediately began composing her letters in her head, one to the headmaster, and one to Gilbert.

◇◇◇

That day, Angelina Grey was in the foulest mood of her life.

Why, why, why, why?!

She hurled her pillow at the wall, gasping for breath.

While she glared at the maid who had been standing by to help her dress for the morning, Angelina drove her fist into the wall. The sight of the young maid’s pale, stricken face only enraged her further.

“Out! Get out right now!”

At her scream, the maid stumbled over her own feet as she fled the room.

The clumsy retreat stoked Angelina’s fury even more, and she kicked the foot of the bed. Could even a worthless servant not manage to leave a room promptly?

Why, why, why won’t this make sense?! She bit her lip and clenched her fists. Why has time rewound?!

Angelina Grey—the so-called villainess—had killed Milly Asteara, the “final boss.” Of that, she was certain.

This world was an otome game.

The reason Angelina could believe something so far-fetched so easily was because she retained the memories of her previous life. Memories that were nothing but wretched, devoid of anything pleasant.

That was only natural. In her former life, Angelina had never made a single friend. Or rather, she had never bothered to try. Surrounded by fools, she’d never felt the slightest urge to befriend anyone. Mock them, yes. Berate them, certainly. But camaraderie? Never.

Everyone around her had been an idiot.

If idiots at least proved useful to her, she might have tolerated them. But since they only ever brought her trouble, there was no point. The only things Angelina had ever been able to lose herself in were otome games and anime. Among them, the one that had captivated her most was a game she had bought on a whim because of its striking package art: The Kingdom of Blossoms: Magi.

Set in a pseudo-medieval fantasy world flavored with modern Japanese values, it had stat systems and light battle elements, and the heroine’s growth determined which ending the player would reach.

Within that game, Angelina Grey had appeared as what you’d call the villainess.

Consumed by jealousy, she bullied the heroine, stood against her as a rival at times, and in the end acknowledged her sins and made peace. A stock villainess role, played by none other than Angelina Grey.

In her previous life, she’d been so fixated on the love interests that she hadn’t spared a thought for any side characters. But when she realized she had been reincarnated as the villainess herself, one thought came instantly to mind: Delicious.

I’ve been reincarnated into an otome game, haven’t I? If that’s the case, then I should be able to end up with one of the love interests myself!

Angelina had always adored one character above all others, to the point of obsession even before this life: Gilbert Fritzner. Second prince of the Kingdom of Aviria, and the game’s main romance option. From his looks to his personality, Angelina loved everything about him.

Not only Gilbert himself, but the mere concept that the high-spec second prince would notice and choose a mere commoner like her had been irresistible. Just imagining how bitterly the other suitors must have felt when they were passed over was enough to thrill her.

That was why, when she entered the academy—the game’s stage—reincarnated as the villainess, Angelina had been unable to tear her eyes from Gilbert the moment she saw him.

Her desire to be with him had only grown stronger, and she reveled in the conviction that she had the right.

After all, she was the villainess. In reincarnation stories, this role was practically a protagonist’s seat. Surely she was destined to end up with Gilbert. That thought filled her with joy—so much joy, in fact, that she’d wanted to flaunt her position.

She remembered now how she had gone around proclaiming to everyone that she was the villainess. People had stared at her in confusion, but that was fine. Fools who lacked even the right to romance a love interest could do nothing but gape like idiots.

I know what’s coming thanks to the game. I even know all the choices. This world revolves around me!

Bullying the heroine was out of the question. Instead, she had drawn close enough to call her a friend, while steadily building rapport with Gilbert. All, of course, to ensure she would be the one to end up with him.

And then came the ending.

The game’s final villain—Grand Duke Kyle Asteara—was executed by Gilbert, and peace returned to the kingdom.

On that day, under the bell tower where the confession event was meant to take place, Angelina waited for Gilbert. Naturally, to receive his declaration of love. But no matter how long she waited, Gilbert never came.

The confession CG should have triggered at sunset, but the sun went down, darkness fell, and still Gilbert never appeared. In the end, Angelina had to return home alone.

Why?

At first, she thought maybe the heroine had interfered. But with Angelina constantly by her side, the girl hadn’t had the time to grow close with any of the love interests.

Kyle Asteara was dead. She had grown closer to Gilbert. And yet, her happy ending never came.

Why?

The question haunted her for days, until Angelina stumbled upon an utterly unforeseen truth.

Milly Asteara was still alive.

Milly was the final boss who set into motion the many incidents that occurred within the academy.

It was Milly who deceived her father Kyle and pushed him toward betraying the kingdom. And she was notoriously tenacious. Of the two battles with Milly in the game, the first was a so-called forced loss event: an invincible Milly who nullified every spell and simply overwhelmed the heroine.

At that point, the heroine was nearly killed, only to be rescued at the last second by whichever love interest had the highest affection score.

That was when the heroine learned the reason her attacks hadn’t landed on Milly: the Grand Duke’s Blessing.

When she was a child, her father Kyle had placed a spell upon her that nullified all attacks. Once that secret was revealed, the story advanced quickly. With Kyle condemned for treason and executed, the tale moved to the heroine’s second battle against Milly.

Unlike the first, doomed fight, the second was a victory event.

With Kyle dead, the Grand Duke’s Blessing vanished. The heroine joined forces with the love interests and defeated Milly. Driven to despair, Milly followed her father into death, and peace returned to the kingdom.

Angelina loved that development. She despised the character of Milly.

Milly was Gilbert’s childhood friend. That alone was enough to infuriate Angelina, who adored him. Worse still, Milly was a popular character among players, which only made Angelina seethe more.

But in the real world?

Even after Kyle was executed, Milly strolled through the academy as if nothing had happened, calmly reading with the air of someone who had never lost her title. Seeing that, Angelina was convinced. The heroine had failed to kill Milly as the scenario dictated. That was why things had gone so wrong.

Her uselessness infuriated Angelina. But thinking it over, she realized it made sense. After all, in this world, the heroine wasn’t the game’s protagonist. She was. She, the reincarnated villainess, Angelina.

This wasn’t a broken storyline; it was a divine message: The right to kill Milly Asteara, as the true heroine, belonged to Angelina.

Yes. If she killed Milly Asteara, everything would fall into place.

Watching Milly’s life slip away before her eyes had been the greatest thrill.

Watching that hated girl’s face twist in pain had been so satisfying. It almost felt cleansing.

And yet...

“Why?”

The next time she opened her eyes, she was staring up at the familiar canopy of her bed.

She realized at once that time had rewound. The diary she kept daily to track the game’s progression had stopped at a date three years in the past.

“She... She did something.”

Milly Asteara.

It had to be her. The “final boss.” She must have tampered with the scenario somehow. Nothing else could explain it.

“It’s because she...because she didn’t die like the story demanded!” It could only be that. Muttering in a low voice, Angelina slammed her fist into the wall again. “This time, I’ll make it a happy ending.”

This time, she wouldn’t fail.

She would send Milly to the afterlife for certain, and she would end up with Gilbert. Not even the heroine would get in her way. She would make the world revolve around Angelina once more.

“I’m going to take everything you have.” Clenching her teeth, Angelina strode out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

So consumed by rage, Angelina never stopped to consider the unthinkable. That Milly, too, had realized time had rewound. That Milly was already plotting revenge.

Blinded by the belief that the world revolved around her, Angelina couldn’t imagine such possibilities.

Chapter 2: The Final Boss Princess Wants to Be Evil

The day of the entrance ceremony, Milly rose early. Perhaps because it was such a momentous occasion, the maids in charge of her preparations were in unusually high spirits. By the time they finished fussing over her with painstaking care as she slipped her arms into her brand-new uniform, it was already time for breakfast.

Hurrying toward the dining hall, Milly happened to cross paths with Kyle as he was leaving the estate.

“Good morning, father.”

She offered the words with all the formality and obligation of rote courtesy. Kyle, however, did not answer. He simply stared at her in silence. Was her uniformed appearance so novel to him?

Still, what sort of parent doesn’t even return a greeting to his own daughter? The complaint rose to her lips, but she forced it back down.

This was the first time she had seen him since his harsh rejection. Their mealtimes had never overlapped since, and her disillusionment with him already felt like something from long ago.

Before all this, I hadn’t given it much thought, but the truth is, we stopped being family ages ago, didn’t we?

In retrospect, Milly of the previous timeline had done as everyone else had. She agreed with whatever her father said. As the grand duke’s daughter, the safest course had always been to follow his lead.

Living under his umbrella until the age of eighteen had allowed her to focus on her studies, and whenever she stood before her father, she spoke only bland, inoffensive words, careful never to spark his displeasure.

But that was all in the past.

I’ve greeted him. That’s enough. I’m starving.

With so little time to spare, Milly hadn’t the leisure for courtesies, and more importantly, she was hungry. She couldn’t waste energy humoring him.

As she moved to slip past Kyle, he suddenly stopped her. “Milly.”

“Was there something else?”

When she turned back, her eyes were cool, shadowed. It was only because she was hungry, but Kyle’s eyes widened in surprise, something Milly failed to notice.

“You...”

“If there’s nothing, then may I be excused? You’re on your way to the castle, aren’t you? Please take care on the road.”

She expected nothing from him. She’d vowed as much the day she realized time had turned back. No matter what happened now, her father would continue to treat her as a tool. That much would never change.

“Ah, yes. I should mention I’ve been invited to a party today, so I may return home late.” With that parting remark, Milly pressed a hand to her near-growling stomach and left the scene.

Left behind were only Kyle—stunned by the transformation of the daughter who had once watched his moods so carefully—and the uneasy servants. Pressing a hand to his brow, unable to hide his astonishment, Kyle muttered aloud without looking at anyone in particular, “I never heard about any party.”

The servants, with no choice but to remain silent, shifted their eyes as if desperate to flee.

In Kyle’s mind flickered the memory of a much younger Milly, smiling as she held out a four-leaf clover she had found in the garden.

Meanwhile, having finished breakfast and set out from the estate, Milly felt nothing short of exhilarated. Starting her second student life with a clean slate didn’t seem so bad. Even the scenery through the carriage window looked different when viewed in that light.

Careful. If I let myself get carried away like this, I’ll end up dead before I know it.

Startled, she slapped both cheeks lightly and straightened her posture. For now, her goal at Grandor was to make friends. Not out of giddy excitement, but because she had concluded that building connections was necessary for survival.

Since she could not rely on her father Kyle, Milly needed new allies to stand against Angelina. She had no close relatives to turn to; that left only her fellow students. Eventually, she would need to gather information too, which was exactly the kind of task she could entrust to a friend.

I still don’t really know what friendship is supposed to look like, but I’ve heard it means helping each other. So surely friends would do things like gathering information for me, right?

She wasn’t certain, but she was convinced it must be so. Either way, Milly needed companions who would help carry out her plans.

Which means I’ll have to play my part well at Grandor.

Grandor Magic Academy was the most prestigious school of magic in the Kingdom of Aviria. On paper, it boasted equality between noble and commoner, but in practice, it was a noble’s academy through and through, with more than half its students coming from the aristocracy. A student’s standing was decided by their family’s rank, and those of lower status were expected to yield.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I was avoided at that academy.

In such a microcosm of society, Milly of the previous timeline had always radiated an aura that set her apart. Part of it was due to her birth, her family, the sole grand ducal house of the kingdom, while another part was thanks to her own excellence, both in academics and in magical skill.

And then, of course, there was her unsociable nature. Over time, Milly had established herself as untouchable. Before long, the very act of walking down a hallway had students stepping aside to clear her path.

If Milly spoke on a whim, all conversation around her would fall silent. If she looked away in irritation, a hush spread for meters around her. Though she had never been aware of it, Milly Asteara, the “final boss,” possessed a kind of power that bent the atmosphere around her.

That garden she had thought of as her secret refuge hadn’t been unpopular for any reason other than the fact that Milly frequented it. No one else dared approach.

“We’ll be arriving at the academy soon, my lady.”

At Bibi’s words, Milly opened the carriage window. Beyond the glittering cityscape of the capital, the familiar gates of the academy came into view. Grandor Magic Academy stood in the heart of the capital, its lavish main building rivaling the castles of minor kingdoms.

The source of its endless renovations was the generosity of noble patrons. Among them, the Asteara Grand Ducal House had donated enough to build another ornate main gate outright.

Pocket change to the grand duke, perhaps, but to the academy it was a lifeline. The special treatment Milly received as his daughter was nothing more than the result of such sordid politics.

It never made her happy. If anything, it ensured that only sycophants ever gathered around her. Half the reason Milly avoided socializing was the very fact she could never shake the feeling that people saw her not as Milly Asteara, but merely as the grand duke’s daughter.

She tucked her windblown black hair behind her ear, softening her expression as the scent of flowers tickled her nose.

“Bibi, I’ve made up my mind.”

“Yes? About what, my lady?”

“At the party after the entrance ceremony, I’m going to befriend someone.”

“Wh-What?! You want to make...a friend?”

“Indeed. Is that strange?”

“N-No, not at all. Just a little unexpected.”

“Really? Well, one should always set their sights high.” Satisfied, Milly closed her eyes, letting the pleasant breeze wash over her. Soon, the carriage passed through the grand main gate and rolled to a stop.

The entrance ceremony of Grandor Magic Academy was held in the chapel adjoining the school. Students weren’t obligated to offer prayers there. Outside of ceremonies, the place was mostly used by the choir. Supposedly, it was also popular for romantic trysts, which made it even less relevant to Milly.

The chapel’s most notable feature was its sheer scale. Large enough to hold several hundred people, it too had been built, unsurprisingly, with donations from noble houses. It boasted a massive pipe organ so costly it was said to produce tones delicate enough to enchant famous musicians. That same holy atmosphere, Bibi had told her, only added to the place’s popularity among couples.

In such a vast hall, even the smallest sound reverberated endlessly.

“Ah!” a startled student exclaimed as Milly made her way toward her assigned seat.

The echo drew another student’s attention, who in turn gasped. Before long, Milly found herself the focus of countless eyes.

It’s hardly a grand affair. Why even bother with assigned seating? Milly was too occupied with such complaints to notice the stares, but to those around her, that very indifference came across as regal composure.

“It’s the grand duke’s daughter.”

“Look at that beautiful black hair. Do you think it’s true that a sister prays over it every day?”

“Surely that’s just a rumor?”

“But it’s so gorgeous, so pristine. I could certainly believe it.”

“I agree. Absolutely lovely.”

Servants were not allowed inside, so Milly made her way alone to her seat, passing by the whispering students. Front row, far end, the kind of “special seat” that all but declared you must hear the pipe organ up close. Blatant favoritism, as tiresome as ever.

Huh?

But when she arrived, a girl with chestnut-colored hair tied back in a simple knot, giving off an air of plain sincerity was already sitting there. Tension showed in her eyes, but her back was straight as a rod. She sat, quite firmly, in the seat that was supposed to be Milly’s.

The chestnut-haired girl’s confident posture even made Milly wonder if she had been mistaken, but no, this was definitely her seat.

Come to think of it, this happened before the rewind too, didn’t it? Following the thread of her hazy memory, Milly finally recalled. Back then, she had simply pointed out the mistake. The girl had gone pale, stammered an apology, and fled. Now that I think about it, I must have frightened her.

Milly hadn’t been angry in the slightest, but after that, the girl always shrank away whenever they crossed paths. She remembered her face clearly and, unusually for Milly, even remembered what the girl had said.

She’s the one Angelina called “the heroine.” I seem to recall her hair being shorter, though. Maybe she had it cut at some point.

The chestnut-haired girl was someone closely associated with Angelina, Milly’s sworn enemy...not that their rivalry had been mutual, as Angelina had simply foisted herself on her. For the heroine, this had been nothing but a nuisance. Milly remembered hearing her complain more than once.

Angelina would sometimes spout nonsense at the girl: I can see the future, I control this world. Things so absurd they deserved nothing but laughter. If even a kind, gentle girl like this had been driven to grumbling, Angelina must have been a tremendous burden.

Friends, huh?

Still, when it came to making friends, even Angelina had surpassed her. That sort of boldness was something Milly knew she had to learn. She had no interest in unloading delusions on anyone, but she wanted friends badly enough that she ached for them.

Whether or not I can actually befriend her is another matter, but I don’t want to keep making her shrink away from me.

In any case, she had to take action now. Summoning her courage, Milly took a step forward and spoke, her voice just faintly trembling. “Um, excuse me. Might you have the wrong seat?”

“Eh?” The chestnut-haired girl hadn’t expected Milly to address her. She turned only after a stunned pause. “S-Seat?”

“Yes. That’s seat twenty-five, isn’t it? My seat is twenty-five, so...”

“Wait, there are assigned seats for the entrance ceremony?!” Leaping to her feet, the girl’s eyes went wide.

Though the hall was cool, a sheen of nervous sweat glistened on her brow. Milly wasn’t sure of her background, but such bewilderment suggested she was from a modest family.

“Ah, yes. You just give your name at reception, and they tell you your seat.”

“R-Really?! I’m so sorry—I didn’t know!”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t...”

“I’m so sorry! Forgive me! What have I done to the grand duke’s beloved daughter?!”

Apparently, she knew who Milly was. That only made her more frantic, bobbing bows, tears welling. Milly panicked.

Wh-What do I do?! I don’t mind the mix-up in the least!

She had tried to speak as gently as she could, yet somehow it only made the girl more frantic. Why did it always end like this?

“I-I mean, it’s fine,” Milly sputtered. “I just, um...”

“I’m so sorry! Please, just don’t have me expelled!”

“Expelled?!”

Already flustered, Milly was thrown into utter panic. With so little experience in communication, she had no idea what she was supposed to say.

Wh-What do I do? What would be best here? H-Help me, Bibi!

If she spoke, the girl squealed. If she kept quiet, the girl apologized endlessly. To make matters worse, stares were gathering, and Milly felt herself on the verge of breaking when suddenly, a hand landed lightly on her shoulder. She turned reflexively, struck dumb. Just above her eye level, golden hair glittered in the light.

“What on earth are you doing?” The exasperated voice belonged to someone Milly knew.

“Gilbert...”

Gilbert Fritzner. Second prince of Aviria, and Milly’s childhood friend she hadn’t seen in years. She hadn’t expected him here, and the surprise left her mouth hanging open, her greeting forgotten.

And then, the heroine, who only moments ago had been on the verge of tears, suddenly let out a small, startled, “Ah.”

“Aren’t you the one who helped me earlier?” asked the chestnut-haired girl.

“Huh?” Milly tilted her head in confusion.

A moment later, Gilbert gave a small nod of recognition. “The young lady whose scarf was snatched by a bird. So you made it here safely. I’m glad.”

“Wha...?” Milly was still utterly confused.

“Ah, no,” said the girl to Gilbert. “Thank you again for your help back there.”

It seemed the two already knew each other.

When Milly looked to Gilbert for an explanation, he gestured toward the chestnut-haired girl with his chin. “She was outside earlier, in a muddle after a bird took her scarf. I helped her with a bit of magic.”

“A scarf?” Milly glanced at the girl again.

Though she still seemed timid, the tension had clearly eased with Gilbert present. It was best to leave the matter to him now, so Milly chose to remain silent. Exhaling a long, steady breath, she cast a sidelong look up at Gilbert beside her and said, “Gilbert, could I ask you to look after her?”

“Hm?”

Both the chestnut-haired girl and Gilbert blinked at her in unison. Milly continued, “She doesn’t seem to know her seat. I realize it’s a strange request after so long, but would you take her to the reception desk and help her find it?”

Surely no one else would think of using the second prince as an errand boy. Under other circumstances, such impudence might have earned her rebuke. But after a moment’s hesitation, Gilbert gave a reluctant nod. Even after nearly ten years apart, his kindness hadn’t changed.

“Thank you,” said Milly, turning toward the girl. “And I’m sorry too, for frightening you.”

“Ah, n-no, not at all. I-I’m the one who should be sorry.” Bowing deeply, the girl looked up at Gilbert with an anxious expression. He beckoned her over with a gentle hand, then naturally offered his escort.

The sight suited him so well that Milly found herself thinking, They really do look good together.

Just then, as he was about to leave with the heroine, Gilbert turned back to glance at her. “Ah, um, Milly?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“It’s just... I wanted you to know that I did see it. Your letter, that is.”

There was no mistaking what he meant. It had to be the one she had sent recently, asking if they might speak at the entrance welcome party. The very letter meant to question him about his connection with Angelina.

“I hadn’t the time to send a response. My apologies.”

“It’s quite all right. I did send it out of the blue, after all.”

“I-Indeed... Now, concerning what you wrote...” Gilbert’s voice wavered strangely, his eyes darting about in almost comical panic.

Might he actually be nervous? Tilting her head, Milly watched as he gathered himself with all the gravity of a life-or-death decision.

“L-Let’s speak again at the party.” With that, he turned on his heel, looking embarrassed, and strode off with the heroine in tow.

Left behind, Milly watched his retreating back, a question mark in her thoughts. Was Gilbert always the type to stammer like that?

The Gilbert in her memory had spoken with more clarity. Perhaps he had something stuck between his teeth? She made a mental note to recommend toothpicks the next time they met and finally sat down in her now-vacant seat. At any rate, everything had ended more or less peacefully.

She was well aware of her poor communication skills, but hadn’t realized she was this awkward. If not for Gilbert, the situation might have gone terribly awry. She would have to reflect on all of it.

I overreached and wound up floundering. Honestly, I’m hopeless. Looked at positively, it meant she had nothing but room to grow. Still, her social ability was sorely lacking. She would have to have Bibi teach her the basics of human interaction.

It must be father’s blood in me. Comforting herself with that bit of blame-shifting, Milly straightened her back and looked ahead. The chapel was beginning to bustle with activity as the ceremony drew near.

Next up would be the entrance welcome party. She would need to be ready for that in particular.

In the end, despite her resolve, the entrance ceremony passed without anything worth remarking on.

If she had to note anything, it was that the headmaster’s speech leaned suspiciously toward themes of love and fateful encounters, and that the commemorative organ performance had been oddly discordant. Otherwise, the ceremony had been utterly ordinary. The fact that she hadn’t yawned outright was praiseworthy in its own right.

“Welcome back, my lady!”

The moment Milly stepped out of the chapel, Bibi was already hurrying toward her. In her arms she clutched a bag of melon bread, apparently a local specialty from one of the nearby stalls. Milly wondered if she’d kept her waiting, but clearly Bibi had enjoyed her time well enough on her own.

“Oh, are you tired?” asked Bibi. “Shall we stop somewhere to rest?”

“Not at all. Just bored, really. Let’s head straight to the party.”

She recalled once more how dull it had been. There hadn’t been any familiar students around her, and Angelina—the one she was keeping an eye out for—hadn’t shown up either. Simply sitting and listening to speeches had been entirely tedious.

But at last, the party. I’ll make a friend there if it kills me.

Quietly stoking her fighting spirit, Milly drew in a determined breath. In truth, she had spent the entire ceremony brainstorming potential conversation topics with her peers. She was as prepared as she could possibly be.

And she also had that promise to meet Gilbert. This wasn’t the time to indulge in weariness. Milly began scanning her surroundings eagerly.

“The party venue was in the courtyard over that way, wasn’t it?” asked Milly.

“Yes, my lady. I scouted ahead a little, and it looked as though the upperclassmen and faculty were already gathering.”

“I see.”

Those invited to the welcome party were the sons and daughters of families that had made significant donations upon enrollment. Most would certainly be nobles, and among them were likely members—or future members—of the student council. As she walked toward the courtyard, Milly found her thoughts drifting.

What was she going to do about the student council?

The headmaster’s letter had practically begged her to join, repeating something along the lines of “Please consider joining the council” every other line, but Milly still hadn’t come to a decision.

She was interested—and tempted, honestly—but couldn’t quite commit. She had never belonged to an organization like that before.

If I join the student council, will I just get in the way?

The council held more sway than any other body within Grandor Magic Academy. They were self-governed and dealt with problems directly as they arose. The judgments they rendered were absolute within the academy.

The headmaster’s plea for Milly to join was surely for the sake of appearances, so he could say, “The grand duke’s daughter is part of the governing body.” She could understand his reasoning. Simply having someone of high birth present would give the organization weight, and above all, the council’s authority would soar. Milly’s membership would be nothing but a boon to the academy.

But I really don’t want everyone shrinking away from me like that girl from before.

She thought back to the chapel earlier. If the council members reacted the same way, she might actually burst into tears.

“My lady? The entrance is right here.”

Lost in thought, she had apparently veered off course. Startled, Milly quickly corrected her path and shook her head hard. This wasn’t the time for fretting. What she needed to focus on was how to make friends at this party.

“My lady, are you sure you’ll be all right? I can’t accompany you inside the party hall.”

Bibi’s worried question, prompted by Milly’s distraction, earned a sharp pout in return. “I’ll be fine. You just go enjoy the stalls without worrying about me.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am! By the time I come home, I’ll be absolutely surrounded by friends!”

Forcing bravado into her voice, Milly pushed at Bibi’s back until the maid, still doubtful, finally left. She didn’t need hand-holding anyway. She was the grand duke’s daughter. She couldn’t allow herself to be underestimated.

All right. I can do this. First, find Gilbert and ask about Angelina. After that, it’s friend-making time. Not a second of this party will go to waste.

At the entrance, Milly drew in a deep breath, then smoothed the wrinkles from her uniform until it was perfectly crisp. All right. She steeled herself, and stepped into the brightly decorated hall of the entrance welcome party.

The venue was already filled with the sons and daughters of noble houses. Clusters of students laughed and chatted, while others huddled in corners to whisper in hushed tones. Striding forward with unhesitating steps, Milly let her gaze sweep the room. Naturally, she was searching for her childhood friend.

She wanted to find him quickly, if only to save time. But in this sea of people, spotting him wouldn’t be easy. When the throng became too much and she frowned slightly, one of the chatting students suddenly muttered, “My, Lady Asteara?”

Apparently, her arrival had not gone unnoticed. That whisper was all it took for murmurs to ripple through the garden.

“Wow, it really is Lady Asteara.”

“So it’s true she enrolled this year. This is my first time seeing her in person.”

“Same here. Did she lose her way or something?”

“That must be it. Surely the grand duke’s daughter wouldn’t attend a social gathering of her own accord.”

Never mind that she was a perfectly legitimate guest, somehow they had decided she was a lost child.

Milly’s brows knitted, and she plucked a piece of fruit from the table as if to prove her place among the guests. Hmm. I don’t see Gilbert. Maybe he hasn’t arrived yet?

Unfortunately, Milly had no acquaintances here. For a beginner at communication, making friends would be a daunting mission.

She clenched her fist, nerves bleeding through her composure.

“Oh! Been a while, hasn’t it, Lady Asteara?” a voice called from behind. Turning, she found a young man she didn’t recognize at all. “Ah, that look. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me?”

“That’s not true. Of course I remember you. It’s simply been a while.”

“Hmph. No, you definitely don’t. Do you even know my name?”

“Of course I do! It’s, uh, L... Luh...”

“Well, well. You actually got the first letter right.”

“Luh... Luh... Louie?”

“Nope. Wrong.”

Her reckless gamble failed. Hanging her head, Milly looked up hesitantly.

“I-I apologize.”

“Oof, that hurts. I was sure I’d managed to get pretty close with you, Lady Asteara.”

“If I hear your name, I’ll probably remember it.”

“Heh. Then I’ll trust you and introduce myself once more.” With a courtly bow, the young man lowered himself gracefully. “Lucius Henrieck. Please don’t forget this time, Lady Asteara.”

Henrieck... The family name rang a bell. After a moment’s thought, she recalled it. “Henrieck. You’re Lord Joseph’s son, aren’t you? The captain of the Avirian Knights.” Now that she looked, the resemblance was there.

Lucius smirked. “Well, yes, but Lady Asteara, you remember my father better than you do me? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

So she had guessed correctly.

“Of course. Your father has always been of great help to me. How is Lord Henrieck?”

“Ah, well, he’s hale and hearty. Sometimes too much so.”

“I see. I’m glad to hear it.”

Come to think of it, wasn’t Lucius a member of the student council? Meeting him here was quite a stroke of luck.

“And what about you, Lady Asteara?” Lucius asked, plucking up a wrapped chocolate. “What brings you to a party like this? I thought this kind of scene wouldn’t be to your taste.”

“It seemed interesting.”

“Interesting, you say? Honestly, I always thought you were the type who preferred studying.”

“I suppose that’s true enough.”

“Thought so. So what brought about the sudden change?”

Milly brought a finger to her lips. “You see, this is a secret, but...”

“Go on.”

“I want a friend.”

Lucius blinked. “A...friend?”

“Yes. That’s why I decided to come to an event like this.”

Lucius let his shoulders sag and sighed softly. Then he picked up another wrapped chocolate and held it out to her. “These are good,” he said. Taking the cue, Milly accepted it, and a gentle sweetness spread across her tongue.

“Well, I don’t really understand it, but I don’t see the harm,” he continued. “Better to be out here making an effort than brooding over grimoires all the time like you usually do. This seems much healthier.”

“You might consider choosing your words more carefully.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just, back when you were little, you were so bright and lively. It’s kinda nice, seeing you like that again.”

It sounded hastily tacked on, but with that warm smile directed at her, Milly couldn’t bring herself to retort. “You’re very smooth with words. You’d do well as a charlatan.”

“Was that meant to be a compliment?”

“It was.”

Milly sighed. Unlike her, Lucius was naturally approachable. If only I could be like him. Lost in thought, she found herself gazing into his amber eyes.

“I was just thinking how envious I am,” she said.

“Oh? Of me?”

“Yes. I can’t smile as freely as you do.” Without thinking, Milly reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek.

“Huh?!” Lucius’s amber eyes widened.

Milly pondered. His facial muscles had to simply be more pliant than hers. “I really envy that.” In an instant, it was as though time itself had stopped.

Barbells, squats... No, maybe pinching my cheeks with clothespins?

In all seriousness, Milly was contemplating ways to train her facial muscles, oblivious to the warmth rising in Lucius’s cheek beneath her touch.

Seconds ticked by. Just as Lucius finally seemed ready to speak...

“Hey! Wait a second!” Suddenly another person came barreling in, yanking Milly’s arm away.

Startled, she turned. Gilbert stood there, panting for breath.

Milly wrenched her arm free, then complained, “That hurt. Anyway, where have you been, Gilbert? I’ve been looking all over.”

“Never mind that!” Gilbert huffed. “Wh-What on earth were you two doing in front of everyone?!”

“What? Just talking. Right, Lucius?”

When Milly tossed the question to him, Lucius, still dazed, hastily raised his head. “What? Oh, uh, yeah. Something like that?”

“Something like that?!” Gilbert exclaimed.

“Oh, stop making this more complicated. Enough already. Let’s go.” Pulling at her childhood friend’s sleeve, Milly let out a weary sigh. “Sorry, Lucius, but I must take my leave.”

“Uh...”

“Thank you for keeping me company. From now on, I’ll be sure to remember your name.” Even if she couldn’t quite call him a friend, she could at least confidently say they were acquaintances now.

Tugging along a grumbling Gilbert, Milly wore a satisfied smile. After parting ways with Lucius, Milly and Gilbert sat down on a quiet bench, away from the crowds of the hall. Here, at least, they could talk without hurry. Milly picked up a piece of candy, unwrapped it, and got straight to the point.

“So then, shall we? It’s about what I mentioned in the letter.”

“Ah, y-yes.”

Whether from nerves or something else, Gilbert’s movements were stiff, awkward. His cheeks even seemed a little flushed, but with Milly crunching through the candy, any semblance of the previous mood vanished.

“Um, s-so you wanted to discuss something with me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry to trouble you in person. I could have been more specific in the letter, but circumstances made that impossible. So, Gilbert, I want you to give me an honest answer.”

“Wh-Why, yes. Certainly.” After a steadying breath, Gilbert’s expression grew taut.

“What exactly is your relationship with Angelina Grey?”

Gilbert froze, his face slowly turning crimson. “L-Lady Grey, the count’s daughter?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“Of course I do. W-Wait, don’t tell me that’s the ‘talk’ you wanted to have?” As Milly popped the candy into her mouth and nodded, Gilbert buried his face in his hands and sighed. “I should’ve known. That’s just like you.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, it’s fine. I just let my imagination get carried away. Ah, damn it all.”

Milly was about to ask more when she bit down on the candy, and her eyes lit up. “Gilbert, this is amazing!”

“What?”

“The candy! When you bite it, it fizzes in your mouth!”

“Uh-huh.” She had only wanted to share her delight, but Gilbert’s shoulders slumped. “A-Anyway, about Lady Grey...” he said, returning to her topic of choice.

“Yes, the topic at hand.”

“Why are you even asking about my relationship with her? It’s not like you and she are close.”

“That’s true, but there was something that stirred my curiosity. If it’s uncomfortable, you don’t have to share.”

“No, nothing like that. Honestly, it’s perfectly ordinary. When we meet at gatherings, we exchange a few words, that’s all.”

Milly puzzled over it. Why, then, had Angelina gone so far as to proclaim she would wed him? In the end, she hadn’t gotten the answers she wanted.

“I see. That’s enough. Thank you.”

“Huh?! W-Wait, that’s really all you came to ask?!”

“Yes. Sorry for taking your time. I’ll see you again at the academy.”

But before she could leave, a figure suddenly leaped out from behind a topiary, bowling Milly over.

“Oh! Prince Gilbert! So this is where you were!”

“Lady Grey.”

It was Angelina Grey, the so-called villainess, the one who had killed her in the previous timeline. Oblivious to the girl she had knocked to the ground behind her, a flushed Angelina smiled bashfully.

“I couldn’t help but run over when I glimpsed you, Your Highness,” said Angelina. “Forgive my lack of decorum.”

“Well, that part was fine.” Gilbert kept darting uneasy glances at Milly, but Angelina seemed blind to her.

Milly rose to her feet and murmured, “Purify.” Dirt vanished from her uniform, but her palm stung. She then saw the blood oozing from a scrape.

Better to just leave.

“Milly, wait!” Milly had turned away to go, but Gilbert’s serious tone stopped her. Angelina finally noticed the object of her hatred and her lips twisted into a scowl.

