Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

This takes place two days before Ekaterina enrolls in the Magic Academy.

“Welcome home, Young Lord.”

Returning from the Imperial Palace to the ducal residence, Aleksei answered his trusted aide, Viscount Boris Novak, with a faint note of irritation.

“Don’t call me that.”
“My apologies, Your Grace.”

Novak’s face remained calm. His closely cropped black hair was beginning to show streaks of white, but his sturdy build still carried strength. At fifty-three, he was a seasoned man of affairs.
He had long managed the Jurnova family’s domains and had served as Aleksei’s advisor since the duke was a child—teaching him everything from the basics of estate management to supporting him in both public and private matters. Aleksei owed much of his current position to this man, so a bit of irritation hardly mattered. Novak was the only person before whom Aleksei didn’t bother to hide his emotions.

“How was the Council of Three Dukes?”
“The usual. Magna was unpleasant.”

The Council of Three Dukes was an imperial meeting where the three great dukes of the Jurgrahn Empire gathered before the Emperor himself.
Aleksei headed the Jurnova house in the north, rich in mining and natural resources.
To the south lay the Jursein house, prospering through ports and maritime trade.
And to the east was the Jurmagna house, possessing vast plains and wetlands.
All three traced their lineage to the younger brothers of Piotr the Great, the founding emperor, and each controlled one of the Empire’s vital regions.
It was customary for the three dukes to address each other simply as “Nova,” “Sein,” and “Magna,” omitting the shared “Jur.”

Aleksei let his servant Yvan take his mantle and sank heavily into a leather chair.

“As always, he complained about how he alone bears the short end of the stick. Had the nerve to demand a share of the mining or port rights. With all that farmland, why can’t he develop properly? Why should I pay the price for him feeding a bloated order of knights left over from the founding era?”
“For ‘the usual,’ you seem more displeased than usual.”

Novak stated his observation. At that, Aleksei’s cheek twitched.

“…He insulted Ekaterina.”

(*“I hear the young lady of Nova is sickly, never tutored, and has never once been invited to any other house. My daughter Elizaveta feels so sorry for her that she wishes to extend an invitation. Such a kind-hearted girl, my daughter is!”*)

The Duke of Jurmagna, Georgiy, was thirty-eight—a large, muscular man with raw ambition in his eyes. His words were an obvious ploy to push his daughter forward as a candidate for the next empress, but they were also an insult—to Ekaterina, and by extension, to House Jurnova itself. Aleksei had long tolerated the man’s condescending attitude toward his youth, but this time it crossed the line.

“For the first time in a while, I accidentally lowered the room temperature.”
“My, my.”

Aleksei possessed powerful ice-elemental magic, and when his emotions ran high, it sometimes leaked out as cold air. His self-control was usually impeccable, and such incidents were extremely rare since childhood. For him to lose it before the Emperor spoke volumes of his anger.

“Duke Sein distracted everyone, so it was brushed over. He’s not involved in the struggle for the next empress, after all.”

The Duke of Jursein, Dmitr, was forty-five, the eldest among them. His children were far older than the imperial princes and already married. Moreover, the current Empress Magdalena was his little sister, so his house had no stake in the empress succession. Sophisticated, mild-mannered, yet shrewd—a merchant lord who amassed wealth through port trade. Aleksei respected him.

“Your Grace, reports have arrived from Lady Ekaterina’s tutors regarding her current progress.”
“I see.”

Taking the documents, Aleksei skimmed through them—and his face softened.

“At this rate, she’ll have no trouble keeping up at the academy. She’s done well.”
“As expected of Your Grace’s sister. Despite never having studied history, geography, or magical control before, she has achieved more than sufficient mastery. She already had strong aptitude in certain subjects—mathematics in particular, where her talent is outstanding.”

Of course, that was thanks to the corporate slave Rina who took Science in high school. For her, first-year high school math was child’s play. Education standards in her previous world were higher anyway, so the problems here were probably easier than what she’d learned before.
And surprisingly, the villainess Ekaterina’s own knowledge held up too. The etiquette taught by her mother, and the literature she’d absorbed by rereading the few books in her secluded residence, had become a solid foundation.

“She said she learned from her mother. Lady Ekaterina is intelligent, no doubt, but her late mother was remarkable as well.”
“…Mother was wise, indeed.”

Aleksei’s voice grew quiet.
He himself had sent the messenger to bring his mother home—and that act had led to her death. The memory would haunt him for the rest of his life.
In her final moments, she looked at him and called his father’s name.
He had never once been seen as her son in her eyes. That memory would never fade.

“It was by order of the late Dowager Duchess. She said that if the lady were to return to the main residence, she was to be killed. I never imagined that even after both the former duke and the dowager had passed away, someone would still try to carry out her command. That was my failure to foresee. The blame is not yours, my lord.”
“No—it is my sin, one that will never be erased. …But Ekaterina forgave me.”

(*“You suffered most, Onii-sama. The cruel ones were Grandmother, and Father for failing to protect Mother. If things had gone as they should, Mother would have embraced you and told you she wanted to see you.”*)

That’s what Ekaterina had said as she wrapped her arms around him, as if to take their mother’s place. …Only then had Aleksei been unable to hold back his tears for the first time.

“She’s a kind child.”

