The mourning period was far more painful than I expected.

  Every morning, I unconsciously searched for Sora’s figure standing beside my bed. I wanted to fall asleep again just to see her in my dreams—smiling brightly, carefree, just as she always should have been.

  I will never forgive that bastard Vlad II for killing her.

  Even though the hatred in my heart had calmed thanks to Mother’s words, intense emotions don’t disappear overnight. It took me a long time to process her death, and because of that, I refused to take another personal maid.

  Instead, Aura and several other servants handled the cleaning of my room, managed my outfits, coordinated with the kitchen, and so on. They accepted the arrangement temporarily, since they too were deeply hurt by the death of their former chief.

  And how could they not be?

  Sora always wore a smile on her lips. She supported her coworkers and guided them through their tasks. No one contradicted her—not even the older maids disobeyed her commands.

  In a way, she had been an ideal leader.

  Someone whose presence alone could make all the difference within an organization.

  Damn it… I should have asked Sora for advice about leadership. She could have given me a completely different perspective.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t ask her anything anymore.

  Her death remained a frequent topic in the palace corridors. Most of my court saw her murder as a symbol of oppression, and the general resentment toward the Kingdom of Apollo was becoming more and more noticeable.

  “I suppose sooner or later the kingdom will erupt into chaos. I need to become a great leader before that happens.”

  But the question remained.

  How could I become a capable leader in such a short time?

  It felt impossible—and without Sora’s presence, things were even worse than I cared to admit.

  “Maybe Mother can help me.”

  Despite my sadness, my lessons continued. In the mornings, I attended economics and politics classes with Gonzalo, and in the afternoons, I trained with Sir Marte Hogan.

  “Your Highness, let’s review what we’ve covered so far,” Gonzalo said, pulling me from my thoughts just in time. It wasn’t good to dwell too much, and while these were desperate times, I didn’t want to drown in melancholy.

  “Very well,” I replied with a small smile. “The feudal system is built on oaths between the nobility. Each duke is responsible for taking up arms when summoned by his lord.”

  “Very good. Now, the economy—how is the majority of revenue obtained?”

  “Through taxes in gold and production. The commoners work the land, and the nobility protects them. Though this system is somewhat obsolete. Little by little, merchants are carving their way toward true wealth and capital control.”

  Gonzalo smiled proudly at my answer. We had reviewed these concepts for months—so much that I was honestly getting tired of them.

  Coming from a capitalist world into a feudal one was a shift I would probably never fully get used to. At the very least, I hoped to push us toward primitive capitalism to lay solid foundations for my successors.

  “Well said, Your Highness. Now, legal administration. What are a noble’s obligations?”

  “All nobles of the Kingdom of Etrica must swear loyalty to the Crown—from the poorest lord to the most powerful duke. Knights, however, are an exception. Some may own castles to defend fortresses or counties; others serve as the armed arm of a noble. That noble must provide them with shelter, food, education, and healthcare. Unlike mercenaries, knights do not receive salaries, but they may keep part of collected revenues for personal expenses and are exempt from taxes.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I more or less understood this country’s laws. They all favored the nobility and left the peasantry largely unprotected.

  Of course, that wouldn’t last forever.

  I was already thinking of reforms to ease the lives of commoners. Thanks to my past experiences and ideals, I understood perfectly how much lower classes suffered. I had lived it myself—rising from nothing to earn my university degree and eventually enter a political party.

  Everything was going well until they killed me.

  Damn it.

  But that was over. Nothing I could do about it now.

  Positive thoughts. Positive, positive, positive…

  “Excellent. That will be enough for today. You should rest,” Gonzalo said, closing the massive accounting book and shelving it. “We’ll continue with history tomorrow.”

  “Of course. See you later.”

  I left the room, tired. I didn’t dislike studying, but Gonzalo’s method was extremely methodical, and repeating the same terminology over and over again was exhausting.

  I stretched my muscles. Slowly but surely, this small body was growing.

  And it would keep growing until I turned twenty-one.

  “Where are Alda and Ingrid?”

  Because of their similar theoretical levels, the two of them shared lessons with another tutor—at Alda’s request. She wanted a friend to chat with during class… and also wanted to leave Gonzalo alone with his romantic interest.

  Smart girl. At least when it came to shipping.

