‘Now I need to get Dad’s cooperation.’
It was only natural.
After all, it wasn’t me but Dad who would be attending the meeting.
‘But to get Dad’s help, I’ll have to hint that the Divine Beast issue will be exposed during the Four Duchies’ meeting, right?’
The problem was how to convey this without revealing my ability to see the future.
Fortunately, I overheard maids discussing during their break that temporary staff from the ‘north’ would be arriving—a stroke of luck, since Wintervalt’s refusal to hire temporary help meant northern servants were being brought in for the expanded meeting.
“Hmm. A personal request during official hours?”
“Is that... not allowed?”
Ruska, handling all duties alone due to Dad’s distrust of others, leaned closer. Just as I debated offering to deduct maid salaries, she adjusted her glasses.
“Up to 1,000 units. For you only, Lady Ririn. What do you need?”
“Oh! There’s a plant I want for my garden—”
“Beyond Mintmary?” Ruska interrupted.
I nodded vigorously. “A northern species! Snowmeril—those white buds I saw in a book. It doesn’t grow here in the capital...”
Ruska pushed up her glasses thoughtfully as I tugged her sleeve. “Is it... difficult?”
Say yes! I screamed internally.
“If it’s too hard, never mind!”
No, it’s NOT okay!
After a pause, Ruska relented. “It’s manageable. Northern staff arriving for the meeting can bring cuttings.”
“You’re the BEST, Secretary Ruska!” I twirled gleefully as she permitted herself a small smile.
‘Perfect.’
After bidding farewell, I chirped, “Off to work! Have a productive day!”
“May you earn much while working little,” Ruska deadpanned.
“You too!”
“That’ll require reincarnation,” she muttered, already buried in paperwork.
Days later, when Mintmary sprouts unfurled:
“Lady Ririn! Your plant arrived.”
I leapt up from playing with Theo. “They brought it?!”
“To your bedroom, as requested. Have servants transplant it later.”
“Yesssss!” I seized Ruska’s hands, bouncing. “Genius! World’s best secretary!”
Her eyebrow arched. “...Do you shower the maids with such praise daily?”
“Of course! They dress me, feed me, bathe me—”
“Unfair. I’m a one-person department,” Ruska muttered, then tapped my cheek. “Consider transferring. Triple salary.”
“Hoh?”
“Fivefold?”
“Hohohoh!”
“Part-time work permitted.”
Sold.
Next morning, I sprang from the lobby stairs as Dad’s carriage arrived.
“Welcome back!” I grabbed his outstretched hand—now a routine, though he’d stopped spinning me like in Rephi Village.
“Tch. Filthy hands again,” he grumbled, inspecting my dirt-stained palms.
“Gardening!”
“Should I serve you dirt bread?” He hoisted me up, freezing when I whispered in his ear:
“The northern plant’s here. It mentioned... the Garden of Frost?”
His shoulders tensed. “What?”
“Someone’s been snooping there with magic devices! At least, that’s what I think it meant...” I blinked innocently. Snowmeril saplings couldn’t speak yet, but Dad didn’t need to know that.
He flipped me like a ragdoll, checking for injuries. “Your ability didn’t strain you?”
“I’m fine! But the Garden—”
“Enough.” Setting me down, he barked, “Summon Ruska.”
Phase one complete.
“Spying on the Divine Beast?” Duke Calek’s voice chilled the room.
Ruska rubbed her neck, uneasy. “The Garden’s knights should’ve detected intruders. Sir Jeffrey’s guarding it post-pilgrimage—”
“That fool’s useless.” Calek gripped his sword. “Where did you hear this?”
“Does it matter?” he deflected. “The timing’s disastrous.”
Ruska pressed, “The source affects credibility—”
“No doubts remain.” His jaw tightened. Years of researching the Divine Beast’s ailment had yielded nothing—and now this.
Yet... not all hope was lost.
