Good News

Four years have passed already since that radiant Debutante.

The days—busy yet joyful, blessed with friendship—were truly irreplaceable treasures.

Since then, the relationship with Your Highness has remained neither quite friends nor yet engaged, though the education of the future consort has in fact already begun.

Still, with the Crown Prince having married last year and the news of his first child's conception now circulating, matters concerning succession and the delicate balance of noble power have led to the engagement being postponed for the time being.

The school entrance was already four years past. Now a fourth-year student, I have advanced into the upper grades this year. Having been invited by my classmate, Shasha, to assist the student council, I have begun a new life of duty. Supporting upperclassmen, guiding underclassmen, planning and managing school events—each task feels like tending to a small nation, deeply fulfilling. Last year, Your Highness Arthur served as council president, but since he graduated this year, I could not join him in council activities. It is a small regret—so small, yet enough to make me feel the absence.

At Your Highness Arthur’s graduation party, his partner was one of the three noblewomen considered as potential brides—she was the same age as he. That she was praised as a perfect match, admired by all, stirred within me a strange mix of bitterness, resentment, and sorrow. A secret I have kept to myself alone.

Your Highness, if one were to take every casual remark from women as a personal affront, the heart would not endure it.

Ana-sama... The First Princess Altéra has departed for studies in a neighboring country this year. Her purpose is to receive instruction in royal consortship, to solidify her standing, and to make appearances for various political purposes. She is expected to return after her long holiday and graduation, prior to her marriage, but for now, we shall not meet, and I find myself deeply missing her presence.

Since this year, there are no members of the imperial line attending the academy, and the faculty seem somewhat relieved. Yet we students feel a sense of unease, as though the sun had vanished. For us, those not newly enrolled, the academy has always been one with nobility present—so in a way, this is to be expected. Amid such instability, it is Princess Celia, betrothed to His Highness the Second Prince, who has become student council president. She conducts herself with unwavering dignity, unflinching even before the senior students. I believe that, in time, this unease will soon be dispelled.

When one speaks of leaving the academy, Cain Elder has likewise returned from the academy to the estate. Now, at last, he is receiving instruction in the education of the next lord from his grandparents, alongside his fiancée, the young lady of Marjuline. Lady Marjuline was a senior student the year I entered, and though our time together was brief—just a year and a little more—we had been on good terms. Perhaps for that reason, I recently received a letter from the estate. She writes that her bridal training under Grandmother is severe and unbearable. She claims Cain Elder shouted at her, saying that Spica had endured such trials even younger. Of course. Even if it were true, her betrothed should have known better than to speak so harshly of his future wife. When did he lose understanding of a woman’s heart? Indeed, the letter also mentions that she still maintains a distance like teacher and pupil, suggesting that he may be utterly inept with women. Her wedding is planned for spring, and I cannot help but worry for what lies ahead.

It was only last week that I delivered to Lady Melusine a notebook summarizing the lessons I had received from my grandmother, along with sweet confections, and to Elder Brother Cain, a romance novel acclaimed as a guide to a maiden’s heart, accompanied by a letter of admonishment.

Alex Elder now uses a cane in addition to his spectacles, as aid to his movements. As promised, the debutante was shown, but whether his sight will remain until my coming of age is uncertain. He is said to be practicing life without reliance on his eyes.

There had been suitors for Alex Elder as well, though the families proposed were of a lower station, seeking to tie the family through marriage. He reportedly declined them all, saying, “I have no intention of binding ties that will not serve the family.”

At present, she is a renowned musician in the imperial capital, busy with composition, performances, and serving as a sought-after private music tutor whose appointments are difficult to secure.

Fret Elder, after graduating from the academy’s knightly division as second-place scholar, joined the royal guard.

He has been heard complaining at home about the heavy burden of classroom lectures and paperwork, typical for a new recruit: “I’ve just finished school and escaped the classroom—now I’m back in it again? Not what I signed up for.” Mother reprimanded him for it.

Fret Elder says he finds physical activity more natural to his disposition and has expressed a desire to transfer to a nearby post, only to be scolded again.

He does not seem aware that he entered the royal guard—a notoriously difficult unit—straight out of the academy as an elite.

The only unusual thing was that, after the debutante event, Mother began entrusting me with designing several gowns each year. It seemed she had taken great delight in the alterations made to Shashia’s dress—first, she asked for adjustments to styles no longer in fashion, and then, for entirely new designs to be created from scratch.

Adorning Mother in elegant attire feels like playing with a magnificent mannequin, and I cannot help but feel excitement. When I shared this thought with her, she smiled and said, “I felt the same way when I was your age, Spica.” We laughed together. Now, I plan to propose a coordinated set of designs, perfectly matched in style.

Father, perhaps feeling the loneliness of having Elder Brothers away from home or absent due to their duties, began taking me on outings more frequently. Once, he had jestingly complained that my Elder Brothers had interfered with our dates. When I warned him, “You ought to invite Mother once in a while, or she’ll sulk,” he replied, “She’s already sulking… I’d rather go out with Spica than with Mother. You see, I’m even more eager to spend time with Spica than with Father.” He said it with a faintly melancholy tone. When I suggested we go out together as a trio, he brightened visibly.

My days now feel so full of joy and activity that each one slips by like light itself.

On a certain autumn day, a message arrived at our home.

It came from the church: a woman believed to be the daughter of Emmental had been discovered in a foreign land.

Sixteen years after the abduction of the Lady of Emmental. This is nothing short of a miracle.

The entire family rejoiced. Not merely with joy—words cannot convey the depth of their elation.

The woman believed to be the Lady of Emmental was discovered in a small nation to the south of the neighboring kingdom, the Kingdom of Valenbours, where Ana currently resides. She was rescued during a mission to dismantle a criminal organization, lived for several years in an orphanage, and has since been raised by adoptive parents. It is said that when her adoptive parents fell ill and were forced to consider selling her to survive, she was rescued by a clergyman of the Holy Palais Church during a missionary visit.

Now, after her holy power was confirmed at the church, the investigation into whether she is indeed a noble bloodline descendant is underway.

She is said to possess holy power over water, and her eyes are the same violet as Mother’s. Because the criminal organization operated during the time when the nation was an empire, the Archbishop Étoile himself personally inquired, stating this possibility is the most likely.

After receiving this joyful news, the Emmental family sent their anxious parents off to a neighboring country, unable to remain still or calm.

In late autumn, the Emmental couple, having seen and touched the woman and declared her their daughter, entrusted her to the church. The three returned to the imperial capital’s Emmental estate.