I'm not a princess!

In a corner of the Tembar Kingdom, a certain rumor was quietly spreading.

It began with the tales of wandering travelers and merchants.

To those burdened by problems—and their families—it was like grasping at straws, desperately trying to verify the rumor’s truth.

One merchant, traveling with his family, was conducting business along the way.

While passing through Vanclift territory, his only son fell ill with a plague.

Panicked, the parents rushed him to a clinic within the domain.

And they were given a medicine they’d never seen before.

“Please leave your child with us for about three days. Don’t worry—she’ll be fine soon.”

But the parents seemed doubtful. The healer had looked so calm, so relaxed—like they were just handing over a child for a nap. That ease made the parents uneasy. They asked if they could stay with their child.

“We can’t have you here,” the healer said. “The illness might spread. But please come by every day.”

That made sense. Maybe they were overthinking it. But just then, a high-ranking official arrived at the clinic, and the healer hastily finished the examination.

“I’ll send someone else to take care of her. Just stay put for now.”

The parents stood frozen, staring at the healer’s retreating back. Was it really safe to leave their child here?

The father watched his wife gently stroking their feverish son’s forehead. He muttered, “We should probably go somewhere else.”

"Guess so, huh..."

Elen glanced around with Isabella, both of them catching the same odd feeling.

The room was unnaturally bright, spotlessly clean. The healing clinic she remembered hadn’t been this tidy.

"But... the room’s really clean, isn’t it?"

"Any other patients around?"

Peering past the curtain into the adjacent bed, they spotted another patient lying there. A man, his face flushed red like her son’s from fever, yet sleeping peacefully.

Silently, the parents edged their way around, glancing from bed to bed, and soon realized there were quite a few patients here.

"...That’s a lot, isn’t it?"

"Eh, yeah... I guess so..."

This wasn't just a room—it was practically a dorm. About ten people crammed into a single space.

Each bed was separated by curtains, so you couldn’t tell who was in the next one unless you leaned in and peeked.

Elen’s eyes sweep the room again, assessing it like a merchant. A space that feels newly built. Windows line the walls, letting in soft light through sheer curtains. And above all—pristine, snow-white sheets, perfectly clean.

A lavender bouquet stood on the desk chest, and the room carried a faint, floral scent.

Nothing like the clinics I’ve seen before.

Other clinics were almost always dim and thick with the awful, cloying stench of medicine.

Some healers, when praying to spirits, suddenly start burning incense right there on the spot.

"You... this clinic feels like a strange place, doesn't it?"

"Ah, ah... "

Look closely, and the sheets are kept so spotless they might as well be brand new.

If you squint at the trinkets on the healer’s desk, you notice, despite their simplicity, that each one—feather quill, inkwell, paperweight—costs a decent sum. You could call it refined.

“…Might be getting ripped off.”

“Huh!? What was that!?”

Mother startled by Father’s words, shouted so loud she didn’t even notice the person sleeping beside her.

Instantly, a knock came at the door—someone peeking in, judging by the noise.

“…What is it?”

There stood two men who looked like nobles, and behind them, a small, pretty girl poking her head out shyly.

“…Are you the patient’s parents?”

The girl’s eyes were a striking shade of purple. Shift the angle slightly, and it looked like the color shifted and shimmered, as if dancing. The parents, entranced by those eyes—so like gems—jolted back to themselves.

The other two men were also quite handsome. There was a certain likeness in their features, making it possible they were related by blood.

One was a rugged, stern-looking man. The other had the same hair and eyes as the girl. This young man was also quite striking. Were they siblings?

“Ah, ah… my son’s been running a fever. Sorry for the trouble.”

“I’m sorry.”

“A child?”

The girl tilted her head, puzzled. She looked about eight years old, maybe a bit younger than the son.

When the mother said the child was ten, the girl glanced at the boy sleeping with a red face beside them. She leaned in to peer at the child’s face.

“Can’t have the illness spreading, you know.”

The mother warned her not to get too close, but the girl didn’t flinch—she placed her hand on the child’s forehead.

“High fever… tonsils are swollen too. Sorry—when did the fever start, exactly?”

“Huh? Uh… this morning. He seemed unwell last night. By morning, he was burning up, so we rushed here.”

“Did he cough before that? Or was there someone like that nearby a few days ago?”

The girl fired questions at the parents in quick succession. They stammered out answers, flustered. Meanwhile, without anyone noticing, she’d already handed something to the healer who’d slipped away earlier, standing quietly behind them.

"Better to administer the fever reducer as soon as possible. Prolonged high fever isn’t safe. With such heavy sweating, dehydration’s a real concern. If coughing, immediately move them to a private room."

"Understood."

The healer actually listened to the girl. Her parents stared, dumbfounded. Ignoring their shock, the girl turned to the noble standing behind her.

