Janet, was it?'
Startled by the voice calling her name, Janet had nearly dropped to her knees on the spot.
For Prince Phil—a figure who was practically like sunlight to the people of the kingdom—to speak to her first. It was an honor for a mere maid like Janet.
'You always work so hard looking after my sister. I'll continue to rely on you.'
Though the position was somewhat painful, she'd done well to endure as a maid! No, she'd done well to be born!
Janet could only nod without saying a word, barely managing to squeeze out a single phrase.
'I-I-I'll do my best!'
'Thank you. I wish I could spare more time for my sister, but I'm ashamed I can't.'
'I-I'll watch over her in your place!'
With lessons for becoming king, attending councils and social events, and healing the sick—he must be so busy.
For such an amazing and wonderful person to ask her directly—how could she refuse?
'And he even worries about Princess Cynthia on top of all that—he's truly an angel.'
For the sake of such a prince, whether it's heaven or hell, or the Duke of Tenoris—
"Speaking of which, when I had that private audience with the Duke yesterday, I was breaking out in a cold sweat. It'd be nice if you could be there with me."
"......It seems like a place where someone as lowly as myself would be out of place. I'll wait somewhere I can rush over if you scream, Princess."
Remembering him standing there like a grim reaper in black clothes made her knees weak. Shia chuckled and waved her hand.
"Come on, once you talk to him at length, he's not that scary. Of course, his personality is a bit rude—no, his personality is a bit bad."
"Duke, those words were said by Princess Shia, not me. If you happen to be listening through dark magic, please don't misunderstand."
"Honestly, if anything happens to me, I feel like you'd be the first to abandon me and run away, Janet......"
Shia snorted and thought back to Warren.
"Anyway, the Duke of Tenoris is a twisted person, but he doesn't seem like the type to harm someone who's minding their own business. So don't be too scared."
He was like a pufferfish with its spikes out. Considering the severity of his obsessive-compulsive disorder, it wasn't strange for him to be that sensitive.
"With that kind of personality, he probably has no friends. Pitiful man."
"You don't have any friends either, Princess. Ah, so that's why you two get along."
"Janet, have you been getting cheekier lately? Let me crack down on that discipline?"
Janet hastily took out pastries from the trolley and spread them on the table.
Shia absentmindedly accepted Janet's offerings and opened her status window—only to choke on a cookie crumb.
'What the hell, why did it go up again?'
It was only about 1%, but the destruction probability she'd worked so hard to lower was creeping back up.
'It's not a stock price—why is it so volatile?'
Shia fell into thought, recalling the moments when the destruction probability had dropped.
'It seems like the number goes down when I have a positive influence on the Duke.'
Like visiting the ducal residence, or persuading him.
She'd need to make the next appointment soon and observe the pattern more closely.
"Janet, bring me some stationery and writing implements. And give me more details about those quiet places you mentioned."
After carefully choosing each word to write a message to Warren, Shia placed the letter in the box attached to her window and stretched.
To others, it looked like an ordinary mailbox, but it was a convenient magical tool that delivered letters using wind magic.
"Phew, I'm so glad we have magical engineering and magic."
"What's with the sudden comment, Princess?"
Janet laughed, saying, "Did you have a dream about a world without magic or something?" but Shia, who had actually experienced that, couldn't laugh.
If she had to live in a Western modern setting like in some of the classic novels she'd read in the 2nd World, it would have been unbearable.
Thanks to magic, she could wash with warm water, and sending a letter took only a few minutes. Truly, long live magic.
The problem was Warren Tenoris...
"Why is the reply taking so long?"
Shia, who had been waiting vigilantly by the mailbox, sprawled out on the sofa and complained.
"He must be busy."
"Too busy to reply? He still eats and goes to the bathroom, doesn't he?"
All he had to do was look at the dates and places she suggested and answer either yes or no.
'I even made it easy by adding O/X checkboxes for each date and location.'
"Seeing you wait so impatiently, this isn't mutual—it's unrequited love, isn't it—"
Shia threw a rolled-up piece of stationery at her—which, of course, didn't even come close to Janet, who was sitting far away.
'I just have a K-soul ingrained in me!'
No matter how jokingly it was said, it... bothered her.
'Let's not cause misunderstandings. Let's wait patiently, whether he replies or not.'
And so a day passed.
Two days passed.
"Ah, I can't take it anymore! I'm just going to the ducal residence!"
"Princess, you mustn't fall for such classic push-and-pull tactics!"
On the third day, just as Shia was about to lose it and Janet was desperately trying to stop her, Warren's reply finally arrived.
