Chapter 102

After Economics, I head up to the upper dining salon to have lunch with the usual group. The heavy weight of the upcoming palace visit is pressing down on me, completely stealing my appetite. Because of that, I scan the menu and opt for a lighter main dish. In other words, fish.

“I think I’ll have the steamed chicken,” Princess Margaret decides.

Ah, that sounds light and refreshing too. But I’m already in the mood for fish.

“I will have the fish poêlé, please.”

Despite sitting a seat apart from me, Prince Keith catches my words.

“You really do love fish, Patience.”

My gaffe-radar senses him thinking ‘What a strange girl,’ but he doesn’t say another word. It seems Prince Keith has matured a bit as well, which is a relief.

I lack the energy to enjoy dessert, so I leave it completely untouched on my plate. Leaving egg, butter, and sugar to waste like this is a massive shame. Moments like these are mentally painful for me.

It’s a habit born from living a life of strict frugality and cutting corners at home. In my previous world, people made a massive fuss about food loss, yet an immense amount of food was tossed out anyway. When I lived alone, I could never use up my ingredients in time. The reason I’ve become so incredibly sensitive to it since coming to this fantasy world is because I’ve experienced what it’s like to starve.

“Patience, next is Embroidery,” Princess Margaret says, shifting to another unreasonable request. “You look highly proficient at it, but I’m riddled with anxiety. Please try not to test out and skip the class if you can help it.”

“Yes, indeed. I intend to thoroughly enjoy the embroidery class, so I shall do everything in my power to avoid testing out,” I reply.

Beside us, Prince Keith looks on in utter astonishment. “Is Patience skipping classes in the middle division as well? Just how many subjects have you tested out of?”

I have absolutely no desire to answer that. I really struggle with Prince Keith’s competitive glares.

“Patience has already received completion certificates for Dance, Cosmetology, and Cooking,” Princess Margaret boasts on my behalf. “Furthermore, she tested straight out of Etiquette, Alchemy, and Pharmacy. See? My personal attendant is absolutely magnificent, is she not?”

Ah, I privately fret over how he might react to that, but his response turns out to be entirely unexpected.

“I see. You are working remarkably hard, Patience. Splendid job.”

Wait… did he just praise me?

“I possess the sheer magnanimity required to acknowledge when my peers are exceptional,” he continues proudly. “Furthermore, since Patience is my sister’s personal attendant, it is only natural that she should be outstanding.”

Even Princess Margaret is caught off guard. “My word, Keith. That is a remarkably noble attitude, fitting for a member of the royal family.”

Being praised by his older sister makes Prince Keith flush crimson with delight. Yes, he looks rather adorable. Please continue growing into a wise prince.

Our embroidery teacher, Mrs. Patricia McNally, was a beautifully refined, elegant noblewoman.

“In this class, we shall study the art of beautiful embroidery,” she began. “While many noblewomen leave embroidery entirely to their maids or professionals, it is fundamentally a vital accomplishment for young ladies and noblewomen alike. In fact, it brings me great sorrow to see that young ladies these days seem to have entirely forgotten the romantic custom of embroidering their own names onto a handkerchief to gift to the gentleman of their choosing.”

My word—the entire classroom instantly shifts into a rosy hue, as if every single girl in the room had simultaneously conjured an image of her favorite boy.

“During the spring term, you shall embroider your own names onto a handkerchief. Once you have mastered the art of embroidering names beautifully, we shall proceed to stitching family crests. In the old days, female students would secretly embroider the crest of the one they loved, praying for their romance to blossom.”

Mrs. McNally truly has a magnificent knack for capturing the hearts of young schoolgirls. Even Princess Margaret—who had entirely given up on romance due to her path of political marriage—begins stitching her own name with fierce concentration. Naturally, I intend to take my embroidery seriously as well. Stitching our family crest onto the inner linings or corners of Nacius’s clothes would look so incredibly stylish. I want to learn the advanced techniques as quickly as possible.

Knowing that Princess Margaret intends to take the embroidery class seriously sets my mind at ease. Mind you, a significant number of the girls were promptly ordered to undo their stitches and start over after their back-side work was revealed to be a tangled mess.

“My word, if a gentleman were to catch sight of a chaotic reverse side like this, a century of love would instantly freeze solid,” Mrs. McNally warned, causing the girls to focus with desperate intensity. With a teacher like Mrs. McNally, it should be perfectly fine even if I end up skipping ahead.

Yes, indeed—I wove through the family crest embroidery and tested out of the class early. When I concentrate with everything I have, I inevitably end up utilizing lifestyle magic unconsciously. The moment the thought of embroidering the lining of Nacius’s uniform jacket crossed my mind, I simply got far too intense about it.