“Yes? Do you need something?”

“Do I...? Your hand is bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Still, you should have the physician look at it. And as for you, Lady Grey.” He turned to Angelina. “To come charging out like that, knocking someone over—Lady Asteara, no less—and not even offer an apology? That’s not just improper; it’s a complete lack of noble etiquette.”

Angelina flushed scarlet. “M-My deepest apologies. I’ll be more careful from now on.” She bowed perfunctorily and hurried away.

Gilbert sighed. “Being a teenager is no excuse for showing so little courtesy toward the grand duke’s daughter. I offer my deepest apologies.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You must have been offended. More importantly, how is your hand?”

“Just a scratch.”

Talking with him like this felt nostalgic, even comforting. Gilbert was called the “Perfect Prince” now, but deep within his eyes, Milly still saw the kindness she had known ten years ago.

She smiled faintly. “Gilbert, I’ve made my decision.”

“On what?”

“To join the student council.”

The abrupt declaration made Gilbert blink. “Huh?”

Ten years ago, Milly had had everything. Friends. The courage to try new things. Her mother’s love. That last one was gone now, but surely she could still reclaim the other two.

“The...student council? You, Milly?”

“Yes. The headmaster invited me, so I thought I’d give it a try. After all, I have courage now.”

“I-I’m not certain I follow your logic. I mean, we’re talking about you, here, and you seem to have decided so spontaneously.”

Milly pouted. “What’s wrong with that? Are you against it?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m necessarily against it...”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

“Wait just a moment! The student council is full of people who aren’t anything like you! There’s Ike, the marquis’s son, who’s completely lacking in tact, and Lucius Henrieck, the knight commander’s son, a notorious libertine...”

“I’ll manage.” Cutting him off, Milly lifted her eyes to the sky. “I’m going to change. Staying the way I am now won’t do.”

She couldn’t go on as she had before. To die miserably again was unthinkable. Time had been turned back for her sake. Surely this was a chance granted by the gods. Since her mother’s death, she had closed her heart and lived in solitude. Now Heaven itself had given her an opportunity to start anew.

If she wasted it, she would deserve to be murdered again.

Looking back, it’s frightening. If time hadn’t rewound... Imagining that possible future, Milly lowered her eyes. If the world had gone on without Angelina killing her, she would have lived on, stripped of family, title, and fortune, until she hated the world itself. Her only confidence had been magic and her studies. Perhaps she would have lashed out, become something out of a story.

The final boss?

The word flashed suddenly through her mind, along with Angelina’s screams of: “The whole scenario’s already played out, but it can’t end happily because you, Final Boss, are still alive!”

Lost in thought, she fell silent.

Gilbert leaned forward. “Milly? What’s wrong?”

From the moment Angelina had called her that in the garden, Milly had turned the words over and over. The final boss. The enemy who waited at the end of a story, the evil that had to be defeated for the tale to reach a happy ending.

Milly had never thought of herself as Angelina’s enemy. Yet Angelina had cried it out as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She still didn’t fully understand, but perhaps Angelina hadn’t been entirely wrong.

After all, the Milly of the present was willing to use others if that’s what it took to survive. Of course she intended to take her revenge on Angelina. And if that required using anyone at hand, she would. Seen objectively, she couldn’t imagine anyone better suited to be cast as the antagonist.

Heh. Yes, put that way, I suppose I am the final boss.

To live for revenge was exactly the role of a villain. Milly gave a small laugh and ignored Gilbert’s puzzled look.

As though to mirror her newfound clarity, a spring breeze brushed Milly’s cheek. When she tucked her windblown hair behind her ear, some not-quite-dry blood smeared faintly across her face. Gilbert started to offer his handkerchief with a worried “Here,” but Milly didn’t care.

She had made her decision.

If that’s what you wish to call me, then I’ll become the wicked final boss you desire.

She would use others and do whatever else it took to show Angelina her place.

“All right, then. The first step is making friends. Gilbert, that girl I left with you at the entrance ceremony, the one with chestnut hair. What was her name?”

“Her? It’s Sierra Restreive.”

“Sierra. Very well. This time, I’ll befriend her for sure.”

Her fighting spirit blazing in a new direction, Milly already envisioned the years ahead. In her imagination, she stood at the climax of the story, laughing like a proper villainess, surrounded by friends who served as her allies, and at last enacting her revenge on Angelina.

The image training was complete. All that remained was to make it real.

Why, why, why, why?! After the party, Angelina Grey sat in her carriage, repeating the unanswerable question. Why was Milly with Gilbert? Those two were supposed to be distant, so how...?

She thought back to what had happened only half an hour earlier. She had spent the party searching for Gilbert, and at last, she’d found him, but at his side was that detestable Milly Asteara.

That alone was incomprehensible. Worse, Gilbert had scolded her. Gilbert! The very one she adored.

This never happened before time rewound! Her nails dug into the fabric of her skirt. Today was wrong from the very start. Nothing followed the game’s script. Grinding her teeth, she slammed her fist into the carriage seat. Her maid’s frightened glance was just one more irritation.

The truth was, ever since the rewind, Angelina had shut herself up in her room. She hardly ate, and when she ventured out, it was only to snatch a few rolls before hurrying back. In the end, she hadn’t truly emerged until the morning of the ceremony.

The Grey family maids had their hands full. After nearly a week of refusing to wash, she had to be scrubbed down in the bath before being dressed in a rush.

While the household bustled, Angelina calmly pored over the notebook in her hands. The entrance ceremony was when Sierra first met Gilbert. For Angelina, who remembered this world as an otome game, the course of events should have been certain.

She had replayed Gilbert’s route countless times. During her isolation, she had poured every scrap of memory into that notebook: events, character profiles, affection choices. With that in hand, failure was impossible.

Maybe I should play it safe. If I can simply ruin Sierra and Gilbert’s first meeting, that would be perfect.

But thanks to her maids’ delays, she had missed her chance.

It would be fine. She still had time. With her knowledge and her notebook, the world would unfold as she wished. Neither Sierra nor Milly could outpace her...or so she had thought.

“What?” Angelina stepped into the church and froze. Why were Sierra and Gilbert together?!

Impossible! Their next encounter isn’t supposed to be until after classes begin. Her memory was flawless. And yet here they were, happily walking together. Something was wrong. Something irregular was happening. I can’t let Sierra steal Gilbert from me.

Clenching her fists, Angelina bit her lip. Gilbert was hers. She could not allow the protagonist to snatch him away. So even as the organ played and the headmaster spoke, Angelina forced herself to dredge up the events yet to come.

The next would be in two weeks: a tea party. There, Sierra would meet Nicholas, the student council president. That was when she would be invited to join.

In the previous timeline, that had never happened to Sierra because Angelina had blocked it. She would do the same again.

The worst outcome would be letting Sierra join the council and gain more chances with Gilbert. As for Milly Asteara, who hadn’t even appeared in the game until the final act, Angelina could ignore her for now. She would kill her again later.

After all, she was Angelina Grey, the villainess. Unlike the common rabble, she had the true right to be with the love interests. The happy ending would not go to Sierra. Nor to Milly. It would be hers alone.

Letting that conviction boil up inside her, Angelina curved her lips into a smile.

Chapter 3: A Clumsy Start to My Second School Life

“Good morning, father.”

The morning after the entrance ceremony, Milly, dressed in her school uniform, greeted her father with a flat tone as she entered the dining room, where he was already eating breakfast.

“Mm,” he grunted in reply.

“The weather’s lovely again today, isn’t it?”

“Mm.”

In the Asteara ducal household, warm family conversations did not exist, only obligatory greetings and perfunctory small talk. Milly was used to that, and she felt no real desire to change it. There were far more important things demanding her attention right now.

As she layered cheese and bacon onto a piece of bread, her thoughts wandered. Come to think of it, what exactly does a “final boss” do? I don’t read much fiction, so I’m not all that familiar with the concept.

She’d sworn vengeance against Angelina and declared she would become the “final boss” to see it through, but truth be told, Milly didn’t actually know what the role entailed.

Still, one thing was clear: she needed overwhelming strength and ruthless cunning to exploit others to her advantage.

She would make allies—in other words, friends from school—and use them to her benefit. Then she would utterly crush Angelina with sheer, unmatchable power. That was the “villainous final boss” Milly aspired to become. She was confident it was the right path forward.

However, there were still countless problems to overcome. Putting aside magical prowess and physical strength, Milly lacked even a shred of the cunning required to manipulate and exploit others to her advantage.

Hmm... I am fairly confident in my physical strength, at least. Letting out a sigh, Milly swallowed her bite of bread.

It had been ten years since her mother passed. During that time, Milly had devoted herself to studying and honing her magical abilities, and now she possessed magical talent far beyond that of others her age.

Thanks to her training, she’d also developed a decent amount of grip strength and now, if she got serious, she could pulverize a thick wooden plank with a right hook alone. On the strength front, she had nothing to worry about. Her communication skills, however, were sorely lacking.

Final bosses usually have this air about them, don’t they? They toy with people and bend others to their will before turning them into allies? I’d like to be like that, myself.

But no matter how charitably one viewed her, Milly didn’t possess the sly cleverness it took to manipulate others—a damning flaw for someone aspiring to be a “final boss.” Still, this was the sort of thing that could only be learned through real-life experience.

More importantly, she needed friends if she wanted to survive the next three years. Her top priority at the academy would be building friendships. Before the timeline reset, Milly had stood out—and not in a good way—so her first step would be to simply blend in with the rest of her class.

Once she’d befriended everyone in her class, she’d move on to the entire grade. Fortunately, she still had all the conversation topics she’d brainstormed for yesterday’s party, untouched and ready to deploy.

That is to say, she’d been a total wallflower at the party, but it worked out for her. According to Milly’s calculations, she’d have ten new friends by the end of the day. Depending on how things went, she might need to prepare even more backup conversation starters.

One way or another, things were about to get busy.

Heh. When I think about it that way, being the final boss sounds kind of fun. I may actually be cut out for this.

Cheered by the thought, Milly took a spoonful of her seafood soup, when Kyle suddenly broke the silence.

“Your maid told me you joined the student council?”

“Huh?” Milly blinked, brow furrowing in surprise. Kyle was staring straight at her with his usual dull, unreadable gaze. “Yes, well...”

“Why didn’t you inform me?”

As she’d declared to Gilbert, Milly had decided to join the student council. The headmaster’s face had practically lit up when she gave her answer. He’d looked on the verge of tears, even though Milly had only agreed because she wanted to try something new. Still, his reaction made her feel like she’d done something good.

Because of that, she’d ended up proudly announcing her decision to Bibi, but now that she thought about it, she hadn’t said a word to Kyle.

Tilting her head, Milly answered plainly. “Why? I didn’t see the need to inform you, father.”

While the student council held decision-making power within the academy, ultimately, it was just a school organization. As far as Milly was concerned, there was no need to share such details with someone like Kyle, who showed zero interest in his daughter’s life.

“‘Didn’t see the need’?” he parroted.

“Yes. I assumed you were busy.”

“That’s not the point. First the party, now this. You don’t make decisions behind your father’s back—”

“My, my.” Kyle’s unusually impassioned words were cut off when Milly gently raised her hand to her mouth. “Do you mean to say you’ve suddenly developed a sense of fatherhood?”

It was a genuine expression of surprise. She would never have expected Kyle—who had long since tossed aside both ethics and decency—to possess any such awareness.

“How unusual,” she said with a cheerful giggle. “Perhaps pigs will fly tomorrow.”

“Regardless, you are still my daughter.”

“I certainly am.”

After giving the calm reply to her frowning father, Milly brought another spoonful of soup to her lips. The light, salty broth was exactly to her taste.

◇◇◇

Each grade level was divided into three classes at Grandor Magic Academy.

Although the academy claimed that the class assignments were random in keeping with its motto of equality between noble and commoner, it was an open secret among students that politics always played a part. Children from rival families were often placed in separate classes, while those from allied houses somehow always ended up together. It was hard to believe such patterns were purely coincidental.

And so, after factoring in her family’s factional ties and her father’s influence, Milly was ultimately placed in Class 1-C.

“They put the grand duke’s daughter and the second prince in different classes? What the devil is the academy thinking?” muttered Gilbert, who had apparently been assigned to Class A. The self-proclaimed “villainess” Angelina and the “heroine” Sierra had also been placed in his class. For Milly, who’d hoped to grow closer to Sierra, it was an enviable arrangement.

Still, class assignments were a golden opportunity to make new friends. “Everyone’s nervous at the start of a new term,” Bibi had told Milly.

If she could just be proactive, friends would certainly come flooding in. That, in turn, would help develop her communication skills and bring her one step closer to becoming a manipulative, villainous final boss. Milly excelled at drawing confidence from absolutely nothing.

With this fiery resolve in her heart, she flung open the door to Class C, and the previously cheerful chatter in the room came to an abrupt halt.

That’s odd.

Everyone’s expressions seemed unusually stiff. Did she have something on her face? She was sure she’d washed up thoroughly that morning.

As she tilted her head in confusion, a breezy voice called out to her. “Oh, good morning, milady.”

It was Lucius Henrieck, the son of the Knight Commander who’d spoken with her at yesterday’s party. He, too, had been assigned to Class C. Something about him still gave off an insufferably glib impression.

“Good morning, Lucius. Tell me, do I have shrimp or the like on my face?”

“Shrimp?”

“Yes. I had seafood soup for breakfast.”

“Um, I don’t think shrimp is something that gets stuck to your face, but... Nope, you’re clean.”

“I see.”

But then why was the room so quiet? She hoped it wasn’t for an unpleasant reason.

“Here you are, milady.” Unconcerned with the strained atmosphere in the classroom, Lucius casually pulled out her chair with an easy motion. “I heard you joined the student council? Prince Gilbert was fretting about it.”

“Yes, well, I’m trying to make friends.”

“That again? Don’t tell me you’re actually serious?”

Serious? Of course she was. Otherwise, she’d be dead in three years. Milly had no choice but to spend those years surrounded by comrades.

“Naturally. Did you know there’s an old term for people who live fulfilling lives? They call them ‘normies.’ I’m going to be one.”

“‘Normies’?”

“That’s right. You’re joining the student council too, aren’t you? If you’ve got the time, you should aim to be a normie with me.”

“I’ll...give it some thought,” he said, though his skeptical expression was utterly at odds with his words.

Still, it’s a good sign that Lucius is joining the student council again, just like he did in the previous timeline.

As she pulled her writing instruments from her bag, Milly considered the situation carefully.

In this rewound world, things didn’t necessarily play out the way they had the first time, and that was troublesome. The major events—Kyle’s execution, Milly’s death—were unlikely to change. But all the little details along the way could easily shift depending on her actions.

For example, it wasn’t unthinkable that Milly’s decision to join the student council might have caused Lucius not to, though that particular worry, thankfully, had proven groundless. At this rate, her memories from before the rewind should still be useful.

Milly, lost in thought, didn’t notice a girl passing behind her. She pushed her chair back without looking, and the backrest struck the blue-haired student, sending her stumbling to the floor with a short cry.

Right after the girl’s hair ornament hit the ground with a sharp clatter, Milly jumped up in alarm. “Oh, sorry! Are you all right?”

“N-No, it’s... I-I should’ve...”

Even if she was aiming to become an evil final boss, Milly couldn’t just ignore something like this. She quickly helped the girl back to her feet, brushing off her uniform. Neither had been injured, luckily, but when the student realized Milly was the one who’d collided with her, her face drained of color. Though Milly was clearly at fault, the girl trembled until Lucius spoke up.

“That’s no good. It’s broken.” In his hand were the remains of the ornament that had fallen to the floor. The bergamot-shaped decoration had split cleanly down the middle, ruined beyond repair. “Her family runs a general store and this ornament is one of their products. A tiara-style piece, quite popular right now. Pricey too, I imagine. Poor thing.”

“Ugh.” Milly cringed.

“Having your pride and joy smashed like that, what a shame. Definitely something you’d expect to be compensated for, don’t you think?”

Tossing out the taunt, Lucius glanced sidelong at the girl, as though testing her reaction.

When Milly hesitantly turned her eyes toward her, the student took a few shallow breaths before finally opening her mouth. “S-S-S...”

“Hm?”

“S-Sorry!”

The girl snatched the broken ornament out of Lucius’s hand and bolted from the classroom, so quickly that a rush of wind trailed in her wake. Milly and Lucius stared blankly after the fleeing figure, then turned to each other.

“Lucius.”

“Yes?”

“Do I really look that scary? Enough to make someone run away?”

She’d thought she had at least a passable amount of charm for dealing with people in public.

Lucius answered with surprising seriousness, “Not scary, no.”

“I see.”

“But to be frank, I do think you could be murdered at any time.”

That was far too frank. Milly drove an elbow into Lucius’s ribs.

“Ow!”

As he doubled over in pain, Milly let out a quiet sigh. She had thought the start of term would be the perfect time to gather friends by the handful, but reality was proving far harsher. She would have to reconsider her strategy.

◇◇◇

At Grandor Magic Academy, several annexes were connected to the main building by covered corridors.

The one students frequented most was nicknamed the Owl Tower, which housed a vast dining hall. At midday, nearly the entire student body took their meals there.

Funded by noble patronage, the dining hall was extravagantly furnished. The second floor boasted leather-upholstered sofas and polished tables, where no expense had been spared. The opulent decor was especially popular among the sons and daughters of the higher nobility.

Naturally, common-born students and those of lesser rank tended to avoid those seats, and so the second floor had, in practice, become a sort of premium gallery reserved for the upper echelons. A laughably wasteful use of money, in Milly’s eyes.

It was in that second-floor lounge that Milly now found herself at luncheon, seated with Lucius and Gilbert, who had invited her. With a sigh, she jabbed her fork into the salad before her, prompting Gilbert to eye her with a puzzled expression from across the table.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“She’s sulking,” Lucius responded. “First day in Class C and she’s sticking out like a sore thumb.”

Milly would have objected to the word sulking, but it was true she was struggling to make friends. She hadn’t made any progress at all, and perhaps that was why even her salad tasted bland.

“I’m not sticking out,” she said. “I just haven’t settled in yet. That’s all.”

“Same difference. Half the time, when you greet people, they don’t even answer you properly. And when you apologized for bumping into that girl, she bolted out of the room. It was so pitiful, I nearly cried, myself.”

Lucius rubbed at his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of mock tears. Milly didn’t even have the energy to scold him, instead drifting back to her memory of that morning.

The blue-haired girl whose ornament she’d broken had returned with the start of first period—without the glittering hairpiece. Every time Milly tried to apologize, the girl slipped away. By the time she had worked up the nerve to try again, half the day had passed and it was already time for lunch. Her goal of making friends still continued to evade her.

“You know, maybe you don’t need to force yourself quite so hard. There’s no reason to push yourself past your limits like this.”

Gilbert’s worried frown only made Milly pout and turn away. Easy for him to say. Her very life was on the line. She couldn’t afford to take things lightly.

It’s father’s fault. Because of him, people think I’m difficult too.

His Grace Kyle Asteara was treated as little better than a ruling ogre in society.

With his personality, it was hardly surprising. At gatherings, he was said to be utterly overbearing, and once angered—even over trivial matters—he would not relent until the offender offered what he deemed sufficient contrition. For that, he had earned the epithet the Demon Duke.

Among the nobility, “never cross the ducal house” had become common wisdom, and Milly suspected that stigma had bled over onto her as well. A nuisance, through and through.

“Hmph, they’re all just frightened,” said Milly. “It’s not as though I’d run off and tell my father if they looked at me the wrong way.”

“Well, that’s true enough.”

“I’m not close enough with my father to tell him anything in the first place. If someone really irritated me, I’d sooner punch them myself.”

“I think that attitude may be part of the problem,” Lucius muttered, glancing away, as if he were remembering being on the receiving end of an elbow.

Milly gave him a sharp, sidelong look, but before the air could grow heavier, Gilbert dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, his expression softening.

“Still, isn’t it a good thing you’re at least trying to interact with people?”

“I suppose it’s my own fault for never showing my face in society, being the grand duke’s daughter, and all,” she huffed.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just feel relieved, that’s all. You may look different, but I can see that you’re still kindhearted.”

“What?”

Perhaps aware he’d said something uncharacteristic, Gilbert looked away, a faint flush rising to his cheeks.

Milly, on the other hand, went rigid, dropping her fork in shock. K-Kindhearted? Me?

The final boss she aspired to be was supposed to crush her foes with overwhelming might and manipulate others with merciless cunning. Kindness had no place in that vision. For a so-called final boss to be seen as “kindhearted” was utterly unacceptable. This was dire. Milly’s face drained of color as she flailed for words.

“I-I’m not kindhearted at all! This very morning alone, I didn’t even tell father ‘have a good day,’ I jabbed Lucius in the ribs, and...and I even made Bibi water the plants when I usually do it myself!”

“What exactly are you trying to prove here?” Gilbert asked, baffled.

“That I’m not kind! Right, Lucius?”

“Well, I can confirm the elbow to the ribs hurt. A lot.” Rubbing his side with a faraway look, Lucius seemed to feel the ache all over again.

Milly let out a breath of relief. That had been close. She was aiming to become the final boss. She couldn’t allow herself to accidentally be mistaken for a good person.

“Either way, you should make friends at your own pace. You’ll be busy enough with the student council soon,” Gilbert said with a weary sigh. Milly realized she had nearly forgotten. Tomorrow was the first meeting of the council.

“Ah, right, and isn’t there a tea party to prepare for too?” Lucius added.

“There is,” Gilbert replied. “Even if it’s just part of the duties, it feels like a heavy burden.”

That caught Milly’s attention. “You say there’s a tea party coming up?”

“Wait, you didn’t know that?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Her confusion was genuine, but Lucius looked at her as if she’d said something unbelievable. She, in turn, stared back as if to say he was the unbelievable one, and a few seconds of silence stretched between them.

She had, after all, spent three years at the academy in the previous timeline, yet she had no memory whatsoever of any school tea party. And from the sound of it, this one might even be a regular event.

“Seriously? Every first-year classroom is buzzing with nothing but that right now.”

“Are they?”

“Of course. Milady, just how little interest do you take in those around you?” Lucius recoiled as though he were looking at a traitor to the realm.

Gilbert promptly elbowed him, his tone reproachful. “Enough. Don’t be so harsh. It’s not surprising that Milly wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, come on. For a Grandor student not to know about the tea party, that’s just...”

“Don’t underestimate how much of a shut-in Milly was, you fool. This is the girl who might not even be able to recite the order of noble ranks.”

“What?” Lucius stared at her openly, unable to hide his disbelief.

The look grated on Milly’s nerves. “So what? There’s nothing wrong with not knowing about some tea party.”

“Ah, don’t sulk! My apologies, I was just teasing!”

Lucius leaned forward in flustered apology as Milly pursed her lips. It wasn’t as though she lacked interest in those around her. Information simply had a way of never reaching her.

“Really, Lucius, enough. Don’t mock the grand duke’s daughter,” Gilbert added.

“For the record, nine-tenths of the blame lies with you,” Milly shot back.

“What?”

He had meant to sound supportive, but in the end, Gilbert’s words had been the crueler of the two. Compared to Lucius’s teasing, his “defense” might actually have been worse.

“Anyway, milady, when it comes to not knowing the order of ranks...”

“Gilbert was joking! What do you take the daughter of the grand ducal house for?”

“As expected. If that were true, I’d have to reconsider pledging my loyalty.”

As if he had any loyalty to begin with. If the ever-serious Joseph were to hear such words from his son, he would probably collapse foaming at the mouth.

“So then, what exactly is this tea party? Some sort of school event?”

That was the real point of Milly’s interest.

The two of them laid it all out in detail. The tea party was an annual tradition held to mark the admission of new students. It involved nothing more than gathering around tea and cake to chat, but since it was the first real chance to mingle with upperclassmen, the first-years all looked forward to it. A charming little event.

“The student council runs the whole thing. We have to oversee everything, from setting up the venue to choosing what cakes will be served. The event itself is in around two weeks.”

“I see.”

“And tomorrow’s the first council meeting, remember? Without a doubt, it’ll be about the tea party. Ugh, just thinking about it tires me out.”

A tea party meeting, then. Where the other two sounded weary at the thought, Milly’s eyes lit up. “That sounds delightful. It means we’ll be working together as a council.”

“And?”

“I’ve always longed for something like that. I’ll have to start looking for cakes we could serve tonight.”

“Where does this enthusiasm even come from?” Lucius muttered.

It was obvious, of course: her desire to make friends. In her mind’s eye, she could already see her suggested pastries showered with praise.

Heh. They’ll probably say things like, “She’s not the grand duke’s daughter for nothing. Even her choice of sweets is impeccable.” What if people start thinking, “I wish I could be friends with someone like her”? What if so many actually became my friend that the house overflows with them during a slumber party? That would be troublesome.

Milly herself didn’t care much for sweets, but she couldn’t afford to miss this chance. She needed to begin her market research at once. Tonight’s dinner would be full of sweets.

“Thank you, both of you,” Milly said with a smile. “I’ll start planning to add another wing to my home right away.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Gilbert said.

“Best not to overthink it, old boy,” Lucius flatly replied. “Once you get lost in those weeds, you may never find a way out.”

Milly, paying no mind to their exchange, happily resumed her meal.

Only moments ago she was out of sorts, and now she was eating with a little hum of contentment. The change was so comical that Gilbert and Lucius couldn’t help but share a smile.

◇◇◇

“What? Cake? Right now?”

That evening, as soon as she returned home, Milly asked her maid Bibi to fetch cakes from all across the capital.

She couldn’t squander such a golden opportunity to make friends. And if she wanted to earn credit within the student council, research was essential.

“Yes. I want to sample cakes to be served at the academy tea party. Collect everything you can from the city.”

“M-My lady, that’s impossible without some sort of specific—”

“Specifics? Ah, yes.”

Without further guidance, Bibi would simply bring back every delicious sweet in the city. It seemed she would require more direction. After a moment’s thought, Milly raised a finger as if struck by inspiration.

“Let’s see. The taste must be good, of course. Appearance is important too. Something pink or white perhaps. That would be best. Everyone likes pink and white, don’t they?”

“There must be a million cakes in the capital that fit that description.”

“Then a million will do nicely.”

“I’m afraid that would be beyond me, my lady.”

Bibi buried her face in her hands at the impossible request. As a maid of the grand ducal house, however, she was nothing if not capable. Though not quite a million, within a matter of hours, she had laid out a veritable parade of sweets before Milly.

“Amazing! You really are the best, Bibi. Thank you!”

“Not at all. If you could perhaps mention a raise in my wages to His Grace, that would be thanks enough.”

Milly ignored her, bracing herself as she took up her fork. “Time to begin. We’ve not a moment to waste.”

Determined not to waste her chance at making friends, Milly attacked the tasting with single-minded zeal.

She jotted scores on the evaluation sheet she had prepared, sampled, jotted again, ate through three cakes, and just as she was thinking, “That will be enough for today. All this cream is making me queasy. Maybe I’ll continue tomorrow,” a realization struck her.

“Wait, Bibi.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Perishables spoil, don’t they?”

Bibi nodded gravely at her side.

A bead of cold sweat traced down Milly’s back as she sat frozen with fork in hand.

◇◇◇

The following morning, the corridor buzzed with chatter among the first-years. “Look, it’s the grand duke’s daughter.”

“Doesn’t she look a little pale?”

“She must be in a foul mood. If you catch her eye now, who knows what she might do?”

Even teachers kept their distance from Milly—the child of the “Demon Duke,” Kyle Asteara—as she trudged down the hall. Everyone feared the grand ducal house; not one of them wanted to be involved with it.

Th-This is bad. At that moment, Milly was locked in battle with the ominous growl of her stomach. Really bad. If I let my guard down, I might actually vomit.

The reason for her pallor stretched back to the day before. After Bibi had laid out mountains of cakes for her, Milly had made the horrifying realization as she worked her way through them that perishables spoil—and cakes, especially, spoiled quickly. Which meant all those dozens of cakes would have to be eaten within a single day. The poor girl’s stomach was not an infinite void.

Even if she enlisted the maids at home to help, finishing them all would have been nearly impossible. Throwing them out had become a real possibility, but then Milly made her choice: She would finish them herself.

Mother always said to never waste food.

And so, Milly now found herself thoroughly defeated by the onslaught of cream and sugar. One solid poke to the side, and she might very well lose it all right there.

I knew it. Finishing off yesterday’s leftovers for breakfast was a mistake. My digestion’s slow enough as it is.

At this rate, she wasn’t even sure she’d be in shape for the student council meeting after school. With a weary sigh, she barely managed to swallow back something threatening to rise with it.

What do I have for first period today? If it’s just a lecture, my stomach might stand a chance. She had just about made it halfway down the corridor with that thought when a ripple of noise reached her from ahead. She lifted her head. Hm? What’s going on there?

Up ahead, near the Class A room, a crowd had gathered.

Something was clearly happening inside. Students loitering outside wore anxious expressions, and when Milly drew closer, she could hear raised voices.

“Honestly, how could you be so foolish?! What would your mother say if she knew?” a shrill voice rang clear enough to carry into the hall.

Peering through a gap in the crowd, Milly caught sight of the scene inside. The Class A room, unusually empty of students, contained one girl flanked by a handful of attendants, berating another who stood before her bowing frantically.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“An apology won’t fix this! You slashed my face! Oh, daughters of petty barons really are despicable creatures!”

“I-I just tripped! It wasn’t on purpose!”

It’s that girl from yesterday. The one with the hair ornament.

Indeed, it was the classmate who had collided with Milly’s chair the previous morning.

But why is she in Class A? And what is this business about “slashing”?

Scattered around the two were bits of metal. Looking closer, Milly spotted the bergamot ornament, and realized it was the very hairpiece that had been broken in their accident yesterday.

Perhaps, when she tripped, the shards accidentally cut the other girl. As that thought crossed her mind, Milly’s eyes shifted to the one flanked by attendants, and she froze. She knew that face. Angelina Grey.

The girl shouting furiously, a small cut marring her cheek, was none other than Angelina Grey, the self-proclaimed “villainess.”

It was the first time Milly had seen her face since the entrance celebration party. Narrowing her eyes, she looked back and forth between Angelina and the cowering classmate.

Angelina was still berating the girl without pause.

Her tirade was little more than outright character assassination, dragging even the girl’s baronial family name through the mud.

“So I can assume your pauper father will be covering the damages?”

“Er, I-I...”

“Don’t tell me he can’t. Ten gold coins, precisely. If you want a peaceful school life, you’ll see he pays it today.” Angelina gave a mocking laugh and clicked her tongue sharply.

Milly could only scowl at the display. Ten gold coins. That’s enough to buy a house on the outskirts of the capital. No one in their right mind would pay such a sum for a scratch that small.

From what Milly could see, Angelina’s wound was in fact a mere nick. But that was Angelina Grey all over: flying into a rage over something trivial. And now she was demanding compensation, proof her avarice hadn’t changed at all from before the rewind. Utterly absurd.

Just then, the crowd behind Milly erupted in a stir.

“All right, all right, make way, everyone. Clear the aisle, gawkers, clear the aisle.”

Milly turned reflexively. Two boys were striding forward, pushing their way through the throng. As nearby girls squealed at the sight, Milly covered her ears.

“Ugh. Edgar, I can’t. There are too many people. I’m going to faint.”

“Seriously? Can you get any frailer? Pathetic.”

“I-I’m dying. My breakfast’s about to come back up.”

“Enough whining. Come on. Student council handles disputes at the academy, so this is our duty.”

With that, the sturdier of the pair—apparently the “Edgar” just mentioned—grabbed the collar of the bespectacled boy beside him and hauled him forward. More squeals rose from the watching girls.

The two of them, it seemed, had come to resolve the commotion. They marched straight into the Class A room and shut the door firmly behind them.

Student council? Milly stared absently after them, the words sticking in her mind. Could they really be fellow council members?

“Urk.”

Just then, her stomach gave another dreadful gurgle, and Milly clapped a hand over her mouth. This was worse than anything she’d felt before.

I-I must...make it to the lavatory!

She couldn’t disgrace herself here. She bolted from the crowd and sprinted toward the nearest restroom.

◇◇◇

When Milly finally returned and slid open the classroom door, Lucius, chatting with classmates nearby, looked over and nearly jumped.

“What’s with that face? You look absolutely ghastly.”

There was no hiding it now. Milly averted her eyes, pressing her forefingers together guiltily.

“Good day, Lucius.”

“‘Good day’? That’s all you’ve got? Don’t tell me you’ve caught something.”

“N-No...”

It wasn’t an illness, of course. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to explain, and the silence stretched. Lucius, apparently piecing things together, fixed her with a look that brimmed with exasperation. Milly thought her cheeks might start steaming from embarrassment.

“Well? Out with it,” he insisted.

“Erm...”

“Quickly, now. Or I’ll report you to His Grace.”

That would be a disaster. After all, she’d spent household funds on all those cakes without permission. Resigned, Milly forced herself to begin. “I-I...”

She confessed everything: that she’d heard the student council would be holding a meeting to decide on cakes for the tea party, that she’d ordered Bibi to procure mountains of them the day before, and that she hadn’t been able to finish them. Rather than throw them away, she had eaten far too many, leaving her in her current miserable state.

After hearing Milly’s explanation laid out so plainly, Lucius let out a long sigh. Exactly the reaction she had expected. “Are you daft, milady?”

That was the final blow. Milly, flustered, scrambled to defend herself. “That’s not it! I don’t usually eat cake, so I wanted to make sure the tea party would have something truly delicious...”

“Which changes nothing. The end result is you made yourself ill by stuffing yourself with cake.”

“Mmm...”

“Honestly, why do you always turn into a complete mess at the strangest times?”

She had no retort. Not when she had, in fact, made herself sick in precisely that way. Lowering her gaze, Milly brooded. No wonder that girl ran off the moment I spoke to her. Her thoughts circled back to what had happened earlier. The girl—the one in Class A being shouted at by Angelina—had yet to return to Class C.

She was probably still over in Class A. Hopefully the absurd demand for compensation had been smoothed over, but knowing Angelina, she might very well try to press for those ten gold coins in earnest.

