Princess Maenomi managed to find a few trinkets for her friend before Seiko had to walk her to the shrine. The princess, at least, seemed satisfied—she looked the most comfortable when she let her guard down, and apparently Seiko gave her some kind of assurance that she didn’t need to be above others. Princess Maenomi even played a single game near the shrine after both Prince Kyuru and Seiko sat down to participate.

The prince still wanted to visit other games, so Seiko walked him around. He didn’t have as much direction as his sister, but he still had demands; he asked for candy at every other stall, accumulating enough trinkets that Seiko could barely carry the bags. He offered to hold a wooden toy and still kept an eye out for more things, yet kept from asking for anything else when he realized Seiko might not be able to play games with him if he did.

By the time Prince Kyuru murmured about going home, he had spent about three times the allowance Mikka gave Seiko. It didn’t surprise her—all things considered, the money she received was only meant to last her a few days—but most of it was given up to game attendants. The prince tried every one; any that required two players was tried until he got bored. He maintained conversation most of the time—random ramblings about people Seiko didn’t know, or how fun a certain game or toy looked.

Seiko expected the single guard in front of the palace gates, accepting his presence while her voices pointed out the danger in it. With no one else to carry the bags, Seiko followed behind the prince when he entered.

Finally, her voices murmured. This place could be your home, Seiko—you should take care to memorize the layout.

Prince Kyuru half-ran a bit too quickly for her to make full sense of the details, but for once she agreed with them—at least on the grounds that the place had a magnificent splendor about it. Sakura petals drifted down from trees lined around the edge of the courtyard, the sweet smell of flowers surrounding her, yet the place felt…empty.

The prince slipped off his shoes quicker than Seiko could, subsequently disappearing up the left staircase. She didn’t want anything to get into the candy if she left it there, so she took an extra few seconds to take off her own shoes and set them out of the way; she straightened the prince’s immediately after, if only so no one else would trip on them.

Her voices had a better idea on where to go than she did, so Seiko followed their lead. A few portraits adorned the walls—of particularly brutal battles with Kuro, or of previous kings—but it intimidated her more than awed her. She didn’t belong in a palace.

You don’t, the voices agreed. And you never will, little bastard girl.

Seiko sighed. No matter what, they would never give her any kind of confidence. Their opinions only made the distance between her and the people living here seem wider.

“Is there a reason you’re carrying all those bags?”

Seiko tensed, then turned around to face the stranger. The speaker—based on his apparent age and the pale blues, silvers, and little jewels in his outfit she assumed he was Prince Jukazu—almost smiled while he waited. She couldn’t convince herself to relax, squirming back a little and praying he didn’t recognize her.

“I was watching Prince Kyuru during the morning and early afternoon,” Seiko explained, bowing as best she could. “I’m only trying to drop off what he bought.”

“Are you one of the governesses they’re trying to hire?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Tsujihara Seiko.”

Any threatening look in the man’s eyes shifted to amusement, and he let out something like a laugh. He glanced over her, but his whole demeanor changed—from menacing to almost amicable, although that barely made her feel any better.

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He opened his mouth to say more, but someone’s footsteps coming closer made him pause. The walker turned a corner through the hallway, scowling as he approached. Seiko bowed, but the other royalty member only sighed.

“Jukazu, please don’t leave while I’m still working with you—much less leave to chat with a girl in the hallway.”

Prince Jukazu gave his uncle a tired look.

“I didn’t realize you were so guilty as to invite her back,” the crown prince said. “I merely wanted to greet her, make sure she knows where she is. Isn’t that only proper for someone like her?”

Lord Gin didn’t entertain whatever Prince Jukazu wanted from the response. The latter seemed disappointed when Lord Gin just shooed him off.

“Could you let Miss Tsujihara be?”

“Oh, so you can actually recognize her. How did Yukira react when—”

“To Tsunkei, Jukazu. Before I lose my patience with you and finally convince your father that you can’t be fixed.”

That made Jukazu pause, but he seemed less than willing. He brushed himself off and left with a little huff after a second’s glare from Lord Gin.

Once the crown prince left, the remaining royal cast Seiko an almost sympathetic look.

“I hope he wasn’t bothering you.” So genuine, a voice noted.

“We weren’t talking for long,” Seiko replied honestly.

“Good. That boy is likely to drive anyone mad.” He shook his head in contempt for his nephew, then gestured towards Seiko’s bags. “Are those from your morning with Maenomi and Kyuru?”

“They’re mostly the prince’s. He ran quicker than I could follow.”

“I appreciate that you still took your shoes off—many people forget.”

“The palace is a home,” Seiko admitted. “And a prestigious one, at that—I don’t want to give the cleaning staff any more work than needed.”

Lord Gin let out a small chuckle, although it seemed subdued. “Well, you’re more considerate than the rest of us, I’ll give you that.” He didn’t give her enough time to respond when his brief smile shifted back into professional curiosity. “While I have you here, Miss Tsujihara, could I ask how you think your trip with my children went?”

It honestly surprised her. “You’re asking for my opinion, sir?”

“Yes—even if Maenomi and Kyuru are satisfied, there’s no point in hiring someone who’s unwilling.”

How nice of him, a voice whispered. Seiko tried to grasp a good way to describe it, only thinking of a question instead.

“...They don’t spend much time with others, do they?”

Lord Gin’s frown deepened, but not necessarily towards her. “Not with people who can adapt to their interests and give them their full attention, no. Tsunkei’s children have two doting mothers and a strong father—on the other hand, Yukira prefers to spoil them from afar while I have a duty to help my brother.”

Seiko nodded. We could’ve guessed as much, a few voices murmured. But you ought to give him some kind of firm answer.

To satisfy them, she recalled the morning. Her voices already had a specific path in mind—she knew what they wanted her to choose, and they just gave her the illusion of freedom. Still…

“I think, if given time to adjust, I could manage,” Seiko said. Those were her own feelings—although they aligned with what the voices wanted, they were what she chose to do.

Keep believing that if you wish, a small chorus hummed.

Lord Gin seemed pleased, yet frowned deeper, almost as if he scowled to show larger amounts of joy. Or maybe he just hides joy with a wide wall, one voice suggested.

“I’m glad they didn’t intimidate you; a majority of girls we’ve sought so far have claimed one or the other was too much for them.” Moving on with the rest of the conversation and slightly shifting away from her, he said, “Kyuru’s room is down the hall; turn left once, then his door is on the right. It should be open—and if not, just drop his things off nearby. After that, you’re free to walk around the palace. I’ll make sure Jukazu knows not to bother you.”

“All right. Thank you, sir.”

Yet by the time she finished the second sentence, he had already turned the corner to belatedly follow his nephew.