“Was it Lady Redfield who prepared this?”
“It was the staff who prepared it. I just thought it was necessary to provide something for those who were thirsty. Please, don’t overthink it and enjoy.”
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness!”
The ladies each picked up a glass and bowed slightly toward me.
What’s there to thank? I only did it because I was about to faint from hunger myself.
Thanks to Natalie’s spartan-style diet, I didn’t even have the energy to hold a grudge against anyone.
The ladies, who had been slumped over like tired puppies after a long walk, regained some sparkle in their eyes. Even I felt a bit better after filling my stomach with water—at least enough to make it back home without collapsing.
One of the more energetic ladies raised her voice.
“Thank you, Lady Redfield. Thanks to you, we might be able to practice a bit more—”
“Practice more? Aren’t you all exhausted already?”
Youthful enthusiasm, perhaps?
With the mindset of someone still stuck in the late-20s grind, I looked around in disbelief. The lady who had stepped forward hesitated before responding.
“Of course we’re tired. But, as the instructor said, we have such a long way to go.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Just memorizing the lyrics is tough enough.”
“And it’s not just one or two songs—the scales are so complicated...”
They weren’t wrong. If this performance was to be successful—or at least avoid being a disaster—it would require a lot of practice.
But the real problem is that we were given such ridiculously difficult songs in the first place!
As one lady had mentioned earlier, noble charity concerts typically feature simpler pieces. These events are less about the performances themselves and more about providing an opportunity for high society to mingle, applaud politely, and donate generously.
So why were we saddled with opera-level difficulty?
“Eek!”
A shrill scream interrupted my thoughts. The maid, who had been pushing out the empty trolley, had apparently bumped into someone. The tray clattered noisily to the floor, but the loud, sharp voice that followed drowned out all other sounds.
“Oh my, is it customary in the palace for non-nobles to just bulldoze people with trolleys?”
“I’m terribly sorry! It was an accident...”
“No, really, I’m asking because I don’t know. So? What’s the answer?”
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The maid, visibly flustered, tried to move the trolley away, but the so-called “victim” stood her ground, blocking the path. Did she actually want to get run over?
I couldn’t watch this any longer and decided to intervene—not to pick a fight, of course.
I’m no good at confrontations.
“Trolleys are only allowed to pass along designated pathways. The rules are the same here as in any ordinary restaurant. However, accidents can happen if someone blocks the way. It’s important to be cautious when standing in doorways.”
“...”
“Does that clear things up? If not, please feel free to ask for further clarification.”
What I lack in aggression, I make up for in overly polite passive-aggression.
If this were a library, I’d probably get a complaint filed against me for “condescending behavior,” but thankfully, there’s no suggestion box here.
The snow-white beauty furrowed her brow.
Why? You were the one who said you were genuinely curious, weren’t you?
Her name was Pearl Snow. I recognized her as Percival’s paramour, the one I’d seen lingering in the hallway during Tristan’s recovery.
Taking advantage of the moment, the maid hurriedly escaped with the trolley. Pearl, seemingly debating whether to chase after her, eventually gave up and turned her attention back to me.
“No, it’s fine. By the way, there are quite a lot of people in the music room, aren’t there?”
“Yes. Was there something you needed?”
“Well, it’s a music room, so of course, I’m here to practice music. Has your practice not ended yet?”
“I wasn’t informed of any scheduled usage after ours. Did you make a reservation?”
“Oh my, do I need a reservation? I was under the impression that I could practice anywhere, anytime, for the sake of the concert’s success...”
She lowered her gaze gracefully—a move that also carried the subtle implication of looking down on us.
“If you still need practice, I understand. After all, from what I overheard in the hallway, you have a long way to go.”
Behind me, someone let out a frustrated, almost guttural sigh. I understood the sentiment; it must be tempting to grab her by the collar.
But what good would that do against someone like her?
Keeping my composure, I replied in the same calm tone.
“Oh my, meeting you here, Lady Snow, must be a stroke of luck.”
“Pardon?”
“You mentioned we have a long way to go. In that case, why don’t you help us with our practice?”
“Excuse me? I came here to work on my own practice—”
“Didn’t His Highness Percival say that our lack of experience could create new harmonies when paired with you, Lady Snow? Oh, I feel so reassured now.”