If only there were something I could do to help...

When it came to Angelina, Milly couldn’t remain indifferent.

“Lucius.”

“Yes?”

“That girl from yesterday, the one I bumped into. Do you know her name?”

Lucius gave her a curious look. “The one who ran off the moment she saw your face?”

“You phrased that rather maliciously.”

“It’s true, though.”

“I suppose it is.”

The truth could cut like a blade. At her silence, Lucius sighed. “Her name’s Brima Bickel, from Baron Bickel’s house. I think her family does farming and runs a little shop. You’ve never heard of them?”

“Brima Bickel...” Milly repeated the name under her breath, and then a memory surfaced. “The Bickel lands... I’ve heard of them. That’s where cotton is grown, isn’t it?”

“No idea. Is that true?”

“Yes. I overheard father talking about it once.” In truth, she had only eavesdropped on his conversation with the steward.

As she mulled it over, Lucius frowned and said, “Anyway, what about you? Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you should skip the council meeting today.”

“What? Absolutely not!” Milly shook her head so hard it nearly brought something back up. Lucius gave her a look that said I told you so, but her ailment was about as serious as hiccups—so not particularly. Certainly not worth skipping a council meeting over. “I’ll be fine. If I take it easy until lunch, I’ll recover.”

“Hmph. Forgive me if I remain unconvinced.”

“I mean it!”

“Really?”

Milly met his skeptical gaze with determined resolve. Perhaps it was that earnestness that made him relent. Lucius reached out, lightly brushing her bangs back into place after her vigorous head-shaking had left them a mess. “Then at least don’t go making a spectacle of yourself.”

“Of course not. I would never be so unseemly.”

“First period is flight training, you know.”

“Oh...yes. That won’t be a problem.” Though her pause betrayed her, she steeled herself all the same.

If it was for the sake of attending the council gathering, then this too was a trial to endure. Nodding firmly, Milly set off toward her seat, her expression that of iron determination.

◇◇◇

And so began Milly’s battle with her own stomach, a struggle as fierce as any she had faced.

In first period’s flight training, where even the slightest movement might have sent her stomach rebelling, Milly ended up looking uncannily steady, her refusal to so much as twitch mistaken for flawless balance. In potion studies, where the acrid smell of chemicals threatened to overwhelm her, she clamped her nose shut with a clothespin to block out the stench.

At lunch she took nothing but a single glass of water, keeping as still as possible. Thanks to those desperate measures, she managed to see the day’s lessons through without incident.

Friends... Allies... Admiring glances! Her stomach still churned with cream, but at least she would be able to attend the student council meeting. The council chamber is on the third floor, isn’t it? I’d better hurry.

Unfolding a mental map as she walked the hall alone, Milly suddenly thrust a hand backward without warning.

“Ah,” came a voice behind her.

“Oh. It’s only you, Gilbert.”

When she turned, she found her hand gripping Gilbert’s; he had just been about to tap her shoulder. Releasing him, she spoke in a tone of mild reproach. “If you need me, call out. Don’t go poking me.”

“R-Right. How did you know I was there?”

“I sensed it.”

Her simple reply made Gilbert narrow his eyes in thought.

It was a kind of talent she had always possessed. For some reason, Milly had been attuned to others’ presence since childhood. In hide-and-seek she was unbeatable, to the point of reducing Gilbert to tears more than once with her uncanny ability. It was only natural she would notice someone approaching from behind.

“So, what did you want?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. I just thought we could walk together. You’re heading to the council chamber, aren’t you?”

With practiced courtesy, Gilbert steered Milly to his side, moving with a poise that made it hard to believe he was the same boy who had once cried through games of hide-and-seek.

“By the way, where’s Lucius?” Gilbert asked. “He’s a council member too, after all.”

“He was summoned by a teacher. He dozed off in class and got a thorough scolding.”

“Will he be all right?”

Probably not, Milly thought, but aloud, she said, “Who knows? According to him, as long as he isn’t expelled, he’s winning.”

“Milly, you really ought to reconsider the company you keep.”

Lucius could be surprisingly dependable in his own way, but it seemed his standing with the second prince was far from stellar. Gilbert leaned in with unusual intensity. “Listen to me. Don’t let that fellow gull you.”

“Huh?”

“If he tries to butter you up, don’t go along with it. That’s his tactic.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Milly felt as though she were sitting through some kind of crime-prevention lecture.

Gilbert flinched.

“Ah, w-well, complimenting your hair, or saying you look like some kind of fairy.”

“I see. And what else?”

“Wh-What else, you ask?! He... He might say you smell delightful, or...or even send you poetry?”

It was such a laughably old-fashioned sort of romantic notion that Milly couldn’t help but smirk. “Are you certain that’s not something you would do, Gilbert?”

“Excuse me?!”

His face flushed crimson at once, and Milly burst out laughing.

Realizing he was being teased, Gilbert snapped back, eyes flashing. “I’m merely trying to look out for you!”

Milly chuckled. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“A-Anyway! All I’m saying is, be careful dealing with Lucius.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll be sure to return any poetry he sends me unread.”

“Milly!”

The way he said her name, almost pleading, made her laugh aloud again. For all the world’s talk of the second prince as charming and refined, to Milly he was still the same boy who had been so easy to tease ten years ago.

I’m glad Gilbert’s on the council too.

Ever since they’d spoken again the other day, his tendency to hover had been a little much, but with him around, she wouldn’t feel so out of place. She was even tempted to share with him the ace up her sleeve: the location of the capital’s very best dessert shop.

“Tell me, Gilbert, have you any interest in custard tarts?”

“What? Where is this coming from?”

As Milly tossed out the question without preamble, the two of them arrived at the door of the council chamber. The heavy brown double doors bore a plaque reading Student Council Room. Even at a glance, it was obvious the cost of this chamber far outstripped that of any ordinary classroom. Milly frowned at the gaudy extravagance and looked up at Gilbert.

“This is it?”

“Yes. I hear voices. Sounds like someone’s already here.”

Nodding, Milly pushed the double doors open without hesitation. Sunlight streamed through the great windows, stabbing at her eyes.

Inside, amid furnishings that were all suspiciously expensive, stood two figures. One of them, a bespectacled boy, blinked in mild surprise when he saw her. Wait, she thought, sensing something familiar.

The blue scarves at their necks marked them as second-years. She shouldn’t have had any acquaintances among the upperclassmen, but she could swear she had seen them somewhere.

Before Milly could recall where, the one in glasses spoke in a languid tone. “So it’s true—the grand duke’s daughter has indeed joined the council. I assumed Edgar was just spreading rumors again.”

“Told you so. Well then, President, looks like you can’t skip out anymore.” The sharp-featured boy gave a dry laugh.

And with that, Milly remembered. They’re the ones from Class A this morning. They’re council officers after all, then. She recognized them as the very pair who had stepped in during Angelina and Brima’s dispute earlier that day. Relieved to have placed them, Milly let out a quiet breath. There’s the sharp-faced one, and there’s the one with glasses. Yes, I’ll have to be sure to remember my fellow council members well.

Milly silently repeated the simple descriptions she had just given them. Remembering faces and names was never her strength; plus, keeping track of two people at once already took real effort.

“Nicholas, Edgar. You’re here already.”

“Eh?” Milly, still locked in that private struggle, blurted out in surprise at Gilbert’s familiar greeting.

“What is it, Milly?”

“You know the other council members?”

“Of course. And you’ve met them too, at the party. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

Gilbert looked at her in blank astonishment. The realization hit Milly like a shock. She stood frozen, then bit down hard in frustration.

“Don’t think this puts you ahead of me.”

“What?”

To think her childhood friend had beaten her to getting acquainted with the others was outrageous. If she didn’t make friends soon, her very dignity was at stake. Fueled by that sense of rivalry, Milly sat down beside the bespectacled boy. Across from her, the sharp-featured one leaned forward as though he had been waiting for this moment.

“Welcome, Lady Milly, and congratulations on your admission. It’s been some time, though I doubt you remember me,” said the sharp-featured one, his voice calm, gentle, and suffused with warmth.

Milly glanced at his smiling face, nodded once, and kept her own expression perfectly still. “No, I do not, in fact, know you. You say we have met before?”

“I...didn’t expect you to admit that so bluntly.”

“Ah, if that stung, I’m sorry. I’ve just never been able to remember people’s names and faces, no matter how hard I try.”

Years of burying herself in study had left Milly’s mind such that, once she woke up each morning, anything unrelated to her books tended to slip away. Even remembering the heroine’s name—Sierra—had taken chanting it ten times before bed every night.

“Don’t worry about it. We only exchanged greetings before. I’m Edgar Franster, vice president of the student council. Try to remember going forth,” the sharp-featured boy introduced himself with a wink. Out of the corner of her eye, Milly saw Gilbert grimace.

Franster? Milly, unfazed, fell silent for a few seconds before exclaiming, “Oh! Franster. You’re from the line of the Count of Magic, aren’t you?”

“Oh, then you have heard of us?”

“Yes. I was saddened by the news of Lord Neil. Illness, they said. But still, to pass away just one month shy of his hundredth birthday...”

“If you could remember my grandfather, I’d have liked you to remember me too,” Edgar said with a smirk. But Milly couldn’t help it. She truly had no memory of him.

The Franster family held the kingdom’s sole title of “Count of Magic,” treasured as pillars of Aviria, where sorcery reigned supreme. To Milly, who had devoted her life to study and magic, the Franster family was nothing less than an ideal to look up to.

If only I’d met the famed great sorcerer Lord Neil while he was still alive. If time was going to rewind, it could at least have arranged that much.

As Milly silently grumbled at fate, the bespectacled boy spoke up hesitantly. “Um, so then, does that mean you don’t remember me either?” he mumbled so quietly it was hard to make out.

Milly studied his face for a few seconds, then nodded without hesitation. “Correct. I don’t recall you at all.”

“But two years ago at a party I actually worked up the courage to greet you.”

“My apologies. If you would, perhaps you could summon that courage once more?”

“Amazing, saying something like that with such an innocent face.”

Milly looked him over again, but still found no memory stirring.

If anything, the hair falling all the way to his collar seemed sloppy, and the thin-framed glasses paired with his long bangs only made him look gloomy. He gave her no impression beyond being a dreary presence. If Kyle had laid eyes on him, he’d probably have screeched and hacked that hair short with scissors on the spot.

Unaware of the appraisal he was receiving, the boy murmured on, “I’m Nicholas Einzdohr, Class 2-A. I’m nominally the student council president, though really it’s just for show. I look forward to working with you.”

Einzdohr. The name rang half familiar in Milly’s mind.

As she puzzled over it, Gilbert, seated beside her, supplied the missing detail. “Nicholas is the eldest son of a ducal family. A distant relative of mine.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, though, does it?”

That additional information hadn’t, in fact, been of any help—but even if it had, she still didn’t actually know the boy. All that mattered was that she stayed positive here.

The council is supposed to have six people, isn’t it? Nicholas, Edgar, Gilbert, Lucius—who isn’t here right now—and me. Which means there’s one more.

Milly gave a thoughtful nod. One more member she didn’t know.

If I’m lucky, it’ll be another first-year, though that might be too much to hope for.

She mused on this while half listening to the idle chatter of the others, until the heavy doors creaked open again. Reflexively, Milly looked up. And then her thoughts snagged for just a moment at the sight that slipped through the gap.

The boy who entered had hair so pale it seemed to glow, a head of silver-white that was almost translucent.

So this is the last member of the council?

The scarf at his neck was red, the color of the first-years.

As usual, Milly felt no flicker of recognition, but Nicholas supplied the name. “You’re late, Ike.”

The boy called Ike lifted his downcast eyes and slowly swept the room with his gaze. At the head sat Nicholas. Edgar lounged with his usual air of boredom. Gilbert’s face had gone strangely tense.

Then Ike’s crimson eyes landed on Milly and his expression tightened. “Why is she here?” The voice was deep, far too low to match his ethereal appearance.

After a beat, Milly reacted. “I’m sorry?”

She was the only girl present, after all. Which meant he could only be referring to her. But before she could process that, Gilbert shot to his feet. “How dare you address the grand duke’s daughter like that?!”

“Answer me first. Why is she here?”

“Not until you curb your tongue.”

“Will no one answer?” Ike cut across Gilbert’s words, glaring at Milly. “Tell me why a woman of the grand ducal house is here.”

Silence fell over the council chamber, heavy and oppressive. Under Ike’s unblinking crimson gaze, Milly faltered. He had called her out, and yet she had no idea why he was so furious.

Why is he so angry? Do I know him somehow? But Milly had never seen Ike before. Naturally, she had no idea why he would be directing such hostility at her.

While everyone else wavered in confusion, Nicholas said, “Not ‘she.’ Lady Milly. The grand duke’s daughter is a council member as of this year.”

“What?”

“She’s no intruder. Her being here isn’t odd in the least. Why are you so shocked?” Nicholas’s reply was simple and correct.

Ike, however, only stared in disbelief. His blazing crimson eyes opened wide as he fixed them on Milly.

Something about his look unsettled her. “Um...”

At her side, Gilbert glanced at her in concern.

Milly gave him a small look to reassure him, then continued more firmly. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually recognize you.”

“What?”

“Have I done something to offend you? Is that why you’re angry?”

Though poor at dealing with people, Milly was doing her best to probe for the cause. She didn’t know who he was or what his circumstances might be, but the hostility aimed at her was undeniable. And as a fellow council member, she needed to uncover the reason behind it.

“Ike, is it?” In the heavy silence of the chamber, her question was the only sound. If she could understand the cause, maybe there would be some way to resolve it.

But Ike’s reply crushed that fragile hope in an instant. “Don’t... Don’t spout nonsense at me, you foolish girl!”

The furious roar shook Milly’s ears. Before she could even react, Gilbert was on his feet. “Ike! That’s enough!”

“Shut up! You don’t recognize me?! Say that again—I dare you!”

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?! No matter who you are...”

“I said, shut up! The trash of the grand ducal house, sitting on the council?! Don’t make me laugh!” Ike’s rage boiled over, his shoulders trembling as he advanced on Milly.

Sensing real danger, Milly instinctively rose, but Gilbert stepped in at once, holding her back. “Stay behind me.” He pressed a steady hand against her shoulder to shield her.

The force made Milly stumble back a step, and in that instant, a sickening realization struck. Even as the shouting continued, she let out a faint groan. Her stomach churned audibly, cold sweat breaking across her brow. Alarms went off in her mind. She knew this feeling all too well.

“What’s this? After wrecking my family, now you play the victim?” Noticing her condition, Ike’s tone grew only harsher.

With every eye in the room fixed on her, Milly pressed a hand to her stomach. “I... I feel sick.”

“What?”

Milly bolted from the council chamber.

There was no mistaking it. The nausea roiling inside her was from the mountain of cake cream. What she’d half forgotten was now churning in her stomach, shaken loose at the worst possible time, and brewing the vilest of combinations.

Th-This is bad! I can’t possibly vomit at school! Water! I need water!

Clutching her mouth and gathering her skirt, she ran full tilt toward the dining hall. She had no idea that, back in the council chamber, the atmosphere had curdled into something strange. All she could do was flee.

◇◇◇

Milly managed to make it to the dining hall and gulp down some water. That alone did wonders for her condition, but the cooks—who had seen the grand duke’s daughter burst in pale-faced and desperate—clearly sensed something was amiss.

Within seconds, a message was dispatched to the infirmary, and scarcely half a minute later, the school physician arrived. One glance at Milly’s complexion, and the very first words out of his mouth were that she was to go home at once.

Naturally, Milly had every intention of returning to the council chamber and resisted with all her strength, but when half the household staff was summoned to escort her to the front gate, she had no choice.

Sulking, she climbed into the carriage and spent the rest of the day puffing her cheeks in indignation until she went to bed. The sheer unfairness of it all almost drove her to tear through the mansion in a tantrum.

And so, it wasn’t until noon the following day that Milly finally learned what had transpired in the council chamber after she left. Invited to lunch by her classmate Lucius, Milly was once again seated in the gaudy second-floor gallery of the dining hall, eating gratin.

“You mean when I couldn’t find you yesterday, it was because you’d gone home sick?” Lucius asked the question with an exasperated air, twirling his pasta on his fork with one elbow planted on the table.

The tone left Milly feeling mocked, and she scowled. “That’s not it. The school physician sent me home. I said I wanted to go back, but...”

“Well, of course. If the grand duke’s daughter were to vomit all over the place, the school would be in trouble.”

“But I’m a council member.” She turned her face away in a huff, swallowing the last bite of gratin. Even that childish gesture seemed to suit her amid the lavish decor of the second-floor seats.

“Lucius,” Gilbert said, sitting down. “How many times must I tell you not to rest your elbow on the table?”

“And what are you doing here, Prince Gilbert? I only invited milady.” Lucius narrowed his eyes in annoyance but drew his arm back grudgingly.

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” Gilbert responded. “Leaving you alone with Milly is dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What do you think I’d do, make a pass at her?”

“That’s precisely it.”

“As if I would attempt to seduce a girl who fills me with fear.” Lucius sighed in exasperation, and Gilbert’s expression only grew more severe. Truly, the two of them were so close it was almost enviable. Close enough to bicker like an old married couple.

“Anyway, may I ask something? What happened after I left?”

The boys could argue later. Since she hadn’t been able to attend the meeting, she needed to know now what had taken place in her absence.

Lucius scratched his cheek awkwardly. “What happened? Nothing, really. By the time I got there, Ike had already walked out. Without him, there was no way to hold a meeting, so it was dismissed.”

“He left too?”

“Yes, right after you. Seems he just doesn’t like you very much,” Gilbert stated bluntly.

Milly had suspected as much, but hearing it outright left her discouraged all the same. All her excitement over the tea party now felt like an illusion.

“I see,” she said, downtrodden. “So he really doesn’t like me. Perhaps it’s because I’m too talented.”

“With confidence like that, I doubt you’ll have much trouble here,” Lucius muttered with a sigh.

Milly, however, was entirely serious. “It’s happened before. Being beautiful and gifted just brings its own set of problems.”

“That may be true, but would you mind if I punched you once?” Lucius joked.

Gilbert’s sharp glare cut him off before he could so much as smirk. Lucius hunched his shoulders in defeat.

“Well, milady, I’m sure you’ve guessed as much, but Ike doesn’t exactly hold a favorable view of the grand ducal house.”

“More than unfavorable, I’d say. What I sensed from him was closer to hatred.”

“Well, I was trying to soften the blow.”

There was no denying it. The way Ike looked at her had felt almost like he’d had murderous intent. Even if she was aiming to play the role of a villainous final boss, being despised by anyone other than Angelina was hardly what she wanted.

“Still, it isn’t that Ike dislikes you personally, milady,” Lucius added.

“Even after shouting at me like that?”

“I wasn’t there to see that part, so I can’t say for sure, but what he resents isn’t you. It’s His Grace the Grand Duke. That resentment spills over onto you as his daughter, milady.”

Gilbert fixed Lucius with another sharp glare. “Why don’t you try ‘Lady Milly,’ hm? As opposed to ‘milady,’ I mean.”

“Yes, sir.” Lucius coughed lightly and went on. “Anyway, you might not know this, Lady Milly, but Ike is the adopted son of Marquis Ivrine.”

At that name, Milly’s eyes widened slightly.

The House of Ivrine. Even Milly, no expert on society, knew the name: the noble line that guarded the kingdom’s easternmost frontier, serving as the wall against their neighboring nation.

The military strength of the House of Ivrine was said to rival even that of Nicholas’s family, the ducal house of Einzdohr, giving it a formidable presence within Aviria. Milly had heard that the eldest son was adopted. Clearly, that was Ike.

“He was originally born into another house, a viscount’s family. But that house’s reputation plummeted about ten years ago after clashing politically with His Grace the Grand Duke.”

“With father?”

“That’s right. I hear His Grace was furious, and maneuvered behind the scenes to isolate them. Sending their eldest son, Ike, to be adopted by distant kin in the Ivrine family, well, I’d wager it was meant to placate him.”

Milly’s expression twisted. It was exactly the sort of thing her father would do.

Kyle Asteara, branded a tyrant and even called “the Demon Duke” in society, discarded courtesy and decorum whenever it suited him, but the moment anyone opposed him, his displeasure was plain for all to see.

Most likely, he’d been incensed at some lower-ranking viscount daring to voice dissent, and lashed out. It was such behavior that drove people away and, in the timeline before the rewind, led him to lose his way entirely.

If only father were the kind of man who listened, he would never have resorted to something as foolish as treason.

But wishing for the impossible served no purpose.

Looking down, Milly let out yet another sigh. She had lost count of how many today. “You seem to know a great deal about Ike’s circumstances.”

“Of course. We grew up together.” Lucius’s face carried an exhausted, resigned look that stuck with her.

Milly had no friends, but even she could imagine how he felt. Ike, constantly tossed about by the circumstances around him. Lucius must have found that pitiable. If Gilbert were caught in a similar situation, Milly knew she would feel the same.

“For all his faults, Ike does care deeply for his family. That’s why he resents the grand ducal house, for tearing him away from the viscount family he was born to. Of course, taking it out on you is foolish, Lady Milly. Truly.”

With those last muttered words, silence settled over the table. Milly couldn’t pretend she didn’t understand Ike’s feelings. There was no familial love between her and her father, but she had once had her beloved mother. When her mother died of illness, Milly had known grief as deep as the sea. The circumstances might differ, but Ike must have felt something similar, and so his hatred of Kyle—his loathing of the grand ducal house—was something she could comprehend.

But what am I supposed to do about that?

Because she had been through it herself, Milly knew: there was no way Ike would ever accept the grand ducal house, or her. But it couldn’t stay like this forever.

Her chest tight with frustration, she clenched her fist. It was just then, as the weight hung over the table, that the mood abruptly shifted.

“Honestly, this is why I hate dining on the first floor! Where is that commoner’s house? I’ll be sending them the bill for the cleaning!”

At the voice ringing suddenly through the second floor, Milly raised her head. The one ascending the spiral staircase and finally coming into view was someone she knew all too well.

Angelina, Brima...and Angelina’s attendants.

It had been only a day since Milly had last seen the self-proclaimed “villainess,” Angelina Grey. As for Brima Bickel, ever since the confrontation in Class A, she hadn’t spoken a word in class. She wore a troubled look now. Perhaps she wasn’t feeling well.

Milly found herself idly thinking this as she watched the group drift into the dining hall. As she stared absentmindedly, her eyes happened to meet Angelina’s.

At once, Angelina’s eyes went wide in shock. For several seconds she stood frozen, staring at them. Then, in a thin voice, the so-called villainess whispered, “Gilbert...and Lucius?”

Milly’s sharp ears caught the words, quiet as they were. She frowned, and Gilbert, noticing her look, followed her gaze. Spotting the familiar figure of their classmate, he spoke up. “Lady Grey. Here for lunch?”

“Ah, y-yes. But...why are you...?”

“I see. Well, the hour is short, so you’d best hurry. Come now, Lucius, finish up.”

Pressed by Gilbert, Lucius muttered under his breath but wound his fork around the pasta anyway.

Milly, watching in silence, felt a faint sense of wrongness. I didn’t notice before, but she looks worn down. Her hair seems duller, and the lines in her brow look deeper.

Yes, Angelina looked haggard. At the very least, when Milly had faced Angelina in the garden, the girl had still maintained the basic appearance expected of a count’s daughter. Now, though, with a fresh stain marring her uniform, the overall impression was oddly comical.

“Lady Grey? Aren’t you having lunch?” Perhaps noticing that she hadn’t moved an inch, Gilbert addressed her curiously.

Angelina started as though waking from a daze. “Oh, forgive me. Yes, of course. I should find a seat.”

“Our next class is Magical Biology, isn’t it? Don’t be late.”

With that, Gilbert looked away from her and returned to chiding Lucius, who was still dragging his fork idly through his pasta.

She’s rattled. Far too rattled. It’s as if she’s hiding something.

Milly also turned her gaze aside, fixing a deliberately bored look on her face so as not to draw suspicion.

From her new seat, Angelina murmured something under her breath. “Why is she sitting with two of the love interests? She was never supposed to have anything to do with Lucius.”

Love interests? Thanks to her especially sharp hearing, Milly was likely the only one to catch those words. Even Brima and the other attendants, standing close at hand, seemed too nervous in the presence of the prince and the grand duke’s daughter to pay attention.

Glancing sidelong at Angelina, Milly’s expression tightened. Something about her feels off. She blinks far too often, is completely flustered, and whenever her eyes meet mine, she looks away almost instantly. That thought gave rise to a hypothesis in Milly’s mind. It was unlikely, but worth testing all the same.

After a few seconds of consideration, Milly said, “Gilbert, about next week...”

“Hm?”

She had said his name deliberately, and out of the corner of her eye saw Angelina’s shoulders jolt. So she was listening. Good.

“There’s another council meeting then, isn’t there? About the tea party.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Would you come and fetch me from my classroom that day? It’s been so long since we’ve spent time together like this. I’d like to walk there with you.”

Gilbert froze, at a loss for words, just as Lucius choked on his pasta and sprayed it across the table.

“Lucius, that’s disgusting! Get a hold of yourself!”

“How is this my fault?! She’s the one who just went off the deep end!”

“Of course it’s your fault! Wipe it up this instant!”

“I am wiping it! But it was Lady Milly who...”

While Lucius scrambled with a napkin and Gilbert sat flustered, his face red to the ears, Milly alone kept her attention fixed squarely on Angelina’s table.

As I thought. Ninety-nine percent certain now.

When Milly had said to Gilbert, “I’d like to walk there with you,” Angelina had visibly stiffened, her shocked gaze snapping toward their table.

Between childhood friends, there was nothing unnatural about such words.

If anything, the more natural reaction would have been to focus on Lucius spitting pasta everywhere. Yet Angelina hadn’t looked at him once. Her eyes had locked on Milly and refused to move.

Piecing all of this together, Milly reached her conclusion. She’s sweating, and her breathing’s all uneven. Angelina, you still have your memories from before, don’t you?

Angelina Grey almost certainly retained her memories from before time had rewound. Everything in her behavior made that plain. And yet she clearly hasn’t realized I remember too. Otherwise, she would never be reacting so blatantly. All the better for Milly.

If that was the case, then as the “final boss” who must defeat her, Milly needed to begin planning her moves. Rising quickly, she gathered her dishes with brisk efficiency. “Oh my, look at the time. I’ll head back now.”

“Eh? M-Milly?” Gilbert stammered.

“And don’t forget to come get me next week. All right? I’ll be waiting.”

“Ah...”

“And Lucius...” After leaving Gilbert thoroughly flustered with her parting request, Milly turned back toward Lucius, who still had a cloth in hand. She met his eyes squarely, her voice ringing clear. “I’ll face your childhood friend properly. I can’t say what will come of it, but I’ll do my best to meet him halfway.”

“Hmm.”

Yes, she had been sidetracked by Angelina’s appearance, but the original issue was Ike, and what lay ahead between them.

As Ike’s childhood friend, Lucius surely didn’t think highly of the grand ducal house either. He might even harbor resentment, though he kept it to himself. Even so, he had spoken to Milly without reserve. She owed it to him to repay that kindness.

“I’ll see you later. And try not to fall asleep in Magical History again, even if it’s boring.”

With that, Milly left the lavishly decorated dining hall.

For a moment, the two boys left behind simply stared after her, then looked at one another in mutual agreement.

“She’s out of our league,” Gilbert said with a wry smile, and Lucius nodded.

“No. This won’t do. I have to stop this, before it’s too late,” the self-proclaimed “villainess,” Angelina Grey muttered under her breath, unnoticed by either of the boys.

Chapter 4: The Final Boss and the Heroine

Her mind made up, Milly was eager to speak with Ike as soon as possible, but that was easier said than done. Given how much he loathed her, seeking him out directly would only end with him brushing her aside. Until the next week’s council meeting—where she was certain to see him—Milly could do nothing but attend her classes diligently and wait.

Frustrating, but nothing good comes from rushing. I just have to be patient. She let out a small sigh. It was nearly the end of the lunch break, and she was walking alone across the courtyard to her next class: flight training.

As the name suggested, flight training involved the art of flying by means of a broom. The sense of freedom it offered made it one of the most popular classes, and Milly was among those who had come to love it. What thrilled her most was the simple fact that even with her poor stamina, once she was astride a broom, she could travel with ease.

As the grand duke’s daughter, Milly had led a largely sedentary life.

So while she was confident in her magical skill and raw power, her physical endurance was on par with—or worse than—that of a child. She was the type to waste magic daily just to spare herself effort, casting little wind spells at her feet to ease the burden of walking.

That was why, when she first took the class the other day, it had been a shock.

Before time rewound, Milly had scoffed that “being able to fly won’t do anyone any good” and often skipped class altogether. Now she wanted to slap her former self. Flight training was a revolution, nothing less than a marvel of civilization.

And the uniform is adorable too. I’m not used to pants, but they’re so easy to move in. The casual, muted-toned flightwear was apparently unpopular with many noble ladies, but Milly much preferred it to the gaudy academy uniforms.

Leaving the changing room in high spirits, she was just passing into the courtyard where class would be held when she heard a faint cry.

Hm? What was that? Dragging her long broom behind her, she moved toward the sound. There, she found a uniform-clad girl crouched down, shoulders trembling.

The red scarf marked her as a fellow first-year. Milly gripped her broom and drew closer, then caught her breath. She recognized that chestnut hair. “Sierra?”

Indeed, it was Sierra Restreive.

Before the rewind, the girl had been hounded by Angelina, who called her the “heroine.” And in this world, Milly had already crossed paths with her a couple of times. Now Sierra was hunched on the ground, shaking.

As Milly rushed to her side, she noticed something strange. Scattered around Sierra’s crouched form were strands of chestnut hair, unmistakably her own. Milly’s heart gave a violent jolt. Even she, with her often-slow intuition, could see at once that Sierra had been forced to have her hair cut. She knew instinctively that this must be why the girl was crying.

Milly dropped to her knees beside the trembling girl. “Hey, what happened?! Are you all right?!”

Sierra’s small frame shook, and Milly could hear faint sobs escape her. She must be terrified. Milly reached out and gently stroked her back as soothingly as she could. That chestnut hair, once long enough to be tied back, now barely reached her chin. The ends were too cleanly shorn to be natural. No, this had been no accident. It couldn’t have been done with scissors—it must have been some kind of wind magic or similar spell. Whatever the method, there was no mistaking it was done deliberately.

Who would do such a thing? She’d often heard it said that a woman’s hair was her life. She wanted to hunt down the culprit immediately, but she couldn’t just abandon Sierra here.

After some time, Sierra seemed to calm somewhat. She lifted her face slowly, and when her brown eyes met Milly’s, they widened in shock. “Oh! L-Lady Milly?!”

“Good day, Sierra. Are you feeling calmer now?”

“Ah, y-yes. I mean, f-forgive me!”

“For what?”

Sierra had, quite literally, nothing at all to apologize for.

Running her fingers through Sierra’s shortened hair, Milly’s expression softened at the sight of the damage. “Much has been cut off. It must’ve been done with magic. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Perhaps recalling what had just happened, Sierra lowered her gaze and shook her head. “No. I’m all right.”

“Well, that’s a relief. But did you see who did it? When did it happen? Choosing a deserted place like this makes it seem premeditated. Once I find them, I’ll be sure to...”

“U-Um, I...” Sierra faltered, eyes darting.

Her face was so stricken Milly wondered if she was physically injured after all. But when she leaned in to check, Sierra caught weakly at the hem of her uniform.

“Sierra?”

“I-I’m sorry. It’s just that I...”

“Yes? What is it? Are you actually injured?”

“N-No, that’s not it. I’m just so scared, I can barely speak.” Her voice trembled, and tears welled in her eyes.

The sight was so painful Milly immediately felt regret. Forcing questions on a girl quaking with fear was far too thoughtless of her.

“Forgive me. You’re right. This isn’t the time for interrogation.” Sierra’s care had to come first. Yet Milly had no idea how to provide it. Maybe the best she could do was make small talk to distract her.

Sitting down beside Sierra, she studied the girl’s face intently. I’m far too hopeless when it comes to small talk. What could I possibly say to make her smile?

Sierra looked at Milly, puzzled. Reflected in the so-called heroine’s clear eyes was a face so stern it was painfully reminiscent of the grand duke. Hardly the sort of expression suited to comforting anyone.

In times like this, what mattered was a smile. If she could just smile, things would somehow work out. So Milly forced her lips into what she thought was a smile, though in truth it was little different from her usual blank expression, and tried again.

“Um, I’m not very good at this, but please bear with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve never really comforted anyone before. So, tell me, what kind of topic works at times like this? Do you like cake?”

Of the few subjects Milly felt confident discussing, one was the city’s best cake shops and the other was the relationship between the moon’s phases and fluctuations in magical power. She remembered the strained look Bibi had given her the last time she launched into the latter, so she concluded it probably wasn’t the right choice for a girl her own age.

In that case, the perfect option was cake, but Sierra only glanced aside, looking troubled.

“So, you don’t like cake?”

“Wh-What?! N-no, that’s not it! It’s just, I don’t know much about sweets, so I doubt I could converse coherently on that topic.”

“I see. Then what do you enjoy, Sierra? Singing? Animals? Jewelry?” She rattled off the sorts of things she imagined girls their age must enjoy, but none seemed to draw any spark of interest from Sierra.

Out of topics to draw from, Milly looked flustered, until Sierra murmured softly, “U-Um, I suppose...the study of magic.”

“What?!”

The word magic made Milly lean forward eagerly. Her face glowed. She could hardly believe it. In a school where most students grumbled about magic being too abstract and tedious, here was a girl who actually liked it? She couldn’t let this opportunity slip away from her.

However, Sierra hastily shook her head. “Ah, n-no! I only mean I like it, not that I’m good at it or anything. Compared to you, Lady Milly, I can’t even begin to—”

“Skill doesn’t matter! Tell me, Sierra, did you know that there’s a subtle connection between the moon’s phases and human magical power?” Suddenly, Milly was rattling off words at a speed that must have seemed unsettling. But she couldn’t help it. She was overjoyed!

