The initial intimidation of the palace didn’t diminish as she wandered around it more—if anything, it only seemed more foreign. Grander than anything she could remember, yet eerily familiar based on the voices’ opinions. Seiko dreamt of it, sometimes, but even that palace—warped by the perceptions of a young child and dulled by age—seemed more navigable.

Seiko lingered in the sakura garden, taken aback by the painted fences around the trees and speckled walkway. It took up the better half of the back courtyard, almost unnaturally. The royal family’s gravesite was just behind it.

What a place to spend eternity, one voice murmured. Beautiful, serene, and respected. In theory, at least.

It would be an even better place to die, another said. Brevity at its finest.

She would have protested—out loud, if they wouldn’t listen otherwise—until she heard someone else come closer. Seiko turned and offered a bow once she saw Princess Maenomi.

“That was quick,” the princess noted, almost surprised. “Most people don’t realize I’m there until I speak.”

“It’s not hard to put me on edge,” Seiko admitted. “Especially in an unfamiliar place—Lord Gin said I could wander.”

“He told me the same, regarding you still being here. You should be honored; Father doesn’t often extend kindness to strangers.”

A ‘stranger’ he once turned away, no less, a few voices added.

Seiko chose to ignore them for now.

“Has his mind changed about letting me stay?” Seiko asked the princess.

“No,” Princess Maenomi replied. “He actually sent me to get you—you’ll be eating with us.”

She…must have misheard that. Princess Maenomi seemed no more sure than she did. Lord Gin said as much earlier, yet hearing it as a request was…surreal, almost.

“Father said, if you’re hired, you’ll have to eat with us to escort Uncle’s youngest to their rooms when they’re done,” the princess explained. “It doubles as being able to meet everyone.”

She couldn’t even try to fully grasp it, but there wasn’t a real reason to protest. No matter the situation, denying a request coming from the princess—who, in turn, was told by the king’s brother—would be disrespectful.

“Lead the way, Princess. I’m afraid I couldn’t get there on my own.”

The voices could, but Seiko preferred to pretend they didn’t exist.

Princess Maenomi nodded, simply gesturing for Seiko to follow before she started making her way out of the sakura garden. The princess didn’t walk extremely fast, letting Seiko trail behind her without any issues. She seemed to trust that the older girl wouldn’t disappear.

The princess didn’t talk to Seiko on the way there—either to maintain some distance, or to hold topics for later in the evening—so Seiko did the same. The voices were none too quiet, however; they more than made up the silence with all their chatter. Some of them were excited, others terrified, and the rest commented on how ‘lucky’ Seiko was. Their collective tones didn’t help ease any concerns she had.

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When they made it to the dining hall, Princess Maenomi waited by the door and lightly knocked on the wooden frame. After a murmur came in response, she entered with her head held high and standing fully straight.

“I brought Miss Tsujihara,” Princess Maenomi announced.

“Good. Go ahead and take your seat.” Seiko couldn’t see him, but it was Lord Gin’s voice.

The princess nodded, then left. Seiko cautiously entered—suddenly, all the voices were screaming. She couldn’t even tell what they were saying, just that it gave her a headache.

She bowed once she stepped inside, and stayed there until one of them spoke. It took an odd amount of time.

“Miss…Tsujihara Seiko, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have your own table. Sit down and be calm.”

Seiko rose and looked around for the table; right in the corner, only seating one, with the entire meal set out for her. The main table, on the other hand, held thirteen. The king, the queen, the king’s mistress, the king’s six children, Lord Gin, his wife, and their two children, the voices noted, their loud chorus simplifying into something understandable. Such a large family—and not one servant in the room.

You’re alone, surrounded by strangers. If things get too much, little Seiko, you could always take a knife and bring it to their skin. That would certainly end their governess issue.

She shivered the thought away and prayed none of the royal family noticed. The voices quickly resumed their aimless chattering.

She took a seat at her allotted table, almost noiselessly sliding across the mats making up the floor. The placement had her facing the royal family, but she avoided actually looking up at them. The voices in her mind would be enough to drown out anything spoken aloud, except for whatever pieces of conversation they deemed necessary for her to hear; the headache made it hard for her to even eat.

The royal family held constant conversation, but she only heard pieces of it. One of the children asked why a commoner ate with them; a little while later, Prince Jukazu teased Princess Maenomi, leading to the latter storming off. A servant was called in to bring her remaining food to her, but it didn’t seem like they would chastise the princess for it.

Seiko just wished the voices would stop. They talked over each other, commenting on all the people in the room. They criticized the royal family for bickering or for holding conversations that she couldn’t even understand, while they were disappointed in her for being overwhelmed.

A few more servants came in after a while to clean up after the royals. Seiko didn’t even finish the first dish.

Lord Gin came over, at first stern. It almost shifted into a kind of concern—even if most hosts would be annoyed at how little she ate.

“Was it unsatisfying, Miss Tsujihara?” he asked, curiosity over all.

The voices quieted enough to let her think and form her own words.

“No, it was good. I…lost my appetite; I suddenly got a headache.”

Something in his expression changed, but she couldn’t read it.

“Does that happen often?”

“No, sir.” The voices only screamed while she was in the capital, it seemed. They rarely got this loud at home.

Seiko couldn’t tell if he believed her or not, but he still seemed to understand.

“Regardless, please escort the younger children to their rooms,” Lord Gin said. “I’ll have a room prepared for you.”

“I met your expectations, then?” All she really did was sit there. It’s not that you deserve it, her voices murmured. Just that they want you to take the job.

“You’ve surpassed them—far better than any girl we’ve introduced to the children so far. If circumstances change, your position might as well; but for now, consider yourself hired in service of the royal family of Gin.”