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DWhile cooking, embroidering lace, or chatting aimlessly with friends while sipping tea—during those mundane moments of everyday life, I sometimes find myself pondering. What truly constitutes the essence of the person I am?

The words I speak and the demeanor I carry undoubtedly belong to “Syltianna,” as they were deeply inscribed within her body and her memories. —No, I assumed it had to be since the memories were fuzzy. I believed I reflexively traced back to the previous “me” within those memories, lest I’d be busted for a fake.

Eventually, that had become what was natural for me. My thoughts and conduct had become that of what I imagined a woman should—though I am aware that it’s a bit different from that of a real woman, and perhaps I have been projecting the female archetype that men idealize—an endeavor to portray a demure and graceful ladylike demeanor, resembling a refined Yamato Nadeshiko. Over two years, I’ve meticulously crafted this Jill persona.

But is that truly who I am?

I don’t know. I really don’t know. Could it be that I have no essence of self, just remnants of Syltianna…an imitation of a girl who was born in this world, is that who I am?

When Regina saved me in Tenebrae Nemus, I realized I was empty inside. It feels like I’ve spent the last two years desperately trying to fill that void, but was it merely a futile effort to fill it with random debris, just covering it up? Perhaps that Orc-Princess Tiana is more self-assured and honest than I ever am… I caught myself sinking into such gloomy thoughts and quickly shook my head in a panic.

“Is everything all right? You seemed a bit lost in thought suddenly.”

Chaton, who had been whispering countless lies to the reddish-bronze tuning fork—saying things like, “Once the spell breaks, you’ll be a delightful lady, capturing every gentleman’s heart,”—peered at my face, not so much in a puzzled manner, but rather scrutinizingly.

“Oh, no, I’m just questioning my current situation a bit.”

I vaguely evaded further explanation since it’s unlikely she’d understand. Instead, I blurred it with something that sounded along the lines of “What even is life, right?”

“I get you. You were kidnapped by a suspicious peddler in the middle of the forest, then wrapped up and hung from a tall tree. Meanwhile, your companion who’s supposed to rescue you is assaulted by a small orc, and his chastity is in immediate danger…”

Chaton calmly counted off the incidents while nodding knowingly.

“…It is indeed a perilous and bizarre situation to be in. It’d be weirder if you didn’t question any of it. I totally get you.”

“Ahaha, it’s quite the precarious situation when pointed out by a third party, isn’t it?” I couldn’t help but laugh when situations were individually and objectively pointed out.

“Well, if it were according to the template, the distressed captive princess should eventually be rescued by the Prince or Hero, but…our hero here doesn’t seem to have such gallantry. In fact, there’s a strong possibility he might abandon the princess and make a swift escape.”

Pointing to the somewhat insolent face of the young priest reflected in the mirror, Chaton shrugged with an air of exasperation.

This reaction likely stemmed from recalling Cestlavie’s hasty dash earlier—he went completely off in the opposite direction from where I was taken. It made her purse her lips slightly in dissatisfaction.

“I don’t blame him. If anything, a boy with heroic tendencies like that in real life would only be troublesome.”

Suppose someone attempted to save me and, as a result, ended up dead. Even if it were their own choice, I think it would haunt me for the rest of my life. That’s why I must solve my problems myself before that happens, so I made that resolve secretly.

“Seems a bit jaded, don’t you think? Surely, as a girl, especially a princess yourself, don’t you dream of Prince Charming coming for your rescue, riding a White Steed?”

“Prince Charming…” As the image of the familiar ‘prince’ in white tights and pumpkin pants from fairy tales surfaced, it was soon replaced by the figure of a certain golden-haired, handsome young man. “…That kind of person is better suited as an object of admiration. Entering a serious relationship with someone like that sounds like a recipe for trouble—not with the person themselves, but with everyone else in the vicinity.”

“Don’t you get it, sailing through that rocky sea for your relationship is the true charm, you know?”
“…you’re oddly fixated on this. Speaking of which, wasn’t it you who implanted that clichéd fairy tale into that Te—whatever-its-name-orc, Chaton? Do you happen to like those kinds of stories?”
“Of course. Stories where they dig up treasures in the backyard or where a poor girl catches the eye of a prince and ends up in a life of luxury, I eat them up like hotcakes.”

The response to my question was painfully straightforward. Then, as if on cue, the peddler chimed in.

“I also enjoy fairy tales where princesses get rescued. My top pick would be ‘The Princess of Darkness’.”
“’The Princess of Darkness’?”

Both Chaton and I couldn’t help but react with surprise at the rather eerie title. Observing our reactions, the merchant shrugged with a disappointed look.

“Oh, you’re not familiar? It’s a somewhat minor but notable story.”

By ‘minor,’ you mean it’s not widely known, right?

“Once upon a time, there was a princess with black hair and black eyes. When she turned twelve, she ordered a coffin to be made and had it carried to the royal mausoleum. Every night, she willingly slept inside this coffin. To protect the princess, six guards were assigned to watch over her throughout the night within the mausoleum. However, come morning, when they opened the mausoleum, all the guards were found dead. This started to happen every night… Well, the truth was, it was the princess who climbed out of her coffin and snapped their necks for fun every night. I like this story because it reminds me of the real Princess that I yearn and adore, see?”

““WHAT KIND OF PRINCESS IS THAT?!””

Or rather, isn’t that merely an improvised tale for the occasion, isn’t it?! Does such a grim princess actually exist?! If so, I’d rather never meet such a person in my life. Whether it’s true or not, the truth remained elusive from the smiling black-haired merchant, who kept chuckling, leaving me unsure.