All this time she had studied magic alone. She’d pored over textbooks, devoured reference materials, read research papers, and gained enough knowledge to rival professional scholars. But she’d never had anyone to share it with.

Even when a new, revolutionary theory was published, Milly had no one around to revel in the excitement with her.

And now here sat Sierra. She had just said she liked magic. Despite being seemingly overwhelmed by Milly’s enthusiasm, she still nodded along.

Maybe this is what people mean when they talk about friends.

That thought had just softened Milly’s cheeks into a smile when something hissed sharply through the air behind her. Before she had time to think, she threw herself over Sierra, who shrieked in response.

Wind magic?! Milly instantly understood that someone was targeting them.

The spell had gone wide, veering off in another direction, but the intent was clear. It had to be the same culprit who had shorn Sierra’s hair. They had to be lurking nearby, watching.

They’re still around! Wrapping an arm around Sierra’s waist, Milly scanned the area.

And there she caught sight of a figure dashing frantically around the corner. Trousers. A boy, perhaps.

“Forgive me, Sierra. Hold on tight.”

“Wh-What?!”

Snatching up the broom she had set beside her, Milly swept Sierra into her arms and sprang onto it in one motion. She couldn’t leave the girl behind when there might be accomplices lying in wait, and if she wasted time casting protective spells, the culprit would slip away. Therefore, there was only one option, rough though it was: take Sierra along.

“Eeek! Wh-What’s happening?!”

“I deeply apologize, but I can’t leave you behind. I have to bring you with me!” Apologizing over Sierra’s shrieks, Milly shot across the courtyard at breakneck speed on her broom.

Her ponytail streamed behind her in the wind. She felt Sierra clutching tightly at her waist from the seat behind, and with that reassurance, Milly pushed for even more speed.

There, got him!

The fleeing student was easier to track down than Milly expected. Keeping her eyes locked on the retreating figure, she murmured a spell under her breath. At just the right moment, she spoke the final word clearly.

“Vine.”

In an instant, the nearby plants sprouted long tendrils that lashed out and coiled around the student’s body. Bound fast, the figure froze, then sagged in defeat after a few ragged breaths. They must have realized there was no escape.

What a hassle.

Slowing her broom, Milly soothed Sierra with a pat on the back as they drew closer. That was when she noticed: The captured student wasn’t wearing the school uniform, but the same specialized flight wear Milly herself had on.

And Milly knew one thing for certain: only Class 1-C had flight training this period. Could it really be one of her classmates? Her expression darkened as she studied the bound figure’s face. And then her mouth fell open.

“Brima?”

Brima Bickel. The baron’s daughter whose hair ornament Milly had broken the other day, and a known associate of Angelina. Now, pale as a sheet, the very same girl sat trapped within the cage of vines.

“You’re the one who cut Sierra’s hair?” Milly asked, scarcely able to believe it.

Brima hesitated for a moment, then, with a resigned expression, gave a small nod.

◇◇◇

“Sierra said she was going home.”

A half hour or so later, Milly now sat in the infirmary, across from Brima. The two had been excused from flight training class.

Brima Bickel—the culprit who had used magic to cut Sierra’s hair—was perched on her chair, small and withdrawn. Her eyes darted constantly, betraying her agitation. This image of her was so far removed from the cruelty of her deed that Milly couldn’t reconcile the two. She crossed her legs and fixed Brima with a steady gaze. That alone made the girl’s shoulders jerk.

“Even after having her hair cut by force, she said she ‘didn’t want to make a fuss.’ I can’t decide if that’s admirable or just too forgiving for her own good.”

“...”

“She also said she’d have her hair tidied up by tomorrow. Apparently her mother’s a hairdresser. But how is she supposed to explain the sudden change in length? Her mother will certainly figure out she was bullied.”

Having seen Sierra’s terror firsthand, Milly couldn’t keep the sharpness from her tone. No doubt her anger showed on her face. Brima refused to meet her eyes and said nothing at all.

Eventually, the heavy silence became suffocating. Milly let out a quiet sigh. Even if Sierra said she was fine, she must have been shaken.

When Milly handed her over to the school physician, Sierra had smiled at her, saying, “I was wanting a change anyway.”

Even Milly, for all her lack of social experience, knew those words were only meant to spare her feelings. No one would be happy about having their hair cut against their will.

And yet Sierra smiled and said she was fine, for Milly’s sake.

Milly knew she’d asked the wrong thing. Faced with “Are you okay?” Sierra could only nod. Milly had coerced her into saying she was fine when she wasn’t. That’s why I have to question Brima here, in her place.

Sierra may have wanted to avoid making a scene, but that didn’t mean Brima’s reasons and methods could be buried. That would only have encouraged escalation. Besides, the thought of leaving it alone made Milly’s blood boil, even though, as an outsider, she probably shouldn’t get involved.

Still, I am meant to be the final boss.

If she truly wanted to become the villainous final boss, then when an ally was hurt, she should storm in and confront the perpetrator head-on.

With that justification in her heart, Milly propped her cheek on the armrest of the sofa and fixed Brima with a long, unwavering stare. The girl said nothing. It wasn’t the silence of fear; it was more the silence of someone who simply had no intention of speaking.

“So then, why did you cut Sierra’s hair?”

“...”

“You’ve no intention of answering?”

“...”

“At the very least, you could shake your head or something. That much would help.”

But Brima gave no sign of answering, nor even of shaking her head.

Only her body trembled in small jerks, and the contradiction made Milly narrow her eyes. Between this and the broken hair ornament incident, it was clear that Brima was terrified of her. And yet, she continued on, clinging to her silence.

Was it courage, or just sheer stubbornness?

Looking closer, Milly realized Brima was biting her lip hard as if to keep herself from letting a word slip. So hard, in fact, that blood was starting to bead there. That wasn’t the mark of ordinary resolve.

No, this isn’t about refusing to answer. It’s more like...

“There’s some reason you can’t answer, isn’t there?” When Milly voiced the possibility, Brima’s trembling only grew worse. So that was it. There was something she couldn’t tell Milly. “I see. Why is that? Something to do with your family’s survival? Or perhaps you have an accomplice, and speaking would drag them down with you?”

At that, Brima’s eyes wavered violently. Another hit.

As Milly continued to press further, Brima finally broke and cried out, “L-Lady Milly! P-please, stop!”

“Good. So you’re finally willing to talk. Now, which was it? Was I right about your family’s survival? Or was it the accomplice?”

“N-No, it’s not that, I...”

“Don’t tell me it’s both.”

“It’s not!” Brima’s cry rang through the infirmary, leaving the room in momentary silence. Gasping for breath, she trembled as she leaned forward in her chair. Her eyes, wide and desperate, looked almost pleading. In a voice heavy with despair, she went on, “I-I’m sorry, please forgive me, I-I’ll apologize!”

“Brima?”

“Just this once...I can’t. If I fail this event, then my house truly will...”

“Calm down, Brima. What do you mean by ‘event’?”

“Please, forgive me! I beg you! I-I have to make Lady Angelina that girl’s ‘best friend’!” Her voice broke off as ragged gasps filled the air. Milly immediately recognized the symptoms of hyperventilation, brought on by the extreme strain she’d been under.

Brima slowly collapsed to the floor. Milly rushed to her side, catching her as she wheezed. Her mind, however, was swirling with unanswered questions. What is she talking about? What ‘event’? And what does cutting Sierra’s hair have to do with making Angelina her best friend?

The scene in Class A, with Brima being yelled at by Angelina, was still fresh in Milly’s memory. But even so, she couldn’t yet connect that incident with what had just happened here, nor untangle the nature of their relationship.

Now that she knew Angelina also carried her memories from before the rewind, Milly couldn’t help but wonder if that too was somehow involved. The thought alone made her head spin.

Angelina, you’d better not be plotting something reckless.

For now, though, the only thing Milly could do was tend to Brima in her current, unstable state. Until the school physician returned from seeing Sierra off, Milly focused all her attention on soothing the sobbing girl.

For the next several dozen minutes, Brima kept whispering apologies—to whom, Milly couldn’t even guess—as the tears streamed ceaselessly down her face.

◇◇◇

Until the following week’s council meeting, Milly devoted herself to investigating the cakes and teas to be served at the upcoming party in utmost earnest. Burdened by the responsibility of having delayed the last meeting, her zeal was unmatched. She marched through the capital herself, sampling confections, and even gathered the maids for full-fledged tasting sessions.

She would not soon forget that week: recording evaluations on a checklist that grew to over a hundred items, tasting sweets alongside her household staff, and rallying the maids who despaired over the threat of gaining weight. There were tearful pleas of “I don’t want to get fat,” heated arguments, and even moments that nearly erupted into outright scuffles.

After more than two hours of debate, they finally settled on a solution: Since no one wanted to gain weight, they would all exercise together. The decision left their bonds stronger than ever. Thanks to that, Milly’s survey went smoothly and to her surprise, the group workouts were actually rather fun.

Kyle had been furious when he discovered she had secretly turned an unused room into a wall-to-wall mirrored exercise studio, but she was already considering the addition of proper equipment.

Still, not everything was so cheerful. Brima, who had cut Sierra’s hair that day, had begun keeping her distance from Milly entirely. Her expression was always gloomy in class, and during breaks she wandered off somewhere on her own.

Since Sierra had said she didn’t want to make a fuss, Brima escaped formal punishment. But when Milly tried to approach her, Brima would run off, making it impossible to ask her anything about Angelina.

“Good day.”

So began the second student council meeting.

When Milly entered the council room with Lucius and Gilbert—who had kept his word and come to fetch her from class—they found the other three already in their seats.

Good. Ike is here too.

After what had happened, she’d half expected him to skip the meeting entirely. But it seemed he was honoring his duty as a council member. He sat there with a sullen look, nose buried in a book.

Milly took the same seat as the week before, Gilbert sitting beside her and Lucius next to Ike.

“Um, are you feeling better now? I was pretty worried.” The question came from Nicholas, in the same mumbled tone as last time. Why did he look so skittish? Did he really think she and Ike were about to start throwing punches? “Last week, you suffered from...sudden illness, was it?”

“Yes, more or less. I barely managed to hold it down.”

“Hold it...down?”

“It was a brutal battle indeed. I’ll tell you later. But first, may I say something?” Milly drew a slow breath and turned her gaze toward Ike, who still hadn’t lifted his eyes from his book. The others must have guessed her intent, for silence fell over the room. “Ike Ivrine.”

His shoulders twitched, and he finally looked up.

Those burning red eyes met Milly’s, laden with scorn and loathing. Time was supposed to dull anger, but his hatred showed no sign of fading.

“Lucius told me that you bear a grudge against my father over what happened with your family.”

“...”

“I’m sorry to admit this, but I didn’t know you. I had no idea that, because of my father’s quarrel, a child was torn from his own family and was still struggling with it today.”

Ever since her mother died when she was five, Milly’s attention had turned inward. Study, magic, research—she devoted herself to them entirely, knowing nothing of the world outside. She had no idea what her father did in society, nor of the people who had suffered because of his influence.

“I tried to think through why you were angry last week, in my own way.”

Milly’s ties to others had always been so faint that she could never intuit their feelings. That was why she thought things through. She read, studied, even used novels as reference, piecing together possibilities. It was the only way she could approximate what “normal” emotions might be.

“I think you were angry because of my ignorance.” This was the conclusion she’d come to after a week of reflection.

“What?”

“You were sent to live under the marquis’s roof, and then had to look at the grand duke’s daughter—your enemy’s daughter—smiling as if she knew nothing at all. That’s what made you furious, wasn’t it?”

Milly met Ike’s crimson eyes head-on. He said nothing, only bit his lip. That was confirmation enough. She’d guessed right. What truly infuriated him was that Milly, blissfully unaware of her father’s sins, could live so carelessly.

“I’m sorry I knew nothing of what you went through. Forgive me,” she said, her expression softening.

It had been her father, Kyle, who forced Ike into adoption. It was only natural that Ike bore a grudge against the grand ducal house, that his anger should spill onto Milly, that he would rage at her ignorance. None of it was strange.

“That’s why I want you to try to meet me halfway, and accept me.”

“Accept you?”

“I’m not asking you to be friends. Just...” Her words faltered there.

Milly bore no direct blame for the feud between her father and Ike’s family, which was exactly why she believed they could find common ground. For the sake of the student council, it would be better if their relationship were repaired. Everything would move more smoothly.

“Let’s try to meet halfway. Both of us. There’s so much we don’t know about each other.”

The hatred Ike directed at her wasn’t fair or righteous. But she could understand it. And because she understood, she made the proposal. Lay down their weapons, if only for now. Approach each other and think. And if, even after that, Ike still hated her, then so be it. At that point, she would accept it.

This was the plan Milly had stayed up nights devising. Maybe not the perfect solution, but it was the best she could manage.

Ike pressed his lips together, and silence once more settled over the chamber for an indiscernible amount of time. When at last his eyes met Milly’s, they still burned with that fierce inner fire.

“Tch. Don’t spout such nonsense. You’re nothing but the spawn of that heartless demon!” Everyone’s eyes but Ike’s widened. “You know full well what your family’s done, and now you talk about ‘meeting halfway’? You just say whatever suits you!” His voice dripped with fury, his expression so fierce it was as though he meant to kill Milly with a glare alone.

Milly, fixed in his sights, didn’t so much as flinch. She simply held his gaze.

The one who finally snapped was Gilbert, who had been stunned silent until now. “Enough of this, Ike!”

“Stay out of what doesn’t concern you!”

“What doesn’t concern me? Don’t be absurd! What are you even trying to accomplish, carrying on like a child since last week?!” Gilbert responded, his voice raised in anger.

Ike, provoked, seemed ready to shout back even louder, when a sharp clap rang through the room.

“Honestly, are you planning to put on this little scene every week? Both of you, cool your heads.” It was Edgar. Chin resting on one hand, he looked at them with a weary exasperation and cold eyes.

Gilbert shut his mouth, a guilty expression crossing his face. He knew he’d lost his temper.

Still, Ike shouted on. “Why should I?! Why should I be the one to endure this?! Don’t let yourselves be swayed by that bastard’s blood! Have you all lost your minds?!”

“Ike.”

“You too, President! You know what her father did to my family! Yet you bow your head just because she’s the grand duke’s daughter!”

“No, Ike. It’s time you realized something. I don’t want to be angry either.” Nicholas’s calm tone made Ike falter, breath coming rough but words cut short.

Milly, lips pressed tight, said nothing. She watched the scene before her as if it were happening in another world. So there really was someone else besides Angelina who despised me. As the grand duke’s daughter, Milly had lived in comfort, never once threatened by others.

“It’s natural you hate the grand duke. He tore you from your family on a whim. That anger makes sense.”

“...”

“But that doesn’t justify lashing out at Lady Milly. To me, it just looks like you’re throwing a temper tantrum.” Nicholas’s voice remained that same quiet murmur, difficult to catch.

Ike’s eyes were deadly serious, carrying the weight of someone who saw through everything.

What an unusual feeling. My chest feels tight, and there’s this sting right at the bridge of my nose. Milly pressed lightly at the front of her uniform. It was a feeling she had never known before the rewind. Something like sadness, something like emptiness, something like loneliness, all swirling in her chest. Strange. Before time turned back, I swore I’d never expect anything from anyone. But now that she’d been given a “redo” and allowed herself to reach out to others, she found it only brought her sorrow and emptiness.

She lifted her head, and her eyes met Ike’s wavering crimson ones. For a few brief seconds they stared at each other, silence stretching as if time had stopped.

“So...what?”

Before Milly could look away, Ike’s voice cut through the stillness. “So what?! I’ll never forgive her family, or her! And I won’t accept her being here!”

“Ike!”

“Shut it, Gilbert! I’ve spent all this time wishing...praying that you’d all die in the most miserable way possible! That’s all I’ve ever thought about!” No one could interrupt him. Ike barreled on. “And it’s not just me! There are countless others who hate the grand duke’s house just as much!”

“...”

“At least your mother got what she deserved! Serves her right! Grand duke’s daughter or whatever, sooner or later you’ll...”

A deafening crack split the air. Then, silence. Everyone turned toward the source of the sound. Without a wand, Milly had cast Spark, her eyes fixed on Ike, cold and lifeless. The momentum drained from him. His mouth hung open, but no words came out.

In that instant, there was no doubt Milly commanded the room. She drew in a quiet breath. “I see.” Two syllables. That alone made the air turn icy. “Trying to understand you was my mistake.”

“What?”

“All you’ve got is your grudge, and nothing underneath. Just shouting how much you hate, hate, hate. You’re pathetic.” Milly was startlingly calm. Fury supposedly made the heart race, but her pulse was steady. She had gone beyond anger into sheer contempt. “I understand perfectly now. You’re just afraid of my father.”

“What?”

“That’s why you vent your rage at me—and at my mother, who’s already gone and can’t answer back. You’re pretending it’s as if you’ve stood up to the grand duke himself.”

Ike leaned forward slightly...but no words came.

“How disappointing. I thought you had some backbone, but you’re just a child.” With that, Milly briskly began gathering her things. There was no longer any reason for her to stay. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she looked toward the president’s seat. “Forgive me, Nicholas. I’m going home.”

“Ah... Oh. All right.”

“I was wrong about so much. I’m sorry. Truly.”

She reached into her bag, pulled out a hefty bundle of papers, and thrust it into Gilbert’s hands before heading for the door.

“Another time.” With those final words, Milly closed the door behind her.

The five who remained sat dumbstruck. At last Gilbert seemed to recall what he was holding, and spread the bundle across the table. There were dozens of sheets, every one filled with neat, detailed writing.

Lucius picked one up and muttered, “Notes on cake shops. All the ones in the capital.”

And not just shops. Mixed in were recommendations for tea leaves, sketches of tablecloth patterns to suit the party’s atmosphere, and other such details, complete with rough illustrations.

“She put all this together, just for the tea party?” Gilbert muttered.

Nicholas and Edgar leaned over to peer at the bundle of papers.

“Amazing. I would have thought she’d be the last person who’d care about this sort of thing.”

“Agreed. Yet it’s written in such obsessive detail it’s almost creepy. And what’s this sketch supposed to be? Don’t tell me it’s a cake?”

While Ike alone bit his lip and stared down at the table, his childhood friend Lucius looked pained, weighed down by frustration. He knew Ike hated the grand ducal house. Had he done something—said something—maybe Ike and Milly could have reached an understanding. All Lucius had done was watch in silence, and that regret gnawed at him. He’d hoped Milly would have been able to break through.

“Excuse me. I’ll go look for her.”

Murmuring to the others as they pored over the papers, Lucius stepped out of the council room. He had to find Milly. He couldn’t just leave her like this. After all the effort she had put in—at the cost of her health, even—he refused to let it all be for nothing.

◇◇◇

Once she left the council room, Milly’s steps led her naturally toward a certain place.

“This garden...” The words slipped out unbidden as she gazed at the riot of colorful blossoms before her.

The garden, connected to the rear courtyard, was a spot Milly had often visited—at least, before time had rewound. Though it carried the bitter memory of Angelina pointing her wand at her and cutting her life short, the flowers here were as beautiful as ever.

This really is the perfect place to read. Hardly anyone comes here, and the scent of the flowers never feels overwhelming.

Drawing a lungful of that gentle, nostalgic fragrance, Milly stepped further into the garden. If I remember right, there should be a bench a little ways ahead. She hadn’t come here with any particular purpose. She simply wanted somewhere calm to sit and breathe.

She walked for several minutes, following her memory, only to stop short.

Oh? The bench wasn’t empty. A girl sat there, head bowed. Milly didn’t need to see her face to recognize the short chestnut hair.

“Sierra?” Sierra Restreive. In this rewound world, Milly seemed to keep crossing paths with her.

Startled, Sierra lifted her head, eyes round, then hastily stood and dipped into a bow. “Lady Milly! G-Good afternoon!”

“Yes, good day. You fixed your hair. It suits you.”

The chestnut hair that Brima had hacked at was now neatly trimmed into a sleek bob. No doubt her mother, the hairdresser, had finished the job. It was painful to think of the wound left in her heart, but the style did suit her. It was charming in its own right.

When Milly voiced that thought honestly, Sierra pinched the ends of her hair between her fingers and gave a shy little smile. “Thank you. Lord Gilbert said the same thing.”

“He did? That’s rare. No matter how much I change my hairstyle, he’s never once praised me.”

“M-Maybe he’s just too embarrassed to say it?”

“No, I’m certain it’s because he’s studied so much his brain has no room left for hair arrangements. Even if I spiked it straight up and lacquered it stiff, he’d probably just say something like, ‘So that’s today’s style,’ and leave it at that.”

“That’s... I mean, I suppose it’s not impossible, but still...”

Sierra’s awkward reply made Milly’s lips curve faintly into a smile.

Strange. She had been so weighed down by the council meeting earlier, yet a few words of conversation here already lightened her heart. This must be what it meant to have a friend.

Taking a seat on the bench, Milly patted the spot beside her, inviting Sierra to sit as well. “Come, let’s talk for a little while. Just idle chat. I’ve always wanted to try it.” The other day had been far too hectic, and besides, there were so many things she wanted to ask.

Sierra hesitated, caught between reluctance and obligation, but in the end she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. She perched timidly on the edge of the bench, eyes lowered in embarrassment.

“So then, why were you out here alone, Sierra?”

“Huh?! Um, f-for a break, I suppose.”

“A break from what?”

“Oh, nothing important. I simply haven’t been fitting in well with the new environment, so...”

“So you came here?”

Sierra nodded, clenching her fists tightly in her lap.

That’s right. Gilbert mentioned Sierra was a commoner with no title.

She had earned her admission through strong marks on the entrance exams, but at Grandor, which was all but overrun with nobles, it was only natural a commoner would feel stifled.

“You’re in Class A, aren’t you? You spoke so easily with Gilbert at the entrance ceremony. And then there’s Lady Grey. You two seemed like you could get along.”

Lady Angelina Grey. In the world before the rewind, she had often hovered around Sierra. Sierra had seemed more annoyed than pleased, but to any observer, it had looked like closeness.

Sierra shook her head in a fluster. “N-No! Someone like me could never strike up a conversation with Lady Angelina.”

“Really?”

“And as for Lord Gilbert, at the entrance ceremony, I didn’t even know he was a prince. When I found out afterward, I broke into a cold sweat. He still talks to me now, but I’m terrified of saying something improper.”

Her shoulders slumped, and Milly’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Angelina came to mind, along with what Brima had blurted about making her Sierra’s “best friend.” Despite all that, it seemed Angelina had yet to approach the girl.

If only I’d managed to pry more out of Brima then.

Unaware of Milly’s brooding, Sierra let out a small sigh. “What if I end up without a single friend? The tea party is coming up, and I don’t even have a group to sit with.” Her voice trembled. After all that had happened, it was only natural she felt anxious.

Milly stretched her arms lightly, then let a quiet murmur slip out. “It’s all right. You’re not the only one. I came here because I couldn’t fit in either.”

“What?!” Sierra’s startled cry rang out as she looked at Milly. Her face showed disbelief. The idea that the grand duke’s daughter could struggle with social ties had never even crossed her mind.

“You see, because of my family, I ended up being disliked without even realizing it.”

Milly quietly peered up at her.

“I tried, in my own way, to get along,” Milly continued. “But everything I did was wrong somehow. In the end, it was pointless.”

Her deep sigh melted into the garden’s floral fragrance. It was a hopeless matter. To Ike, who hated the grand ducal house itself, nothing Milly could do or say would ever reach him.

“It seems I’m just not suited for dealing with people.”

No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t change the family she was born into. Which meant she could never truly reconcile with him.

Lost in that hazy gloom, Milly was jolted back when Sierra gently placed her hand over hers.

“Th-that’s not true.” Her trembling voice brushed Milly’s ears. When Milly tilted her head, Sierra’s grip on her hand tightened, her eyes burning with unusual intensity. “I-I admit, at first I thought you might be scary, Lady Milly!”

“Y-You did?”

“But now I know that’s not true. You speak to someone like me, a commoner. You help me. You’re smart and strong. I really look up to you, you know.” Sierra’s words stumbled here and there, but they were spoken clearly, firmly. Her wavering eyes locked with Milly’s.

Milly’s own eyes widened. The warmth from Sierra’s hand, pressed to hers, was soothing and gentle.

“I... I really like you, Lady Milly.”

“...”

“I know you’re a good person. So if anyone says they hate you, it just means they don’t know you at all. That’s all it is. Because you’re kind, and strong, and...and so very lovely.”

As Sierra struggled to string the words together, Milly couldn’t help but let her lips curve into a smile.

Sierra flushed crimson as if realizing what she’d just said, stammering, “I-I shouldn’t have blurted that out!”

The flustered sight only made Milly laugh softly. “Heh. Thank you. It’s been years since anyone called me ‘lovely.’”

“Ah! I-I’m sorry, Lady Milly! I didn’t mean—it just slipped out—though it’s not untrue!”

“I understand. Hey, how about you stop calling me ‘Lady’?”

When Sierra tried to pull her hand back, Milly caught her wrist, drawing her closer as she peered into those warm chestnut eyes. So beautiful. They looked straight ahead, untouched by the stain of nobility or the corruption of society. Milly almost felt a pang of envy.

“Come, let’s introduce ourselves properly. I’m Milly Asteara. Just Milly is fine.”

“Ah, I...I’m Sierra Restreive.”

“Good. Sierra.”

Sierra possessed a radiance that Milly could only envy. And Sierra had encouraged her. That alone gave Milly strength.

To give up after a little rejection is hardly worthy of a final boss.

Exactly. She had chosen to enter the council with firm resolve. Even if there were those who hated her, she had to push back until the very end. A true final boss, after all, was nothing if not tenacious.

“But you know, Sierra, I’m not really a good person.”

“Huh?”

“I stay up past midnight all the time. I read in the dark, even though it’s bad for my eyes. And not reference books either—pirate adventure novels. Isn’t that downright villainous? I’m most certainly not a good person. Not at all.”

“I... I suppose not?”

Being labeled “good” was the last thing a final boss could accept.

Feeling oddly liberated, Milly spent the next ten minutes or so in the quiet garden chatting idly with Sierra. Though a tad stiff, Sierra proved kind and easy to talk to. She even laughed at Milly’s clumsy jokes, but more than anything, her insight into magic was striking.

After parting ways with Sierra—who said it was time for her to head home—Milly returned to the classroom and ran into Gilbert and Lucius, who had been scouring the campus in search of her. Gilbert scolded her harshly, but once they saw the brightness in her expression, both of them looked relieved.

Lucius even teased her, saying that she ought to “do something about her terrible drawing skills.”

Milly was in too good a mood to take offense, so she let him off with just a single playful thump.

◇◇◇

The academy’s tea party was only a week away. While the clueless fools around her gushed with excitement over the event, Angelina Grey sat alone in the school’s tearoom, gnawing at her nails.

“Milly Asteara...” spilled from her lips as she glared at the heap of notes scattered across the table before her.

The supposed final boss of the game world, the one she suspected was tied to the very reason time had rewound. Milly was always the thorn in her side.

Why? Why is she in the student council?!

Milly Asteara, in this rewound world, had joined the council. For Angelina, who sought her happily-ever-after, that fact weighed heavily indeed.

Lucius too! Why is he with her?! That never happened in the game! There was never any connection between them!

Lucius Henrieck was one of the romanceable characters in The Kingdom of Blossoms: Magi, the otome game this world was based on.

The son of the knight commander, he was the only “retainer” character among the cast of love interests. Though he came across as glib and frivolous, once a player entered his personal route, he revealed an intense, possessive devotion. That gap made him a fan favorite.

Angelina had never pursued his route herself. Still, the fact that Milly and Lucius were on such familiar terms filled her with burning irritation. And why shouldn’t it? After all, the right to grow close to Gilbert and the other love interests belonged to her alone—the protagonist of this world, the villainess reborn, Angelina.

Why? Why was she with one of the love interests? It doesn’t make sense!

In the game, and even in the world before time rewound, Milly had never joined the student council. Her character was defined by her aversion to social ties. Angelina had believed without question that the same would hold true this time, that everything would follow the game’s routes. Yet here, the thread had slipped. Something was wrong.

Did she meddle somehow? It’s hard to imagine mere time rewinding could change her personality so drastically.

There was no doubt about it. Milly was an obstacle standing between Angelina and Gilbert’s destined union. What Angelina wanted, more than anything, was to kill her then and there. But she couldn’t. Not now, for the Milly of this moment bore the Grand Duke Kyle Asteara’s protection.

The Grand Duke’s Blessing—an enchantment that nullified any attack directed at her—ensured she couldn’t be harmed. And to make matters worse, Milly herself was frighteningly adept with magic.

Then what? Try a surprise attack? No, she’s too sharp. If she caught on, I’d never be able to talk my way out of it.

Angelina clenched her damp palms into fists and slammed one down on the desk. Nothing was going right. Already her patience was fraying thanks to the incompetents that surrounded her, while the world itself seemed intent on obstructing her at every turn.

She clicked her tongue sharply, just as the tearoom door eased open.

“P-Pardon me, Lady Angelina.” It was Brima Bickel, looking as irritating as ever.

The very sight of her soured the taste of the tea in Angelina’s mouth. She clicked her tongue again, louder this time, and rose so abruptly her chair nearly toppled. Striding across the room, her temper flared hotter with each step. Up close, Brima’s face was all the more infuriating. Angelina raised her hand high and struck her cheek with all her strength.

“Aaah!”

“Silence. Do you want the whole corridor to hear?”

Brima crumpled to the floor, only to find Angelina looming above her, gaze frigid and lips curled in disgust.

“This is your fault. How could you bungle such a simple plan? Are you telling me you can’t even manage to cut a girl’s hair properly?” Seizing a handful of Brima’s hair, she jerked her head up.

Brima whimpered in pain, tears spilling down her cheeks. The pitiful sight amused Angelina enough to slightly soothe her temper. But it did nothing to earn Brima forgiveness.

“Thanks to you, I couldn’t take Sierra’s ‘best friend’ role for myself. How do you intend to take responsibility for that?”

In the otome game The Kingdom of Blossoms: Magi, there were not only romanceable characters but also a host of supporting ones. Milly, the final boss, and Angelina, the villainess, were two such characters. Another was the heroine Sierra’s best friend, a female student who always stood by her side. She provided tips about the love interests and even gave the player hints about current affection levels. In other words, she was the information broker.

Angelina had set her sights on this role. Not because she wanted to play informant, but because she realized how convenient that position would be if she wanted to win Gilbert for herself. In this world, the one thing Angelina had to prevent at all costs was Sierra, the heroine, stealing Gilbert away.

No matter how much progress Angelina herself made, if Sierra smoothly followed Gilbert’s route and claimed his heart, it would be game over. That was why Angelina had to stick close to Sierra, guiding her away from event triggers with the love interests.

The obstacle was, of course, the best friend.

A character who spent nearly all of school life at Sierra’s side would only get in the way. And so, in the world before time rewound, Angelina had resolved to take over that role herself, so that no foreign element could interfere.

And so, Angelina had more than achieved her goal of keeping Sierra and Gilbert apart. By forcing Sierra to avoid every single game event, she’d ensured Sierra never ended up with Gilbert, leaving Angelina alone to reap the rewards. It was the perfect outcome.

“Pathetic. All you do is cry. The least you could do is offer an apology.” Angelina let go of Brima’s hair with a dismissive flick, tossing her head aside, and plucked one sheet from the notes scattered across the desk. “‘Sierra has her hair cut by Angelina’s follower, and her best friend helps her up.’ You can’t even manage such a simple event? You must have been just as useless in your past life.”

The girl bit down hard on her lip and lowered her head. Brima Bickel, like Angelina, was also from Japan.

Angelina had realized this the very day she enrolled at the academy in the pre-rewind world, when she happened to glimpse one of Brima’s notebooks, scribbled full of notes in Japanese.

Learning she wasn’t the only reincarnator in this world, Angelina decided to make use of Brima, who was timid, spineless, and in the game itself so unimportant she didn’t even have a name.

In the game, the best friend character first appeared in a scene where Sierra was harassed by one of Angelina’s followers, who cut her hair. If that event could be triggered, Angelina could hijack the “best friend” position for herself.

In the pre-rewind world, she had revealed her reincarnated identity to Brima and used the Bickel barony as leverage to threaten her into cutting Sierra’s hair. From there, everything had gone smoothly. Angelina, helping Sierra up before the original best friend character ever appeared, became close to her, and even gained Brima as a servant in the process.

It had been the perfect result. Which was exactly why, this time around, Angelina had attempted to replicate it step for step. But just look at how that turned out. Nothing was going the way it had before.

Angelina glared at Brima. The girl finally managed to haul herself upright, speaking through her tears. “It wasn’t like that, I swear! Lady Milly just happened to pass by right then!”

“And I’m asking why you didn’t drive her off on the spot. Are you stupid?”

“I-I tried! I tried to drive her away with magic, but it bounced off in some strange direction and...”

“What?! Of course it did! Did you forget that idiot has the Grand Duke’s Blessing?!”

“Oh...” Angelina’s shout sent Brima crumpling pale-faced to the floor once more.

The pitiful sight only stoked Angelina’s fury further, and she clicked her tongue yet again.

Brima, who was supposed to know the game, had somehow forgotten the “losing event,” where any attack against Milly was nullified under the grand duke’s protection.

Unbelievable. Beyond pathetic. Crossing one leg over the other, Angelina sat back down and looked upon Brima with eyes full of scorn.

“How pitiful. Because you’re such a useless fool, the Bickel barony—scraping by on the trashy cotton it sells my family—will soon be ruined.”

For Brima, those words were no less than a death sentence. The Bickel barony survived only by selling cotton grown on its meager lands to the Grey family.

If she lost that patronage, they’d have nothing. For a family already overburdened with far too many children, it wouldn’t just be a setback, it would mean ruin. Starvation. Suicide.

Brima knew that perfectly well. Shaking, she staggered to her feet and pressed her forehead to the floor at Angelina’s feet. “I-I’m sorry! I beg you! Please, anything but that!”