"Papa, the medicine."

"Uh… is it okay to give it here?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Her parents were stunned—she’d just called the young man 'Papa.' He looked far too young to be a father. Not a chance anyone would believe he had a child nearly ten years old.

Unbothered by their disbelief, the girl took the unfamiliar round pill and carefully crushed it with her knife.

"One of these is for an adult. For a child, divide this into thirds, give it twice a day—every twelve hours—and monitor the reaction for now."

"Yes."

"Pain relievers also have a fever-reducing effect, so start with this for now. Give the antibiotics after eating. Collect the others from Lauren at once."

"Princess, thank you so much."

The healer bowed respectfully as she took the medicine from the young girl. The parents' jaws dropped open in disbelief.

"You're incredibly lucky. A princess herself examining you—"

"A-ah... a princess?"

They asked timidly, wondering if the girl was of royal blood. The girl flushed bright red and protested.

"Not a princess!"

She puffed up, indignant—but the anger was clearly just embarrassment.

The merchant, whose only child was a son, watched his wife smiling fondly at the girl. She'd always wanted a daughter, after all.

"The princess is called the Healing Princess, you know."

"Ugh! I told you to stop that!"

The girl poked the healer's back with irritated little taps, pouting.

The healer just chuckled and apologized with a smile. Watching that sweet scene, the parents forgot their earlier suspicions entirely—like someone had just drained the poison out of them.

"Your child likely has a heat fever. Just keep an eye on them for a couple of days, okay?"

"Y-yes..."

As the girl and her companions exited, the parents stood there, dazed and silent.

"That tall one? He's Lord Sauvel of the Vanklyft Family. Visitors from outside usually get startled by him, you know?"

The healer laughed, and the parents blinked in shock.

The Vanklyft Family was a ducal house—ranked almost as close to royalty as any noble could be. And in this country, they were famously the family of the legendary hero Lovell.

"Meeting a hero and a princess too—really lucky, huh?"

Their parents nearly passed out at the healer’s words.

＊＊＊

In a certain inn of the kingdom. Near the back alley, the merchant met the man he’d arranged to see beforehand.

In the dim room, reporting to the hooded man.

"Say, you took that medicine and the illness cleared up in just three days?"

"That’s right! The next day, my son’s fever was completely gone!! I was absolutely stunned. Is it true, then? That the medicine’s blessed by spirits?"

The merchant, amazed by the miraculous effects, tried to negotiate a bit—asking if he could handle it in trade too.

"A medicine from the princess herself?"

Right after, he hastily backtracked, claiming it was just a joke—when he saw the healer’s furious face.

“Overheard a bit from the locals—apparently, there’s a skilled healer in the Vanklyft Family’s employ, they say. Rumor has it the princess herself tracked her down… well, that part’s just gossip, I suppose. The healers around here, though—they’ve got that ‘we know something’ air about them. Tight-lipped, though. Real tight.”

“…Hmm.”

“Thought I’d zero in on a spirit mage who’d made a pact with a healing spirit. But turns out she’s more of a herbalist.”

“…I see. Anyway, what about the girl’s appearance?”

The merchant was reporting every detail to the man.

***

Gadiel had been summoned by the king and was hurrying toward the royal study.

At the age of adulthood this year, Gadiel—the first prince of the realm—was already set to begin assisting the king in his duties immediately after his coming-of-age.

Probably that’s what it is, Gadiel thought, bracing himself. The guards flanking him stiffened as he knocked on the door they were guarding, hands tight with tension.

A voice said, “Enter,” and he bowed, stepping into the room.

“Summoned, Your Majesty?”

“Ah, Gadiel. Sit over there.”

He bowed to the sofa across from the throne and sat. The king smiled faintly, settling into his seat.

“Let’s get straight to it. Have you been seeing the young lady from the Vanklyft Family lately?”

“…No, not really. Mostly just letter exchanges these days. The last time I saw her in person was two months ago, with Raffilia.”

“Two months ago… Did you hear anything about that?”

“Anything… about what?”

“Hmm. Seems like the Vanklyft Family recently hired a particularly skilled apothecary.”

“Apothecary… No, I’ve never heard of that.”

"So…? Tell me, do you still wish to meet the spirit princess?"

Gadiel flinched at the king’s words. The annual report to the stone monument they’d sworn upon with their brother had never been missed.

"Of course."

I just want to see her—once. To apologize. To face her, properly, and talk.

The image of that girl, glimpsed only once, had burned into my mind and refused to leave. I knew, deep down, what this feeling was called.

But why, all of a sudden, was the king bringing this up?

"Apparently," the king continued, "the apothecary they hired… is said to be the spirit princess herself."

Gadiel’s eyes snapped open.

Maybe—just maybe—I could finally meet her.

I couldn’t stop my chest from racing with hope.