Author: Sasaki Ichiro	Original Source: Syosetu
Translator: Mab	English Source: Re:Library
Editor(s): Silva

Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

Originally, I had come to the Sidonia Grand Labyrinth to prepare for my upcoming meeting with the Aulanthia Frontier Count—or rather, Prince Corrad, the first in line to the throne of the Kingdom of Aulanthia. (I don’t recall his face at all, but he’s supposed to be my future father, isn’t he? Probably.) Anyway, Cestlavie and I had sought out a secluded place to strategize for this event two weeks from now, but instead, we’ve encountered one unexpected twist after another.

As I spoke, everyone turned to stare at Cestlavie in unison. For some reason, their gazes carried a sharp intensity, as if they were ready to shoot daggers at him.

“I see… Well then, Cestlavie. I’d like to hear all about your connection to Lady Clara in detail. Let’s head over to that tavern we visited the other day. Of course, I’ll treat you as a token of gratitude. Sounds good?”

The speaker was Shimlar, the black-bearded leader of the party. Despite the cheerful tone and smile on his face, his eyes were dead serious. He placed a firm hand on Cestlavie’s shoulder and declared this with a hearty laugh. The final “Sound good?” was directed at the party members behind him.

“ “ “ “ “Yeah!!” ” ” ” ”

The others responded with wide, toothy grins that were oddly unnerving. Their expressions felt more menacing than cheerful, but maybe that’s just the nature of adventurers.

“……”

Faced with this display of camaraderie, Cestlavie glanced at me with an expression, not unlike a calf being led to the slaughterhouse, then let out a deep sigh.

At that moment, it seemed an idea struck Shimlar.

“Also, if I may ask, Lady Clara, it doesn’t sit right with me that we’re the only ones fortunate enough to receive your aid. Could you provide the same healing to the other victims as well? Of course, we’d compensate you appropriately for the treatment.”

He turned to me and bowed his head apologetically.

“If I can be of help, please don’t hesitate to visit St. Ravier Church… Also, I cannot accept compensation in the form of treatment fees, but if you would kindly make a donation to the church as alms, it would be greatly appreciated.”

I’d like to think of this as an act of pure goodwill, but the truth is that our budget has been tight lately, and I’ve been living without enough protein in my diet. If possible, donations in the form of goods—specifically, meat—would be most welcome.

That’s the sort of lighthearted response I gave as I casually signed my name on whatever they handed me. Little did I know, this incident would become a topic of widespread discussion, eventually reaching not only the common people but even the upper echelons of the church. It would ultimately lead to cementing the name of “Clara” in a peculiar way. (After all, no history book ever said, “Clara rose to fame by curing baldness!”)

♦♢♦♢

Eliza “Barbara” Farias was in a foul mood.

Just moments ago, she had been summoned by the chief lady-in-waiting and informed that she had been assigned to serve as a guide for Prince Corrad, the first in line to the throne of the powerful Aulanthia Kingdom—a nation that would likely play a pivotal role in the upcoming Northern Unified States Conference in two weeks.

This was fine. Given her age, pedigree, abilities, and beauty, it was only natural for her to be chosen for such a prestigious role.

But when she heard that the same responsibility had been assigned to that upstart shrine maiden—Clara, whose origins were as obscure as they come—it was more than she could tolerate.

“To think that I, of all people, would be treated as an equal to some mere pretty-faced upstart—it’s humiliating!”

Eliza paced back and forth in a room so lavish that it seemed almost inappropriate for a church. Her frustration filled the space as her entourage—young shrine maiden candidates who also served as her maids—nodded along with her words and eagerly joined in mocking Clara in an attempt to soothe her.

“It’s surely the Third District Head interfering again, Sister.”
“That impoverished church must be desperately pushing her forward. How pathetic.”
“She’s just a passing fad, hyped up for her novelty. A one-hit wonder at best.”

“Well, fine.” After venting her frustrations, Eliza finally seemed to calm down, seating herself gracefully in a chair. One of her attendants promptly pulled the chair out for her, while another began preparing a cup of expensive tea.