“Wait a moment. We’re not singing in harmony! Each of us has our own part—”
“Harmony doesn’t have to be literal, does it? Our effort blending with your technique could also be considered a form of harmony. Come in! We’ll sing a piece for you to critique—”
“I’ll come back when the room is free!”
Without even stepping fully into the music room, Pearl backstepped her way out.
Good riddance. Let’s hope I never see her again.
I closed the door behind her and turned around.
“Visiting just to get hit by a trolley? An unusual hobby.”
A few of the ladies chuckled at my quip, but most let out sighs that sounded more like curses—long, drawn-out, and filled with frustration.
The target of their irritation was obvious: Pearl Snow.
“She’s absolutely insufferable. Does she think the entire palace belongs to her?”
“Walking around with her nose in the air like she’s some world-class singer! What arrogance.”
“To think His Highness Percival is using the concert for her benefit... It’s just too much.”
The mention of Percival made everyone go quiet. This was the palace, after all. Even if he was the source of all our woes, directly criticizing a prince was a line no one dared cross.
Still, I was certain that in their hearts, everyone was cursing Percival.
He was the one who chose these overly complicated pieces for the charity concert in the first place.
‘It’s a waste of the ladies’ time and talent to have ten of them singing an easy song. The audience must be bored of it by now. Conveniently, I’ve obtained several opera pieces that have recently concluded their runs. Why not use a few of them here?’
Of course, the opinions of the singers were not consulted.
The aristocrats in charge likely nodded in approval, thinking, Oh, how ambitious of the young prince! And any realistic concerns about the difficulty were dismissed by Percival’s next claim.
‘We’ll leave the most challenging parts to professional singers. The ladies can perform the simpler sections before that.’
He sure knows how to act magnanimous. But we all know what his real goal is.
He plans to hand the “challenging” sections to his singer lover, Pearl Snow. The rest of us are just props in her grand show.
And yet, it’s nearly impossible to call him out on this.
‘That sly fox, Percival.’
At the very least, he’s reduced the workload for the Crown Princess and proposed some “improvements” for the event. From a societal perspective, he’s technically done his job.
If anyone dared to accuse him of using the ladies to spotlight his lover, the sycophants would simply say something like, “The stage hasn’t even been set yet—why worry so early?”
And if Percival himself were to respond with something like, “Surely you’re not envious of an entertainer receiving attention? You’re here to focus on the charity, aren’t you?”—there’d be no comeback.
I could see it all playing out already.
He’s the epitome of a smarmy middle manager who plays politics like a pro.
Damn it.
I thought villains like him didn’t show up in romance fantasy novels.
“Pearl Snow types are so typical, it’s almost endearing...”
One of the ladies next to me flinched. “Wh-what? Endearing?”
“...Never mind.”
The group eventually resumed practicing, though the mood had noticeably soured after Pearl’s brief visit. The practice session fizzled out not long after.
That was a relief to me—I was so hungry I felt like I might collapse.
“Thank you for your efforts...”
As the ladies passed me on their way out, some murmured quietly.
“What you said earlier was refreshing, Lady Redfield. Thank you.”
“I only did what I could.”
Here, I had the slight advantage of being older than most and holding a relatively high status as a fiancée to royalty.
But confronting the main culprit, Percival? That was out of the question.
‘I’m not even a princess yet, and he’s my future husband’s brother.’
That was my limit.
But still...
I didn’t want to keep watching these young ladies, no older than their late teens or early twenties, looking so disheartened.
As the last lady was leaving, she turned back to me.
“Lady Redfield, are you staying?”
“Yes. I have a quick errand to run in the palace.”
“Then I’ll see you at the next practice. And, of course, it’d be lovely to meet you at a tea party as well. The last hunting competition was so enjoyable, after all.”
After she left, I looked down at the sheet music in my hands. The melody was already complex, but the lyrics were even harder to memorize.
“This won’t be easy.”
I didn’t want to just accept this as it was.
Then, an idea came to me.
“Which direction is the palace library again?”
Books might hold the answers I needed.
Asking the maids for directions, I headed toward the library.
The thought of visiting the library for the first time in a while lifted my spirits.