"It's quite a formal reply."
"......Yeah."
The stationery practically screamed "I'm expensive paper," the sealing wax bore the family crest, and the fine handwriting with her name and palace address was written in ink containing shimmering particles.
Having heard so many rumors about his lack of manners, she hadn't expected such a meticulous and formal letter.
"Surely it's not a marriage proposal by letter—"
"Janet, I told you to stop reading romance novels."
Though she scolded Janet, Shia felt a bit embarrassed.
'I just used whatever stationery Janet gave me that was within reach......'
It might have had rabbits or penguins drawn on it...
'Hm, what matters is the content, not the formality.'
As she carefully broke the seal and read the letter, Shia's eyes went wide as saucers.
"Wh-what is this?"
Janet, who had retreated to a corner in case the letter was cursed, peeked out from behind a tray.
"The Duke certainly is a high-maintenance person."
As soon as she saw the Duke of Tenoris step out of the carriage, Shia skipped the greeting and immediately fired off a complaint. Her firmly crossed arms screamed, "I'm angry."
Warren replied in a flat tone, as if her intimidating aura was invisible.
"Thank you for the compliment."
"......A compliment?"
"Did you not just highly evaluate my worth?"
Deflated, she uncrossed her arms and let out a sigh. Honestly, some people have no communication skills...
"Duke, did my irritation not come across in my tone? At times like this, you're supposed to say, 'I apologize for being difficult!'"
"Was I being difficult?"
"How can you even ask that? Don't you feel sorry for the trees when you think about all the letters we exchanged just to set up this meeting?"
After sending a letter with genuine effort, she'd briefly felt touched—until she saw that Warren's reply was filled with critical evaluations of the places she'd suggested.
「I checked Option 1 you proposed, Salon Liar. On the surface, it appears to be a decent establishment, but the lighting is dim, indicating a lack of attention to hygiene in the corners. The curtains have absorbed cigarette smoke from smokers as well.」
There were also complaints about too many people, overly strong scents, and field mice frequently passing by in front of the shop.
Exhausted from reading his letter, Shia suggested a quiet park as an alternative, but received a similarly critical response.
「Are you aware of how many cases of disease transmission occur each year from bites by wild animals such as squirrels or rabbits? Not to mention, if wild bird droppings get into one's eyes...」
It wasn't an episode of "Emergency Escape" or something—she'd grown tired of him listing every possible disease one could catch in a park.
And he'd been just as picky about setting the date and time. "This time doesn't work, I have a full schedule that day."
He had the energy to investigate the places she suggested, yet he pretended to be so busy—she couldn't understand it.
"Though if you'd just agreed to meet here from the start, things would have been much more efficient. I apologize for trusting your judgment."
The speaker—who had proposed this library, a place with few visitors, regular pest control to keep wild animals out, and spotless cleanliness maintained everywhere—said this without a hint of remorse.
'Should I slip a mouse-shaped toy into his jacket pocket?'
<SYSTEM: The real-time probability of the 1st World's destruction is 91.5%.>
If it weren't for the 0.1% drop in the destruction probability appearing in the corner of her vision as she glared at him, she would have at least decided to prepare a toy mouse.
'Composure, composure.'
He's a patient. All his unpleasant personality must be because of his germophobia. Would he choose to be unpleasant if he could help it?
'Shia, they come to specialists because they can't act like others through willpower alone. So you shouldn't judge them by your standards.'
She remembered watching a TV program with Professor Shin once, and when she'd grumbled about a frustrating guest, he'd said that.
'Ugh, this damn demigod. You should have summoned Professor Shin here, not me!'
Or anyone—a specialist, a counselor... Anyway, someone smarter and more patient than an ordinary person like me!
Just as Shia was inwardly cursing Pirphoros, a man who had been hesitating behind the duke approached her with quick, short steps.
"Greetings, Princess. If I may be so bold, do you remember me?"
"Ah, you're that... butler? Thompson, was it?"
"Yes, what an honor."
After bowing his head, Thompson suddenly pulled something out from inside his coat. In a small voice, as if afraid someone might overhear, he whispered.
"This is nothing much, just a small token of appreciation..."
Oh, she'd seen a similar scene in a 2nd World movie—was it a merchant bribing a corrupt police officer?
She didn't particularly need money right now, but the more pocket money, the better. Suppressing her rising smile, Shia pretended to decline as she accepted the package he offered.
"Oh my, you shouldn't have—you didn't have to go to this trouble— Huh?"
Rustle—
She thought she heard a strangely light friction sound from inside the wrapping, but what Thompson had slipped her was... cookies.
