[V15C1] A Sour-Faced Witch

One day, Monica Everett the Silent Witch, one of Ridill’s Seven Sages, was invited to a tea party at Ausahorn Palace in the royal capital.

Monica walked into a sunlit tearoom with a view of the palace gardens. Waiting for her there was a woman with lustrous silver hair tied above her head—Princess Cecilia, the fiancée of First Prince Lionel.

“It’s been a while, Silent Witch-sama.”

“It has, Cecilia-sama. Thank you very much for inviting me today.”

Monica pinched the hem of her light blue dress and gave a light curtsy.

She often struggled with formal greetings, but lately, she felt like she was getting more used to them. The fact that her companion was Cecilia probably helped a lot.

Aside from the servants, Monica and Cecilia were the only people in the tearoom. Today’s gathering was a casual tea party with just the two of them.

“Thank you for coming despite your busy schedule,” Cecilia continued, offering a fragrant cup of tea. “Please, take your time and relax.”

Monica took a sip of the black tea and exhaled softly.

A month had passed since the induction ceremony of the newest Sage. Monica had temporarily returned to Sazandol, but she came back to the capital yesterday for work.

In addition to her duties in the capital, there was a conference at the Mage Association headquarters she needed to attend.

Monica did not generally attend such conferences, but she had developed a new spell for removing shadows during the incident with Gluttonous Zoe. Her presence as the inventor was required, as there were some things only she could explain.

Though this made her schedule rather hectic, she still had time to spend time with friends between tasks. Monica cherished such moments.

Tomorrow, she would be working at the Grand Ascard Library, allowing her to see Cyril. After that, she had plans for a sleepover at the Roseberg estate.

Also, Isaac would be accompanying her as her disciple at the conference three days from now. Monica was secretly quite excited to formally introduce him to everyone.

Monica shared all of this with Cecilia, as well as other casual topics, while enjoying the tea and sweets. She had never been very good at talking to people, but it became easier when she saw Cecilia listening with a cheerful smile.

“Oh my,” Cecilia said. “So you have brought your disciple with you?”

“Yes! Oh, uh, not right now… We’re planning to meet up tomorrow.”

“So this conference will be their first formal appearance?”

“Yes, a debut!”

Monica nodded with a hint of pride as she bit into a tartlet.

The bite-sized tartlet was filled with a thick, yellow cream, and the scent of lemon filled her mouth as she bit down. It was sweet and tangy, the perfect treat for early summer.

“This is quite similar to the one my disciple made,” Monica said.

The main difference was that Isaac had used a tart pan to bake a full-sized lemon tart. Apparently, his domain of Erin was famous for growing lemons, so he made good use of them.

His lemon tart had a sharp tang to it, so it went perfectly with a mild black tea. The tea would mellow the sourness of the lemons, leaving a refreshing citrus aftertaste. His sweets were always crafted with the tea in mind.

Monica experienced a pleasant sourness, enjoying the harmony with the tea, but Nero had ignored the tea and stuffed the tart into his mouth. He ended up rolling around on the floor groaning, “Sourrrrr!” for a while.

His face at the time had been incredibly funny, so she and Isaac had burst out laughing.

“So your disciple must be quite the cook then.”

“Yes! My disciple knows an amazing number of recipes!”

Monica grew more excited as she reached for a second tartlet.

Whenever she started praising her disciple, her other friends like Lana and Cyril often put on wry smiles because they knew the circumstances. It was a bit difficult to bring up the subject.

Suddenly, Monica remembered something Isaac mentioned earlier.

“By the way, Cecilia-sama, I happened to hear that the date for your wedding has been set…”

“Right, I was planning to tell you about that today. It’s a bit sudden, but we’re planning to hold the ceremony at the end of the coming autumn.”

Currently, the Kingdom of Ridill was busy dealing with the aftermath of the nationwide dragon disaster and the Gluttonous Zoe incident.

Some argued that the wedding should be postponed, especially since a portion of the palace was still damaged.

That said, it had already been four months since Cecilia came to Ridill.

