Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: Sir William's Letter
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"Your Highness, do you know what I've brought?"
Late at night.
Even after His Majesty's intense reaction had silenced the nobles who had openly harbored dark ambitions toward him, the standoff between the emperor and the nobility dragged on. It was around the time I was starting to feel worn out by it all.
As I sat enjoying the quiet while reading a book, Sera appeared with a sly grin—she must have been lurking nearby the whole time.
"Haa..."
I carefully closed the book and looked at Sera with a sigh.
I had no idea where to even begin criticizing her.
With half-lidded eyes, I scanned Sera from head to toe, resolving to start with the most irritating thing first before opening my mouth.
"Sera, when it's just the two of us, didn't I tell you to call me 'Miss' instead of 'Your Highness'? I have no idea how many times I've said this."
"Your Highness, with all the eyes watching us in the palace, do you think I'm crazy enough to do that?"
"Tsk..."
I didn't mind at all when other people called me 'Your Highness.' But for some strange reason, hearing the word from Sera's mouth always rubbed me the wrong way.
Whether it was the chills it gave me or just how awkward it felt...
I simply couldn't stomach Sera using such extreme honorifics with me on a physiological level.
If it was just a matter of awkwardness, I could grit my teeth and wait until I got used to it. But seeing that smirk on her face as she argued her point, deliberately yelling 'Your Highness' through clenched teeth while reveling in my displeasure—it made my blood boil.
"Ait! That's not important right now, so we'll talk later. Anyway, do you know what I've brought?"
I narrowed my eyes, radiating clear displeasure as I stared her down. Sera pouted her lips and threw a little tantrum.
Ha, would you look at her.
Who in their right mind would think that was the behavior of a maid who knew how to read the room?
Even a passing child would peg her as the princess's closest confidante.
"Don't pull any weird stunts—just hand it over already."
"Ha~ Your Highness, don't you have even a smidge of consideration for your loyal maid? Just play along a little..."
"Sera, before any consideration for you, isn't it rude for you to show up at 11 p.m. pulling this incomprehensible nonsense?"
"Just chalk it up to a minor slip-up from your inexperienced maid."
"Haa~"
She's especially persistent tonight.
What on earth has she got on me to make her smirk like that, dying to tease me however she can?
"Fine, what important thing did you bring at this late hour?"
"Ufufu~"
"None other than a letter from Sir William himself, which has just arrived at the palace."
"Yeah, yeah, sure..."
I tried to brush it off with a vague reply, but one word caught in my ear.
"That William?"
"Yes, that William sent a letter—and just two days after getting out of prison, no less."
"......"
Why?
He's not the type to carefully send a personal letter like that.
And it's not as if something happened at the Atelier...
"...Hand it over. Now."
"Right here."
I practically snatched the letter from Sera and inspected the envelope first.
"William Henry Howard... Sera, doesn't that 'Henry' look like 'Hanry'? Maybe it's someone else with a similar name?"
"Your Highness, I get that it's hard to believe, but that's a real stretch. Even upside down, it looks like Henry."
"...It really is."
"That's why I rushed here this late to deliver it."
That tactless man had actually sent a letter.
My head knew there wouldn't be much to it, given who the sender was.
But my foolish heart remembered the heavy scent of perfume clinging to the letter when William had asked me to be his partner. It latched onto that faint sliver of possibility, lifting the corners of my mouth against my will.
To suppress that telltale smile, I bit my lower lip slightly and carefully opened the envelope.
"......"
As expected, there was no trace of perfume.
Of course not, I thought as I unfolded the letter.
The first thing that jumped out was William's name, followed by some perfunctory greeting.
Standard stuff anyone would write, so I skimmed it and moved on to the next part.
"Umm..."
And banal phrases continued all the way past the two-thirds mark.
It was clearly a letter meant for a woman, yet it felt vaguely familiar—nothing but rote inquiries about well-being, strung out endlessly with no real substance.
"Of course..."
My expectations were fully dashed the moment the clothing topic appeared right after the pointless pleasantries ended.
Not that I'd been hoping for anything grand.
I'd just wanted a little something personal—maybe him rambling about himself, or some curiosity about what I'd been up to lately, anything befitting friends.
But no, the previous thirty-plus lines were nothing but a waste of ink.