Aleksei had been taken from his mother and raised by his grandmother—but that upbringing had not been one of affection.

His father, Aleksandr, was a man of charm and easy popularity, doted on by his mother, spoiled to ruin. A lazy hedonist obsessed with women and gambling. Even after inheriting the title at twenty-eight upon the early death of his own father, Sergei, he dumped all management duties onto Novak and spent his days in idleness—never showing interest in his son.

Though Aleksei resembled his father in appearance, he inherited his grandfather’s serious nature. His grandmother was harsh on him—forcing him to study endlessly, saying that it was his duty to do the work his father hated. He began handling some lordly responsibilities at only ten years old, soon after his grandfather’s death.
From that time, he had already been a mature, somber child. It was only natural that he’d longed for his mother’s presence—and the sister who so resembled that mother had finally given him what he had once wished for.

For all the years of hardship he had made her endure, for all the reasons she could have justly resented him—she had given him forgiveness instead.

.

Until the day he first laid eyes on his mother and sister, Aleksei had never dreamed that the two of them had been treated so cruelly. After all, it was his grandfather, Sergei, who had arranged for them to live in the detached residence.
Sergei had served as a minister and even as chancellor, holding the highest offices in the realm. He was the only man capable of restraining Aleksei’s grandmother — a truly respectable, admirable figure. However, his duties kept him constantly in the capital, making it difficult to stop his wife’s excesses in the ducal domain. Thus, he gave his daughter-in-law a separate residence, intending to keep her safe from the grandmother’s interference. In truth, while Sergei was alive, the mother and daughter had been well provided for, their lives free from hardship.

But after Sergei’s death, the grandmother secretly dismissed all the servants and diverted the living expenses for herself, leaving them in utter destitution. Deprived of even decent food and clothing, unable to step outside.
Aleksei, who should have inherited his grandfather’s role as their protector, had been only a ten-year-old boy then. He never realized what was happening.

When he first met them, Ekaterina—standing by her dying mother’s bedside—was a painfully skinny child, wearing old, worn-out clothes too small even for her frail body. She was supposed to be the daughter of a duke.
And the eye she looked at him with—they were filled with fear.
Half a year later, when they met again, she had grown into a strikingly beautiful young lady, far more mature than her years, yet she refused even to speak to him. Aleksei could hardly blame her.
When she suddenly collapsed upon arriving in the capital, his heart nearly stopped. …But when she awoke, she reached out her hand toward him—asking him to hold it.

Even if Ekaterina forgave him, Aleksei would never forgive himself. He had resolved to do anything, absolutely anything, for his sister’s sake.

“She is truly kind, Your Grace. Though I only spoke with her briefly, Lady Ekaterina struck me as an intelligent and lively young lady. Her magical power is strong, and her beauty exceptional — hair and eyes of noble blue. They will surely call her the *Blue Rose of Jurnova.*
“Prince Mikhail is of the same age as Lady Ekaterina, so they will often meet once they both enter the academy. Lady Elizavetta of Jurmagna is but ten years old — the advantage lies wholly with Lady Ekaterina. The throne of the Empress may well be within reach.”

In the Empire, people were born with hair of many hues, but the imperial family often bore shades of blue, and thus blue was considered the color of nobility. Each of the three ducal houses also bore a flower in their crests, symbols of their lineages:

For Jurnova, the Rose.
For Jursein, the Lily.
For Jurmagna, the Daffodil.

From this, the ongoing power struggle among the three dukedoms was known as “the Strife of the Blue Flowers.”

But Aleksei shook his head.

“No. I will not give Ekaterina to the imperial family. Yesterday she told me herself; she refuses to marry into the same imperial house that raised our grandmother.”

(*I’ve heard that His Highness the Imperial Prince will enroll in the same year as I. My late mother once wished for me to meet him and become Empress so that Grandmother would have to bow her head to me… But now, neither Mother nor Grandmother are here. So I have no desire to go near such a cold place. I only wish to study quietly, with no ties to the imperial family.*)

Novak shrugged lightly.

“…As a noble lady, marriage for the sake of the house is a duty. Your Grace, it is those words of hers that you need to correct instead.”

“But she and the prince are rather close in blood. Second cousins once removed; it’s not forbidden, but it would raise complaints. In that regard, Lady Elizaveta indeed has the advantage. Still, perhaps it would be better to let them have their way. Let cash-strapped Magna ruin themselves preparing her dowry — that would be efficient. If we lend them the money at high interest, even if Vladimir succeeds, Magna will remain bound by the neck.”

Aleksei spoke at length—partly because he’d never gotten along with Vladimir, Jurmagna’s heir, a year younger than himself, but mostly because it was obvious he simply didn’t want to part with his sweet little sister now that they had finally begun to speak as siblings again. Novak chuckled softly.

“Well… You do have a point.”

Noting Novak’s ambiguous tone, Aleksei narrowed his eyes.

“Well, who’s to say that once His Highness meets Lady Ekaterina, her feelings might yet change. They do say His Highness is of exceptional beauty himself.”
“…Hmph.”

Unable to argue, Aleksei grimaced.

“Fine then. If she wishes for the prince, I’ll challenge Magna — to a duel or even a war, if need be. I’ll stake all that Jurnova has to make her Empress. Whatever Ekaterina desires will be hers.”