Considering how she could no longer return to her home country due to the matters involving her grandfather, both nations were eager to hold the wedding soon and strengthen their alliance.

“My dress is already in the works… It’s a white one.”

Monica was a bit surprised to hear that.

The current trend in noble weddings was to decorate the bride with flashy dresses covered in gemstones. White was a bit of a rare choice.

That said, it also seemed like the perfect color for the naturally beautiful Cecilia.

Cecilia was the Saintess, the woman born and raised to contract the ancient artifact known as the Mirror of Bern. However, the mirror had rejected her.

Even so, she chose to continue acting as the Saintess, for the sake of peace between the Empire and the Kingdom of Ridill. The white-clad Saintess would become the symbol of her resolve.

(Oh yeah, I remember what Lana said… The color of the dress Princess Cecilia wears at her wedding will set the next big bridal trend in Ridill.)

Monica smiled to herself, recalling how excited Lana had been when she declared, “This is definitely going to be the next big thing!”

“So, um,” Cecilia continued, slightly flustered. “I showed one of the dress design drafts to Lionel-sama…”

She trailed off there, so Monica chewed on her tartlet as she waited for Cecilia to continue.

Only until after Monica swallowed did Cecilia mutter the rest in an embarrassed tone.

“Um… L-Lionel-sama always praises my dresses, you know? He says things like, ‘You’re like a lovely flower blooming under the moonlight’ or ‘You’re like a fairy of spring‘… but this time…”

Her words grew quieter and more hesitant.

Monica straightened up, wondering if this might be leading to something serious.

Cecilia pressed both hands to her cheeks and lowered her head.

“But when I showed him the design I liked best… he… he…”

“H-He…?”

“…He just said one simple word… ‘Cute’.”

An unusually plain and honest compliment, especially from someone like Lionel, who always praised her with poetic elegance.

Cecilia was very surprised to hear that, and when Lionel noticed her reaction, he quickly added, “F-Forgive me! The word slipped out when I saw the design. I couldn’t help but imagine how cute you would look in it…”

Upon closer inspection, Cecilia’s cheeks had turned a bright red under her hands.

“Hearing that from him made me so happy…”

If anything, the sight of Cecilia blushing and unable to hide her joy was even more cute.

Perhaps that was unbecoming for the Saintess and a princess of the Empire. Formal settings demanded she maintain a certain level of grace.

But right now, only Monica was with her.

Thus, Monica voiced her honest feelings as well.

“Wow, that sounds, um… really, really amazing.”

“Yes, my heart was pounding… Please, don’t tell anyone else about this, all right?”

“Of course!”

Monica nodded a few times as she imagined the situation.

For example, the times Lana did her makeup or picked out her clothes. Whenever she said, “See? Look how cute you are!” Those words had always given Monica confidence.

There was also the time she went out in a new outfit and Isaac said, “You look cute”. She was happy, not just because of the compliment, but because Isaac was being so kind. He deliberately chose easy to understand words rather than his usual poetic expressions.

The word “cute” was lovely. It had the power to make people happy.

But what if someone you had feelings for said it to you?

“………”

Monica had never experienced such a thing, so it was difficult to imagine.

She let out a thoughtful hum as she pictured the face of the man she liked. What if he smiled at her and called her cute?

(If he said that to me…)

His usually stern face softening just a bit. His blue eyes narrowing gently into a smile. Uttering just that single word… but Monica’s thoughts stopped there.

She pursed her lips and pressed both hands to her cheeks.

(T-This is bad…)

Monica had just realized something terrifying.

The word “cute” spoken by someone you love… Even picturing the scene with her feeble imagination packed as much impact as a doubly-reinforced spell.

Her heart might burst unless she defended it with a double-layered defensive barrier.

Monica held down her reddened cheeks and exhaled in short, flustered breaths. Noticing this, Cecilia gave her a look of concern.

“Silent Witch-sama, are you all right? Was the lemon too sour?”

“…”

Apparently, her face while thinking about the man she loved was the same as Nero’s face while writhing from sourness.

Monica quietly accepted this newfound truth.

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