“That house of yours has children crawling everywhere, doesn’t it? Instead of groveling before me, maybe decide which rug rat you’re going to sell off first.” Angelina nudged Brima’s shoulder with her foot, mocking the wretched sight.

Though they were both reincarnators, Brima had no memory of the pre-rewind world.

Of course she didn’t. In the game, she didn’t even have a name. She was just a faceless background character. Clearly, retaining her memories across timelines was a privilege reserved for the chosen villainess alone.

At any rate, now that I can’t seize the best friend role, I’ll have to make sure Milly quits the council.

Angelina’s gaze slid from the trembling Brima to the notes scattered across her desk. On one sheet, written in neat Japanese characters, the heading read: “Tea Party Event.” It was a detailed breakdown of the soon-to-come tea party, step by step. This was the first major event that unfolded in the game.

In this event, the heroine Sierra became embroiled in an incident: Poison was slipped into a student’s teacup, and suspicion immediately fell on Sierra, the commoner seated at the same table. By clearing her name, Sierra won the attention of Nicholas, the student council president, and secured a place in the council.

In the pre-rewind world, that incident never took place. The culprit in the game, Angelina herself, chose not to set the plan in motion. As a result, the event never occurred, and because Angelina spent her time glued to Sierra’s side, the tea party passed without incident.

Angelina still remembered how favorable that outcome had been. With Sierra never entering the council, Angelina had been free to deepen her bond with Gilbert alone.

I don’t have the luxury of fussing over Sierra this time around.

Her top priority now was driving Milly Asteara out of the council. She had to put every ounce of effort into that, and the tea party was the perfect opportunity. There might never be another.

“A poisoned teacup, hmm...”

Tracing a finger along the bold words in her notes, Angelina muttered under her breath. She already had an idea or two for how to use it to force Milly’s resignation. But the thought of failure made her hesitate. Especially now, when irregularities were cropping up at every turn, the risk of something unpredictable happening was too high.

Would she take that risk or simply bite her tongue and watch Milly sit in the council, day after day?

After turning it over in her mind, Angelina was suddenly struck by a flash of brilliance. Actually, I’ve got it. The perfect plan. Her lips curled into a crooked smile, and a breathy laugh slipped through her teeth. It was too wonderful an idea.

Angelina lifted her teacup with practiced grace, savoring a sip before resolving herself. I’ll drive her out. I’ll see that woman cast from the council, without fail.

That would come first. Killing Milly Asteara would wait until after the grand duke met his pathetic end.

Chapter 5: A Dance of Malice

From the day she had spoken with Sierra in the garden until the morning of the tea party, Milly had nothing but time on her hands. Even with her limited human interaction experience, she understood it would be best to leave some distance before dealing with Ike again. There wasn’t anything useful she could contribute to the student council in the meantime, and of course, she still had no friends to spend her afternoons with.

Burying herself in study like before the rewind felt empty. So, with a wealth of idle hours at her disposal, Milly came up with a new way to spend this hollow holiday. Today, I’ll do all sorts of wicked things, because I’m going to be a truly evil final boss!

With that rather skewed resolve, Milly now stood in her chambers at the grand duke’s estate, feet planted wide, arms folded proudly across her chest in a grand stance, though no one was there to see it. This was a pose she had invented herself, the “Final Boss Stance.” After all, appearances mattered. One had to look the part before becoming it.

Calling me a “good person” is one thing when it’s Gilbert, but then Sierra did the same thing. That’s unacceptable! If I mean to be the final boss, I need to start acting bad right away. In Milly’s view, a final boss had to be unquestionably evil. To be praised as kind was unthinkable. She needed to be feared, to have an awe-inspiring presence. And right now, Milly simply wasn’t wicked enough. She needed to change that, and soon. All right, time to get serious about being bad. But where to start? Well, obviously with the classics.

With a self-satisfied sniffle, Milly crouched down on the spot. She spread her knees wide, tucked in her chin, and glared at the goat-shaped wall carving. This daring pose was something she’d read in a book the other day, and it was called the “delinquent squat.”

Supposedly, it was all the rage among rough young men on the streets. It had become so much the symbol of badness that the book insisted anyone truly wicked was sure to be doing it.

Milly, catching sight of herself in the mirror, couldn’t help but grin at how thoroughly villainous she looked. It was perfect. Heh. This is almost too wicked. If a stranger saw me like this, they might mistake me for an actual criminal! But she didn’t stop there. Milly narrowed her eyes at the goat carving, dropped her voice as low as she could, and growled, “Hand over the money.”

“Eeeek!” The door burst open, and several maids shrieked, faces pale with terror. One even toppled to the floor in a faint.

Milly frowned at the unseemly display. How rude, to react that way to their mistress—though, admittedly, seeing their normally stone-faced lady muttering nonsense while crouched in such a bizarre pose might have been a shock.

“L-Lady Milly?! Whatever are you doing?!”

“My, this? I read about it in a novel and wanted to try it out. But never mind that. Whatever happened to knocking?”

“We did knock! And what’s happened to this room?! A b-burglar?!”

“Hm? Oh, I made the mess myself. I was bored.”

At present, Milly’s room looked like the aftermath of a bandit raid. She’d overturned the desk, spun the shelves around, and strewn books across the bed, her logic being that a villain’s room ought to look villainous. By her own estimation, the effect was quite wicked indeed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up later.”

“Uh, that’s not exactly the problem, my lady...”

“But more importantly,” Milly interrupted, “what do you think of this pose? Doesn’t it just reek of villainy?” This was the perfect chance to get an objective opinion. Fixing the goat carving with another fierce glare, Milly growled in a gravelly whisper, “Hand over the money.”

The maid gasped. “Our lady is possessed by some prowler’s spirit!” She backed away, trembling. Encouraged by the reaction, Milly added a theatrical click of the tongue. Well, she couldn’t really do it properly, so she just said “tch” aloud. The maid clutched at her apron as though an evil spirit had taken hold of her mistress, while Milly chuckled in satisfaction at the display.

“P-Please stop this, my lady!” insisted the maid. “What’s come over you?! Compose yourself!”

“Heh. Thank you for your feedback. Personally, I think I’ve achieved quite the wicked effect.”

“W-Wicked?!”

“Yes, especially the tongue-click. Don’t you think it added just the right flavor? I put a great deal of effort into getting the tone right.”

“What the devil are you doing with your afternoon off?”

Just as Milly was about to explain the finer points of cultivating villainous aura, another figure stepped into the open doorway. That glinting golden hair was unmistakable—Gilbert.

“Oh, good day, Gilbert. What brings you here?”

“I came to see you.” He paused. “And what in the world is that bizarre pose?”

“It’s not bizarre. It’s a carefully designed stance, meant to strike fear into all who see it.”

In other words, mastering the squat had brought her one step closer to becoming a proper final boss. Rising with a smug air, Milly cocked her head at her childhood friend, who looked distinctly put off as he glanced around the wrecked room.

“So, what’s your business?” she asked. “Something urgent?” If the busy second prince had gone out of his way to visit her, surely it must be important.

At her question, Gilbert blinked, visibly surprised. “What do you mean? Didn’t His Imperial Highness tell you?”

“Father? No, we hardly exchange proper words these days.”

“You say that like it’s perfectly normal.” Gilbert sighed, then turned to the maids still frozen in the room. “Thank you for showing me the way. That’ll be all.”

His easy smile sent them scurrying out with cheeks aflame. That, Milly thought with begrudging admiration, was exactly why he was the most beloved prince in the kingdom. Hard to believe this was the same boy who once burst into tears when she chased him around with a beetle.

“You just remembered something irrelevant, didn’t you?”

“No, not at all. So, what about my father?”

Gilbert let out a long breath. “You really didn’t hear? His Imperial Highness asked me to come. Said you’d been acting strangely, and I should sort it out as soon as possible.”

“What?” Milly blurted, staring at him in disbelief.

His Imperial Highness. That referred to her father, Grand Duke Kyle Asteara, known in society circles as the Demon Duke. And according to Gilbert, he’d personally asked the prince to come check on her? It didn’t make a lick of sense. She couldn’t begin to guess his intent. Frowning deeply, Milly glared at her visitor.

“And sure enough, I find this. Not only is your room turned upside down, but you’re crouched in some peculiar pose, scaring the maids half to death.”

“The room’s one thing, but the pose has a very clear purpose.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it does.” Gilbert waved it off. “Anyway, as long as you look healthy, that’s what matters. The way your father spoke, I thought Ike had really shaken you.”

He sighed again, casting his eyes around the wrecked room. “Still, you’ve really gone all out in here. Well, in any case, I know how you feel about His Imperial Highness, but you ought to speak to him once in a while. He does worry about you, you know. Considering he asked me to come, he’s more concerned than he lets on.”

Milly folded her hands behind her back and turned her head away, sulking. It felt like being told by a headmaster to make up with a classmate. If he were truly worried about me, he wouldn’t have said he didn’t care whether I lived or died.

The words her father had flung at her on the very day she discovered the world had rewound still rang in Milly’s ears. When she had begged him to protect her, Kyle had refused without a flicker of hesitation. He had neither been awkwardly joking nor embarrassed. She knew better than anyone how ruthless his brand of “rationality” was.

So for him to call in the second prince merely because she was acting strangely smacked of ulterior motives. Because that man would never truly worry over me.

Long ago, before her mother died, perhaps her father had traces of gentleness within him. But that was another lifetime. From everything she’d learned, especially from Ike, Milly had no illusions left: Kyle Asteara was cold to the core.

She lifted her chin with a sharp sniffle. Enough of that. The subject was closed.

“You know,” she said, “since you’ve come all this way, you ought to have some tea before you go. Bibi’s developed a sweet tooth after helping with my cake tastings. She’s been buying up every confection in the capital. We have more than enough.”

It wouldn’t do to send the prince away without any hospitality. With a quick incantation, Milly set the room back in order, the wreckage righting itself in seconds.

But Gilbert’s face darkened at her offer. “No, I’ll head back for today. I’ll try these famous sweets of yours another time.”

“Already? Are you pressed for time?”

“No, it’s not that,” Gilbert said. “But if I linger, it gets...complicated. Some nobles are quick to jump to conclusions.”

“Conclusions?” Milly tilted her head.

He gave a rueful smile. “If people start saying the second prince and the grand duke’s daughter are especially close, then suddenly I’m labeled ‘pro-Asteara.’ It’s tiresome.”

“Is that truly what happens?”

“Indeed. And right now, there’s already friction over the succession. Add to that, well, your father’s reputation, and...” He trailed off, lowering his eyes as though the words themselves were awkward to voice.

Milly caught his meaning. “Ah, I see. If you’re seen consorting with the ruthless, bloodless Asteara family, then people will think you’re cut from the same cloth, and that would damage your chance at the throne.”

“I never said it like that!” Gilbert cut in sharply, too fast.

Milly thought her summary neat enough, but there was no denying the hatred of the grand duke’s house. Nobles shunned them; commoners did too. For someone like Gilbert, whose popularity was his strongest asset, keeping that distance was only natural.

“That’s what it means to be a prince, isn’t it?” she said. “You’re at the age where you can’t avoid weighing such things anymore.”

Milly let out a small sigh. Ten years ago, life had been as simple as laughing and playing together. Now the world of nobility seemed unbearably complicated. Even she, who had long avoided society, could feel its weight. For Gilbert, who stood at the edge of the throne, those chains must be many times heavier. He no longer had the luxury of crying over insects—no wonder he’d grown so strong.

Accepting that truth, Milly’s face softened into a smile. “Not being able to frolic as you please is rather sad, isn’t it? Perhaps I should’ve played more tag with you while we still had the chance.” She laughed gently.

Across from her, Gilbert looked back with an expression caught between sorrow and unease, a tangle of feelings Milly couldn’t quite name. Just then, the clock chimed. Startled, Milly realized how long she had kept her childhood friend. He had already said he shouldn’t linger. It was time to let him go.

“I suppose that’s enough for today,” she admitted. “I’m sorry for keeping you so long. I’ll tell father not to meddle further.”

“Ah... Yes.”

“Well then, see you at the academy. Next time, I’ll show you my improved ‘delinquent pose.’ Look forward to it, won’t you?”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Really?” Milly tilted her head, disappointed. “Well, if you change your mind, just say the word.” She gave him a final wave, watching with a bright expression as Gilbert took his leave.

“M-Milly.” Just before the door closed behind him, Gilbert turned back, hesitant, her name catching in his throat.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Well, it’s just, if you...if you ever wanted it, then...even if I weren’t heir to the throne, I...” The words dwindled, collapsing into silence. Nothing passed between them for a few long seconds. Then Gilbert bit down hard on his lip, shook his head faintly, and forced a smile. “No, forget it. My mistake. Another time.” From the proud second prince, those words sounded uncharacteristically frail.

Milly remained standing where she was, replaying his unfinished thought. Then it struck her. Maybe he’s just got something stuck between his teeth again. She had already explained toothpicks to him at the entrance ceremony, and yet apparently he’d forgotten.

With an exasperated sigh and a smug little sniff, Milly reached for the nearest book. If nothing else, she still had time to perfect her final boss poses.

The holiday was only just beginning, and wasting it would be unforgivable.

◇◇◇

The tea party arrived in less than a week. Milly hadn’t lifted a finger toward preparing for the event since the previous council meeting, but plenty of work had clearly gone on.

At ten o’clock on the day itself, the grounds bustled with staff rushing to finish the setup. When Milly arrived early to survey the venue in the courtyard, Gilbert, at her side, widened his eyes at the sight.

“They managed all this in just two days? What an incredible display.” His gaze swept over the spectacle: row upon row of glittering decorations, so lavish it was hard to believe this was merely a school event.

Milly had to nod in agreement. “It really is. Almost a shame it’ll all be over in a single day.”

Everywhere sparkled. Seeing it, Milly understood why the students grew excited about this every year, regretting skipping out on the tea parties during her three years before the rewind.

Behind them, Lucius trudged along, looking like he hadn’t slept. “Ha, of course you think it’s marvelous. The reason it looks so splendid is because the knight cadets worked to the bone hauling it all together!”

“Why do you sound so put out, Lucius?”

“Because I got dragged into it as their overseer, and it was a nightmare! Never again!” Lucius, still looking thoroughly exhausted, didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

Milly gave him a sidelong look. “Oh? You, in charge? I suppose we should be grateful none of the teapots ended up laced with poison.”

“Honestly, I almost slipped something into His Highness’s teapot myself. Maybe a little brew to make cat ears sprout. Shame I wasn’t allowed near the tea set,” Lucius muttered.

“Tell me you’re joking,” Gilbert said flatly, fixing him a flat stare, before adding to Milly, “Don’t encourage him.”

Lucius’s deadpan tone suggested he wasn’t entirely joking. If nothing else, it made clear just how much of a headache the setup had been. Still, it said plenty that someone so young was trusted with wrangling a troop of fresh knights. He wouldn’t have been given the role had his talent not been recognized. Quietly, Milly adjusted her estimation of him upward.

“Lady Milly.”

The call drew her attention. Nicholas and Edgar were approaching across the courtyard, clearly there to inspect the grounds before the festivities began.

“Nicholas,” Milly greeted. “Good morning.”

“Morning. And forgive me for the other day—the situation with Ike, and all.”

Milly’s lashes lowered in embarrassment. “Think nothing of it. I lost my composure as well.” The memory of that scene in the council chamber made her cheeks warm. Being goaded into anger was childish. She would not allow it to happen again. “Besides,” she added with a faint smile, “you saw the notes I left, didn’t you? The teas and cakes on display were all on my list.”

They must have pored over that mountain of notes, Milly thought. When she offered a simple “Thank you,” Nicholas rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, well, honestly, you saved us. Left to ourselves, we’d never have come up with anything decent.”

“I see.” Milly wasn’t used to being thanked so directly. Having lived almost entirely on her own, such open appreciation made her uncomfortable.

The air had just begun to turn warm when Edgar barged in. “Notes aside, what was with those sketches? I nearly choked when I saw the real cakes today. They look nothing like your doodles. Have you been getting into abstract art, or what, Milly?”

“Pfft!” Lucius couldn’t hold back and sprayed laughter. Milly shot him a withering glare, but he only muttered, “Why me?” and looked away.

“I used to think you could do anything, Lady Milly,” Edgar went on mercilessly. “But clearly your sense of aesthetics is hopeless.”

“H-Hopeless?”

Nicholas stepped in hastily, hands raised as if to placate a wild beast. “Er, what Edgar means is, it’s part of what makes you charming. Anyway, we should be going. See you later.” Clearly sensing danger, he grabbed Edgar by the arm and hustled him off. The blatant attempt to smooth things over somehow made it sting all the more.

“Uh, well,” Gilbert offered, “I suppose one could call your renditions...distinctive?”

Lucius tried and failed to stifle his laughter at Gilbert’s half-hearted attempt at reassurance. Milly drove her elbow into his side, resulting in him letting out an “Oof!”

She’d been merciful, aiming for bone rather than anything soft.

“It’s not like I care what they said.”

“Liar. If that were true, then why do you look so sour?”

“Because you laughed. Sure, I know my sketches aren’t masterpieces, but they’re not that bad.” She turned away with a huff, every inch the sulky child. And when the two boys exchanged a look, as if they were silently agreeing on something at her expense, she only dug her heels in deeper. “Anyway, Sierra’s waiting for me. See you later.” With a sharp about-face, she stalked off. Her stiff shoulders and clipped steps radiated irritation.

The boys watched her go, and when she was far enough away, they both broke into helpless chuckles, for they remembered the bratty girl who once chased Gilbert around with bugs. It was oddly heartwarming to see her acting like an ordinary girl her age at last.

As for Milly, already out of earshot, another thought gnawed at her. Do I need to be good at drawing to be a proper final boss? Maybe I should ask father to hire an art tutor.

Of course, Milly wasn’t embarrassed about her drawing skills. Perish the thought. But still, a final boss whose sketches looked primitive just didn’t sit right. That much, at least, she had to admit to herself.

Resolutely planting her steps to keep the doubt at bay, she went off in search of Sierra. She was not ashamed. Definitely not.

◇◇◇

Later, Milly rejoined Sierra, and together they took their seats at one of the tables just as the signal was given to begin.

The rules of this tea party dictated that every student begin in a group of three. Moving around afterward was permitted, but the tradition was firm: Your first cup had to be shared with two companions. Because of that, many students had arranged their trios in advance so they wouldn’t be left scrambling. As for Milly, well...she had Sierra.

“Um, Milly?” Several minutes passed after they sat down. The venue was growing louder as the party filled, when Sierra ventured a timid question.

“Yes?”

“Um, what should we do? About the third person?”

Her expression turned apologetic. Milly blinked, then recalled the obvious. To follow the rules, they still needed one more at their table. And with the seats filling up fast, they’d better act quickly.

“Right. If only we had someone we knew to join us...”

“Oh, well, as you’re surely aware, I don’t know anyone.”

“Neither do I.” The only acquaintances Milly could reasonably claim were her fellow council members, but the rules forbade them from sitting together. And seeking out Angelina was, of course, unthinkable. “Which means we’ll have to find someone here and now...”

She glanced around the hall, but every time her gaze brushed across another student, they quickly looked away. Milly frowned. Sierra gave a sheepish smile.

“As expected, not many are brave enough to sit at this table.” Indeed, it was daunting enough to take tea beside the duke’s daughter. Add to that the presence of a commoner at her side, and the pairing must have looked positively perilous.

Resigned, Milly sighed. For the first time in her life, her noble birth felt like a hindrance. “My apologies. It’s my fault, being born a lady of the grand duke’s house.”

“You make it sound as if you regret even existing.”

“That’s it! If I renounce my family name here and now, I’ll be a commoner.”

“P-Please don’t even joke about that!” Sierra shook her head so hard it was a wonder it stayed attached.

Milly gave her a quizzical look, genuinely puzzled by the reaction. “But what other choice do we have?” Before she could continue, her eyes fixed on a nearby table. A silver-haired girl was speaking with some students as they sat down at a table.

A green scarf. That means she’s a third-year.

She hadn’t noticed Milly watching her. After exchanging a few words, her expression twisted in disappointment, and she trudged away alone. She must have been turned down from joining that table. Feeling a little sorry for her, Milly suddenly realized the situation was perfect. If they invited her, their problem would be solved.

“Excuse me, girl with the beautiful silver hair over there!” Milly pitched her voice loud enough to carry across the tables. Instantly, the surrounding chatter died down, several tables falling silent at once. That certainly hadn’t been necessary. Milly was only calling out to the one girl, but the hush did make it easier for Milly to be heard. Feeling every pair of eyes on her, she smiled at the silver-haired girl who had turned back to face her.

“You caught my eye, you see. I think it must be because your hair is so strikingly beautiful. Would you do us the honor of joining our table?”

All the watching eyes shifted from Milly to the girl.

Startled by the sudden attention, the silver-haired student flustered, her voice trembling as she answered. “M-Me? I... I can sit with you?”

“Of course. Right, Sierra?” Milly turned, and Sierra, her face drawn tight with nerves, nodded quickly.

The silver-haired girl’s eyes welled up, and soon, the three seats at Milly’s table were neatly filled. The girl thanked them so profusely it was almost embarrassing. This was no place to admit that Milly and Sierra themselves had been equally desperate not to be left out.

Her name, they soon learned, was Lizbel. A third-year from a viscount’s family, she had a wealth of knowledge about plants, enough to make Sierra’s eyes light up with admiration.

Her lack of friends, she explained, stemmed from her family’s circumstances. She hadn’t gone into detail, but said she’d grown used to being isolated at social gatherings, and that she’d never imagined the grand duke’s daughter would invite her to sit at a table. She confessed that she’d been dreading the tea party entirely.

“Oh, I understand that perfectly!” Sierra chimed in. “Until Milly invited me, I was just wondering which illness to fake.”

“And I,” Lizbel said with a small smile, “am simply grateful that Lady Milly pays no heed to a family’s place in society.”

In truth, Milly was ignorant of such matters. But admitting that would spoil the moment, and having others fuss over her felt hollow anyway. So she held her tongue.

“Excuse me.”

Their pleasant conversation was interrupted by a maid assigned to serve during the tea party. Judging from her uniform marked with a crest, she had been dispatched from a noble household.

Unused to conversing with servants, the two girls glanced at Milly as though clinging to her for support. She raised a hand with effortless composure, and at once, the maid set her tray down at the center of the table.

The tea service was lavish, crimson porcelain gleaming with gilt trim. This, it seemed, would be their set for the day.

“How lovely. Surely not something off the shelf?”

“I was told it was specially commissioned by one of the students’ families, my lady.”

“Mm. Nobles do have a way of flaunting their wealth,” Milly murmured under her breath, watching the maid’s slender hands place a cup before her. The academy might claim to admit students of all ranks, but here and there the scent of coin was unmistakable. If the school truly wished to lessen the divide, it could do better than lean so heavily on its patrons’ “generosity.”

Milly lifted her hand once more, dismissing the maid with a courteous nod. No sooner had the servant left than her companions exhaled in unison, their nerves unwinding all at once. Milly couldn’t help but laugh softly. Their unguarded honesty was strangely endearing.

Sierra’s eyes shone. “You looked so impressive just now, Milly! The way you gave orders with a single hand, so commanding!”

Milly flushed. “D-Did I really?”

“Of course,” Sierra said warmly. “With your poise, even the smallest gesture looks polished and refined.”

“Oh, please. Flatter me any further, and I’ll feel obliged to hand you part of my estate.”

“That’s a bit much,” Lizbel replied, deadpan.

Before they realized it, their chatter had eaten up the time. A clear signal rang through the courtyard. The tea party proper was about to begin.

Milly, Sierra, and their new companion exchanged glances. Sierra rose with a nervous expression, reminding Milly of the peculiar, unwritten rules that governed these gatherings.

At the Grandor Magic Academy, the tea party had several customs borrowed from high society:

One: The tea must be poured by the lowest-ranked member at the table.

Two: Cups are to be filled in ascending order of rank.

Three: The one who pours may not sip until the others have tasted theirs first.

They were petty rules, dreamed up by status-obsessed students and passed down by those of like mind, and Milly found them all thoroughly ridiculous.

But when Sierra had explained them to her earlier, Milly’s dismissal—“Don’t bother; none of this matters”—had been met with a firm shake of the head.

“I knew you’d be upset, Milly, but I can’t bear to draw attention to myself. Please, let me do it properly!”

Faced with such an earnest plea, Milly hadn’t argued. If nothing else, she wanted to help Sierra through the ordeal. So she’d taught her a handful of little tricks, like how simply extending one’s fingers made a gesture look refined, and how nobles preened when their expressions were carefully watched.

Sierra had lapped up the advice, surprised, delighted, and quick to mimic. She was a fast learner. With only a glance at Milly’s demonstrations, she made the motions her own. Sierra had talent.

“Th-Then, if you’ll excuse me,” Sierra murmured.

She rose and, with visible hesitation, set her hands on the teapot. By the unspoken rules of the tea party, it fell to her, the commoner at their table, to serve. Now was the moment to put her practice into action.

Milly watched in silence, a strange, parental pride welling up inside her as Sierra poured. First into her own cup, then into Lizbel’s, the tea spread its gentle floral fragrance.

Yes, just like that. Keep your thumb clear of the handle. Perfect, perfect!

Sierra, unaware of Milly’s inner cheering, began to fill Milly’s cup. The proper measure was about three-quarters full, and just as the tea reached that point, the spout stopped. The precision of it made Milly’s eyes sting, as though she might weep at her pupil’s flawless performance.

Relieved, Sierra exhaled and set the pot back on the tray before returning to her seat. Milly rewarded her with a small round of applause. Lizbel, uncertain but willing, followed suit.

“Th-Thank you. I’m sorry it looked so clumsy.”

“Clumsy? Hardly! Sierra, you ought to give Lucius a course on posture and deportment!”

“I don’t know who that is, but, um, thank you,” Sierra replied, blushing and ducking her head.

Her shy smile and modest gesture tugged at the odd feeling Milly’d had while training Sierra for this moment.

She knew the word for it: envy.

Yes, while drilling Sierra on etiquette, Milly had found herself envying her. People sometimes said they envied Milly for being “so smart,” but they didn’t truly mean it. Her grades were good only because she crammed the same material over and over again. She couldn’t retain things after one try. Whenever Milly attempted to learn something new, it always felt like another piece of knowledge would fall right out of her head.

That was why she envied Sierra. Sierra picked things up quickly. Her smile shone like sunlight, and she seemed every inch the heroine of a story. So enviable that Milly felt, just for a moment, a dangerous temptation whisper through her heart.

“Lady Milly?” Lizbel’s tentative voice brought her back to herself.

Startled, Milly lifted her head. Across the table, Sierra and Lizbel sat waiting, teacups before them, uncertainty written plain on their faces. Milly’s eyes met Sierra’s open, guileless gaze. Milly flinched and turned away at once, her heart lurching into a gallop. A chill crept down her spine, and she asked herself in silence, What was I just about to think?

She had truly envied Sierra. That much was certain. But had she been on the verge of entertaining a thought she must never, ever allow?

“Milly? Won’t you have some tea?” Sierra’s tentative voice pulled her back.

Milly nearly broke into a cold sweat. “Oh, yes. I will. Sorry, I drifted off for a moment.”

“Are you feeling unwell? Perhaps we should call the school physician.”

“I’m fine. That doctor worries over every little thing.”

If the school physician were summoned, Milly would only be sent home again. Instead, she hurriedly lifted her cup, the floral fragrance rising with the steam somewhat easing her nerves.

I can’t let myself falter. This is the tea party. I should be enjoying it. She gave a brisk sniff, as though to steel herself, and then, a sharp crack split the air.

“Eeek!”

“Wha—?!”

Two cries rang out at once. Milly’s head whipped toward the sound. Sierra’s and Lizbel’s teacups had both broken at the handle, spilling tea across the tabletop as they rolled away.

“Are you two all right?!” Milly hastily set her own cup aside and leaned toward them, alarm tightening her voice.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine. It was just startling,” Sierra said breathlessly.

“You’re sure? None of the tea splashed your arms?”

“No, it’s just, the handles suddenly came loose. Looks like we drew the defective cups today,” Sierra answered with a nervous smile.

Lizbel nodded, echoing her with one of her own. Thankfully, neither seemed hurt.

Relieved, Milly raised one hand to summon a maid. The table needed to be cleaned, and she fully intended to deliver a complaint to whichever household had provided the faulty tea set.

The maid hurried over, swiftly tidied the mess, and placed a replacement set in the center of the table. She was about to retreat without waiting for dismissal when Milly’s voice stopped her. “Tell me. Which family supplied that tea set?”

The maid froze, faltering for a beat before answering. “I’m afraid I cannot say, my lady. Forgive me.”

“You weren’t told?”

“I was not, my lady.”

“I see. Then inform them this: Next time, they’d better commission a proper craftsman. If a friend of mine were hurt, I would not take it kindly.”

The halting reply had come across as knowing but forbidden to tell. Milly dismissed the maid with a curt wave.

“What a way to spoil the mood,” Milly muttered. “And after Sierra had poured so perfectly.”

“Don’t worry,” Sierra said brightly. “I’ll just do it perfectly again.” She reached for the fresh pot, her hands steadier now. “Oh, and Milly, let me take your cup. It’ll only grow cold sitting there.”

“That’s not necessary. I don’t mind if it’s cooled a little.”

“It is necessary,” Sierra insisted, already lifting Milly’s cup. “If I let the grand duke’s daughter drink lukewarm tea, I’ll be in trouble.”

How kind could this girl be? Watching as her own cup was pushed toward Sierra, Milly felt her frown soften. There wasn’t even room left for envy anymore.

“At least, um, this new set looks sturdier, don’t you think?” Perhaps trying to lighten the mood, Lizbel spoke with a slightly awkward smile, and both Milly and Sierra let out small laughs.

The replacement pot held mint tea this time. Sierra’s hands moved with growing confidence as she poured, and the fresh, cooling scent drifted through the air, easing the tension that had lingered at the table.

When Milly finally raised her cup and drank, the crisp flavor calmed her chest, and she exhaled in satisfaction. “Yes. Delicious. Perfect.”

Sierra’s face lit up, her cheeks turning pink.

“Indeed!” Lizbel concurred. “You managed to draw out the flavor exactly right!”

“Heh. Thank you. I wanted to bring out that refreshing note without dulling it, so I tried to be careful.” Smiling bashfully, Sierra lifted her own cup, the one that had originally been Milly’s. Unlike the earlier cups, its handle held firm.

“My, only practiced hands think to adjust technique to suit the leaves,” Milly praised.

“You must be very diligent,” Lizbel added warmly. “No matter how many lessons I take, I can never seem to get it right.”

“It’s talent,” Milly said decisively. “Sierra, I insist. You must teach Lucius manners.”

That earned a giggle. “If I ever have the chance to meet him, I just might.”

Sierra lifted her cup with a small smile and tipped it back. Her pale throat moved as she swallowed. Then her slender shoulders gave a sudden jolt.

“Uh...”

It was barely more than a groan. Milly, halfway through raising her own cup for a second sip, turned toward her just in time to see that Sierra’s fingers were no longer holding the handle at all.

“Sierra?!”

Milly watched as Sierra’s body crumpled sideways. A heartbeat later, Sierra’s cup clattered across the tabletop, spilling lukewarm tea in every direction. Milly sprang forward and caught Sierra just before she struck the ground.

Lizbel screamed. Sierra’s eyes were wide open, her mouth working in shallow, ragged breaths. The sight snapped Milly into motion. She rolled Sierra onto her side, forcing her face toward the ground.

Poison. The shallow, rapid breathing, the bloodshot eyes, the convulsions, all of it lined up.

“Spit it up!” Milly wrapped an arm around Sierra’s stomach and pressed hard beneath her ribs. Sierra gagged, but nothing came out. Not hesitating, Milly shoved her fingers down Sierra’s throat while bearing down on her belly again. Sierra writhed, and the moment Milly pulled her hand back, a gush of tea and bile splattered onto the ground. “Sierra! Can you hear me?!”

“Ghh... Ahhh...”

“Sierra!” She cried her name again, desperate, until Sierra sucked in a ragged breath.

“Thank goodness! You’re breathing. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“M-Milly...”

“Yes, I’m here. You did so well. Thank you. I’m sorry I hurt you, but you’re safe now.”

Sierra’s eyes eased, her breathing beginning to settle. Milly rubbed her back, then turned to Lizbel, who stood pale and trembling.

“Lizbel, please, go get the school physician.”

“A-At once!”

“On your way, tell any teachers you meet. Tell as many as you can. Say the tea or the cups were poisoned. They’ll come running.”

Lizbel nodded repeatedly, then bolted away as if fleeing. Milly watched her go, clutching her friend a little tighter. Only one thought crowded her mind. Who would do something like this?

Word of what had happened was already spreading. A noisy crowd gathered around Milly’s table, some students shrieking that their own cups might be poisoned as well.

This isn’t a prank. It’s attempted murder.

Someone had deliberately slipped poison into the tea. Since it wasn’t a random contamination, there was only one answer: A person with malice in their heart was among the people involved.

And that cup had originally been meant for Milly. Because it had ended up with Sierra by chance, this disaster had unfolded.

Sierra... Seeing the girl sweating and gasping for breath, Milly felt on the verge of tears. This was nothing but collateral damage. Whether the culprit had targeted Milly didn’t change the fact that Sierra had been made to drink poison.

“You won’t get away with this.” Milly’s voice was low and cold as she gazed at Sierra’s face, her eyes shut in unconsciousness. Her friend had been put in grave danger.

There was no way Milly could forgive this. If anything, she wanted to make whoever did it suffer the same pain. She wouldn’t let them walk free. They deserved punishment, divine or otherwise.

“M-Milly?” came a faint murmur. Sierra’s hand moved weakly toward Milly.

Milly clasped it firmly and shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll protect you.”

The school physician came running barefoot a moment later, face drained of color. Lizbel, it seemed, had carried out Milly’s request faithfully. Teachers trailed behind her, and together they lifted Sierra to hurry her to the infirmary.

By then, however, the crowd had already swelled around Milly’s table, the number of onlookers enormous.

“Poison? From the grand duke’s daughter’s table?!”

