- 3 - Behind the Scenes with the Newcomers and the News Announcement, Part 4
The soft light of spring filtered through the window, casting shadows along the covered corridor that felt different from winter—gentler, quieter.
It was the kind of afternoon perfect for a nap. And yet, here I was, robbed of such peace by the very culprits I now had to face, task in hand and contract in tow.
All I wanted was to wrap up this duty quickly and spend the evening with my team, savoring a pot of slow-simmered chili tomato stew with generous cuts of meat, cold beer in hand, and laughter warming the air like old times.
But instead, my steps took me toward the tower reserved for meetings with external personnel—her and the rest of them.
The tower, built long before the Great War, had always held a solemn, timeless beauty.
Though aged, it had been lovingly maintained, a place even the most pampered researchers from abroad couldn't help but praise. Or rather, it had been.
Since they arrived, even the air inside the building had turned sterile, tense—as if the very stones had forgotten how to breathe.
Lost in these thoughts, my stride slowed as the cloying stench of perfume grew stronger with every step.
Why wear so much that it stings the nose before even entering the room?
And worse, it wasn't just one scent—it was a clashing storm of expensive, cloying notes that twisted into something vile. How were they not suffocating?
There was no point in wondering. I let out a quiet sigh and opened the door to the room where they waited.
I'd chosen today precisely because the prince was preoccupied with official duties. Now I wasn't so sure it had been the right call.
"Ladies,"
I said, voice flat,
"I trust the day finds you well.
Since His Highness is absent, and I imagine none of you are interested in idle pleasantries, let's dispense with them and proceed directly to the matter at hand."
The shift in atmosphere was immediate.
These girls, daughters of nobles, political titans, and old money—so used to being coddled and charmed—bristled at my bluntness.
But I didn't pause.
I didn't give them the luxury of a polite opening.
"You've all agreed to serve here as assistants.
That role, as stated clearly in your contracts, comes with certain conditions.
Tell me—did you actually read those documents before signing?"
A few eyes flickered, guilty or confused. As expected.
"Regardless, the terms you agreed to are binding.
And I don't mean politically binding.
I mean a sacred contract—one that cannot be revoked.
It seems some of you have conveniently forgotten that amidst the 'busy' schedule you've adopted since your arrival.
So I'm here to remind you."
I stepped forward and laid a sealed folder on the table.
"Your task is simple, though not easy: translate this excerpt of ancient script within one month. That's your baseline requirement to remain here as assistants."
I paused, sweeping my gaze across the silent room.
"Should any of you breach the terms of the sacred contract—by leaking information related to the Lake of Wisdom outside designated channels, by tampering with controlled substances, by coercing others into fabricated 'truths,' or by engaging in any form of harm—you will face consequences.
These may include a full sealing of your magical capabilities, and in severe cases, the revision of intergovernmental treaties. I suggest you review your agreements carefully."
The silence deepened. Several of them had paled, eyes fixed now on the pages they once skimmed without care.
"We'll reconvene in exactly one month, same time, same place, for evaluation.
If you have questions," I added, already turning toward the door, "take them up with your country's ambassador.
Our royal office has established a translation team liaison desk for official correspondence.
Use it."
The girls sat frozen.
For a moment, no one moved. Even their usual airs had been stripped by the gravity of the situation.
But just as I reached for the doorknob, a voice—half protest, half plea—cut through the perfume-thickened air.
A shriek, really. One that stopped me in my tracks.