It’s entirely the fault of Prince Keith’s jacket lining—the embroidery on his uniform looked so exceptionally sharp. It looked highly bespoke; well, I suppose Prince Keith’s jacket actually is custom-made. Nacius’s uniform is a hand-me-down from the House of Earl Montelacide, but since I’ve restored it to a like-new condition with lifestyle magic, adding a beautiful embroidered crest will give it that perfect bespoke feel.

While I am indulging in this deep escapism, the royal palace draws right alongside us, and we arrive. Ugh, my stomach is twisting in pain. Regardless, I maintain a perfectly refined facade, walking a few paces behind Princess Margaret. We reach the Queen’s chambers in no time.

“Mother, I have returned,” Princess Margaret greets her, and from the shifting atmosphere, I deduce she has taken a seat on the chair beside the Queen. I remain with my head bowed in a deep, respectful curtsy.

“Patience, raise your head and sit right over here. You have been forced to endure quite an ordeal, have you not?”

With Princess Margaret nodding alongside her, I take my seat on the designated chair.

“Mother, I lacked the proper eye for judging character. I am deeply reflecting on my errors,” Princess Margaret apologizes. Queen Victoria accepts her words with a warm, gentle smile. My stomach feels heavily weighted, assuming that the parents of Catherine and the others must be lodging fierce complaints.

“Patience, you are the attendant I personally selected to serve Margaret,” the Queen says, her smile deepening. “Therefore, I have requested that the Marchioness of Woodstock, the Countess of Claridge, and the Countess of Lindermann kindly refrain from entering the royal palace from now on.”

“My word… but that will effectively isolate them from high society entirely,” Princess Margaret gasps in absolute shock.

“It seems you still require significant training, Margaret. Those women are staunch noble supremacists. I was highly tempted to put a stop to it the moment you went out of your way to select their daughters as your classmates.”

“Why did you not stop me then, Mother?”

Ah, so those families represent the core opposition forces resisting King Alfred’s intended political reforms. And Princess Margaret had gone and picked their daughters to be her inner circle. I wonder why the Queen chose not to intervene?

“I cannot possibly spend the rest of your life hovering over you to monitor your every move, after all. You must cultivate the necessary eye to see through people on your own.”

Princess Margaret looks rather dissatisfied with the explanation. “Had you simply refrained from inviting them to the palace from the very beginning, I would never have chosen them in the first place.”

Queen Victoria lets out a soft, elegant “Hohoho.” Goodness, it is absolutely terrifying.

“We cannot simply banish every single noble supremacist from our sight; the Kingdom of Lawrence could not function without them.”

So the noble supremacists wield a massive amount of influence here. It seems reinstating my father to his post is going to be exceptionally difficult. I don’t even care if it’s a completely insignificant desk job; we drastically just need the salary.

“But Mother, you said you have distanced those three mothers from the palace.”

Exactly. Is it truly safe to alienate three prominent noblewomen from such powerful factions?

“Oh, that is an entirely different matter. Those women had the absolute audacity to question my formal decisions. To think they would openly meddle in a Queen’s decree—what a spectacular lack of awareness of their own station. Even the rest of the noble supremacists will find nothing to argue against in this outcome.”

Princess Margaret and I are both granted a terrifying glimpse into the absolute iron will of Queen Victoria.

“We must certainly grant Patience a proper gift of apology. After all, she was openly exposed to the direct malice of those classmates of yours.”

Ah, so she has absolutely no intention of letting me resign as an attendant. In that case, there is one boundary I desperately wish to request.

“Um… could you please decree that Princess Margaret and Prince Keith stop sharing their lunches together?”

Beside me, Princess Margaret chimes in to back me up. “Yes, indeed. Please, Mother, I beg of you.”

“Hohoho. Absolutely not.”

Ah, I see—a mere personal attendant to a princess has absolutely no right to question a decree from the Queen.

“Well, since you cannot choose for yourself, Patience, you shall have to make do with whatever item I select for you.”

Well, Patience made quite a dramatic fuss about refusing direct monetary gifts in the past, and we are already receiving regular shipments of luxury groceries, after all.

“Mother, inspired by brother Richard’s graduation, Patience has composed a truly magnificent piece titled ‘Tristesse’!” Princess Margaret suddenly declares, executing a perfect conversational pivot. Sensing that a barrage of probing questions regarding our middle division classes was right on the horizon, she chose to make a strategic escape.

“My, is that so? I must certainly hear it at once.”

Using the Hanon piano, I play ‘Tristesse’. I feel a lingering sense of guilt, as if I am cheating by passing off Chopin’s work as my own, but this piece truly is absolutely magnificent.

“That was utterly exquisite. If you were only two years older, Patience, I would highly insist on having you perform it at a formal grand concert.”

While I am deeply thrilled by her high praise, I am fundamentally a very mundane, worldly woman, so my consciousness kept drifting toward what sort of physical reward I was going to receive.