Chapter 115
When everything had finally settled down, Wakako once asked Miki what she wanted to do with her life.
Now freed from her duties as the Saint, Miki was no longer bound by anyone’s expectations. She could go anywhere, do anything she pleased. Yet when faced with this question, Miki realized she wasn’t quite sure herself. She had spent so long dreaming of escape that she’d never given serious thought to what she’d do with that freedom once she had it.
It was then that the Queen made a timely proposal: would Miki consider coming to the palace to tutor the two princesses—the Crown Princess Tsukyo and the Second Princess?
Miki accepted without much hesitation.
Tsukiyo was only eleven or twelve, and the Second Princess had just begun her education. Teaching them would be simple enough, especially given her experience tutoring Wakako. She had developed her own unique approach to teaching.
Crown Princess Tsukiyo was initially resistant to her new teacher. She couldn’t stand Miki’s seemingly delicate demeanor, finding it overly pretentious and insincere.
Miki could easily discern what Tsukiyo was thinking but didn’t bother engaging in petty arguments. She simply carried on with her duties as usual.
Eventually, Tsukiyo would come around.
And, as expected, she did.
At first, Tsukiyo dismissed the rumors of Miki’s extraordinary abilities. But after experiencing her lessons firsthand, she realized that even the most elaborate tales barely scratched the surface of her teacher’s capabilities.
This seemingly fragile noblewoman possessed an encyclopedic knowledge that surpassed any other teacher in the royal palace. Moreover, her teaching methods were incredibly strict, with countless demands regarding etiquette that left Tsukiyo exhausted.
Yet as time passed and Tsukiyo reviewed what she’d learned, she had to admit that without Miki’s “stern guidance,” she never would have progressed so rapidly.
But just when Tsukiyo began to grudgingly appreciate her teacher, Miki delivered a chilling remark, “If you truly despise me so much, you can ask your mother to find someone else.” She turned to leave without another word.
Tsukiyo, caught off guard, had no choice but to swallow her pride. Reluctantly, she lowered herself and apologized. “I was wrong.”
“What did you do wrong?”
Tsukiyo was speechless.
“If you can’t explain it, never mind.”
Tsukiyo’s face flushed red. She had never had to beg like this before. “I… I truly admit my mistake…”
A strong woman knows when to bend and when to stand firm, she tearfully told herself. Finally, swallowing her pride completely, she managed to appeal to both emotion and reason until Miki was satisfied.
“Your studies are far too inadequate. You should spend more time reviewing your lessons.” Miki’s criticism was relentless, but every word was true, leaving Tsuki unable to retort. “As for your combat training, put that aside for now.”
Tsukiyo responded in confusion, “But training is important—I can’t neglect it! Daily practice is essential…”
Miki remained silent . She only cast a cold glance her way, her eyes silently conveying one clear message:
If you love training so much, fine. Just don’t bother Wakako.
Tsukiyo was speechless.
—
After being thoroughly reprimanded, Tsukiyo became much more obidient, at least outwardly. So when the Queen summoned Miki to the palace, Tsukiyo had no idea what it could be about.
The Crown Princess’s studies were progressing well, after all.
“Sit.” Before Miki, Queen Ruijun temporarily shed her regal demeanor, wearily rubbing her temples.
The sudden transition from ruling a single kingdom to governing an entire continent had brought unimaginable challenges. Even for such a wise ruler as herself, the pressure was immense.
Lately, she’d barely been able to sleep.
Miki quietly sipped the tea that had been prepared earlier.
The palace tea was always well-brewed, with the fragrance of the leaves gradually unfurling on her tongue. She could tell it had been steeped three times, as Ruijun preferred.
Unfortunately, Miki preferred five steepings.
Of course, now that she was no longer the Saint, the servants wouldn’t accommodate her preferences in the Queen’s presence.
Ruijun had always been direct with her, and now she fixed Miki with an unwavering stare: “Are you aware that the palace’s Divine Temple has collapsed?”
“Is that so?” Miki said mildly, using the lid of her teacup to push aside the floating leaves. Her expression betrayed only the faintest trace of surprise. “When did this happen?”
Her act was flawless, with not a single gesture or expression out of place, but she couldn’t fool Ruijun.
This insight came both from their lifelong acquaintance and a ruler’s keen instincts.
“It was you,” Ruijun said softly, not as a question but as a statement.
Miki smiled faintly and remained silent, taking another few sips of tea while savoring its fragrance.