“I’ll just have to expose her fraud when it matters most… No, wait. That won’t do. If I handle it poorly, it could reflect badly on the church itself. I’ll need to act before that. As much as it pains me to admit, her looks are undeniable. If she were to somehow catch Prince Corrad’s eye…”

Eliza bit her lip in frustration.

Her murmured monologue caused the young shrine maiden candidates to exchange puzzled glances.

Finally, the eldest among them—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the one who looked the eldest, at around seventeen or eighteen—hesitantly spoke up on behalf of the group.

“Um, Lady Eliza, I was thinking… If the prince or someone influential were to take an interest in her and grant her their favor, wouldn’t she be forced to secularize? In that case, wouldn’t it be a convenient way to rid ourselves of her?”

As she sipped the freshly brewed tea, Eliza narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Hmph. That would be tantamount to letting her get away with a victory. I need to crush that pretentious little shrine maiden outright and show everyone who’s superior.”

“How admirable, Sister! Truly inspiring!” A younger priestess candidate’s eyes sparkled as she showered Eliza with praise. Meanwhile, the slightly older candidates exchanged uneasy glances.

(Isn’t that essentially a declaration that she sees Clara as a rival…?)

However, none of them were foolish enough to voice such thoughts aloud.

“So, does that mean you’re not particularly aiming to secure a favorable position with Prince Corrad?”
“Not really. While I see value in maintaining connections with the Aulanthia Kingdom, we still don’t know how the unified states will take shape. I have no intention of cozying up unnecessarily.”

At Eliza’s matter-of-fact words, the shrine maiden candidates breathed a collective sigh of relief, exchanging subtle looks of reassurance.

“Perhaps it would be wiser to prepare for the possibility of him getting carried away on his own? From what I’ve heard, while his looks might be commendable, his character seems to be neither exceptional nor lacking.”

Eliza, brimming with confidence in her own allure, spoke decisively. The eldest of the priestess candidates nodded knowingly in agreement.

“Indeed. Furthermore, it seems young ladies from various nations will be attending in an effort to forge connections with the prince. That alone is likely to stir up trouble. Rumor has it the Duchy of Enyuria is making a serious push, sending none other than the renowned First Princess, Lady Simonetta, celebrated as a great beauty.”

The Duchy of Enyuria, historically a strategic maritime hub in the northern region, had once developed as an enclave of the Graviol Empire. Though it gained independence roughly a century ago, its strong historical ties to the empire had left it with considerable influence in the northern territories despite its modest size.

“Ah, Lady Simonetta,” Eliza murmured.

As a favored daughter of the Church and someone with a lineage that afforded her familiarity with the northern nations’ leadership, Eliza recalled the face of the princess, a peer of her own age. She let out a slight scoff through her nose.

“Calling her a great beauty just proves how little sense the world has. She’s nothing but makeup and fancy dresses. Someone like that is what you’d call a situational beauty.”

♦♢♦♢

“Hmph. As expected, they assigned Eliza to handle Prince Corrad’s reception. How transparent their motives are. Still, does a mere church shrine maiden think she can stand as my rival?”

Hearing the steward’s report, Simonetta spat her words with evident displeasure.

At fourteen years old, Simonetta was undeniably beautiful, though her features carried an air of arrogance and severity. Any hint of the youthful charm typical of her age was entirely absent.

“But Lady Eliza is renowned as a prospective candidate for the next Holy Maiden and celebrated for her beauty, is she not?”

The steward, feeling compelled to caution her excessive disdain, offered this observation.

“Hah. What beauty? People only think so because they view her through the rose-colored lens of her shrine maiden title. At best, she’s mediocre, nothing more than a bland flatterer who tries to please everyone.”

Simonetta dismissed the notion with a scornful laugh.

“I see. Additionally, the Church is said to have appointed another priestess as an escort. This one—”

“Oh, that’s irrelevant. Surely, she’s just a token inclusion to make up the numbers. Just keep an eye on Eliza. Ideally, find some weakness to exploit and push her out of the role before the reception even begins.”

As the steward continued his report, Simonetta impatiently cut him off. Momentarily hesitant, he chose silence, gave a respectful bow, and adjusted his posture, careful not to provoke his young mistress further.