What this man really wanted to say boiled down to about ten lines asking where a catfolk maid should wear her frilled headband.
"Haa..."
"You look upset. Something weird in there?"
"No, it's a perfectly William letter."
I handed the open letter to Sera so she could read it too.
Sera took it with a face full of curiosity and began reading carefully. As her eyes and head traveled downward, her expression grew stiffer and stiffer.
"Um..."
"So, what do you think?"
"W-well... he put a lot of effort into it, right...? The main point's a bit off, but the fact that he wrote at all..."
"The front half isn't a letter—it's a report. He wrote it that way because that's what he was taught. And he put even more care into the back half about clothes."
"Well, you and Sir William have a purely professional relationship..."
"You wanna die?"
"No."
Sera wasn't wrong, but it still soured my mood.
And besides, it wasn't purely professional.
We'd been partners at the ball, after all. Higher than employee, but... a little—no, a lot—lower than lovers. Something like that.
...
Even thinking it myself felt a bit pathetic.
People shouldn't get this petty.
"Haa..."
Still, there was one small comfort: even if it was all boilerplate, he'd at least pretended to care.
It meant he saw me as a woman with some degree of familiarity—not just a subordinate or 'Her Highness the Princess.'
Compared to a few weeks ago, when I'd had to inform him about the partner request myself, it was a huge step forward.
"Sera, sorry, but could you prepare some stationery? I don't like it, but I should reply."
"Of course. What kind of paper?"
"Hmm..."
Should I go bold and proactive this time, or play it safe and neutral...?
I didn't agonize long.
We'd been apart too long, and William seemed to have lost his sense for it. I needed to remind him exactly what stance I wanted from him.
"Cream-colored paper, an envelope decorated with a ribbon, and my usual perfume."
"Got it."
"Haa..."
After giving Sera the detailed instructions, I leaned back in my chair and let out a sigh.
_
A reply from Elizabeth arrived incredibly quickly.
I'd sent mine yesterday evening, and it showed up at lunchtime today.
I'd figured it'd take at least two days, but with the imperial family and 'Princess' stamped on it, it got priority processing like a VIP pass.
This is power, huh?
Didn't feel half bad receiving the perks.
"Ooh, citrus scent...?"
A pleasant fragrance wafted from the letter, and the ribbon-adorned envelope was beautifully decorated. I opened it in high spirits.
"......"
And just as quickly, my good mood plummeted to rock bottom.
Unfortunately, the contents weren't nearly as lovely as the packaging.
The greeting had barely ended before the scolding began.
The wording was gentle as could be, but every single letter screamed that she was upset.
I'd thought I'd done pretty well—tossed in some decent phrases, asked about her well-being, the works.
"Hmm..."
I had no clue what the problem was.
It's not like I'd ever written something like this before.
Even in my past life, my romantic experience topped out at clearing four visual novels and that free ring vow in a mobile game.
In those, the girls would just laugh it off even if you spouted nonsense.
"Tsk..."
I smacked my lips and quickly brushed past my woeful letter-writing skills.
No point dwelling when I couldn't spot the mistake— it'd just give me a headache. I'd ask Mother or my sister-in-law later.
"That's a lot..."
Out of the two pages, one and a half were devoted to it.
It was so long I'd worried the whole thing was criticism from start to finish, but at least the end answered my question.
[Maids are a profession that acts like shadows.
For catfolk, whose ears serve as an organ for emotional expression, covering them is the proper way to wear a headband. However, we can't ignore that the employer-employee relationship is also a social one between individuals.
Once familiarity and trust have built up between employer and servant, it's possible to grant the maid a degree of autonomy and special privileges. Allowing her to position her headband comfortably could be one such privilege.]
"Wow..."
I was genuinely awestruck by the verbal acrobatics only nobility could pull off.
It wasn't just about 'pretty' or 'comfy' on the surface level. She'd dragged in the entire context of employer-employee dynamics to imbue the headband's position with meaning.
The front drew a clear line; the back blurred it just a touch to signal a relationship of trust.
This is how they turn drinking etiquette or dress codes into manners and culture.
"Problem solved."
Mari was right—this time, I'd been the sloppy one.
There was no single 'right' answer, and me dictating one anyway was peak ignorance.
Feeling more acutely than ever that I still had much to learn, I began drafting designs for the new headbands.