70 — Chapter 70

On the morning of the Harvest Festival, I woke Princess Margaret as usual; she’d requested an elaborate hairstyle, so I arrived earlier than normal.

“I pray to the God Estena that the day will come when she wakes up on her own.”

I offered the prayer, though realistically it seemed impossible so long as I was her lady-in-waiting.

As always, I roused her with Lifestyle Magic and set a cup of tea in her hands.

“I really wish you could teach the Royal court ladies and maids how to wake me like this.”

I had tried teaching Charlotte, the other lady-in-waiting, and the maid Sophie during summer vacation, but my Lifestyle Magic is apparently unusual; they couldn’t quite grasp it.

“It’ll take time to arrange your hair, so please get dressed quickly,” I urged as she leisurely sipped tea in bed.

Once she was dressed, I cast my Lifestyle Magic—“Become Beautiful!”—which smoothed her bedhead in an instant. So convenient!

I quickly pulled her hair into a half-up style and secured it with today’s accessory: black velvet studded with tiny stars. The dark fabric looked striking against her blonde hair.

Wrapping small sections around my finger, I chanted “Become Curled!” to set the ringlets.

“Patience, your Lifestyle Magic truly is handy. When they do my curls at the palace, they use heated irons. Sometimes the irons are too hot and damage my hair. Even Catherine has to trim her split ends because of it.”

There is no conditioner in this world; at Catherine’s mansion, her maids probably keep her hair with raw eggs or vinegar. And eggs are so expensive!

I was relieved we made it in time for breakfast; the Music Club’s performance closed the morning session, and I couldn’t perform on an empty stomach. If my stomach growled during that long ensemble, President Albert would surely kill me.

I headed slowly to the auditorium with Princess Margaret. If we went too early we’d run into the Chorus Club, but fortunately it was their turn—while they’re onstage they can’t start a fight.

Since the Harvest Festival also doubled as a farewell for the sixth-years, the first floor of the auditorium was packed with graduating students. We underclassmen sat in the second-floor gallery, where attendance is optional.

“It’s… passable, I suppose.”

Princess Margaret’s sharp tongue was as usual, and I found myself agreeing—the Chorus Club had a lot of girls and only two boys, so the vocal balance felt off.

“Oh? Is the next act the Chorus Club too?” I asked, puzzled.

“Ah, you didn’t know, Patience? The Chorus Club split internally. This group is calling themselves the Glee Club. I expect there will be a massive row over the time schedule for next year’s Aoba Festival.”

They performed a musical-style piece with dancing; most of the boys had migrated to this group.

“They are still under-practiced. I can hardly watch,” she remarked.

Their dancing and singing were half-formed, but I enjoyed it—entertainment has been scarce since I came to this world.

“It would be interesting if the Music Club provided them with new songs…”

I happened to mutter it aloud, and President Albert overheard me. “That’s a grand idea.”

“I’ve been annoyed with the Chorus Club for a while. What is the fun in just singing old songs? The Glee lot aren’t great yet, but I admire their desire for change. I’ll propose it to them later.”

Princess Margaret is a fellow music lover. “Indeed. In that case, let’s have the Dance Club cooperate too. The choreography is lacking.”

Unbeknownst to them, a plan to meddle in other clubs’ affairs began to take shape as the Glee Club finished their performance.

The curtain fell, and the setup for the Music Club’s instruments began.

“Please finish the setup quickly, or we’ll fall behind schedule,” Rufus, the new Student Council President, interjected. He was eager to make his mark on his first official job; honestly, he should leave such trivial matters to other council members. It makes him seem small-minded. Well, I suppose it’s only natural to be over-eager when following in Prince Richard’s footsteps.

The Music Club’s ensemble was—if I do say so myself—a success. Our intense practice on the new song paid off; I didn’t miss a single note or beat on the triangle. Still, being signaled by President Albert with his eyes flustered me. His gaze was so serious… I might not totally dislike it. My heart skipped a beat. No, stop! He’s just a music-idiot!

After a break for lunch, it was the Drama Club’s turn. It was my first time watching a play here, so I had been looking forward to it—but it was incredibly dull: a classical myth full of gods and divine punishments, a relic of the polytheism before Estena. No wonder most students dozed off; full bellies and dry content are a lethal combination.

“Why did they choose such a tedious play? Especially after taking up two whole hours.”

Princess Margaret was fuming, and I shared her sentiment.

“They likely wanted to perform a high-brow piece befitting Prince Richard. Their shallow intentions are transparent.”

President Albert has no mercy for other clubs; he’s been complaining about this since the initial meetings.

Finally the long play ended, and Rufus gave his greeting. He did well despite a tiny crack in his voice. Clap, clap.

Then Prince Richard gave his farewell address. He truly is in another league—he carries an aura that makes everyone feel the Kingdom of Lawrence will be safe in his hands. My only hope is that as he grows older he’ll develop enough heart to forgive his younger brother’s foolish remarks. While I thought this, I noticed the female students’ handkerchiefs were soaked with tears.

“Ah, right. He’s graduating.”

In my previous life, I wasn’t the type to cry at graduation ceremonies. And yet this “Patience” body is so prone to tears. I dabbed my eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief—one of my side-job pieces.

At the Harvest Festival dance, I was surprised to see graduating President Melissa had invited her fiancé from Romano University; afterward I danced with Prince Richard.

“I’m leaving the matter of Margaret and Keith to you.”

Good grief—it sounded more like a business memo than a farewell. Besides, it’s not like I’m Prince Keith’s lady-in-waiting!