Behind the Curtain: Lancel's Lemon Verbena Scheme

—It seems things have gotten a bit out of hand. I'd like some advice on what to do.

Lancel already had the perfect response ready. He quickly picked up his quill.

—Advice? No, I'll gladly lend my assistance.

The crow hopped onto his shoulder. Lancel didn't spare it a glance as he kept scribbling away.

—First off, since you're the leader of this secret organization, you should put up a figurehead. Remember that maid Mary I mentioned before? You'll use her as your stand-in... in other words, fake Lemon Verbena.

Just as he wrote that far, the crow on his shoulder startled and flapped its wings. For a split second, he could almost feel Marygold's bewilderment at suddenly being cast as the double (or not).

"Quiet, quiet."

Lancel neatly ignored it once more.

—Keep this in mind. From now on, Mary is Lemon Verbena. Any info you feed to the imperial family will be about Mary. So don't worry about a thing. I'll handle everything.

Something felt off.

The crow flapped its wings furiously. Lancel swiftly shoved the letter into its beak.

"There."

He grabbed the crow's wing and hurled it out the window.

"Go."

The crow shook off its feathers with a flurry of whoosh-whoosh and flew away. Its retreating figure looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a little forlorn.

"Phew."

Lancel smiled.

Marygold. This time, you're going to become the empress.

"Mary, you heard, right?"

"Y-Yes... yes!"

Lancel brought the tense-looking Marygold into the room.

"Nothing difficult. From today, you're Lemon Verbena. Just remember that."

"...Um, about that, Young Master Lancel."

"Yeah?"

"Just hypothetically—no, really, it won't happen! But if, say, I were actually Darkhood's Lemon Verbena... what would happen then...?"

She's spilling her guts already. Lancel had expected the question and calmly raised his thumb.

"Does it matter?"

"Huh? Is that okay?"

"It's not true anyway, right?"

"Ah! Yes! True, but! If—just if...!"

"If."

Lancel pretended to ponder, stroking his chin before patting Marygold's shoulder and speaking.

"Then no one's deceived, so wouldn't it actually be fine?"

"...?"

Persuasion complete.

Not long after, the day arrived for the first hint about Lemon Verbena to be revealed. A crow appeared in the quiet capital square and scattered dozens of sheets of paper into the air. Each one bore a single message.

That was the moment the capital's nobles erupted into heated debate.

"An out-of-towner noble? Easy! It's Viscountess Berl!"

"Nah, she's married. How's a married woman gonna get proposed to? Her husband's still kicking."

"Got it! Lady Clanes!"

"Lady Clanes is only six this year."

"You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dense lot. Look at the name Lemon Verbena. The daughter of House Rothvartha's the prime suspect."

"Wasn't she born in the capital?"

"Oh. Yeah?"

The nobles raised their voices like they'd found new spice in their dull lives. Needless to say, they swarmed the suspected ladies and started prying.

"Let's be direct. Miss Anis, you're Lemon Verbena, aren't you?"

"Ahem, well. Who knows? Maybe it is me?"

"Knew it! Miss Anis is Lemon Verbena!"

"Up to your imagination. Sigh, I wonder if His Highness knows. Maybe slip him a hint about me...?"

"Ah. You're not. Sorry."

"Huh? W-Wait! I didn't say no!"

The ladies were loath to flatly deny it outright. Princes didn't approach them every day, after all. They often acted like they secretly hoped for the misunderstanding.

That's when Lancel made contact with one particular man.

"Lancel, was it? Sit comfortably."

The man with a friendly face gestured to the seat across from him in the carriage. Second Prince Arwen Louis Phrygia.

"I heard you know something about Lemon Verbena. True?"

This was the prince Lancel had chosen to marry Marygold to. He had a touch of imperial arrogance, sure, but among the horde of spoiled princes, he was a decent pick. Excluding the terminally ill fourth prince, maybe the best.

"There aren't many who know more about Lemon Verbena than I do, Your Highness."

"I'll buy that. I can't stand losing to my siblings, so I have to win."

"...Come to think of it."

Lancel voiced the question nagging at him.

"I remember this bet was originally just between you two princes. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠How'd it turn into everyone jumping in?"

