As Warren had said, right in the middle of the royal garden stood a statue modeled after Cynthia Astley.
And it was enormous—the kind of size you'd expect to see in a monster movie.
'Sister, is there anything you'd like as a birthday gift?'
When Phil had asked, she'd deliberately mentioned expensive materials and requested an absurdly sized statue just to be difficult—but he had actually taken her wish seriously and had it made.
"I, I can't even stand to look at that statue now either!"
The statue, large enough to be clearly visible from anywhere in the palace, reminded her of her embarrassing past every time she saw it.
Like how she'd thought, "Wouldn't it be even better to have a bigger version of my pretty self?" and had been the only one happily enjoying the completion ceremony in that chilly atmosphere.
Moreover, in her first life, it was that very statue that had crushed her to death.
'Dying under a splendid doppelgänger—if the kingdom had Darwin Awards, I'd definitely have been a nominee.'
"But if I ask to have it demolished just a few months after I asked for it to be made, won't I look like a weirdo?"
As Shia appealed with heartfelt injustice, Warren raised an eyebrow.
"You're more thoughtful than I expected."
"Of course. What do you think is inside this head of mine?"
"Sea sponge, or pasta soaked in water—"
"You do know that inside this sponge, there's a clue to curing your germophobia, right?"
"......"
Having heard far worse from so-called "bullying" clients, she wasn't about to be intimidated by this level of sharp tongue.
Rather, Shia held her temple and provocatively continued.
"Oh, is it because I'm not as smart as the Duke? I'm already starting to forget what was in that book."
"An obvious act."
"Oh dear, why am I here? It feels like my head's full of fog... Ah, who are you?"
"......Fine. I'll retract the sponge and pasta comments."
Shia smirked. Though annoying, the smart duke would probably figure it out if he thought about it for a moment.
There were plenty of other nobles she could persuade to vote for her. Even among those who followed Phil, since his election was already all but certain, they wouldn't think their single vote mattered that much.
On the other hand, she was the only one in the kingdom who possessed the knowledge to cure his germophobia.
'Who has the upper hand in this deal?'
Warren fell into thought for a moment. Despite his calm exterior, he was mentally running calculations at full speed.
'Whether it's actually an effective treatment—I'm not very confident about that.'
He thought of his hands, hidden beneath his gloves. Because he'd washed them excessively, his skin had cracked and even bled this morning.
He'd thought that if he lived cleanly, his germophobia would naturally improve, but the time and frequency of his washing only kept increasing.
To put it bluntly, he was desperate enough to grasp at straws. Even if that straw was the rotten one called Princess Cynthia.
"......Even if you change your mind later and demand that I help you usurp the throne, I absolutely cannot do that."
"What? Usurp what? Did you disinfect your brain too?"
Shia jumped up from her seat so abruptly that her chair fell back with a thud, but stopping that absurd remark was more urgent.
"If anyone misunderstands, it'll be a big problem—so don't even say that as a joke!"
She was already an unpopular princess. If rumors spread that she was after the absolute authority Phil's position, she might even be secretly assassinated.
Warren froze for a moment, then slowly turned his head toward her as if in slow motion.
"Your hand."
"Huh?"
"Please let go of my collar."
"Ah!"
Startled by his bewildering remark, she had unknowingly been gripping the edge of his collar tightly.
"S-sorry!"
Surely this wouldn't raise the destruction probability, would it? Startled, she quickly released the cloth she'd been clutching.
Fortunately, the probability didn't go up, but the duke looked thoroughly disgusted and reached into his inner pocket.
"Please, next time, use words rather than actions. Since we're civilized people."
After spraying disinfectant on the area Shia's hand had touched, he rubbed it with a handkerchief and continued.
"Judging by your reaction, it seems you truly have no intention of becoming queen. It's wise not to covet trees you cannot climb. You've made a good decision."
"I just want to avoid the embarrassment of losing with zero votes. The difference between zero votes and one vote is huge."
Though it was still far in the future—or perhaps a future that might never come—just imagining the vote count being zero made her want to hide in a mouse hole.
"And in this kingdom, when it comes to magical power, you're the strongest, aren't you?"
If she pushed too hard, he might get offended and become difficult, so she needed to mix in some carrots between the whips. Shia's sweet-and-salty strategy.
"Being praised so suddenly makes me uncomfortable. Though it is the truth."
Honestly, he couldn't even accept a compliment gracefully. Still, the status window, which showed the destruction probability had dropped slightly, indicated his mood had improved.
Shia rolled her eyes once and continued.
"Having you owe me a favor might prove useful in the long run."
For example, if things went wrong and he ended up destroying the world, she could become his right-hand woman and throw rocks while yelling, "Muahaha, die, you foolish humans!"—or something like that...?
