Chapter 40

The flowers were crushed, and more than that, Irene’s clothes and belongings—which had been placed on the shelf near the window—were soaking wet with water.

Of course, the delicate flower crowns were covered in shards, their petals scattered miserably across the floor.

“…How cruel.”

Even the strong-willed Irene turned pale at the sight of such blatant malice.

With all the clothes she had brought soaked through, going out immediately was out of the question.

The only dry thing left was the official maid uniform of the Royal Castle she was currently wearing.

It was a bit dusty after the chores, and more importantly, walking into town dressed like that would make her stand out like a sore thumb.

The perpetrator was barely pretending it had been a natural accident, but given the obvious intent to keep Irene housebound, there was no mystery as to who was responsible.

It was Deborah’s handiwork.

“I can’t believe this… Does she want to block my date with His Highness that badly? We aren’t even actually lovers!”

A few tears of frustration welled up in Irene’s upturned emerald eyes.

However, the fact that Deborah was the culprit was a mere inference; even if she confronted her, the girl would simply bluster her way through a denial.

Besides, considering the difference in their social status, it was impossible for Irene to officially denounce Deborah.

Irene quickly wiped the corners of her eyes, converting her shock into anger as she usually did to cope, and began gathering her clothes with a flushed face.

“Disgusting! She’s just disgusting! There was no need to do something like this on the day of the festival!”

She continued to vent her feelings through words as she wrung out the fabric.

By doing so, she was trying to gradually regain her composure.

“I don’t care how much she hates me, this is too much. Don’t you think so, Elma?”

But there was no reply.

Wondering why, Irene looked up, only to widen her eyes when she saw her friend calmly working in a corner of the room.

She was holding a small brush, apparently busy dusting something off.

Irene felt a surge of annoyance.

“Hey, Elma! Are you doing the final touches on the cleaning or something? I, your friend, just had something terrible happen to me. You could at least sympathize with my anger a little!”

In her irritation, she went to grab Elma by the shoulder.

“You might not be that interested, but I’m just as shocked about the matching flower crowns being ruined as I am about the clothes—”

“Curse you, Deborah.”

For a moment, Irene doubted her own ears at the low, ground-crawling mutter.

“…Huh?”

“A delta with a distinct angle, an extremely short island line… and a dense cluster of sweat pores at the base of the finger. Twelve points of similarity confirmed—without a doubt, this was Lady Deborah’s doing.”

“…Excuse me?”

She had no idea what Elma had been talking about for the last few seconds.

“Wh-what are you doing…?”

When Irene asked in a voice that was unconsciously twitching, Elma pushed up the bridge of her glasses as if it were nothing and replied,

“Matching the fingerprints,” she replied.

“Finger…prints…?”

Looking closely, Irene saw that Elma had been using a small brush to dust on something that looked like flour, but she had no idea what kind of meaning such an act held.

However—she did understand that the atmosphere surrounding her friend was different from usual.

“E-Elma…? I mean, Miss Elma…? Are you, perhaps, well… a little… angry…?”

For some reason, Irene felt the sudden urge to address her with formal honorifics.

Elma quietly removed her glasses, her beautiful, dawn-colored eyes flashing with a sharp light.

“I will annihilate her.”

“Wait, you’re actually furious—!?”

In that moment, Irene realized that her friend had really, really wanted to wear those flower crowns to the market.

It was rare for Elma, who usually seemed to lack emotional ups and downs, to show such blatant rage.

No, rather than rare, it was the first time Irene had ever seen it.

The temperature of the air seemed to plummet, sending an involuntary shiver down Irene’s spine.

“H-hey, hey, hey, Elma? Calm down for a second? I mean… we can just make more flower crowns, and my clothes will dry soon. Listen, please don’t go seeking revenge on Lady Deborah, okay? I mean, emotionally I’d love for you to do it, but what I’m saying is, please don’t stray from the path of humanity!”

“Have I ever strayed from the path of humanity before? More importantly, why are you stopping me? If something is objectively unreasonable, isn’t it ‘normal’ to get angry?”

“No, well, of course the getting angry part is ‘normal,’ but in your case, I feel like the way you express it isn’t going to be normal at all—”

“Deborah von Frenzel,” Elma whispered lowly, ignoring Irene’s stammering attempts at mediation.

“You shall experience the full weight of my ‘fuming’ rage.”

Her voice sounded like that of a Demon King about to unleash a calamity upon the world.