“Have someone gather all the lark seeds,” Eugene instructed, her tone steady. “The reason they’ve turned into seeds is because it’s the dry season. They will awaken again when the active period comes.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” came the obedient reply.
Fortunately, the larks had not yet entered the city. Since Flora, under the influence of a spell, had already gathered them in one place before they could turn into seeds, the collection process shouldn’t prove too difficult.
Eugene turned her gaze to the desert landscape, now submerged in the sea of Ramita. It was an unusual sight, one that caused her to pause for a moment and assess her physical condition. She had heard that while her Ramita was exceptionally powerful, overusing it could be dangerous. A sense of unease lingered in her mind, but she pushed it aside.
She checked herself again, relieved to find no negative changes. Still, just to be sure, she softly spoke to the child growing inside her. “Baby. Are you okay?”
As if in response, the baby stirred gently, a soft reassurance that made Eugene smile. She placed a hand on her belly, lightly patting it as though tapping the child’s bottom.
What should I call this ability? she wondered. What kind of power had her Ramita manifested into? Water—materialized, but not quite like anything she’d encountered before. It was neither death nor resurrection. If this was indeed the active period, she still couldn’t be certain that the larks had truly transformed into seeds.
The ability to seal the larks into seeds is the power of this world itself, Eugene reflected, her thoughts drifting. The seasons, shifting between dry and active periods, had an almost magical quality. Those with special abilities, like the King or Anika, could sense a subtle change in the air’s density during these times.
It seemed the dry and active periods hadn’t always existed since the first appearance of the larks. Much like how the King and Anika had emerged, perhaps these rules had been created by the world itself to protect life from the destructive forces of the larks. Without a dry period to allow for rest, humanity might never have prospered.
The spell disrupted those natural rules, and I merely helped restore things to their proper balance, Eugene thought.
If the illusionary sea she now gazed upon were made entirely of pure Ramita, it would undoubtedly be an ability far beyond what a human body could withstand. Eugene recalled how, when she had tested Ramita on Abu in the past, she had felt the draining energy seep from her body. Yet, this time, she felt no such sensation.
Still, she couldn’t shake the nagging uncertainty about how far this illusory sea would extend.
I hope nothing else happens… she thought.
After confirming that the water’s depth was gradually decreasing, Eugene made her way back to her previous location. She issued the order to lift the state of emergency, allowing the unsettled atmosphere to slowly calm. As she settled, her eyes fell upon a sentence in her spellbook, written by Kasser. It seemed as though the sentence had been abruptly interrupted, leaving her unable to discern what he had intended to say.
It seems a bit strange to think he was just asking about my well-being, Eugene mused.
She replied: [Kasser, is something wrong? I’m fine.]
She waited for a response, but none came.
Did he perhaps learn about Flora’s disappearance in the capital? Eugene wondered. She sighed and began writing again, detailing the chaotic situation.
[It’s not that nothing happened. Flora arrived here through a teleportation spell. Fortunately, everything has been resolved, and no one was seriously injured. I’d like to discuss the details in person. But since Flora is here now, I’m not sure what happened to the larks in the capital.]
Just as she put her pen down, a knock echoed from the door.
“Come in,” Eugene called out, expecting a maid. Instead, her eyes widened in surprise when it was Sven who entered.
“What’s going on?” Eugene asked, brows furrowed.
“Your Highness,” Sven began, his voice calm but urgent. “The prisoner in confinement has regained consciousness.”
Eugene’s heart skipped a beat. “…What is her reaction?”
“She is quiet,” Sven replied, his expression unreadable.
“Does she want to see me or have any demands?” Eugene pressed, her curiosity piqued.
“No,” Sven answered succinctly, though his tone held an undercurrent of caution.
Eugene paused for a moment, her thoughts swirling, before she spoke with quiet resolve.
“I will meet her now. It will be a private meeting.”
Sven bowed his head slightly. “Your Highness.”
Eugene’s voice softened but carried a sense of urgency. “There are things that should not be overheard. Prepare a place where I can speak with Flora in private. I don’t think she’ll do anything foolish here, but just in case, set up a safety measure.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Sven replied, his face etched with concern. Though he did not voice it, his worry was palpable. He had seen enough today to know that once the Queen had made her decision, no one—himself included—could change it. As a mere guard, it was beyond his ability to influence her choices.
After a short while, Eugene arrived at the room that had been prepared. It was originally a meeting room, stripped of unnecessary furniture. Only a single round table and two chairs remained, the rest cleared away in haste.
Inside the spacious room, the round table stood in the center, with two chairs placed across from each other. When Eugene entered, she saw Flora sitting in one of the chairs, her head lowered and her posture motionless. The restraints—her legs and hands tied to the chair—served as precautionary measures in case Flora decided to act violently.
Eugene took a seat across from Flora, her eyes scanning the restrained woman carefully. She then dismissed the others from the room, but it wasn’t empty. Four silent maids remained, two behind Flora and two behind Eugene, their presence an unspoken reminder of the rules: they were not to listen or speak.
Eugene’s gaze remained fixed on Flora, whose head stayed lowered in quiet resignation. Eugene understood the situation clearly: Flora’s actions earlier had been her own doing. The spell hadn’t implanted desires that weren’t already there—it only brought them to the surface.
But most people suppress their darker impulses. Those with a sense of morality and common sense would never reveal their improper desires, even if they quietly battled with them. Eugene could almost feel the self-loathing and shame that must be weighing heavily on Flora now.
“It’s already been almost a year,” Eugene said softly, her voice tinged with a quiet reflection as she recalled the day she had first woken up in the desert.
“My name is Eugene,” she continued, her gaze drifting as she spoke. “I was just an ordinary office worker—no, maybe it’s better to say I was just someone who got paid. But one day, I found myself lying in the desert. And then everyone started calling me ‘Your Highness.'”
Eugene abruptly began her story, her words tumbling out. She knew Flora would likely think, What nonsense is this? but it was the only way she could think to start.
Flora remained motionless, her head still lowered in silence. Eugene pressed on, her voice steady. As she spoke, scenes from everything she had experienced since arriving in this world flashed before her eyes, like a sweeping panorama. Could she have ever imagined, just one year ago, that her life would change so drastically?
