Outside the castle walls, the cold bit harder than usual.
Or maybe it just felt that way because my body still hadn't fully recovered.
Either way, I found myself doing something I never thought I would—
giving orders to servants… and then immediately helping them carry crates like one of them.
"…Careful with that. Those are spell cores, not firewood."
"Yes, sir!"
The title still felt wrong.
Sir.
Me?
I exhaled slowly, adjusting the weight in my arms.
Before I could overthink it, a familiar voice called out behind me.
"You've worked hard."
I turned.
Alice.
She looked… tired.
"Ah," I said lightly, "it's only natural. You're the princess here—you should be resting. I'm just… disposable labor."
Her brow twitched.
"…You're not a snack."
"That's reassuring."
"You're not supposed to take that literally."
"I always do."
For a brief moment, her lips curved—just slightly.
Then she rubbed her eyes, clearly trying to hide it.
I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
