Mess 156
by Cristae156.
“Even the weakest magician, if he puts his mind to it, can take several lives. A magician of that level could destroy a nation.”
Orchis interjected, unable to resist adding a bit of bravado.
Ouch! Orchis bowed her head quickly—thanks to Peonia stamping on her foot under the table.
“When magic comes into play…”
Peonia continued, pretending not to notice.
“The balance of the world is shattered in an instant. That’s why magicians are strictly regulated, and never allowed to get involved in politics.”
Beyond the Tower, magic is only ever used for trivial things—like lighting a pipe, Peonia gestured at Seraphie, as if asking if she didn’t agree.
“For the record, there’s no problem with our inspection of the land abandoned by the gods. That was just a kind of routine verification.”
“Ow, my head…”
Seraphie groaned, pressing a hand to her throbbing temple.
“By any measure, this has gotten out of hand, hasn’t it?”
“No one could be this unlucky.”
Looney decided she would never again ignore her superior’s woeful lot in life.
“By the way—where’s Lily?”
“At the palace.”
“Is she all right?”
Orchis asked—not so much out of concern for Lilié herself, but because she was picturing the crown prince, mistakenly thinking he alone was being attended to by her.
“Don’t worry about that, either.”
Peonia twisted her lips into half a smile.
“That neck-severing spell I mentioned earlier? It’s around Lili’s neck.”
And I was the one who cast it myself.
From early dawn, the Kiah estate was bustling.
Countless ships docked at the newly renovated trading port, their cargo unloaded and carried off by the Kiah trading company to all corners of the empire.
Despite the chill of the dawn air, beads of sweat stood out on people’s foreheads, and their breathing formed white clouds with the effort.
Yet everyone moved with enthusiasm and vitality.
A year ago—or just a few months, even—they would never have imagined seeing such a busy morning again.
As the trading company employees took a brief rest, they gazed at the lively activity with a sense of awe.
“I thought I’d never see Kiah bustling like this again…”
The man who murmured it did so almost to himself, his eyes moist with emotion. His companion was no less moved.
“It’s all thanks to the count.”
“Yes, she made it happen.”
The adopted granddaughter of the Viscount Kiah.
Not a drop of blood connected them, and she had no prior ties to the estate, but this young countess had worried for Kiah more sincerely than anyone. And she had revived it beautifully for all to see.
Now everyone said it—
Kiah had been reborn, stronger than ever.
The two men exchanged a grin, ready to get back to work.
With all the goods to be inventoried in the newly expanded warehouses, today’s schedule would be tight.
“Manager!”
Just then, someone called out.
A younger employee came running, breathing heavily.
“T-tomb…”
The young man’s voice trembled, not simply from the sprint.
“At the tomb of the late master’s family—!”
He never finished the sentence, but it was enough. The trading company staff dropped everything and dashed off. Anger and dismay twisted their faces as they ran.
They arrived at the communal cemetery of the Kiah estate.
Deeper in lay the section where generations of the Kiah family’s heirs were buried.
“Haah, haah…”
Before the grave, the employees’ faces went pale.
“Quickly—!”
The highest ranking among them clenched his fist so tightly it bled.
“Contact the masters at once! Bring me the list of all people who’ve entered the territory recently, now! Hurry!”
Galvanized by the order, the paralyzed employees spun around and dashed off.
“This can’t be…”
Kneeling at the grave, the man picked up something with a trembling, powerless hand.
It was the flower of hate never permitted to grow in Kiah—a demonic bloom responsible for the former viscount’s family’s ruin.
A cluster of pink oleander buds, not yet opened.
“How dare they—do this here—!”
Rage, inexpressible, contorted the man’s face.
“How dare they, here of all places!”
‘This is enough to drive me mad…’
Peonia looked up at the clear blue sky from the window, carefully translating her frustration into less vulgar words.
The serene heavens soothed her, stark contrast though they were to her dismal mood.
“Sigh…”
No situation was ever truly an obstacle for her, yet she could not help finding the current events distasteful.
“My apologies, Lady Felicia.”
A tailor, measuring her, quickly apologized.
“It’s nothing,” Peonia shook her head.
“I just slept poorly and yawned, that’s all. Pay it no mind. All I have to do is stand here; the hard part is yours, isn’t it?”
The faces of the tailor and the other atelier staff turned pink.
The “ice witch,” infamous for her arrogance, showed understanding for their toil and smoothed over a small mistake as if it were nothing.
‘She’s kinder than people say.’
‘Come to think of it, I’ve never actually heard of her being cruel…’
‘Only good things, actually.’