“Heavens, then maybe ours was poisoned too!”

“Sierra Restreive? Never heard of her. Who is she?”

With Milly and Lizbel the only ones left at the table, the students who had rushed in on the commotion whispered among themselves. A quick glance told Milly there were close to a hundred. Teachers barked at them to return to their seats, but the shouts were drowned by wild speculation, panicked cries, and shrill gossip. The place had descended into chaos.

“They said the school had tightened security, yet poison shows up at the grand duke’s daughter’s table? What is going on here?!”

The student’s murmur spread like wildfire, and the crowd collectively began to nod.

“Yes. Someone must be involved.”

“And what about security? What were the maids and porters doing? Even the knights who helped set up the venue could be suspicious.”

“Isn’t there someone else we ought to be questioning first?” A noble-looking girl, flanked by her attendants, raised her voice above the din. Once she had everyone’s attention, she smiled with satisfaction and pressed on. “Lizbel Garcia, a girl from that scandal-ridden viscount family, her hair as dingy as dust. Doesn’t she seem just the sort to stoop to such cowardly tricks?”

At the sound of her name, Lizbel’s shoulders jerked violently.

“Those of proper rank should already know what people are saying about the Garcia viscounts in society these days.” The girl advanced slowly and stopped right in front of Lizbel, who was trembling. “Weren’t you the one who joined this table late? That makes you more than suspicious.”

Her attendants chimed in on cue, each echoing the accusation.

“That’s right!”

“She’s right about that.”

Nodding along, the ringleader flicked open her fan and forced Lizbel’s chin upward with it, the latter’s face going deathly pale. The other girl’s lips curled into a smirk, and she shot Milly a sidelong glance, like a dog waiting for praise.

But Milly only kept her usual stony expression. That alone seemed to satisfy her accuser immensely.

“I-I... I didn’t!” protested Lizbel.

“Of course you would deny it. You’ve been shunned by society so long you’ve gone mad, haven’t you? You must have bungled an attempt on the grand duke’s daughter.”

“N-no, I didn’t! I only...only...”

“You even have a motive. After all, you’ve always hated the grand ducal house.”

In that instant, a cold voice, clear and commanding, cut through the clamor and seized the space. “I had no idea society was so full of classless young ladies.”

Every gaze swung toward its source. Milly Asteara stood there, brow set in fierce lines, carrying herself with unshakable authority.

“This is beneath contempt,” she continued, her frosty eyes sweeping over the accuser and her gaggle of followers. “My friend has just been put in mortal danger, my temper is already frayed, and now you parade this tawdry farce of an inquisition before me. How much further do you mean to test my patience?” The accuser, until now blustering with confidence, froze under Milly’s stare. She paled as the realization dawned that she was being condemned. Desperately, she shook her head.

“N-No! You misunderstand, Your Imperial Highness!”

“What exactly am I misunderstanding?”

“I-I only meant to speak in your defense, so I pointed to that girl...”

“I have no need for you to speak for me. Your name and presence were unknown to me until today. Do not presume to share my thoughts.”

At that, all color drained from the girl’s face. Milly exhaled, long and heavy, and almost every onlooker watched her with rapt attention.

“Lizbel sat at this table for one reason only: because I invited her,” Milly said with calm precision. “I was taken by her beautiful silver hair at first sight. I invited her because I wished to. Who, pray tell, has the right to complain about that?”

And besides, reason made it plain that Lizbel could not have been the one to slip in poison. She had never been left alone long enough, and it was Milly herself who had brought her to the table. To accuse her family without any evidence was insulting.

“Then...who put the poison in?” The voice came trembling from among the onlookers.

“Yes, who could it have been?”

“Oh no! What if we drank some ourselves without realizing it?!”

Panic followed in shrill cries. What if their own tea had been tainted? What if they had already ingested it, and in a moment they would writhe on the ground like Sierra?

Not one of them worries for Sierra herself, do they? Watching the crowd whip itself into frenzy, Milly felt curiously detached.

The poison had clearly been fast acting. If none of them showed symptoms by now, they were safe enough. Sniffing out the culprit here and now was useless.

Nobles really do think of nothing but their own skins. Perhaps father’s hatred of society is a little easier to understand now. This uproar served only one person’s interest: the perpetrator’s.

Just as Milly sighed again at the foolishness of it, one voice rang out from the mob. “If the suspects are only those seated at the table, then isn’t the grand duke’s daughter herself suspicious?!”

The atmosphere in the crowd shifted in an instant. “What?!”

Milly turned her gaze to find a plain-looking boy staring at her, his face gone chalk-white. He was clearly a commoner. Several young noblemen around him tried to clap a hand over his mouth, but the words kept spilling out. “B-But it’s the only thing that makes sense!”

“You watch what you’re saying!”

“Why? Why won’t anyone suspect her?!” His chapped index finger pointed at Milly, trembling as it leveled the accusation.

“I... I saw it from the next table! Two of their cups broke, and then they got replacements!”

It was true. The cups had broken, and they had indeed been given new ones.

“But... But her cup was the only one that didn’t break! She said they should pour again, and then she gave that brown-haired girl the poisoned cup!”

That, too, was true.

The students who had tried to hush him all turned their eyes to Milly, their stares carrying a mix of shock, suspicion, and unease. Milly’s eyes widened just a fraction.

“She... She’s the one! She’s the one who slipped in the poison!” the boy shouted.

Milly’s heart gave a great, resounding thud.

“The grand duke’s daughter...poisoned someone?” someone uttered.

Milly almost brushed it off as nonsense until she realized something. She had no way to clear herself. That the culprit was someone connected to the academy was already beyond doubt. And with no clear suspect, suspicion would naturally fall on Milly, who had been seated at Sierra’s table and had, until moments before, held the very cup that carried the poison.

In fact, it was rather strange that her name hadn’t been raised earlier. Milly Asteara was the grand duke’s daughter. That title alone had shielded her from suspicion, but she herself had nothing to prove her innocence.

“Ha. Ha ha ha!” In the deathly silence, a hoarse laugh rang out. It was the same noble girl who had accused Lizbel earlier. “So it was you, my lady? You did this?” Her voice shook as she spoke. “You preached at me so self-righteously, yet you’re the culprit? Oh, how laughable!” Staggering forward on unsteady legs, she drew closer, but Milly was a beat too slow to react. “You’re no different from your filthy father! What a fool I was, trying so hard to win your favor!”

“You...”

“Having to grovel to the likes of you is truly pathetic! A girl who’d poison her own tea, and a grand duke who treats people as less than human—you’re both worthless!”

The noble girl lunged toward Milly, but was restrained by the teachers who had finally pushed their way through the crowd. One of them, a young woman, rubbed the girl’s back with anxious hands as the girl still cackled madly, her reason clearly shattered. Meanwhile, the older male teacher who stepped up to Milly kept his face stern, his eyes narrowed with open suspicion.

He...suspects me? Milly looked around. Everywhere, unfamiliar students whispered to each other, casting her the same distrustful glances. And only then did Milly realize—no one was standing up to defend her.

“Lady Asteara. I’ll need you to answer a few questions about what happened here,” the man said, his voice low.

The murmuring around them swelled louder.

“Poisoning someone... The grand duke’s daughter, huh? I’m not surprised.”

“My cousin told me the grand duke stripped her family of their lands. He’s inhuman. It’s only natural his daughter would turn out the same.”

“Maybe it’s all a setup? Poison the cup herself, then swoop in to force it out and play savior, just to win admiration?”

“I don’t know much about noble politics, but everyone says the grand duke is a terrible man. Does that mean his daughter would casually harm commoners too?”

Ah... Hearing each and every whisper, Milly understood. Because I’m the grand duke’s daughter. Because I’m his daughter, no one... No one was willing to believe in her innocence. Not a single person there was ready to say, “Her Imperial Highness would never do such a thing.”

Milly clenched her fists. She should have expected this, and yet, for some reason, it hurt. She had never felt this way before. In her previous life, no matter what was said about her family, she could shrug it off. But now, standing before this crowd, she was on the verge of tears.

Nothing ever goes the way I want it to. Shame washed over her. Shame at herself, for ever thinking—even for a moment—that she might get to live a brighter school life this time.

That she might make friends, work side by side with the student council, laugh together and, as the “final boss,” even expose Angelina’s schemes. She had let herself dream of a life like something out of a novel.

Meeting Sierra had only fueled that dream. She had even started to imagine a future surrounded by friends. But it was impossible. Because she was the grand duke’s daughter. All her efforts to build friendships, all her hopes, had crumbled to nothing.

“I see,” Milly murmured faintly, biting her lip. “But first, could someone escort Lizbel to the infirmary?”

“Lady Garcia?”

“Yes. Watching Sierra collapse seems to have been quite a shock for her.” Lizbel sat hunched, trembling from head to toe.

Milly thought the silver-haired girl had done well. Even in Lizbel’s confusion, she had carried out Milly’s request, and when suspicion was thrown at her, she hadn’t broken down in tears. Surely Lizbel was stronger than Milly herself.

The older male teacher gave a nod and gestured for Milly to follow him back toward the school building. He clearly meant for her to give her account of what happened. Milly was prepared to explain herself, but she couldn’t be sure how much anyone would believe.

What will father say? No doubt he would click his tongue in irritation. He might even sneer, “You, who couldn’t even clear a single suspicion, thought you could order me to protect you?” The very thought made her scowl in disgust.

“Ah... Um!” Just then... “You’re wrong! It wasn’t Her Imperial Highness!”

Milly’s eyes widened at Lizbel’s sudden outburst. “Lizbel?”

“It wasn’t her! It wasn’t! She would never do something so cruel!” The words spilled out like a broken dam, and Lizbel covered her eyes with both hands. A teacher hurried over to her, but her outpouring would not stop. “That teacup! That cup... Sierra said, ‘I can’t let Lady Milly drink lukewarm tea,’ and she took it herself!”

“Lizbel.”

“Lady Milly said she didn’t mind but even so, Sierra took it for herself! Lady Milly never meant to poison her!”

“Lizbel, calm yourself.”

“It wasn’t Lady Milly! It wasn’t... It wasn’t Lady Milly!” Her voice, louder than anyone else’s, silenced the entire crowd. “Lady Milly... Lady Milly invited me to sit with her, even though everyone else looks down on me. And just now, even though she could have cleared her own name, she never once tried to blame me for keeping silent!”

Milly fell silent.

“She’s an incredible person! It’s not her! Someone else poisoned the cup!” With that final cry, Lizbel collapsed in sobs.

After a short pause, the gathered onlookers began to murmur. Milly stared at Lizbel in a daze, overwhelmed by a swell of indescribable feelings that pricked sharp and hot at the bridge of her nose.

“Forgive me, Professor.”

“Yes?”

“Please allow me a little time. I need to speak with her.” The moment the words left her lips, Milly dashed toward Lizbel without waiting for permission. Her heartbeat was racing, pounding out of control. She had never imagined—never dared hope—that someone would stand up and believe in her.

So this was what it meant for one’s heart to be full. The joy was so overwhelming Milly thought she might burst. And because of that, she failed to notice Ike in the crowd, his lips pressed in a tight, silent line.

◇◇◇

Prince Gilbert Fritzner, the second prince of the Kingdom of Aviria, was enjoying the tea party well enough. He had turned down Milly’s invitation to tea not too long ago, so to be able to sit here now, enjoying cakes and tea without worry, was a rare luxury indeed. These days, every action of his immediately became gossip—about factions, about succession. It was only natural, given his position, but still suffocating. In that light, this tea party felt almost like a respite.

If only Milly were here... He washed down that impossible wish with a sip of tea, nodding politely at a friend’s chatter.

For this event, the student council officers had been assigned their seats in advance. Apparently, the seating arrangement was the headmaster’s idea, who wanted the members to be spread across the venue to keep watch. Because of that, Gilbert had been placed all the way at the far edge of the courtyard, diagonally opposite Milly’s table.

“Hmm? Your Highness, there looks to be some sort of commotion over that way.” The remark came from one of the students at his table, who tilted his head in curiosity.

Gilbert followed the gesture, set down his cup, and indeed noticed a noisy stir in that direction. Some sort of trouble, perhaps?

Just then, a boy came running from that very side of the courtyard, rushing up to a friend with breathless excitement. “Hey, there’s a huge uproar over there! Word is, they found poison at the grand duke’s daughter’s table!”

“What?!” Gilbert’s eyes flew wide. His chair scraped back with a crash as he shot to his feet. Poison? Before he could think, Gilbert seized the boy by the arm. “Did you say poison?! At the grand duke’s daughter’s table?!” That title could only be referring to one person.

“Hwuh?! I-I... Y-Yes, Your Highness!”

“What happened? Tell me exactly what’s going on!”

The force of Gilbert’s demand made the boy blanch with a squeak, but instinct told him that refusing the second prince’s demand was not an option. Stammering over his words, he nevertheless managed to recount the sequence of events in detail.

It wasn’t the grand duke’s daughter herself but Sierra Restreive who had ingested the poison. Thanks to Milly’s quick action forcing it back up, the worst had been averted.

Thank heavens Milly didn’t drink it. Relief washed over Gilbert and immediately, he wanted to strike himself for it. Fool! That’s vile of me. It doesn’t matter who it was. No one should have been put through that!

No, he couldn’t let himself think something as wretched as “Better Milly than someone else.” Sierra had suffered too, and even if her life wasn’t in danger this time, the thought of what could have happened—of death—made his blood run cold.

Gilbert’s face twisted as he clenched a fist, furious at his own selfishness. “Is Milly still in the courtyard?”

“Uh,” the boy responded, “I-I think she’s probably already gone back into the school building.”

“And Restreive?”

“I-I’m not positive, but I think she’s in the infirmary.”

“I see. Thank you.” He gave the boy a quick nod, then pivoted on his heel. Not needing to ponder over his next step, Gilbert broke into a run toward the school, ignoring the voices calling after him.

Gilbert, her childhood friend, knew well how Milly handled moments like these. When it came to those she cared about, her heart bled more than anyone’s, and she grew angrier than anyone else. Leaving her to bear that alone was unthinkable and, more than that, Gilbert himself could not stand the idea of Milly wallowing in solitude.

Through the vast academy halls, large enough to be mistaken for a royal castle, the prince ran, lungs burning as he made for the infirmary. Surely Milly would be there, by Sierra’s side. That was the only place she could be.

He ran on that hunch, took a few wrong turns, gasped for breath as the lack of air clawed at his chest, and after ten minutes of sprinting, his blurred vision finally caught a glimpse of flowing black hair—Milly, seemingly just leaving the infirmary.

Gilbert called out. “Milly!”

She turned, eyes widening slightly as she spotted him. Gilbert quickened his pace and came up to her, relief flooding him at the sight of her unharmed. It was true, then; she hadn’t been the one to drink the poison.

“Good day,” she said, appearing unbothered. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you! Are you all right? And how is Restreive?”

“As you can see, I’m fine. Sierra has been taken to the hospital.” Though Milly’s tone was steady, Gilbert could hear the trace of relief lacing her voice. She must have been even more frightened for Sierra than he’d imagined. He nearly smiled but forced it down. The crisis wasn’t over yet.

“There was another girl seated at your table, wasn’t there?” asked Gilbert. “Is she unharmed too?”

“Oh, yes, Lizbel. She’s all right. She had a bit of a panic, but she’s resting now.”

That was only natural. Gilbert clenched his teeth. No one would ever expect poison to be found at their table. And if things had gone differently, he might have been the one to drink it. It was terrifying, of course; this wasn’t some distant danger.

“I see. Then that’s good. So, have they found the culprit?” That was the one thing he most needed to know. But Milly’s expression clouded faintly. “Milly?”

She slowly shook her head. “They haven’t. But people are already saying the ones at the table are the most suspicious.”

“They’re what?” Gilbert stared at her in disbelief. That meant Milly herself was under suspicion. “That’s impossible! How could anyone think that? Why the devil would you be suspected?!” The words burst out of him, loud and furious. The mere idea wasn’t even conceivable for someone like Milly.

She had always cared deeply for her friends, even as a child. That hadn’t changed, no matter how much her outward demeanor might have. What reason could she possibly have to slip someone poison?

Outraged, Gilbert was about to press the point further, when Milly’s lips softened into the faintest smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you believe I’m innocent.”

“That goes without saying! Who’s spreading such nonsense? I’ll go set things straight.” So he thought, ready to unleash his anger again, when Milly’s eyes widened in surprise. She was looking past him, over his shoulder. Someone was there.

Gilbert turned, following her gaze, and saw a young lady standing just behind him. A classmate. Forcing down his agitation, Gilbert steadied his voice and greeted her with practiced calm. “Ah, Lady Grey. Is something the matter?”

“Oh, not at all. I simply heard raised voices and wondered if something had happened. Good day to you, Your Highness. Lady Milly.”

◇◇◇

The moment Milly saw the figure approach, her eyes narrowed slightly. Angelina Grey...

The self-proclaimed villainess, Lady Angelina Grey. Just laying eyes on her was enough to make Milly’s stomach tighten with unease. And when Angelina wore that oddly cheerful smile, as she did now, the foreboding only grew stronger.

Such premonitions, Milly knew all too well, almost always proved correct.

Angelina glanced back and forth between Milly and Gilbert, then lifted her voice a note higher than usual as she said, “Say, Prince Gilbert, did you hear? They say poison was found at the grand duke’s daughter’s table.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I was just discussing with her.”

“I’m told the victim was a classmate of ours. When I heard that, I was outraged, and it simply would not abate, so I stormed over here.” Angelina spoke in a theatrically affected tone, her gaze fixed on Milly as if to glare holes through her.

Milly did not miss the way that supposed anger was laced through with mockery.

“Your Highness,” Angelina continued, “they’re even saying Lady Milly herself may have planted the poison.”

Of course she wanted to spread that rumor further. Milly exhaled heavily. What a tiresome business.

Lady Angelina Grey retained her memories from before the world was rewound, which meant she still hated Milly enough to want her dead. Given that, it was no surprise she would seize on this moment, spread the word as widely as she could, and use it to drive suspicion higher.

Just how deeply does she hate me?

Beside Milly, Gilbert frowned uneasily but gave a firm nod. “Yes, Milly already told me. But she’s not the culprit,” he said firmly.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because Milly would never do such a thing. To begin with, she’s Sierra Restreive’s friend. She has no reason, no motive, and certainly no need to resort to such elaborate means.”

“My, my.” Angelina’s eyes went wide, and the corner of her lips twitched, betraying the strain behind her smile. She clearly hadn’t expected Gilbert to declare his faith in Milly’s innocence. Relief welled in Milly’s chest, and in her mind, she stuck out her tongue at Lady Grey. This was the bond of childhood friendship at work. Yet Angelina smoothed her smile back into place and answered in a lilting voice, “Is that so?”

What is she plotting? A faint chill ran down Milly’s spine.

Angelina slipped her hand around Gilbert’s arm and said, “But there is no definitive proof, is there? Lady Milly is still a suspect, whatever your faith in her may be.”

“That may be, but Milly...”

“And to insist, merely on sentiment, that she ‘would never do such a thing’ is part of Your Highness’s charm, but surely you realize how the other nobles will twist it.” She drew his arm closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “For example, ‘The second prince must be aligned with the grand duke’s faction, shielding the daughter’s misdeeds from exposure.’”

Milly heard Gilbert draw a sharp breath. Her mind flashed back to just the other day, when Gilbert had visited the Asteara estate. He had said outright that, as the second prince, he could not be seen as being too close to her. Nobles would twist even the smallest thing into talk of factions. And now, if he were to defend Milly openly, there was no telling what would be said.

Gilbert seemed to grasp Angelina’s point. He hesitated, then shook his head firmly. “I understand your argument. But I swear, I have never thought in such terms.”

“I know that, of course. No one knows better than I that Your Highness is not a man to think so base a thought. And yet, can you be sure what the other nobles will think? Especially here at Grandor, where half the students are of noble birth.” Her brows dipped in a display of wounded sorrow, but her sidelong glance at Milly carried only mockery. “Rumors spread quickly through society. And if it is said—oh, forgive me, Lady Milly, for speaking so bluntly before you—that the second prince is aligning himself with the infamous grand duke’s house, then it is your prospects for the throne that will suffer, Prince Gilbert.”

Gilbert remained silent.

“I simply cannot bear to see you treated in such a way. Please, will you not take my feelings into account?” Moisture glimmered at the corners of Lady Grey’s eyes, and she gave a delicate sniffle. Yet her gaze, and the twitch at the corner of her lips, betrayed the ridicule she could not quite hide from Milly.

No matter how far it went, the villainess’s loathing for Milly seemed bottomless. Milly frowned, while beside her Gilbert fell into uneasy silence, troubled.

For a second prince, any suspicion of ties to the notorious grand duke’s house—a family despised not only by nobility but even by commoners—was more than an inconvenience; it was a liability. Such was the depth of loathing reserved for the grand duke’s line. The earlier rush to cast blame was proof enough. Precisely because the Asteara family was hated, the moment suspicion fell on Milly, no one was willing to believe in her innocence.

With the question of succession hanging in the air, Gilbert could ill afford to invite such rumors.

I’d like to see Lizbel, Milly thought as the two talked.

Gilbert still wore a troubled look, while Angelina was barely concealing her delight.

But Milly knew. If she simply stayed silent, Gilbert would step forward to shield her. He would brush Angelina off, declare that he didn’t care what the other nobles thought, and proclaim Milly’s innocence before them all.

That wouldn’t do. Gilbert, Sierra, and Lizbel were all equally precious friends of Milly. If her presence brought misfortune down on them, she could never forgive herself. She wanted to protect them somehow, even if her father would call it selfish and arrogant. So be it.

Arrogant is exactly what a “final boss” should be.

Milly drew in a steady breath and spoke clearly. “Indeed. She is correct. So please, leave now, Your Highness.”

“What?” Gilbert turned to her, startled.

Milly folded her arms. “A little suspicion doesn’t bother me. Don’t concern yourself further. I can handle this.”

“But...”

“No buts. If I say I’m fine, then I am. You don’t need to worry about a thing. That’s all there is to it.” Cutting off the conversation on her own terms, Milly turned sharply away, leaving Gilbert staring in shock.

The prince called after her in a fluster, but she didn’t look back. The only sound that lingered was Lady Grey’s honeyed voice, positively brimming with satisfaction. Clinging to Gilbert’s arm, she cooed, “Shall we go back?”

Shutting out the sound of the two behind her, Milly rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. “So then, who are you? The one who’s been watching all this time?”

She had sensed a persistent presence lingering nearby for a while. Whoever it was had scrambled to hide once they realized she was approaching, but they hadn’t left. That alone proved they were waiting for her.

And so, a moment later, a face emerged: plain black hair tied in a half-up style, thin-framed spectacles perched on his nose. “Good day to you, Lady Milly.”

Nicholas Einzdohr. President of the Grandor Magic Academy’s student council, and heir to the ducal House of Einzdohr. He glanced toward the direction Lady Grey and Gilbert had gone, his expression faintly uneasy.

“You actually came to the tea party with that ill-suited hairstyle?” Milly asked.

“I didn’t expect to be insulted in place of a greeting.”

“And glasses fogged with steam hardly suit a tea party. That’s common sense in society, you know.”

“Coming from you, my lady, lectures on social etiquette don’t carry much weight.”

A fair point. The grand duke’s house might be the highest of the high, but they were infamous for flouting every rule of noble society.

Milly let out a soft sigh and asked, “So, what did you want? If it’s the physician, he’s already gone on with Sierra to the city hospital.”

“Ah, no, that’s not it.” Nicholas shook his head.

“That’s not why you came?”

“Well, not exactly. I have business with you.”

“With me?” Milly frowned before she could stop herself. Was this to be an interrogation? “Sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t the one who poisoned Sierra.”

“I know that. I just wanted to talk a bit.” With that, Nicholas cast a brief glance toward the infirmary. He clearly wanted to move somewhere quieter, more private. Whatever this was, it didn’t look like “just a bit of talk.”

“Does it have to be now?” Milly asked.

“I’d prefer it.”

“Is it truly that important?”

“Yes. And if possible, I’d like it to be just the two of us.” Through the lenses of his spectacles, Nicholas fixed her with those unsettlingly clouded eyes.

I really don’t like the way he looks at me. She couldn’t see what lay behind his fogged spectacles, yet it felt as though he could see straight through her. Milly turned her gaze away almost at once and gave a small nod. “Very well. But when you invite a lady, you might try something a little more gallant.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nicholas answered with a weary look, and Milly allowed herself a faint smile.

◇◇◇

Milly went with Nicholas to the infirmary, where Lizbel, who was worn out from crying, still slept peacefully. Milly gently wiped away the faint traces of tears on her cheeks, then cast a simple soundproof barrier around the infirmary for privacy.

With the school physician escorting Sierra to the capital’s hospital, it was unlikely anyone would enter, but it was better to be cautious.

After quickly checking the barrier’s strength, Milly took her seat. Nicholas, watching her, narrowed his eyes in quiet admiration.

“Impressive,” he said. “You can raise a barrier without even a wand.”

“I always thought anyone could manage it with enough practice.”

“Well, that practice consists of an ungodly amount of time.”

Ordinary humans had to follow a set procedure when using magic: raise the wand and chant the spell. It sounded simple when put into words, but in practice it was both finicky and difficult. The stroke of the wand varied depending on the spell, and if the arc of its tip was off by even a few centimeters, or if the cadence of the chant slipped, the caster would fail to produce any magic at all.

Thus, spellcasters who could work magic without wand or chant were vanishingly rare in this world.

Milly had never once seen anyone but herself cast unaided, not even the magician she revered most, Edgar’s grandfather. Neil Franster could make use of anything vaguely rod-shaped—even a banana—as a wand, but he still required a wand and an incantation.

“You really are gifted, Lady Milly,” praised Nicholas. “As a magician.”

“You value me rather highly.”

“Of course. I like you, Lady Milly.”

“I see. And your business here was?”

“You’re really just going to brush that aside?” Nicholas let his shoulders sink. “That took me no small amount of courage, you know.”

The more Milly looked at him, the less he resembled a nobleman. Nicholas had none of the aristocratic arrogance, his appearance was unkempt for the heir of a ducal house, and his speech was far too casual. And yet, what lay behind those eyes remained impossible to read. Strangely elusive, as though he refused to let anyone glimpse his true intentions.

He must have something more than just his birthright if he’s serving as student council president here at Grandor. In that enigmatic sense, he was very much like a character on a page.

“Anyway. Now isn’t the time to dawdle.” Oblivious to her musings, Nicholas finally broached the matter. “It’s about today. The business with the poisoned cup.”

“I thought as much.”

“Mm. I was hoping to get your thoughts on it.”

“Mine?”

Nicholas, in his usual low, mumbled voice, went on, “If you’re willing, that is. What would you say to the two of us, just you and me, finding the culprit right here and now?” In other words, the two of them alone would uncover the whole poisoned-cup affair.

It took Milly a few seconds to grasp what he meant, then she narrowed her eyes at him. “Normally, this is the sort of thing you’d leave to the faculty.”

“Normally, yes.”

“Then why—”

“Because that doesn’t suit my purposes.” A surprisingly simple response. “Ah, it’s not such a huge deal, but if the faculty launches a formal investigation, they’ll have to report to the parents, right?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“And once that happens, the academy will be obliged to conduct a full inquiry. They’ll have to explain to the families: ‘This is what occurred, here’s how we resolved it, and here’s the perpetrator we identified.’ Of course, that’s how the school should respond, so it is what it is.” Nicholas spoke as though burdened, his gaze lowering slightly.

Milly frowned, not yet seeing where he was going. “And that would be inconvenient for you, personally?”

“Yes. To put it bluntly, I don’t want my family learning that an incident took place here at the academy.” Nicholas exhaled, then fixed his eyes squarely on hers. “My house, the Einzdohr dukedom, is...complicated. Though, given you couldn’t even remember my name, I doubt any of this matters to you.”

“Do I really strike you as such a heartless person?”

“Don’t sulk. I’m not blaming you. It’s just that this hardly touches your world.”

The remark stung, as if he were mocking her. Milly pursed her lips, but she couldn’t deny it: When it came to the politics of high society, she was utterly ignorant.

“In any case, that’s why I can’t allow this incident to become a full-blown school inquiry. Before that happens, I need to coax the culprit into confessing and handle it quietly, out of the public eye.” Nicholas let out a weary breath and tapped at his temple a few times. Perhaps a headache. Clearly, he was under no small strain himself.

“Ah, and don’t worry,” he added. “I’m not asking you to work for free. If you help me, there’s something in it for you.”

“Something in it for me?” Milly parroted.

“Yes. For example, you could earn the favor of the future duke of Einzdohr. Ah, no, bad joke. Forget I said that.”

Milly shot him such a withering look that Nicholas actually flinched. If he was going to cower afterward, he shouldn’t have said it in the first place.

“From the way you usually carry yourself, it hardly seems like currying your favor would be much of a prize,” Milly scoffed.

“Excuse me? I am next in line to be duke, you know.”

“Then stop wasting time and be serious.” She made a point of sighing, and Nicholas rubbed his cheek, looking faintly embarrassed.

After pressing his lips together for a moment, he finally spoke with real weight. “If you help me track down the poisoner here, and my family doesn’t have to deal with the fallout...”

“Yes?”

“Then the House of Einzdohr will pledge its loyalty to the grand duke’s house.”

“What?” The words dropped so casually that Milly almost missed how outrageous they were. “Wh-What are you even saying?!”

“Does it sound so implausible? I am the heir, and I already have some say with my father. You can trust me on that much.”

“That’s not the point! Why are you tossing around promises that decide the fate of entire houses?!”

“Loud as ever, Lady Milly.”

No wonder she was loud. Even Milly, ignorant of most of society’s finer points, understood what it meant for a ducal house to shift allegiance; it could turn the entire kingdom on its head. Dukes were among the few who could speak directly to the crown, and in Aviria, where the grand duke rarely bothered with governance, the three ducal houses carried even greater weight.

And Nicholas was casually offering to trade away that kind of power here, in the infirmary of the academy. No sane person would.

“I know what I’m saying,” Nicholas insisted. “I didn’t toss the offer out thoughtlessly.”

“You don’t know at all! Do you realize how much one ducal house can alter the course of the kingdom?”

“That’s exactly why I do know. Listen, Milly.” The raven-haired girl’s exasperation had made her lean forward, but Nicholas only shook his head calmly. “I’m saying this to you. I wouldn’t speak like this to just anyone.”

“What?”

“To be frank, I think the grand duke’s house is dreadful. Your father—puffed up with power, cruel as he is—well, you know what I mean. But next in line is either you or whomever you choose to marry.”

There was something in his voice that silenced her. Usually, his mumbling delivery made her want to shout at him to speak from the diaphragm, but this time she couldn’t help but listen.

“The volume of your voice aside, I still hold you in high esteem. Thinking long-term, siding with the grand duke’s house wouldn’t be such a foolish move.”

Milly remained quiet.

“And if I could count on your brains, well, I couldn’t ask for a better deal.”

Milly stared at the murky eyes behind his lenses for several seconds in silence. He didn’t look as if he were joking. He really meant it. Nicholas was ready to bargain away his own house. She simply couldn’t fathom it.

“You would go that far just to keep your family from learning about some incident at the academy?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “That, I can’t tell you.”

“So if I help with one petty investigation, you’ll hand over your entire house’s allegiance?”

“That’s right. If you asked for it, I’d even throw in a finger or two on top.”

“I’ll pass on that.” Milly looked down.

Nicholas pressed on. “To be blunt, your family—the grand duke’s house—has a wretched reputation in this kingdom.”

The air in the room shifted with that single line. Milly had no answer, because it was true. She had felt it time and again. The Asteara house was despised.

Ike was the clearest example. He hated Milly for no other reason than her birth in the grand duke’s house. And only minutes ago, when she’d been accused of slipping poison into a cup, not a single voice in the crowd had risen to defend her.

Again, the reason was simple: Milly Asteara was the grand duke’s daughter. That alone was enough for prejudice to cling to her, as if it were her birthright.

“Considering His Grace’s record, it’s hardly surprising. The man lashes out at lesser nobles over the smallest slight.”

“Stripping families of their lands isn’t ‘lashing out.’ It’s tyranny.”

“Fair point. But honestly, I think once His Majesty, who dotes on your father, passes away, the grand duke’s house will find itself in dire straits.”

Milly’s face darkened. There was an edge of truth in Nicholas’s words. Once His Majesty passes away...

The current king—Eisen Fritzner, Gilbert’s father—would be dead within two years. At least, that was how it had unfolded before time turned back. He had suddenly succumbed to illness, and Milly had no reason to believe things would play out any differently in this world.

“Dire straits,” they said. That’s exactly what happened.

When Eisen died, the grand duke’s house lost the crown’s protection. Without it, the great lords turned on them with open hostility. Of course, her father’s history played its part, but the fiercest fuel had come from the succession dispute among the three princes. With tempers in the nobility already running hot, the grand duke’s house became the lightning rod for every grievance.

In the end, Gilbert exposed father’s treason, and that’s how he became king, wasn’t it?

Her father, who had sold the kingdom’s secrets to foreign powers, was executed. And Milly herself had been slain by Angelina. These were memories she wanted nothing to do with. Not even one of them.

“But if my house stands at your side, perhaps that future can be rewritten.”

Milly’s head jerked up. Nicholas’s expression carried a new gravity. In her memory, Eisen Fritzner, the present king, would be dead in two years. She had never dwelled on it before, but thinking back, it was only after Eisen’s passing that her father’s strange, treacherous behavior had begun.

If His Majesty’s death and the grand duke’s fall from favor were the sparks that drove father to betraying the realm... Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip as she considered it. If the Einzdohr dukes truly stood behind them, perhaps that future could be averted. If the grand duke’s ruin could be avoided, it would be the first step toward vengeance on Angelina as well.

After all, every friend she sought—every effort to embody the “final boss”—was for that one purpose: to outlast Angelina and claim her revenge. And if a ducal house could be made her ally, then there was no choice to make. None at all.

“Very well. I’ll help find the culprit. And your family will keep its silence.” Before she realized it, the words had already slipped from Milly’s lips.