  “Their lesson ended half an hour ago. Did they go to the courtyard?”

  Without further delay, I headed toward the secondary garden, where my sister and I usually spent our breaks.

  Ingrid wasn’t fond of running, sweating, or getting dirty—but she would sit under the lemon tree and watch us play.

  “Oh, hello, girls.”

  To my surprise, they were wearing spring dresses. Alda’s was white with embroidered flowers at the center. Ingrid’s, on the other hand, was black—a striking contrast against her white hair.

  When she saw me, Ingrid blushed and looked away, clearly startled by my arrival.

  “Brother, finally! Look, look—we’re wearing spring dresses! Aren’t we cute?” Alda twirled proudly, then grabbed Ingrid and forced her to do the same. “Come on, Ingrid, show my brother your dress!”

  “Y-Yes… Do you like it, Ulric?”

  It must have been difficult for her to call me by my name instead of “betrothed,” “lord,” or worse… “husband.” But at least my efforts with Ingrid were finally paying off.

  I wanted to be her friend. I wanted her to have a normal childhood.

  “You both look lovely. Where did you get them?”

  “Lady Girasol had them made for us! I’ll thank her at dinner! Sora will lov— Oh…”

  Her smile faded instantly.

  At the mention of Sora, Ingrid’s face darkened again. Even I lowered my gaze for a moment.

  “It’s… hard,” Ingrid murmured. “I barely knew her… but I feel very sad.”

  “S-Sorry… I forgot for a moment. Come on, come on! Let’s not get discouraged!” Alda grabbed our wrists and began shaking them to lift our spirits.

  I knew what she was doing.

  Alda was the oldest, and she saw Ingrid as her little sister too. She was acting strong for us—but I knew the truth.

  Every night I passed by her room. I never entered. I never knocked.

  But I heard her crying.

  In her innocence, Alda didn’t realize someone could hear her. Sora’s death had shattered her. They had done everything together. Sora had been the big sister she always wanted.

  And yet, in public, Alda smiled.

  Mature beyond her years.

  “Ingrid, why did you choose black?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Because I like black. It matches my hair,” she replied softly.

  “It suits you perfectly.”

  She visibly relaxed at my compliment.

  “My brother’s right! You look beautiful in black! But I’m cute too!” Alda puffed proudly. “Since we can’t run in these dresses, let’s have tea under the lemon tree.”

  “Oh? I didn’t think you liked that sort of thing.”

  “Of course I do! I can like swords and tea ceremonies. One doesn’t cancel out the other. Besides—how could I refuse food?”

  She had a point.

  Limiting yourself to one interest narrows your worldview.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and eating sweets beneath the green leaves.

  Ingrid handled her teacup with refined elegance, like a true noble lady. Alda, meanwhile, struggled to manage the delicate porcelain.

  I didn’t blame her. We were used to wooden bowls and iron cups. Porcelain was reserved for guests and ceremonies.

  “Alda, fold your fingers like this so it doesn’t slip,” Ingrid instructed gently.

  “I-I’m trying! But I won’t give up! I’ll master the art of tea!”

  “Good luck with that,” I muttered, sipping calmly.

  While they talked about classes and progress, I kept thinking about leadership.

  Who would trust a child?

  First, I needed credentials. Proof of worth—in combat, intellect, charisma.

  All things still limited by my age.

  “Girls, I have a question.”

  They stopped and turned to me at the same time.

  “Do you know how to be a good leader?”

  “A leader?” Alda tilted her head. “I don’t know… Why not ask Lady Girasol? She leads the whole castle.”

  “I-I don’t know anything about leadership,” Ingrid said apologetically. “I’ve always just followed orders.”

  “It’s fine. I’m the same. But I’ll rule this country one day. I need to understand leadership before I’m crowned.”

  I finished my tea.

  “Mother… yes. I thought so too. I just didn’t want to bother her.”

  “You won’t bother her,” Ingrid said softly. “Lady Girasol is kind.”

  “Cheer up, brother! You’ll find the answer!” Alda grinned. “Now let’s keep eating—I’m still hungry!”

  “These are just light snacks before dinner,” Ingrid reminded.

  “W-What? So I can’t eat more?”

  Ingrid and I exchanged glances.

  Then we smiled.

  “Alright,” I said. “One more plate. And that’s it.”