She was always like this—never volunteering the truth, but not bothering to deny it when confronted.
“…” Ruijun felt a chill run down her spine and lowered her voice. “What are you planning?”
Recently, the palace’s Divine Temple had suddenly collapsed. The temple had stood for nearly a thousand years, regularly maintained by craftsmen, and had never shown signs of such structural failure.
Ruijun had personally investigated and sent countless others to examine the site, but they found no evidence of tampering.
The divine temple couldn’t have collapsed without reason. If it was a natural occurrence, it would have been a divine message, surely accompanied by some sign for the royal family.
But there was nothing.
Though Ruijun valued her friendship with Miki, this was a matter of divine significance. Her usually kind eyes were now sharp as daggers. “I won’t let this go unanswered. Speak.”
Miki set down her teacup with deliberate calm. It was still three-quarters full, adhering to the aristocratic custom of only drinking a fraction of the serving.
Even though there was no longer any need to follow such elaborate protocols, these habits were deeply ingrained in her, unconsciously maintained and difficult to shed.
“Yes, I did it,” Miki admitted, as if discussing the weather. “I presume no one from the royal family was harmed? Why are you so concerned?”
Traces of anger flickered across Ruijun’s face, her tone no longer courteous: “No, but what was your purpose?”
The divine protection extended not just to the royal family but to all the people across the continent. As ruler, she had a responsibility to them.
Miki’s smile deepened: “Then I’ll tell you, Ruijun. It’s not just the palace’s Divine Temple. Soon, all the temples outside will collapse one by one…”
“As for the reason?” she continued casually, “Just say they’ve deteriorated with age and need to be rebuilt. I’m sure the people will understand.”
“You…”
“Oh, and those ancient statues inside? Perhaps it’s time to smash them and create new ones.”
Miki’s gaze was steady, almost playful, “There’s no downside for you, is there? The treasury can afford it.”
“Ruijun.” Her tone was patient, somewhere between bewitching and enticing. “Think about it carefully.”
Their eyes locked, tension crackling in the air. And in that charged moment, Ruijun understood the deeper meaning behind Miki’s words.
Nobles and royals were trained to speak in riddles, to veil intentions in layers of subtext. Even so, Ruijun was shaken by the implications.
But even Ruijun was shocked speechless. She knew Miki was bold, but…
“Think it through carefully,” Miki didn’t press for an answer, maintaining her perfectly measured smile. “I’ll wait for your response.”
Her voice was very soft: “Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about it? Not even once?”
—
“Have you really never thought about it?!”
Lin Lin glared at the oblivious Wakako while eating, frustrated by her lack of awareness.
But Wakako only had eyes for her food. The palace chef’s cooking was getting better and better.
“Thought about what?” she responded absently. “Children shouldn’t meddle in adult affairs.”
Lin Lin protested, putting down her bowl with a clang: “I’m not a child anymore—there’s a new little junior now. Are you really that dense? Your wife hasn’t been home for days and you’re not worried? Don’t you think something’s wrong?”
“Miki is staying at the palace because the Queen needs to discuss important matters with her,” Wakako replied, puzzled. “What could be wrong about that?”
Shen Qianmo coolly added from the side: “Ignore her. She’s just upset about losing money.”
The mention of this made Wakako glance at Lin Lin with a warning: “No more gambling. I’ll break your legs if it happens again.”
“One silver coin barely counts as money!”
“How does it not count?”
“It doesn’t! Think about our monthly salary…”
Wakako cut her off: “Fine, then your next month’s salary will be halved.”
Lin Lin froze.
Liu Siruo tried hard to suppress her laughter beside them, deliberately ignoring Lin Lin’s pleading looks.
This infuriated Lin Lin so much that she left without finishing her meal, storming off to elsewhere.
Wakako’s appetite remained unaffected, and she wasn’t particularly worried about Lin Lin. She simply went to the training grounds in the afternoon to check if she was there.
Today, Liu Siruo was supervising the training, so Wakako only needed to observe briefly from the side.
As she watched the apprentices’ pracftice, Lin Lin’s words suddenly echoed in her mind.
Miki really hadn’t been home for several days…
Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Miki at the training grounds recently when she was teaching the apprentices…
More significantly, for several days before Miki left home, they hadn’t… shared a bed. She would either claim to be unwell or their schedules would conveniently miss each other.
This was the first time in years.
A strange, indescribable feeling suddenly arose in Wakako’s heart.
Since when had Miki ever not been stubborn?