Nicholas laughed—she’d never seen him laugh before—and before she could think much more, he nodded firmly. “All right, then. Now for the real business. Let’s get to it and find whoever’s responsible for the poisoned teacup.”

◇◇◇

Nicholas and Milly decided to start by reviewing what they already knew.

“The examination showed the poison was smeared along the rim of the teacup. And the ones seated at that table were you, Sierra Restreive, and...”

“Lizbel. Lizbel Garcia, a third-year.” The same girl who had tearfully stood up earlier to clear Milly’s name.

“What?” At the mention of her, Nicholas stiffened and shot Milly a startled look. “Lizbel Garcia? That girl asleep over there is Lady Garcia?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“No, her name just rang a bell, that’s all. Anyway, I heard the cups broke right as you were about to drink? Two of them, no less.”

His odd reaction caught Milly’s attention, but perhaps that was nothing unusual in the world of high society. She nodded. “Yes, the red ones. Both of their cup handles came clean off, so a maid brought us a fresh tea set.”

“I see.”

“Then Sierra insisted on taking my cup, saying she’d be in trouble if she let me drink lukewarm tea,” Milly explained. “And of course, that turned out to be the poisoned one.”

For Sierra, it had been a cruel stroke of fate. The memory of her friend’s agonized struggle weighed heavily on Milly’s heart.

“Mmm. That changes things,” Nicholas murmured. “At first, I thought the culprit wanted to poison you directly, maybe just to teach you a lesson.”

“What, am I really that hated?” Milly blurted.

“It was only a possibility. But hearing this, it feels more like someone wanted to frame you for the crime. Very much so.” His voice was softer than usual, as though he was deep in thought. “Two cups breaking by accident is too much to believe. Which means the most suspicious party is...”

“The maid,” Milly finished for him.

The two reached the same conclusion at once: the servant with the slender hands, the one who had brought the tea set to their table. She was their number one suspect.

“She’s the one who set down those cups. She deliberately placed the poisoned one before me.”

The more Milly thought back, the more the woman’s odd behavior stood out. Her jittery manner when bringing the replacement set now seemed perfectly in line with someone guilty of tampering.

“Exactly,” Nicholas agreed. “The poisoner must have known your cup could end up in someone else’s hands. After all, who would ever let the grand duke’s daughter drink cooled tea?”

“Using even someone’s own kindness against them. Vile.”

“Completely. But the method itself is transparent.” Nicholas lifted his left hand, straightening one finger. “First, whoever handled the cups—the maid—deliberately placed the poisoned one before you.” A second finger went up. “Second, by tampering with the other cups so their handles would break, she made sure the poisoned cup would get passed to someone else. Once the tea had to be poured again, no one would dare serve cooled tea to the grand duke’s daughter.”

“And if that cup ended up in another’s hands, suspicion would fall neatly on me.”

“Exactly. Whoever did this clearly wanted you cast as the culprit.”

If their reasoning held, then the servant was indeed the direct hand behind the crime. Her nervous demeanor had already stood out, and everything pointed her way.

A faint cloud of doubt lingered in Milly’s chest. Something doesn’t sit right. For one maid alone to orchestrate this feels off.

Even if she bore a grudge against the grand duke’s house, would she really go so far as to devise a plot meant to frame Milly outright? The maid was almost certainly the one who carried it out, but Milly’s instincts balked at calling her the mastermind.

“Tell me. Do you know which household supplied the original tea set?” she asked.

Nicholas blinked. “The supplier?”

“Yes. Some of the tea sets were provided by students’ families, weren’t they?”

“Well, maybe. I’d have to ask a teacher to be sure.”

“And?”

“Even if I did, I doubt they’d tell me. The staff will probably lock down every detail for the investigation.”

“I see.”

That made sense. Restricting information would keep idle speculation from spreading among the students. Sensible in theory, but not helpful here.

Milly’s thoughts went back to the moment after the cup handles had snapped. When the thin-fingered maid had brought the replacement set, Milly had directly asked who had supplied it, intending to hold the household accountable for sending shoddy goods. The maid had claimed ignorance, but anyone could see she had been lying. There had to be a reason for her dishonesty.

Nicholas frowned slightly. “Although, when I glanced at one of the recovered cups, I did notice something odd. There was a strange mark on the bottom.”

Milly’s head jerked up. “A mark?”

“Yeah. It looked like a tiara entwined with a bergamot flower. I remembered it because the design struck me as the sort of thing you’d draw.”

“I’ll decide whether or not to hit you later.”

“Wait, what?”

Milly froze Nicholas with a look as his face went pale, but then she forced her thoughts to churn.

A tiara with a bergamot flower. She’d seen that motif before. “Ah.” Rummaging through her memory, the answer snapped into place. “I’ve got it! The tiara with the bergamot!”

Nicholas blinked. “What?”

“The hair ornament. Brima’s!”

“H-Hair ornament?”

It had happened around two weeks ago.

While chatting with Lucius in the classroom, Milly had pulled out her chair and accidentally bumped into her classmate Brima Bickel as she passed. The collision had broken the hair ornament Brima was wearing, and Milly clearly remembered its design: a tiara crowned with a bergamot blossom. Lucius had said the ornament came from the general store Brima’s family ran. That must mean the shop’s emblem was the tiara-and-bergamot motif.

“The cups must have come from that same shop!” Milly exclaimed.

Nicholas’s expression soured. “Wait, are you saying Lady Bickel supplied those cups?”

“Yes, that’s what it looks like!” Even if she wasn’t the true culprit, she had to be connected somehow.

Milly leaned forward, energized by the new lead, but Nicholas only frowned, twisting his mouth in doubt. “So, what now? Are you saying Lady Bickel resents you enough to have orchestrated all of this herself?”

“That’s what the signs are pointing to, at least.”

“But Lady Bickel’s the shy, retiring sort, isn’t she? No matter how much she dislikes you, it’s hard to imagine her going this far.” Nicholas set a hand to his chin, eyes lowering behind his glasses as he considered.

He wasn’t wrong. Even back when the hair ornament broke, and again when Sierra’s hair had been cut, Brima had been terrified of Milly to an abnormal degree. Could someone who shook that badly in Milly’s presence really have done something like this?

Milly thought it over for a while, then spoke plainly. “I believe it’s worth asking her directly. At the very least, we might learn something we don’t know yet. So why don’t we go see her?”

Milly didn’t know Brima well, but she couldn’t just ignore this potential clue. Besides, time wasn’t on their side. If the faculty launched their own inquiry, everything would be out of their hands. If Brima had even the smallest connection, putting her off until later would be a mistake.

Chapter 6: The Noblest Evil of All

Brima Bickel, the second daughter of the Bickel baronial house, sat in Class 1-C with her head bowed.

When poison had been detected in the cups, the tea party was canceled. The students were sent back to their classrooms, the teachers vanished off to some meeting, and the now disorderly room buzzed with unrest. Everyone was shouting guesses about who the culprit might be. Brima could hardly bear the thought that her name might be spoken among them.

What am I going to do, what am I going to do, what am I going to do? She clenched her hands so hard as she tried to hide the sweat on her palms. All that crowded Brima’s mind was one single fear: What if everything were to come out? She hated herself for only worrying about saving her own skin, and yet, somehow, self-preservation won.

Her body trembled, though she wasn’t cold. The goose bumps wouldn’t stop spreading across her skin. Breathing shallowly, Brima bit down on her back teeth. I’ve done something terrible. Indeed, Brima Bickel was responsible for the incident.

With limited wits she had plotted it: smear poison on the rim of the cup, press her meager savings into the hands of a maid whose family nobody knew, and slip poison onto Milly Asteara’s table.

It was all Brima’s doing.

What am I going to do? What if the teachers are hunting for a culprit? If they discover it was me... There’d be no hope left. Brima would be finished. She would be expelled from the academy, whispered about with scorn in society, perhaps even disowned by her own parents. The thought alone made her shake all the harder. She had done it, yes, but imagining the punishment that awaited terrified her to no end.

The grand duke’s daughter looked so angry. Wh-What if they...execute me? Fear shot through her whole body. With it came the memory of her family, who had smiled and seen her off just that morning.

Brima carried memories from another life. She remembered being an ordinary nobody in a country called Japan, a child without parents, living a life of poverty. She had always been a lonely girl, and even in the final moments of her life, when she had been killed by accident, she remembered being hungry.

And then she was reborn into the world of the only otome game she had played—just once, all the way to the end—at a friend’s house. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize, as she remembered The Kingdom of Blossoms: Magi well. But what thrilled her most in this new life was that she had a family.

Her former life had been spent in an orphanage—she had neither parents nor siblings. Loneliness was all she had known. By contrast, the Bickel baronial family into which she was reborn was one of the largest broods in society. There were fourteen people in all: six sons and six daughters. The barony lived more in name than in wealth, though the house was always noisy and full of life, and Brima adored her family for it.

Since she was the second daughter, Brima’s dresses were always hand-me-downs from her elder sister, and the other noble girls her age would laugh at her for it. She could still remember how one had tugged at a loose thread until her favorite lace frayed to tatters. But she never truly felt sad or lonely, because she had family.

Even so, her mother must have pitied her. One day, when Brima was still shy of ten, her mother secretly gave her a hair ornament from the shop they ran. It was not cheap, the sort of thing that even now would fetch a fair price. Brima had polished it carefully every day and treasured it, until it was no longer hers to keep.

She thought back to the day it was broken, some two weeks ago. From that moment, it felt as though everything had begun to unravel. Ever since, misfortune had dogged her. With its shards she had accidentally wounded the so-called villainess. When ordered to cut the “heroine’s” hair, she had failed, only to be caught by the “final boss,” who was more terrifying than any demon.

She had entered the academy, the very stage upon which the game’s story was set, yet her time there had been miserable. She had thought she might befriend Angelina, another transmigrant, but instead the girl spoke endlessly of rewound time and grew ever more irritable. And Brima herself had become nothing more than Angelina’s lackey.

It was never supposed to be like this. She had believed that, having endured such loneliness in her former life, she might finally live happily in this one. She had even indulged in fantasies, of cheering on the heroine’s romance from afar, of perhaps being chosen by one of the eligible bachelors, and of maybe—just maybe—finding her own love. She had dreamed of such things, yet the reality before her eyes was nothing like the dream.

“Because you’re such a useless fool, the Bickel barony—scraping by on the trashy cotton it sells my family—will soon be ruined.”

The memory of Angelina’s cruel words sent Brima shaking all over again. She poisoned the cup only because Angelina had ordered her to. “Do it, or I’ll let your family rot,” she’d said, and what choice did Brima have?

The Bickel family’s livelihood depended almost entirely on selling cotton to the Grey house. Angelina had mocked her time and again, saying, “Your family only scrapes by on the scraps we toss you,” and because it was true, Brima had never been able to answer back.

If the truth of the incident came out, Brima would certainly be expelled. She might even be accused of trying to assassinate the grand duke’s daughter and be executed for it. Regardless, her parents and eleven siblings would keep their only steady source of income, and for Brima, that alone was enough. Even in this world of a game, she was willing to sacrifice her life if it meant protecting her beloved family.

“Is Lady Brima Bickel here?”

Her spiraling thoughts froze as she raised her head in fear. At the front of the room stood three figures known to everyone in the academy: Nicholas Einzdohr, Edgar Franster, and the grand duke’s daughter, Milly Asteara.

The moment her eyes took them in, Brima’s heart pounded so violently it hurt. Her lips trembled as if to speak, but Milly swept her gaze across the classroom and spoke first.

“Hmm? Lucius isn’t here? I’d meant to make him our escort.”

“I believe he went looking for you, Lady Milly. Anyway, why am I being dragged along for this? I don’t get it,” Edgar complained.

“Because you’re the son of the Count of Magic. That makes you the perfect bodyguard for me and the grand duke’s daughter,” Nicholas explained.

“Unbelievable, using people as it suits you... Wait, isn’t that her? The one with the blue hair?” Edgar said as his slender finger pointed straight toward Brima. She dropped her gaze in a panic, but that only served as admission.

The steady thump of polished loafers drew closer, step by step, until they stopped before her desk. Brima clenched her fists so tightly they hurt—pain born of resolve, of bracing herself to accept whatever came.

“You’re Brima, aren’t you? We’d like a word.”

Brima hesitated to respond.

“I want to hear your side of things.” Milly’s voice was quiet, yet heavy with finality.

Brima gave the smallest of nods. The moment had come sooner than she’d feared. Now it was only a question of how far she could go for the sake of her family.

◇◇◇

The soft thud of the conference room door closing made Brima Bickel’s shoulders jolt. Her face was a pitiful mask of fear, yet beneath that terror lingered something else—an air of grim acceptance, as though she had already resigned herself to her fate.

Seeing that expression, Milly narrowed her eyes, a flicker of recognition stirring as she studied the girl. Just like father before his execution—standing on the scaffold, waiting for the blade to fall... The déjà vu told Milly all she needed to know. The poisoned cup must have been Brima’s doing. No one else would wear that look of resignation.

“Well then, um, the reason we brought you here is to talk about today’s incident,” Nicholas, apparently arriving at the same conclusion, began awkwardly.

But before he could continue, Edgar cut in. “No, let’s drop the act. This girl doesn’t look like she’s in the dark about anything.”

“B-But...” Nicholas protested.

“It’s fine. Dragging things out only gives her time to come up with excuses. So? Why did you slip poison into the teacup in the first place?”

Edgar pressed the question, and Brima bit her lip, lowering her gaze.

“Hey, staying silent doesn’t help. What is it, some reason you can’t say?” Edgar continued. “It’s foolish, really. Keeping your mouth shut will only make your punishment worse.”

His sharp glare made Brima flinch.

Her pitiful state almost prompted Milly to step in, but the fact remained: The longer Brima hesitated to deny it, the more likely it was true. Milly let her eyes soften and released a quiet sigh.

“Brima. Was it you?”

The baron’s daughter still couldn’t bring herself to respond.

“There isn’t any hard proof. Only that the pattern on the bottom of the cup matched the design of the hair ornament you had. If we’ve got it wrong, then say so.”

Brima said nothing. She looked as though she were still deciding what to say.

Beside her, Edgar shot Milly a look of annoyance, his eyes practically saying, “We all know she’s guilty, just make her admit it already.”

If efficiency was the only concern, that would have been the way. But Milly couldn’t bring herself to do it.

She couldn’t forget the sight of Brima bowing and begging Angelina in front of Class A. That memory alone kept her from seeing Brima as the culprit.

“It was me.” The words fell into the silence, Brima’s voice quiet but steady.

None of the three, Milly included, looked surprised. Given Brima’s reaction and expression from the moment she entered the meeting room, it had been obvious she was the culprit.

“I... I painted the poison onto the cup with my own hands, tampered with the handles so they’d break off easily, and bribed a maid to place the poisoned cup where I wanted it. I-It was all me.”

This was, sadly enough, exactly as they had predicted.

As Milly lowered her eyes in silence, Edgar gave a flat “Hmph,” twisting a lock of his hair around his finger in boredom. “Motive?” he asked.

“B-Because...I can’t stand the grand duke’s daughter.”

“I see. And that tea set was supplied by your family as well?”

The question caught Brima for an instant. “Y-Yes. Our shop sells it. I... I stole it.” Her voice trembled so badly it was on the verge of breaking into sobs.

The sight was too pitiful to bear. Milly gripped the hem of her uniform skirt. She couldn’t help but think about what Brima must have felt, stealing a tea set from her own family’s shop and altering it with her own hands. She should have despised Brima, yet all Milly could feel was sorrow.

Was Brima truly the only one involved? Looking at her now, Milly found it hard to believe. Yes, Brima admitted it. And yes, the tea set’s origin could be traced back to her easily enough. But still, Milly couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it.

“Brima.” Calling her name quietly, Milly stepped closer. “Was this really something you did entirely on your own? With no one else’s will behind it?”

Brima gave the smallest of nods.

“Truly?”

“Y-Yes. It was all me.” Her faint voice, fragile enough to be lost in a passing breeze, dissolved into the spacious meeting room.

Edgar glanced at Milly as if to ask, “Well, what now?” Nicholas’s face stayed fixed in its usual grave expression.

Milly let out a slow breath. “I see.”

But everyone in the room knew the truth: Brima was lying. There had been someone pulling the strings, commanding this trembling girl to do their bidding. And yet Brima refused to say a word, insisting again and again that it had all been her own doing.

Watching her, Milly felt a flicker of déjà vu. She pressed her fingers to her temple, and soon the memory returned to that moment when Sierra’s hair had been cut. When Milly had confronted Brima, she asked whether there was someone else involved.

Brima had panicked, failing to give a straight answer. However, while frantic, she’d slipped up: “Just this once...I can’t. If I fail this event, then my house truly will... Please, forgive me! I beg you! I-I have to make Lady Angelina that girl’s ‘best friend’!”

You again, Angelina?

That self-styled villainess, Angelina Grey, always managed to make herself Milly’s problem. Milly still hadn’t figured out why Brima had blurted out Angelina’s name back then. Because Sierra insisted she didn’t want the incident to be made into a big deal, the whole matter had stayed quiet. Milly never uncovered what “best friend” meant in that context, nor what Brima meant by “event.” In the end, all that came of it was Sierra’s sadness.

Milly glanced at the clock and bit her lower lip. It had been nearly an hour since the poisoning occurred.

The teachers’ closed-door meeting to identify the culprit must be wrapping up soon. By now they had surely discovered that the cups had come from Brima’s family shop. At any moment they might walk in and take her away as the guilty party.

If that happened, time would effectively run out. So long as Brima kept insisting she had acted alone, the academy would punish her alone, no matter who was pulling the strings behind her. Nicholas’s plan to settle things quietly would collapse, along with his promise that the ducal house of Einzdohr would side with the grand duke’s faction. That road led straight to the Asteara house’s ruin.

There was no more time. I don’t have the luxury of waiting. Resolute, Milly clenched her fist. If the true hand behind Brima’s actions wasn’t unmasked before the teachers came, everything they’d done would be for nothing.

“Brima, I’ll ask one last time. Are you truly telling me no one else gave you orders?”

Brima gave the faintest nod.

“I see. Very well. As for you two,” Milly said to the boys accompanying her, her words rapid-fire, clipped, and commanding, “I have somewhere I need to be. Take Brima to the council chamber and hide her there.”

“Huh?” Edgar gaped, caught flat-footed by the abruptness. She didn’t waste time explaining.

“This is our plan. Edgar, you’re to lock the council room with the strongest warding spells you know. The teachers will soon be hunting for Brima. Your job is to buy us time. Understood?”

“Wait, what? I don’t—”

She cut Edgar off without pause. “And Nicholas, keep her occupied. Tell her some entertaining stories. Anything. Being shut up in a room will be dull enough otherwise.”

“Why do I feel like I drew the short straw here?” Nicholas muttered.

“Good. That’s settled.” Milly’s hand was already on the door. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turned back.

Brima was still staring at her, terrified, trembling, yet in her eyes, Milly caught a glimmer of something unshakable. The girl’s expression made it plain: Even if her lips were pried open, she would never name her accomplice.

A strange flicker of admiration stirred in Milly at that grim resolve. She voiced the words she had wanted to say all along. “I’m sorry I broke your beautiful hair ornament. Somehow, I’ll make it up to you.” The words left her, and without waiting for an answer, Milly turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber. Time was too precious to waste.

There was only one destination in her mind: Angelina Grey, the so-called villainess. If anyone held the key, it was her. Milly could not shake the conviction that Angelina knew something.

◇◇◇

“Your Highness, does the confection not suit your taste?”

Seated by the window in Class 1-A, Gilbert looked up from his untouched cup of tea, startled by the voice of a classmate.

“What? Ah, no, it’s good. The berries give it a nice bite.”

“I’m glad! Even though the tea party was canceled, it’s still fun to bring sweets together and share them like this, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is.”

Most of the faculty had been pulled into an emergency council, leaving the students with an unexpected stretch of free time. Using their own tea sets meant there was no fear of poison, and so Gilbert’s classmates had taken it upon themselves to throw together a makeshift tea party, each bringing their own contributions.

“But what a dreadful business, poison in a teacup of all things. What could the culprit possibly have been after?” The sighing girl across from him lowered her brows, her words carrying the weight of unease. “And to think the victim was from our own class. Reprehensible. Don’t you agree, Your Highness?”

“Ah, yes.”

“And have you heard? They’re saying the grand duke’s daughter is under suspicion! Some even whisper she’s always hated commoners and attempted to hurt Restreive on purpose. Do you think it’s true?”

Gilbert said nothing. He dropped his gaze to the table. Every time those words—the grand duke’s daughter—passed someone’s lips, his chest tightened. No doubt it was because of what had happened earlier in the corridor. When they told him that if he defended Milly, it could cost him the throne, he had fallen silent.

Why didn’t I... Why couldn’t I speak up? The thought kept circling, leaving him hollow.

The truth was, Gilbert had never cared much for the throne at all. He had both an elder brother and a younger one, each with the talent and bearing suited for a king. Gilbert had no ambition to shove his brothers aside and seize the throne, nor any dream or ideal he wanted to realize by becoming king.

He was simply the second prince by birth, gradually drawn into the succession struggle without meaning to be. Even though he held no desire for rank or power, the people kept placing their hopes on him—saying things such as “We want you to be king!”—and that made it impossible for him to step out of the race.

I’m just drifting along with everyone else’s opinions. Thinking about it plainly filled him with misery. Living half-heartedly like that made him overly conscious of the nobles’ moods.

That was why he shied away from the notoriously unpopular grand duke’s household, and why he couldn’t bring himself to defend Milly even though he believed in her innocence.

“I could never say this to her face, but I suspect the grand duke’s daughter, myself,” a classmate confessed. “The other day, when I passed her, she gave me such a fierce glare, I just knew she hated commoners! I honestly thought she was going to kill me.”

If Gilbert weren’t so concerned with appearances, he could have denied that on the spot. He could have told her it was just Milly’s blunt expression that made her seem intimidating, and for the girl who didn’t know Milly’s background, he could have explained that they were childhood friends and that Milly had been different when they were little.

He held back because, at heart, Gilbert was still the same timid boy he’d always been. He worried about what others would think, and because he cared about how he was seen, he considered cutting ties with the grand duke’s house to protect a throne he didn’t want. It was pathetic and infuriating.

“Your Highness? Are you feeling unwell?”

The gallant, kindhearted second prince beloved by the people was nothing but a facade. In truth, when classmates whispered cruel speculations about his childhood friend, he sat mute, unable to defend her. One of the girls leaned forward to peer anxiously into his face.

“Ah, no, I’m fine,” he answered. “Just short on sleep. Would you mind bringing me something sweet?”

“Of course! Please wait just a moment.”

She bustled off, leaving Gilbert to exhale a long, heavy sigh.

Milly wasn’t the culprit. That much would soon come out, but the fact remained that many students already suspected her. And even if the real poisoner were caught, the stain of suspicion might not wash away. The grand duke’s household had earned fresh notoriety, and with that, Milly might be pushed out of the council altogether.

The thought circled in his mind until he nearly drowned in it. He forced himself to remember instead the day of the entrance ceremony. How Milly, saying she wanted to join the council, had smiled with a softness he hadn’t seen since her mother’s death.

Yes. That smile had reassured him. She hadn’t changed, not deep down.

“Gilbert. A word, if you please.”

Lost in memory, Gilbert almost cried out when a voice rang suddenly behind him. He whipped around and nearly dropped his teacup. There was Milly, drifting in through the open window on a broom, her hair full of leaves.

His mouth fell open before his mind caught up. “M-Milly?! What are you doing?! We’re three floors up!”

“Keep your voice down. Do you want my stealing a broom and flying all the way here to go to waste?”

“Y-You what?! And why in the world do you have leaves in your hair?”

“I may have misjudged my approach and flown straight into a tree. But it is rather festive, like being part of the decorations, so you should try it sometime. More importantly, where’s Lady Grey? She isn’t in class right now?” Still hovering on her broom, Milly scanned the room, narrowed her eyes, and muttered, “Not here.” Clearly, she had no intention of explaining herself further.

Gilbert sighed, smoothing the tension from his expression. After all these years, he knew better. Asking Milly for a reasonable explanation was a waste of time.

“She went to Class C,” he said at last. “Said she was looking for Lady Bickel.”

Milly’s gaze flicked to the tea cakes on the table, and Gilbert shoved a cookie into her mouth before she could reach for one.

“She’s going after Brima?” she said, her voice muffled by the crumbs.

“Swallow before you talk. And she should be back soon enough. Said it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes.” Gilbert glanced at the clock. Indeed, nearly ten minutes had passed since Angelina had left.

Milly balanced on her broom with unnerving ease, one hand resting against her chin. “I need to speak with her. Alone, if possible. But I do wonder about something—she’s so wary of me, she may refuse to be anywhere near me without an audience.”

Gilbert frowned. “You have something to discuss with her?”

“Yes, but if she bolts before I can get a word out, it’s pointless. That’s why I thought I’d come take a look from the air first.”

“Why is your version of a compromise always something insane?” he muttered before he could stop himself.

Still, he couldn’t deny her concern had weight. Angelina had clung to his side right up until leaving the classroom, chattering without pause, and eight parts in ten of it had been some variation on: “The grand duke’s daughter terrifies me. How can anyone share a council chamber with such a monster?”

He had tuned her out after a while, but Milly was right. If she so much as beckoned Lady Grey, Angelina would almost certainly make a spectacle of shrieking, “She’s trying to poison me!” Gilbert could see it already.

“But that’s my only option,” Milly said at last. “Time is running out.”

Her face was as impassive as ever, yet there was an urgency in her voice that gave Gilbert pause. For a heartbeat he forgot to answer, caught by the strangeness of it all. Milly, calm to the point of iron even in chaos, looked pressed.

“This is important, isn’t it?” Gilbert finally asked.

“Huh?”

“You said there was something you needed to discuss. But does it absolutely have to be a conversation with just the two of you?”

“Oh, yes. It does.” Milly nodded, then fell into pensive silence.

Gilbert, watching his reflection in her downcast eyes, couldn’t help but recall the scene in the corridor earlier, that moment when he’d failed to defend her. How had he looked in her eyes then?

Knowing Milly, she might have excused it with something like, “It’s no surprise the second prince can’t openly side with the grand duke’s daughter.” But he could just as easily picture her pouting, thinking he might at least have offered some token of reassurance.

What he knew for certain was this: As things stood, in Milly’s mind, Gilbert was still the same unreliable second prince he had always been.

When they were children, he cried in front of her more times than he could count. Cried when she beat him at games, cried when she locked him into some wrestling hold, cried when the grand duke scolded him. That image of a helpless boy must still be etched into her memory.

“If I were the one to summon her, she might actually come.” The words escaped Gilbert’s lips before he realized it, born of sheer frustration at himself.

“What?”

“I don’t know exactly what you intend, but you just want to get her alone, don’t you? If I were to ask her to meet me privately, she’d likely agree. And if I add something about her going there first so the classmates don’t start gossiping, it will sound perfectly natural.”

In other words, the plan was to use Gilbert as bait to draw out Angelina. The second prince was not so dull as to miss all the attention she lavished on him, and he was well aware she favored him. She would surely answer his summons. Then, when she came, Milly could simply take his place and confront her.

Milly seemed to grasp it too. Her sharp eyes widened in surprise. “You... You’d really do that for me?”

“Yes. I don’t like the idea of tricking someone, but if it helps you, then it’s worth it.” If this was the way to make up for not defending her earlier, then so be it. He wanted to be of use to her now, in whatever way he could.

Milly met his gaze, her eyes shining like stars. “Th-Thank you! I swear I’ll make this work!”

What exactly she meant by that, Gilbert had no idea. But with her looking at him like that, there was no way he could refuse. Smiling wryly, he gave a firm nod. “All right. Leave it to me.”

◇◇◇

The so-called villainess, Angelina Grey, stood alone in the garden where she had once struck down the final boss and let a languid sigh of ecstasy escape her lips. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shimmering with a languor verging on rapture. And in the haze that filled her head, only one thought reigned supreme: Yes, reincarnation truly is the most marvelous gift. I never dreamed things would go this perfectly! God Himself must be on my side!

Her thoughts flew back to scarcely ten minutes earlier. Having returned from Class C, Angelina had been greeted by none other than Gilbert, with an invitation she could hardly believe.

“Shall we find someplace we can be alone to talk?” he’d asked.

Those eyes, that voice, those words! How could their meaning be anything but obvious? He clearly yearned to make a confession of love.

Since it never happened in the world before time rewound, this time it must happen at the tea party! There could be no mistake. Beaming with a smile she couldn’t begin to restrain, Angelina reaffirmed the truth she cherished above all: Oh, yes, this world truly does revolve around me!

How else could it be explained? She had put the dull-witted Brima to clever use, and by happy chance managed to send the heroine, Sierra, off to the infirmary, thereby ruining her chance at the student council. She had smeared Milly’s name, and now she would receive a confession of love! Everything was falling into place too perfectly.

What was more, she had made certain that if Brima wavered, the threat of “say my name and your family is finished” would seal her lips. No hint of the plot could possibly blow back upon Angelina.

And thanks to the rumors she herself had sown—that Milly detested commoners and strutted about with high-handed disdain—the reputation of the grand duke’s house had sunk lower than ever within the academy. At this rate, Milly would be forced to step down from the council. Her end was near.

Ha! How utterly pathetic! That an alleged “final boss” thought she could sidle up to one of the love interests. Serves her right!

The student council was a garden where the love interests gathered, the main stage of the entire scenario. For Milly Asteara of all people to be permitted entry into such a place was an outrage.

After all, Gilbert, Nicholas, Edgar, Lucius, and Ike all belong to me, the true heroine of this world, for I am the reincarnated villainess, Angelina Grey.

They must not be snatched away by Milly. Nor by Sierra. Nor by any other girl. They were destined to love Angelina and Angelina alone. Truth be told, Angelina had despised Milly Asteara even in her former life.

She had been appalled that the final boss was blessed with such a flattering character design and treated like a beauty even within the story itself. Worse, the fans adored her. When Angelina once stumbled across a piece of fan fiction where Milly and Gilbert ended up together, she was in such a foul mood she sulked for two weeks. The very idea was intolerable. Gilbert was a love interest, for heaven’s sake!

Indeed, in the game, the love interests were meant to pour their devotion upon the protagonist, the player. No other girl had any right to catch their hearts. But when she’d awoken in the world of the game itself, her mindset shifted entirely. Now, the one to receive that love must not be some faceless heroine, but her, the true heroine of this world: the reincarnated villainess, Angelina Grey.

And so, she’d schemed to drive Milly out of the student council, so that the world might be set back on its proper track. Everything was proceeding exactly as she wished. Now, here she was, basking in the triumph of being summoned by Gilbert himself.

Heh, of course. I really am the heroine of this world, aren’t I? Gilbert should be along any moment now.

Gilbert had told her, “I don’t want the other students to notice,” and so he would come a little later. Even the restless wait was a blissful thing for Angelina. After all, in just a few minutes, she would have it all.

Because Angelina was the villainess.

And in reincarnation stories, it was always the villainess who became the heroine, the undeniable winner.

“My, so this is where you’ve been? I’ve been looking for you.”

Her dream shattered in an instant. Angelina froze and turned around, finding a girl who had no right to be there.

“Milly Asteara...”

The final boss, Milly Asteara. Her cool, unreadable eyes fixed squarely on Angelina. A bead of cold sweat slid down her back. Her heart thudded, hard enough to hurt.

Why...? Why was she here? It was supposed to be Gilbert.

As though reading the doubt plain on her face, Milly’s lips curved in a faint smile. “You’re careless. A reaction like that is as good as admitting you’ve got something to hide.”

Angelina’s face twisted as if she wanted to swear. But by the time she realized that only made her look guiltier, it was already too late. Milly murmured something under her breath, and a soundproofing barrier snapped into place around them. The click-click of loafers approaching made Angelina’s heart race faster.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who made Brima do that.”

A sharp intake of breath escaped Angelina’s throat. That idiot actually blurted it out?

If Angelina’s involvement had leaked from anywhere, it could only have been from Brima. The moment that thought registered, fury rose in Angelina’s gut. She could not forgive it. Brima should have stayed silent. Instead, she’d opened her mouth and made everything worse.

Unforgivable! That stupid girl! I’ll ruin her family!

She clenched her fists and glared at Milly with lethal intensity. Brima would pay. Angelina would make her and her whole household understand the terror of defying someone who knew everything about this world.

But first, I have to deal with this woman before Gilbert arrives. He was surely on his way to the garden right now, thinking of Angelina. There was no time to dally over Milly.

Angelina snorted and pinched her brows together. “All right, then. So, what are you going to do about it?” Angelina’s words dripped with mockery, meant to flaunt her composure.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” Milly said evenly.

“Of course. Even if that poverty-stricken girl dared to say my name, who would ever believe her?” Angelina hadn’t taken this risk without a fallback. She had her safeguards in place, guarantees that nothing could touch her. “The culprit is Brima, plain and simple. Do you understand? There’s not a shred of proof tying me to her orders.”

“My, is that so?”

“The law is clear: Suspicion isn’t enough for punishment. And Grandor is indulgent with nobles, besides. Brima’s testimony will be smothered and forgotten in no time.”

Milly’s lips moved faintly, but she had no words to counter with. Angelina smirked. The final boss had clearly realized there was no way to bring her to justice. The pitiful look on her face was too delicious, and Angelina let out a high, triumphant laugh. To see that stupid woman recognize her own helplessness was exquisite.

“Ah ha ha! And let me throw your own words back at you—you’re the careless one here. You really think raising a soundproofing barrier was clever? Idiot. If anyone else had overheard this, you might’ve had evidence. As it stands, you’ve trapped yourself.”

“...”

“See? Nothing to say! You’ve been muttering under your breath this whole time. What, are those supposed to be excuses? Hey...”

It was just then, as Angelina spat the words, that it happened. Her vision was suddenly drowned in a blinding white glare, forcing her to shield her eyes. Squinting against the painful brilliance, she managed to open them a crack and saw something she could not believe.