"A favor, you say. It seems likely to come with exorbitant interest and cause trouble."
"Surely not. What could a powerless, insignificant princess with no backing possibly demand that's so great?"
Shia, who had been mentally imagining what kind of villain outfit she'd wear, casually joked.
Warren folded his arms across his chest, tapped his arm with his fingers, and closed his eyes.
"I'll think about it a little longer."
"Yes, of course. Take all the time you need."
Shia glanced at the status window again.
'It went down to 98%, and won't go any lower.'
Had she failed to convince him? Just as she started to worry, Warren opened his eyes wide.
"I've decided."
"Already? You could take more time to think—"
"Prolonged deliberation is also a waste of time and energy. It's not efficient."
Was it her imagination, or did his dark eyes seem a bit more vibrant than before?
"I've determined that even if associating with the Princess ends up wasting only time and energy without curing my germophobia, that level of risk is worth bearing."
Shia, who had dropped her head at just the first part of his words, looked up.
"I'll try this 'treatment' you speak of."
<SYSTEM: The real-time probability of the 1st World's destruction is 95.1%.>
'The lowest probability I've seen so far! Hey hey, I knew I could count on you, Duke!'
Shia raised one clenched fist into the air in a victory gesture—then hastily lowered it when she made eye contact with Warren.
...Sure, it's not a gesture used in this world, but isn't that expression a bit too cold?
"Right, good decision! Patient—I mean, Duke, your cooperation is crucial, so please follow along from now on."
"I'm not the type to irresponsibly change my mind after making a decision, so you needn't worry."
"I suppose so."
He certainly seemed stubborn, headstrong, and inflexible, but at the same time, he appeared to be someone who would keep his word.
However, there were still a few more things Shia needed to emphasize.
"There's something I need to tell you before we正式开始 the treatment process."
"Go ahead."
"What I'm about to teach you is less about knowing and more about putting it into practice."
Sigh. She really didn't want to say this.
"......So I think we'll need to meet regularly for a while. Once or twice a week? And don't make that arrogant face—it's not like I want to meet you either."
"......It feels like spitting blood, but I'll comply."
His gleaming eyes seemed to say, "If you waste my time and it doesn't work, you'd better be prepared to die."
Shia swallowed hard and relayed one more precaution.
"And while I conveniently called it a 'treatment,' the illness you suffer from is difficult to cure completely."
Even with modern medicine combining medication and counseling, a complete cure was extremely rare. Without medication and with only makeshift counseling, it was bound to be even harder.
'Better to be honest upfront than to promise the impossible and get hit with an annihilation beam.'
<SYSTEM: The real-time probability of the 1st World's destruction is 96.0%.>
Seeing the probability rise again, Shia quickly added the rest of her explanation.
"However, the obsessive preoccupation with cleanliness—in professional terms, 'intrusive thoughts'—can be reduced in frequency and intensity."
"To what degree?"
"In the cases I read, perhaps once every two years?"
"Even that would be much more bearable than now."
<SYSTEM: The real-time probability of the 1st World's destruction is 95.8%.>
It wasn't a mood tracker, but the probability was fluctuating wildly depending on the duke's mood. It was like playing a game where you raise an ocean sunfish—Shia let out a deep sigh.
'Exhausting...'
"Then let's meet again around next week. I'll send you a separate letter regarding the date and location."
"Yes, do that. Take care on your way out."
Shia, not wanting to leave with him, deliberately lingered, righting the fallen chair and pretending to organize her bag.
But no matter how long she waited, she didn't hear footsteps leaving—so she eventually raised her head.
"......Did you have something else to say?"
She almost dropped her bag when she met his gaze, which had been steadily watching her.
The room, purposely left unlit in case someone else entered, had grown darker than before as the sun had begun to set.
A man wrapped entirely in black clothes, with skin pale as flour, against such a backdrop—it was like a scene straight out of a horror movie.
'If I woke up and saw someone like this, I'd probably think the Grim Reaper had come for me.'
After staring at her for a moment, he began to walk. Toward the spot where she was standing awkwardly.
Shia unconsciously felt overwhelmed and hugged her bag to her chest.
'What is it?'
The scent of soap emanating from him grew stronger. It was a cozy, warm, strangely addictive scent—like freshly laundered bedding.
She clutched her bag tighter and looked up at him, now standing just before her.
'He's handsome even from this angle.'
He managed to overcome the angle that makes humans look their worst—where double chins appear and nostrils look like coins. Completely unfair.
His firmly closed lips above his smooth jawline were neither too thick nor too thin—just right. His nose was also nicely straight and well-proportioned.
Unlike the fine-featured Phil, his prominently protruding Adam's apple and sharply swept-up eyes exuded a masculine presence.