"You don't know? The imperial ball's coming up soon. They're desperate not to let me shine alone. Too many folks stirring the pot on the sidelines."

That was the reason? Lancel stifled a scoff. Par for the course in an empire on the brink of collapse—distrust and obsession festered among the royals. The ugly underbelly of the empire he'd once served loyally. He could only hope no war broke out within the next ten years.

"Anyway, spill everything you know."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Lancel lowered his voice and continued.

"Lemon Verbena might not be nobility."

The second prince's face hardened.

"A commoner?"

"Yes, currently."

"What? Explain properly."

"There are plenty of once-powerful noble houses that fell into total ruin. That's Lemon Verbena's origin."

"...A disgraced noble who's lost everything... That's too broad; tons of houses fit."

"Enough to narrow the candidates, Your Highness."

"Right. Got it. Thanks for the help, Lancel. If your info pans out, I'll reward you handsomely later. Look forward to it."

The second prince winked and left.

I've practically spoon-fed it to him.

The hints continued dropping once a month thereafter.

…

"Young Master Lancel."

"What."

Lancel looked down at the maid Marygold, who was using his leg as a pillow. Outside the window lay Baron Ivil Shen's garden. Snowflakes fell pure white, heralding winter's approach.

"In my next life, I want to do better."

The regressor Marygold seemed unsatisfied with this loop. Whatever she wanted to do, he had no idea.

"Talking like you've got multiple lives lined up."

"What if you did?"

"Wouldn't that be something."

A brief silence.

"If in my next life, I..."

Marygold mumbled something.

"…."

Lancel stayed quiet for a moment before speaking.

"I'll think about it."

"Positively?"

"Yeah. Positively."

"Promise?"

Speculating, once they realized Lemon Verbena was a commoner, crowds would swarm her doorstep today. All the hints were basically out there. It wasn't hard for twenty questions.

But people clung to the prejudice she was noble. That's why most nobles were still clueless. Candidates popped up and vanished daily, and before long, the imperial ball loomed.

Marygold quit being a maid.

"How do I look, Young Master Lancel?"

She appeared in a glamorous party dress they'd spent all day tailoring at shops. Golden embroidery adorned the pure white skirt, swaying with her movements. Backlit by the sun, she sparkled dazzlingly.

"Suits you."

"Hehe."

Marygold was fully prepped for the imperial ball. Of course, she had no intention of proposing to any prince. Unlike the capital ladies, her mind held not a speck of interest in them. She'd probably stick to Lancel the whole time.

But Lancel planned to skip it.

Oblivious Marygold would be left alone at the ball, soaking up all the royals' attention. With the stage set, something was bound to happen. If luck held, maybe love would spark between her and a prince like in the game.

"Countess Marygold family..."

And finally, the second prince hit the answer.

Making Marygold the empress.

That notion felt like a lingering obsession to Lancel now. He couldn't be sure it was right. But worth trying at least once? No question.

Got to make her empress, right?

Lancel thought simply. Of course. The game Fallen Lady Simulation was built around marrying Marygold off. Her long journey for happiness always ended with someone becoming her partner. Among countless endings, the crown jewel was always "Empress Marygold."

Lancel knew it well. That's why he was dead set on marrying her off to someone highborn. Hoping happiness would finally find the girl who'd lost everything at ten.

"Mary."

And today.

"...Countess Marygold family..."

A chill ran through Lancel at the words from the second prince's mouth. First time. Someone other than him uttering her real name.

All those subtle hints he'd fed paid off.

"But it's odd."

The second prince looked serious.

"If that Junior Baroness Mary is really from House Marygold... the palace wouldn't have let her live."

"What do you mean?"

Lancel doubted his ears.

The second prince spoke again.

"Traitors to the crown."

"…."

His mind blanked.

"The imperial family's ancient foe, House Marygold."

His lips stiffened. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ears rang, vision blurred. Like something had smacked the back of his head.

—Don't be too curious about that house, young master.

"Thinking about it, that was supposed to be secret. Too late now. Just don't go blabbing, Lancel."

Marygold.

She'd been, from the start.

Someone who could never become empress.