What? Behind Milly Asteara, a massive magic circle had appeared. What... What is that?

But no one else was there to answer her unspoken question.

The only person who might have—Milly herself—just stood there, staring directly at Angelina, lips moving in steady rhythm. With each word she spoke, smaller magic circles shimmered into existence around her, until Angelina finally realized what it was.

“An incantation?”

Correct. Milly Asteara hadn’t been muttering empty protests at all. She had been chanting a spell, continuously, all this time.

No way. You’ve got to be kidding. This girl... Angelina could only stand frozen as the thought surfaced in her mind. Impossible. No mere human should be capable of something like this. I have to run!

For a human to use magic, there is a set procedure: raise a wand and speak the incantation. It might sound simple, but it is a trap many novices fall into. Magic is far more intricate than it appears. Even the slightest deviation of a few centimeters in the wand’s movement is enough to cause failure, and when it comes to chanting, precision alone is not enough. The tone and speed of one’s voice must be perfectly controlled at every step.

I have to run...so why...?

For this reason, spells requiring long incantations are said to be cast by only a handful of people in the entire world.

The famed Count of Magic, Neil Franster, once said: “Twenty seconds. That is the limit of what a human can chant. But if anyone were to go beyond that, maintaining perfect clarity and accuracy for longer...”

Why won’t...my legs move?

“...then that being would no longer be human. And the only sane response would be to turn tail and flee.”

“What was that you called me? ‘Careless’?”

By now, nearly a full minute had passed. After chanting for far longer than any normal human could dream of, Milly stood encircled by a host of floating magic circles, glowing in the air around her.

Angelina could only gape, struck dumb, staring at the impossible sight. She knew that if she didn’t run now, something terrible would happen to her. And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t move. It was as if some unseen force had commanded her to stay put.

As though to confirm it, Milly slowly spoke her name. “Angelina Grey. Let me tell you one last thing. The reason I cast a barrier of silence...”

“Huh?”

“...was so your screams wouldn’t escape.”

In that instant, light exploded across Angelina’s vision, and a scream tore from her throat.

There was no pain, no suffocating agony. Only a terror so overwhelming it consumed her, until her desperate cry for help was swallowed whole by the blaze.

A dull awareness crept in. The sense of her consciousness slipping away. Was she about to die here, just like this? Her fingers could no longer even twitch. And then, from somewhere, Milly’s voice reached her.

“Since you can’t atone on your own, I’ll help you bear the weight of your sins. Good night, self-styled villainess.”

Before she could cling to those final words, Angelina Grey quietly surrendered to the dark.

◇◇◇

After delivering her parting words, Milly couldn’t help thinking she might have slipped up.

In this rewound world, Lady Angelina Grey had yet to start calling herself a villainess. The fact that Milly had let that word slip was, technically, proof that Milly was aware of the rewind, but it shouldn’t matter. Angelina lay unconscious in the garden, and with the knockout spell woven into the blast, her memories ought to be hazy at best.

“Whew. I’m a little tired, but I’d better get moving.” With a quiet breath, Milly released the soundproof barrier with a short incantation.

She had gone overboard for caution’s sake, weaving together a large-scale spell, but that only meant she’d piled on different types of magic. None of them had long durations. By her estimation, Angelina would come around in ten minutes or so. It was best to be gone before then.

It was my first time using a confession spell, so I’m not entirely sure it took hold, but it should be fine. I’m me, after all. If there was one thing Milly excelled at, it was unwarranted confidence. She turned her back on the garden and hurried toward the school building. Still, I’m relieved Angelina confessed right there.

In truth, Milly had no concrete proof that Angelina was the one pulling Brima’s strings. She’d only had a hunch, nothing more. It was a gamble. The confession gave her all the certainty she needed, and it let her use magic without hesitation. She also had Gilbert to thank for creating the opportunity to face Angelina alone. Today’s MVP was unquestionably him.

I wonder what will become of Brima now. As she made her way toward the student council room, where Brima and the others would be waiting, Milly couldn’t help but turn the matter over in her mind. From Angelina’s words, it was clear enough that Brima had been forced into it, likely threatened over her family.

Milly wasn’t well-versed in the ins and outs of noble society, but Gilbert, who knew such things far better, had once explained that House Bickel and House Grey were bound together in business. The baron’s household relied heavily on the count’s patronage. Defying a daughter of that family would have been nearly impossible.

Even so, harsh circumstances did not erase guilt. Angelina might have confessed under the compulsion of Milly’s spell, but that didn’t make Brima’s crimes vanish.

She won’t be executed. Surely not. Nicholas will find some way to smooth things over. Perhaps a convent will be the likeliest outcome. Bleak possibilities circled in her head. Milly quickened her pace, the corners of her eyes softening with worry. I want to help you, Brima.

The thought rose unbidden, but reality offered no such mercy. Brima would almost certainly be expelled. It was only right, considering what she had done, and yet when Milly thought about what awaited her, a heaviness filled her chest.

“In the end, I’m powerless, aren’t I?” came a frustrated whisper. Looking back on everything since time had turned back, Milly couldn’t name a single victory. She hadn’t restored Sierra’s shorn hair, nor had she prevented the poison from being drunk.

Brima, threatened and used like a pawn, was beyond Milly’s ability to save. At best she would be sent to a convent. At worst, she might face execution. All Milly had done was rail about revenge against Angelina, brag about gathering allies, yet she hadn’t spared a single thought for anyone else. Didn’t that show she had the same arrogance as Kyle?

In the end, I can’t even save one girl like Brima with my strength alone.

She remembered the day the world rewound, when her father had flatly refused to protect her. She had sworn then to live by her own power from that moment on. But now she knew how naive that had been.

For all her years of study and relentless training in magic, her power was still paltry. In noble society, where influence and rhetoric carried true weight, her ability to act was painfully limited.

Worse, Angelina would surely seek revenge. Angelina had memories from before the rewind, which meant she might keep plotting to harm Milly, just as she had this time.

Milly couldn’t keep falling back on forced confessions through magic. She needed a strategy to counter Angelina, something lasting. The list of things to think about only grew longer.

“Living on my own... How mad was that notion?” She laughed bitterly, mocking herself.

It had taken just under a month since time had turned back for Milly to realize the truth: She was not strong enough to live alone. She needed someone to protect her, someone who would throw themselves in harm’s way if danger came, and who could drive back Angelina when the time came. Describing such a figure, the word “guardian” almost seemed too noble. What Milly wanted was more like a watchdog.

“Couldn’t there be...an invincible pup somewhere?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and Milly gave a small laugh at herself for spouting such a fairytale notion. No such creature existed. Someone with the clout to settle matters with a single word, with unmatched skill in magic, and close enough to serve as her personal watchdog...

“Ah.”

No, one such person did exist. Milly halted in her tracks, blinking rapidly as the realization struck.

Yes, he had been right beside her all along. A man of power, gifted in magic, silver-tongued, and, most of all, someone Milly dearly wished to keep bound to her by the leash: the perfect candidate for a watchdog.

◇◇◇

The moment she returned home, Milly pressed her demand upon the household steward. “Let me see father.”

“Pardon?”

“I need to see him right now. Where is he? In his study?”

“Ah, no!” protested the steward. “His Grace only just returned, and at present he is resting.”

Milly frowned. “You’re saying his rest is more important than his daughter?”

Truth be told, knowing her father, he probably would consider his rest far more important than his own daughter. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Milly had to see him immediately.

“Enough. I’ll go to him myself.”

“M-My lady! Please, wait!”

The grand duke’s daughter could wait no longer. Leaving the pale-faced servants trailing behind her, Milly hurried up the grand staircase. The grand duke’s bedchamber lay on the third floor of the vast Asteara residence, a suite so large it defied all reason. Just as she reached the landing, the great double doors swung open.

“What is all this commotion?”

From within stepped the master of the house, Kyle Asteara. At the sight of him, the servants at Milly’s back gave little cries of alarm. For Milly, though, his appearance was a stroke of fortune.

“Father. I’ve just returned.”

Kyle raised a brow at her poised, unflinching manner, as though she were some unfamiliar curio. “When did you become a daughter who cannot keep quiet under her own roof?”

“I need to speak with you.” She had no time for his questions. Every moment counted. She had to make him listen.

It was the first proper exchange of words they had shared since time had turned back, since she had begged him to protect her and he had flatly refused. From then on, Milly resolved to live by her own strength. But now, at last, she had come to realize the truth: Her strength alone was not enough.

She could not hope to stand against the threats closing in on her. So, what choice remained? The answer was simple. She must once again secure her father’s protection.

Kyle grimaced. “In this state, when I’m already worn to the bone, you would have me waste what little time I have left to listen to the likes of you?”

“Yes.”

The air tightened. Not a single servant dared breathe. Amid that heavy silence, Milly nodded without hesitation.

Kyle turned on his heel. “Very well. Come in.”

“Y-Your Grace!” a servant protested.

“You lot stay out here. Your footsteps are loud enough to keep a man from sleeping.”

At those words, Milly strode boldly into the grand duke’s bedchamber, which she had not entered in ten years. The stark, barren space was unchanged, save for a small table, upon which rested something unusual: a novel.

“Father, you read novels?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Kyle closed the door behind him. “Surprised?”

“I thought you despised stories without substance.”

“I do. Reading it was enough to make me sick.” He chuckled low in his throat and sank into the sofa.

Then why bother reading it? But there was no need to ask him that. She knew perfectly well what retort he would give.

“So,” he said dryly. “What is it you want? You have five minutes.”

Five minutes. For Kyle, that was generous.

Milly quickly sorted the key points in her mind, cleared her throat, and said, “Today, there was a tea party held at the Grandor Academy of Magic.”

“That academy’s fondness for frivolous, unproductive events hasn’t changed, I see.”

So much for “five minutes.” He interrupted at once, and Milly had to grit her teeth to keep from frowning. “Yes. And I need to tell you about something that happened during the event.”

“Speak.”

“Poison was discovered at my table.”

At once, a crease cut deep between Kyle’s brows. His expression hardened in visible distaste. “Poison?”

“Yes. One of my classmates was the victim.”

“Oh? And here I thought you had no classmates to call a friend.”

“That is not the point. The one behind the poisoning was a daughter of the Grey family.”

Kyle’s brow furrowed still deeper. Then he gave a sharp, derisive snort. “The Greys. I have never liked that house.”

“Because they are not among the so-called pro-Asteara faction?”

“Well, well. When did you learn an expression like that?”

Just earlier, in truth. Gilbert had explained to her that the Grey family was not aligned with the grand duke’s house but rather counted among the nobles who opposed and criticized it.

But this was not the time to wander into politics. Glancing at the clock, Milly pressed on. “So then, the culprit, Angelina Grey, who styles herself a ‘villainess,’ apparently holds a grudge against me far deeper than I realized.”

A grudge strong enough to kill. Even with time rewound, her obsession with harming Milly was beyond ordinary hatred.

“I see. And? You expect me to kill her for you?”

“No. I don’t intend to make it into a scandal. Which is why, father...” Milly broke off, drawing in a quiet breath.

It would be simple to raise the alarm, to demand her father denounce the Grey house. But that would betray her promise to Nicholas, who wanted the affair to be kept quiet. In spite of that, she needed protection. She could not afford otherwise.

Thus, she turned to the one person who bore the realm’s sole title of grand duke.

“Please protect me.” The words were clear, unflinching.

For a moment, Kyle was struck silent. Perhaps he recalled how, only recently, he had cut down that very same plea without hesitation.

Kyle Asteara had not become grand duke merely by inheritance. He had earned it through sheer might. The true pillars of his authority were based on his mastery of magic and how he shaped his ideals into reality.

In particular, his command of magic was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Even Neil Franster, the famed Count of Magic whom Milly revered, would have struggled to best him. And now that Neil was gone, Milly was certain: the strongest sorcerer in the kingdom was her father.

Which meant the greatest power within her reach was none other than Kyle himself.

“Have you already forgotten that I told you not to waste your time with such foolish notions?”

“No, I mean it. Angelina Grey is unpredictable. Even if she were expelled from the academy, she might still come after me.”

Kyle remained silent, listening.

“That’s why I want you to protect me from her. Surely even you think your daughter is worth protecting?”

In the realm of magic, no one alive could surpass Kyle. Someone like Angelina wasn’t fit to even stand at his feet. That was why Milly turned to him. She had already realized she could not survive this world on her own. Only under his shield could she secure her safety.

To survive the next three years, Milly must use her father. Yes, use him, not simply be “saved” by him. She would exploit this loveless man for her own survival. But Kyle was never a man to be handled easily.

“Oh? So that’s your request,” said Kyle.

“It is.”

“I see no benefit for myself.” Propping his chin on his hand, Kyle dismissed her without so much as a flicker of concern.

Milly couldn’t help but grimace. “Benefit?”

“Exactly. A task with no profit is not worth undertaking. Isn’t that so?”

“Of course.” Unbelievable words from a father’s mouth, but hardly unexpected. She had foreseen this. After all, this was the second time he’d told her so.

No one knew Kyle Asteara’s temperament better than Milly, which meant no one else knew how to capture his interest.

She quietly lifted her chin, sat herself without invitation on the sofa across from him, and declared, “A few years from now, House Asteara will face a crisis of survival.”

“What?”

“It will happen. Without fail. The Kingdom of Aviria will fall into chaos, you will be denounced by the nobility, and the grand ducal house will head straight for ruin.”

As expected, Kyle’s narrow eyes widened ever so slightly. When Milly silently met his gaze, he answered with a scoff, “Did you hit your head?”

“When that crisis runs its course, father, you will not live to see the end of it.”

“...”

“And my own life will be forfeit as well. To avoid that fate, I’ll pledge you my full cooperation.”

The “crisis” she spoke of meant nothing less than Kyle Asteara’s execution and Milly’s own death. In the last timeline, Kyle had been executed for treason, condemned for selling the kingdom’s secrets to a foreign power. Yet even now, the thought of it rang hollow. Would a man who had clawed his way to the title of grand duke really throw that stability away to betray his own country?

No. Not you. That wasn’t your will.

Milly knew her father all too well. His betrayal had not been of his own choosing.

He must have been manipulated, coaxed by another, or even subjected to magic that warped his mind. Unless she found a way to prevent it, she was certain the same doom awaited them in this rewound world.

“So the only ‘benefit’ you offer me is that you’ll throw yourself into preventing a crisis that might not even happen?”

“Yes. I don’t want to see your head on a pike,” Milly answered without the slightest hesitation.

Knowing what had happened in the previous timeline, she was certain she could avert her father’s execution. She had the confidence and the resolve to do it, and she would not let her life be ended by someone else’s hand. No matter what it took, she would change that future.

She was not so fragile that Angelina would be the one to kill her.

After a short silence, Kyle Asteara laughed, pleased. “Heh, I see. Very well. I like it. Fine, Milly.”

“...”

“I will personally protect you from that so-called villainess. I won’t let you die, and I won’t let so much as a scratch befall you.” His promise was as reassuring as it could be.

Milly couldn’t help the faint easing at the corner of her mouth, but she kept her voice calm as she replied, “Good.”

That seemed to amuse him. Kyle smiled in a way that might have belonged in a novel’s villainous passage. “As for you, you will devote your full strength to averting that ‘crisis.’ Agreed?”

Milly nodded. The smile she returned to him was, in its own way, a little dark, suitably villainous. She bowed with deliberate grace, her sleek black hair slipping forward over her shoulder. “Yes, of course. As long as I am here, the Asteara house will not fall.”

“Indeed. Just as you said. A daughter is a precious thing.” And so it was.

Milly had succeeded, just as she intended, in “keeping” her father, Kyle Asteara. As long as this peculiar alliance endured, she would have her safety secured; and by tracking Kyle’s actions, she might even stave off their house’s ruin.

Father wields the kind of power that can kill with a mere flick of his wand. As far as watchdogs go, no one could be more reliable. All that remained was to fit him with a collar and keep a firm hold of the leash.

Milly gave a crooked smile, and Kyle returned the same expression.

“Oh yes, father. Before anything else, there’s one matter I’d like to tell you. May I?”

Loveless, yet wielding overwhelming strength, the father and daughter most feared in the kingdom. Like true final bosses, the two began weaving their twisted bond from that day forward.

Epilogue: The Curtain Falls on the Tea Party Incident

“Lady Angelina Grey has been suspended from school indefinitely?”

Catching the words in passing, Milly, walking down the corridor, lifted her head with a twitch.

“Yes, they say she was the mastermind behind the tea party incident.”

“She’s the one who forced Lady Bickel into poisoning the teacup, wasn’t she? To think she made such a show of accusing the grand duke’s daughter, only for this to come out... How disgraceful.”

Glancing over, Milly saw what seemed to be a pair of upperclassmen whispering together. She quickly stopped listening in and quickened her pace toward her destination. This was no time to loiter.

It’s been two whole weeks, and people are still talking about Angelina.

That was her thought as she climbed the stairs. True, it was the hottest topic in Grandor, but at this rate, she would have to keep hearing about Angelina for another month. The idea alone was wearying. Still, this did mean that even if Angelina’s suspension were ever lifted, the girl would be met with nothing but cold stares.

The reason for her absence was not made public, but anyone who knew of the incident could put two and two together. And now, with both her suspension and the affair under an official gag order, it was all but impossible not to. Even in society, Angelina would have a hard time restoring her reputation.

Just as Milly reached the top of the stairs, an unfamiliar girl suddenly addressed her. “Ah, Lady Milly! A good day to you.”

“Oh, yes. A good day to you as well.”

“Isn’t the weather wonderful today? Where might you be headed?”

“To the tearoom, you see.”

“My, for a tea gathering? Whoever gets to join you is truly fortunate.”

“Perhaps. Well then, if you’ll excuse me.” Milly returned the girl’s polite curtsy with a small nod and let out a quiet sigh. She still wasn’t used to this. It was one of her new troubles. Ever since Angelina had been suspended, Milly had found herself addressed far more often.

According to Nicholas, because Angelina—the one spreading Milly’s bad reputation—had been exposed as the true culprit behind the incident, Milly’s reputation had risen in turn. But the suddenness of it all was overwhelming. It wasn’t that she was displeased, but rather, she genuinely didn’t know how to respond.

This should be the tearoom, right? The attention was exhausting, and so she quickened her pace, determined not to be waylaid by anyone else, until at last, she arrived at her destination.

The tearoom, as the name suggested, was a space for students to enjoy tea or host tea parties freely. Needless to say, the pre-reset Milly had never had any use for it, so this was her first time entering.

With a faint trace of nerves, Milly rapped gently on the door, then steeled herself and stepped inside.

“Ah, Milly!” The one waving enthusiastically to greet her was Sierra, busy fussing over preparations. Her smile was as sweet as ever. Feeling her own lips curve despite herself, Milly gave a small wave in return.

“Lizbel! Look, Milly’s here!”

“Bwuh?! A-Already?! Oh no, I’m not finished setting things up yet!”

Like Sierra, Lizbel was bustling about, flustered but cheerful. They both wore such bright smiles, as though the whole dreadful incident had never happened.

“Heh, it’s fine,” Milly said. “I’ll help too. What should I do? Is this the cloth we’re spreading over the table?”

Simple joy welled up inside Milly, laughing as she helped with preparations for hosting a tea party for the first time in her life. In her excitement she managed to tear one corner of the tablecloth, but, well, that just added character.

In fact, that day, those same three girls had gathered under the pretense of redoing the tea party that had ended in such disaster, possible only because the incident had at last been resolved. Angelina had been suspended indefinitely, Sierra had returned to the academy, Lizbel’s strain had eased, and Milly herself had seen various matters through. At long last, they could sit together in peace.

Most of all, it was nothing short of a blessing that Sierra, who had been poisoned, could return after a mere few days. She suffered no lingering effects from the poison and had actually gained new friends because of it. Hearing that left Milly with feelings that were both a little lonely and quietly glad.

As for Angelina, Nicholas had seen to it that her punishment stopped at a mere suspension. He also paid Sierra’s family an appropriate sum in reparations. Milly didn’t know the exact amount, but judging from how Sierra had rushed up to Nicholas on her first day back, pale and flustered, it must have been considerable. Sierra had apparently tried to return the money, but Nicholas flatly refused.

“Phew, finally done! Getting ready for a tea party is more work than I thought,” Sierra sighed, wiping her brow in mock exhaustion.

Since Sierra and Lizbel had done most of the preparations before Milly arrived, it took less than five minutes to finish setting up.

“Still,” Lizbel said, glancing uneasily around the room, “are you sure this is enough? I mean, the furnishings are all mismatched, there’s no sense of unity...”

Sierra only laughed. “Oh, it’s fine. Following each and every rule of etiquette is a waste of time. Don’t you agree, Milly?”

“Mm. My father always said rules are made to be broken.”

Lizbel smiled faintly. “I think he meant it in a rather different sense.”

The three of them sat down in the four chairs surrounding the large round table.

One seat remained empty. It was the place for the last member who hadn’t yet arrived, who was due soon. As Milly glanced at the clock, the tearoom door opened right on cue.

“S... Sorry I’m late!”

The girl who rushed in, bowing her head and panting for breath, was none other than Brima Bickel, still carrying a hint of nervous timidity in her demeanor. Suspended for two weeks as punishment for being the perpetrator, Brima finally returned to school that day, and immediately flung herself at Sierra’s feet in a blur of motion.

“Aaah! Wh-What’s going on?!” Sierra yelped, blanching.

“I’m so sorry! So, so sorry! I’m sorry for cutting your hair. I’m sorry for making you drink poison! I-I’ll die to make amends!” Brima wailed, pressing her forehead into the floor as if to grind her way straight through it.

“Huuuh?! N-No, really, I don’t hold it against you! Please lift your head!” Sierra begged, face pale as paper.

The scene was so absurd that Milly couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“This is no time to be laughing, Milly!” Sierra scolded. And, well, she had a point.

“Heh. Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Brima’s been like this all day. She even groveled to me earlier. She says she can’t relax unless she’s apologizing to someone.”

“Ah! L-Lady Garcia, forgive me too! Because of the likes of me, you ended up being suspected even for a moment, and I’m so terribly sorry!”

“Oh, goodness. It’s all right,” Lizbel said with a helpless smile. “After all, the grand duke’s daughter came to my defense that day. Isn’t that right?” she added, glancing toward Milly.

Milly shook her head. “No, it wasn’t anything so admirable. In fact, considering what my father has done to the Garcia viscountcy, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“Oh, pshaw. Didn’t we agree to leave that matter in the past?” Lizbel replied gently. “Your father may have wronged my family, but then again, my little brother spoke rudely to you. It balances out.” She gave a serene smile that could have belonged to a celestial maiden.

It’s still hard to believe Ike was born into the Garcia viscountcy, that he and Lizbel are blood siblings. And yet, when Milly looked closely, their matching hair and features made the claim undeniable. The thought that it was her own father who had torn the two apart made her lips press into a thin line, until Lizbel’s gentle laugh broke through again.

“Please, don’t frown like that. I won’t pretend I feel no resentment toward His Grace the Grand Duke, but you two are entirely different people, parent and child though you may be. And you know? Ike seems to be reconsidering his opinion of you, just a little.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I may have spent an hour or so telling him just how remarkable you are,” Lizbel said with a mischievous little smile. Then, with surprising strength, she scooped Brima up and set her neatly on the empty chair. Clapping her hands together, Lizbel raised her voice cheerfully. “Well then, now that everyone’s here, shall we begin? Lady Milly has prepared us a very special cake.”

◇◇◇

The four-person tea party went on for exactly one hour, right up until just before Milly’s student council meeting was set to begin. If she’d had her way, it could have lasted another two or three hours, but skipping the meeting was out of the question for Milly. Thanking the other three for taking care of the cleanup, she stepped out of the tearoom.

Just as she turned a corner, someone called out sharply to stop her. “Lady Milly!”

She turned, and there was Brima, stumbling toward her in a clumsy run.

“Brima? What is it?”

“Oh, i-it’s just, I...I never thanked you properly.”

“Thanked me?” Milly was puzzled. Had she done something that merited gratitude?

Brima’s eyes darted all over the place as she forced the words out. “Y-Yes, for everything. For inviting me today, and for giving me the chance to apologize to Sierra...”

“Oh, that? Think nothing of it. It wasn’t anything worth—”

“It was! It really, truly was!” Brima cut her off in a rush. “I should have been expelled, and yet I was only suspended. You must have done something for me, Lady Milly.” Brima’s whole body trembled with nerves, but her eyes never wavered from Milly’s face.

Before, she couldn’t even look me in the eye. How gratifying. Milly’s lips curved faintly as she gave a small nod. “It’s true I did what I could to push for leniency, but in reality, the one who made it happen was my father. All I did was ask him.”

Brima’s eyes widened, and her mouth hung slack in astonishment. According to Nicholas, her expulsion had been all but certain. Threatened or not, the fact remained that she had acted as the perpetrator. But then Kyle, at Milly’s urging, forced the headmaster’s hand and secured a mere suspension instead.

It had been one of the first favors Milly requested from her father after they struck their uneasy pact, for she felt it would have been wrong to let Brima be punished too harshly. Sierra had survived unscathed, and she herself had pleaded for Brima’s sentence to be reduced.

Thus, Milly had no reason not to act. She had leveraged her father’s influence to its fullest, making sure, of course, that the deal gave him something in return.

“Th-Then, does that mean you even spoke up about my family’s finances, Lady Milly?!” Brima took a step forward, her eyes shimmering as she asked.

Truthfully, the Grey family had already sent the Bickels a furious letter in the wake of the incident. Apparently, Angelina explained that she had been suspended because Brima set her up, and the letter also stated that the Grey family would no longer purchase cotton from the baron’s domain. For the Bickel family, whose livelihood depended on selling that cotton to the Greys, it was a devastating blow.

“J-Just the other day, His Grace the Grand Duke suddenly came to our house and said, ‘If you cut ties with the Greys immediately and switch to selling your cotton to me, I’ll see to everything.’”

“He did?”

“He certainly did! About my expulsion too, and he even said he’d provide funds for our shop if we needed them! S-So our little shop is going to expand! It’s still just a side business, but my parents are ever so happy about it!” Brima’s words tumbled out with such fervor that Milly could only stare, slack-jawed.

It was wholly unexpected. Milly had vaguely heard from her father about buying up the barony’s cotton, but that he had personally gone out of his way to visit the Bickel household was news to her.

For the efficiency-obsessed Kyle Asteara to take such direct action...it meant he must value the family more highly than Milly had realized. Her suggestion had yielded far better results than she could have hoped.

He said that cotton demand would grow over the next few years, but could it be that he foresaw this all along?

She remembered that in the world before time rewound, about two years from now, a sudden cold snap struck the northern kingdom. Demand for winter clothing—and for cotton, its raw material—had skyrocketed. Milly had forgotten all about it until now, so uninterested as she’d been in politics and economics. But her father? It wouldn’t be strange if he had anticipated such a disaster. In matters of trade, his instincts were razor sharp.

With a faint sigh, Milly admitted it to herself: Kyle Asteara had once again seen further than anyone else.

“Well, I may have been the first to bring your business up, but most of it was father acting on his own. He’d already had his eye on the cotton from your lands.”

“R-Really?”

“Yes. But with the Grey family in the way—since they’re staunchly anti-grand duke—he was waiting for the right chance to step in. Then this just happened to fall into place. You don’t need to thank me for it. The credit belongs to your family.”

The truth was, Milly hadn’t known a thing about the rising demand for cotton. All she had done was suggest that perhaps one of the Grey vassals—“a house I dislike anyway”—might be coaxed over to the grand duke’s side. That casual suggestion had rolled downhill into this outcome. Noblesse politics was endlessly troublesome.

“I... I see. So that’s how it went.”

“Mm. Father may be who he is, but when it comes to houses aligned with him, he does honor his obligations. You can rest easy. And if he ever does overstep, tell me. I’ll be the one to slap him for you.”

A soft laugh escaped Brima. “Thank you.”

She bent at the waist in a careful bow, her smile delicate, almost radiant. It was the first time Milly had ever seen her smile, and it was every bit as lovely as Sierra’s. The thought that she might see more smiles like this warmed her, and her own lips curved with it.

“U-Um, up until just recently, I thought both you and the grand duke himself were terrifying. From the game—I mean, um, just my own foolish impression.”

“I’m not sure regarding myself, but as for father, I think your impression of him was accurate.”

“That may be true, but even so, to me you’re both good people. Whatever the reason, you helped me and my family, whom I love more than anything. So, to me, that makes you good.” Blushing as she spoke, Brima bent at the waist once more and hurried back toward the tearoom.

Milly stood rooted in place, watching until the girl’s figure vanished beyond the door. This made the third time she’d been called a “good person.” First Gilbert, then Sierra, and now Brima. For someone aiming to be a wicked “final boss,” I suppose that’s hardly the sort of praise I should want.

And yet, hearing gratitude spoken so plainly left her undeniably pleased. Just for today, she allowed herself the excuse, whispered to no one, and set off once more toward the student council chamber.

It was the first time she’d gone there since the incident. She had been too busy in the aftermath. She’d seen Lucius and Gilbert, but not the other three. This would be the first reunion, and she ought to think about what to say. First and foremost, her thanks.

I need to thank Nicholas and Edgar for stalling the teachers until Brima was found. Hm, maybe I should have brought some sweets as a token? And no doubt Lucius will start in again with “Why did you try to catch the culprit alone?” or “You could at least have asked me.” My ears are getting sore from hearing it.

Yes, there was also Ike to think about. Nothing had been settled with him yet. Since that day in the student council room when they’d clashed, she hadn’t exchanged so much as a word with him, hadn’t even seen his face. By chance, she’d grown closer to his sister, Lizbel, but that was all. As for Ike, who bore such a deep grudge against the Asteara house, there was still no way forward. What he wanted, after all, was an apology from Kyle.

Father apologizing sincerely? Impossible.

Lizbel had said Ike might be starting to reconsider his opinion of her, but the roots of his resentment went too deep. This problem wouldn’t be resolved quickly. No way. It would take time, more time. With that heavy thought weighing her down, Milly walked on through the corridor when...

“Oh, Lady Milly. Is that tea party of yours finally over?”

The voice made her lift her head. It was Lucius.

“Yes, and it was delightful. Truly, it’s a lady’s privilege to partake in occasions that are glamorous. Envious, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been thinking this for a while now, but you do enjoy provoking people, don’t you?”

“Hmm? Provoking? You mean being charming?”

“Indeed. Let’s go with that.” For some reason, he sighed.

Entirely unjust, Milly thought.

“Hey, you two, what are you loitering for? It’s nearly time.” Gilbert came hurrying up, glancing down at his pocket watch every other step.

Lucius immediately shot him a complaint. “You’ve got no room to talk, Gilbert. You’re cutting it just as close as we are.”

“What?! Don’t be ridiculous. I had a perfectly good reason! I was with a teacher just now, asking questions about the lesson.”

“Oh? In that case, I had a tea party to attend. Don’t lump us together.”

Lucius blinked at her. “Wait, a tea party counts as a good reason?”

“Of course it does!” Milly shot back. “Think about it. The bonds you strengthen with friends there are invaluable.”

“All right, enough!” Gilbert barked, cutting them both off. “Both of you, move! Run!”

With that, Gilbert broke into a sprint, Lucius shouting, “Hey, no fair!” as he scrambled after him.

Milly couldn’t help but laugh at their retreating backs, then she dashed off herself to follow them. If a teacher caught them running, they’d probably be scolded, but she could always shove the excuse off on her royal childhood friend.

I really am glad I joined the student council.

The thought came to her as she raced down the corridor. If she hadn’t chosen that path back on the day of the entrance ceremony, she wouldn’t be here now, running with them. She wouldn’t have become close with Sierra or Lizbel. She wouldn’t have made her pact with Nicholas. She wouldn’t have saved Brima or forged a partnership with her father. The idea chilled her. She couldn’t imagine life without these bonds anymore.

Right now, Milly’s life was richer than it had ever been. If possible, Milly wanted this life to last forever, laughing alongside the friends she had made. But she knew better. Ahead lay trials still harsher, and sorrows yet heavier. The rewound world would surely bring new burdens, but even so, for reasons she could not explain, a vague certainty stirred inside her. She would be all right.

First things first. I need to talk to Ike.

Step by step, she would move forward, drawing ever closer to the image of the final boss she aspired to be.

Lifting her head, Milly called out to the two boys racing ahead of her. “Hey, wait up, you two! You know I lack stamina!”

Afterword

Nice to meet you, I’m Takamedou. Thank you so much for picking up this book!

This work is my debut, originally serialized on Shosetsuka ni Naro.

When I first began writing this story, I never imagined I’d be turning it into a novel, so even as I write this afterword it still feels like I’m dreaming. Honestly, I felt like I was floating the whole time I was working on it.

For this print edition, I made extensive revisions and additions to the manuscript. Not only did I expand many scenes, I even added new characters. The editing process was pure fun, and writing “delinquent Milly”—a side of her not in the web version—had me grinning nonstop. Dreaming up scenes where Milly just does whatever she pleases was absurdly enjoyable.

As a side effect (?), the cast ended up rather large, but how did you find it?

Even just the student council gives us six central characters to keep track of, which might feel like a lot. But really, all you need to remember is that the two shadiest ones are the upperclassmen and you’ll be fine. As an extra bit of trivia: In the background lore, Milly still sometimes mixes up Lucius’s and Nicholas’s names, so she occasionally bluffs her way through with sheer momentum.

Since I’ve already given you trivia that makes things even more confusing, let me close by expressing my gratitude to those who helped make this book possible.

To my editor, who so patiently guided this clueless first timer, thank you. I was able to make it this far only because of your support. You’ve given me so much invaluable advice for my future writing that I sometimes worry I should be paying extra for it.

To Nemusuke-sensei, who created such wonderful illustrations, I still can’t quite believe I had the chance to work with someone whose art I’ve admired as a reader for so long. From the moment I received the news, it felt surreal. Thank you for capturing Milly’s ideal image—strong and adorable—in every piece.

And finally, to you, the readers: It is entirely thanks to you that my hobby-driven story could become a book at all. Your encouragement gives me strength. I hope very much that our paths will cross again in the future.