‘Wasn’t it the Lady herself who put out that fire at Mars Port?’
Before long, soft smiles bloomed on the atelier staff’s faces. Their glances and touches toward Peonia grew warm with respect and admiration.
And Peonia herself found the work far more comfortable as a result.
“It seems His Majesty holds you in great affection, my lady,”
said the atelier’s most senior worker, beaming.
“To gift you a dress for the ball!”
“His Majesty’s generosity is truly beyond description.”
Peonia answered serenely, though the person most tangled in her mind just now was the emperor.
‘You must have been rushed and unable to prepare properly for the ball.’
‘Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. My mother and my friends have helped me, so—’
‘Fortunately, my own heart is large, and I had preparations made in advance.’
The emperor had sent someone personally to see to Peonia’s ball arrangements. She felt uneasy about it, but could still see the logic.
It wasn’t odd, after all, for the father of her fiancé to look after her.
‘Will you also help with the White Magician’s ball preparations?’
‘Pardon?’
But asking her to help with preparations for a woman his son had brought to the palace—that was beyond all sense.
‘Think of it as my way of offering some apology, or remorse.’
‘……’
‘There’s nothing behind it; pay it no mind.’
Still, that last remark continued to weigh on her.
‘Apology—remorse…what could he mean by that?’
The emperor Peonia knew was not someone to speak that way lightly. He was as shameless and self-serving as her own father—indeed, he sat at the very pinnacle of this empire.
“……”
The measuring was finished while she was deep in thought.
“You—come with me.”
Peonia took several atelier staff with her. They arrived at a small palace where the guests were housed.
“Lady Peoniaaa!”
Lilié, who had been waiting only for Peonia, screamed with glee. She even hopped up and down in place, like a puppy reunited with its master after ages apart.
“Oh, quiet down.”
Peonia smiled, gently grabbing the excitable Lilié by the shoulders.
“Breathe.”
“Eee, hooo, eee, hoooo…”
“Now, slowly, one last time.”
“In… oooout…”
“Well done.”
Peonia praised her with a pat, now that Lilié had calmed down.
“Fit her for a dress.”
She glanced at the people behind her.
Seeing this, the atelier staff bustling in got back to work.
“Wow! Peonia herself is making me a dress…!”
Even in the midst of her joy, Lilié stood politely with her arms out like a scarecrow as she was measured.
“I’ll wear this for the rest of my life! No—make two, please! I’ll keep one preserved forever!”
“It’s thanks to His Majesty’s grace.”
Peonia chuckled, dress designs in hand, trying to choose which would suit Lilié best.
“Really, this is only possible because Lady Peonia looks so kindly on me.”
Lilié’s gaze, as she looked around the villa, was full of mixed emotions.
“Finally…”
At last, she was free of the crown prince’s residence.
The emperor had moved Lilié’s quarters to the guest palace. With the ball soon to be held—and the prince needing to enter with his fiancée—it wouldn’t do to have another woman living there.
‘If only he’d moved me sooner.’
Or thrown me out, at least.
A deep pout sat on Lilié’s lips.
“That bastard, uh, has the crown prince come to see you?”
“Not since the first day.”
On the day of her move, Lilié had been aghast when the crown prince came looking for her.
She hadn’t expected a gentle greeting or words of concern, nor a declaration that he’d missed her—she’d have cursed him if he had said it. But what he did ask was,
‘Was this Peonia’s doing?’
At that, even the last shred of affection dried up.
He immediately painted Peonia as the villain and tried to interfere in the politically neutral Tower’s affairs.
“I was right.”
Before returning to the capital, Lilié had asked Peonia to place a secrecy spell on her.
The crown prince had always been prone to misinterpret things for his own convenience, but after months apart, she’d found him far more chilling.
“It felt as if—he wasn’t seeing the real me, but only some imaginary puppet to suit his own delusions.”
“…….”
“Lady Peonia, you must be careful, or he’ll start a fight the moment you cross his path—”
Crash!
The door slammed open.
The atelier workers and villa maids inside, buried in their work, screamed. Some clutched at their chests, gasping for breath.
“Are you all right?”
Lilié knelt beside the trembling women and cast white magic.
“…Sigh.”
Peonia alone remained composed, though she let out an annoyed breath and stood.
“What is the meaning of this rudeness?”
Her sharp gaze landed on a tall, stunningly handsome man.
Pale blond hair, beautifully cold features—a face that anyone would find mesmerizing.
“Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
Yet Peonia’s heart no longer so much as fluttered at such beauty.