CHAPTER 8: Eyelash Mechanics

CHAPTER 8: Eyelash Mechanics

CHAPTER 8

Eyelash Mechanics

“Argh, I swear… What is the prince thinking?” muttered Cyril Ashley as he looked over the documents from the reference room.

Felix hadn’t ordered him to carry out a review. The other student council members had already returned to their dorms. Cyril had taken it upon himself to stay and look through them because he couldn’t bring himself to trust Monica Norton.

The prince had said she’d reviewed all past documents, but there was no way she could have done that in the few hours between lunch break and the end of classes. It must have been a mistake—and so Cyril was in a frenzy, searching for any signs that Monica had done a sloppy job.

Unfortunately, the more he reviewed, the more he came to realize that Monica’s review had been perfect. She’d pointed out very minor numerical mistakes that even Cyril would have overlooked. At this point, he had to acknowledge her ability for calculations was incredible, but…

“…I still don’t like it.”

How dare that girl ignore Felix—the second prince himself—when he was speaking to her and look at documents instead! It was a slight against royalty!

He grew irritated, recalling the scene. But as he was cleaning up the papers, he suddenly noticed something.

…The numbers, they’re written like…

All those imperfections Monica had discovered—he got the feeling they’d increased after a certain year.

And Cyril had an idea as to whose handwriting it was on the added lines. The numbers were written with a rightward slant—very common for a left-handed person.

…Could it be? No, but wait, that’s not…

Cyril checked the documents several more times, then stood up without a word. He needed an answer to this question. With the documents in hand, he left the student council room and headed for…

“……?”

In front of the student council room door, Cyril came back to his senses. What had he just been doing?

Oh, right. I needed to lock up and go return the council room key to Mr. Thornlee. The key was in his hand. But as he looked down at it, he felt something was off.

He hadn’t been holding a key but some sort of documents. Then he remembered—yes, something about the documents had caught his eye, and so he’d…

“……”

Suddenly, his head started to sting. Cyril put a hand to his temple and leaned against the wall. He must have been tired. He’d probably zoned out because of that.

…Maybe I should go to sleep early tonight.

Still holding his throbbing head, he started walking toward the faculty room.

* * *

“What is the meaning of this?! How could you , the shame of our family, become a student council member?! I want the truth right now! How did you manage to ingratiate yourself to the prince?!”

The one shouting was Isabelle Norton, noble daughter of Count Kerbeck. Her voice resounded both through the room and down the hallway. Then she threw her teacup to the floor. The sound of the porcelain shattering made Monica gasp in fear.

Isabelle then picked up a stuffed animal at her bedside, swung it around, and slammed it into the wall. Bumph, bumph came the muffled noises.

“And just what is that defiant expression?! I see you don’t understand your position here! In that case, I’ll have to remind you of your place!” said Isabelle, slamming the stuffed animal into the wall with all her strength.

Then, with a refreshed expression, she wiped the sweat off her brow. Her face was filled with accomplishment, like a craftsman who had just finished a job.

“How was that for a villainess?” she asked.

“Um, u-um…,” stammered Monica.

Then Isabelle’s maid Agatha, who had been cleaning up the broken teacup, smiled and nodded. “That was wonderful, Lady Isabelle! You played the part to perfection!”

“Didn’t I? Didn’t I?! That last line—‘I’ll have to remind you of your place’—that was from the latest book!”

“Eee! Yes, I remember that! The count’s daughter lifts her fork, intending to injure the heroine’s face, and then the prince swoops in and saves her!”

“That’s the scene! It was just so, so wonderful!”

Monica, who couldn’t keep up with the excited chatter between Isabelle and her maid, took a tiny sip of the black tea they’d prepared for her. “U-um… Actually breaking the teacup, it seemed…like a little much…,” she stammered, glancing at the remaining fragments.

Isabelle puffed out her chest. “That’s no problem at all. In fact, it was already cracked! I stocked up on defective dinnerware for this exact purpose!”

“I… I see…”

“The key is to get the sound to echo, so instead of using a rug, I have to throw it onto a hard floor!”

As Isabelle detailed her pointlessly elaborate performance, Agatha gave a full smile and clapped her hands. “Simply wonderful, my lady! You’re a true performer!”

The night of her appointment as student council accountant, Monica had gone to her coconspirator Isabelle’s room and filled her in on the development. She had figured since they were on this mission together, it would be best to share information.

But as soon as she had shared the news, Isabelle practically jumped into the air, as excited as if she’d been appointed herself, and quickly invited Monica to a tea party in celebration.

The affluent Isabelle not only had her own private room but three maids with her. The youngest was Agatha, who was apparently her reading buddy. She was happily cooperating with Isabelle’s pretend villainess act, as well.

I-is she really fine with her own mistress playing the villain?

Monica could not understand how they were both having so much fun with this.

Anyone who happened to pass by this room would get the mistaken impression that Isabelle was chastising or punishing her. Wouldn’t that lower Isabelle’s reputation?

Paying this no mind, Isabelle returned the stuffed animal to its original location, then sat herself back down in an extremely elegant manner.

“Now then,” she began. “Monica, my sister, congratulations on your new post as student council accountant. To be chosen for the council within just two days of enrolling is… Oh, I knew you were special!”

As Isabelle put a hand to her cheek and chattered excitedly, Agatha shot a glance toward the hallway and put her finger to her lips. “My lady, shh! They’ll hear you out in the hallway if you’re too loud.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s right. Then please excuse my whispering… Really, though, congratulations. I am as happy as if it had happened to me.”

Monica, pointlessly toying with her cup, said in a weak voice, “Thank you…”

Isabelle gracefully brought her cup to her lips and took another sip of black tea before offering an elegant smile. Her behavior now, and her tasteful smile, seemed to belong to a completely different person than the one who had just been swinging that stuffed animal around.

“My sister, should anything at all trouble you during your time here at the academy, you need only tell me. While I may be acting as the villainess and doing a magnificent job at impeding you, I will always be supporting you from the shadows.”

Impeding me but supporting me? What is that supposed to mean…? thought Monica, nodding vaguely. Isabelle’s reaction to the news had already given her a headache, but her classmates would be a much more serious issue. If they learned that she had joined the student council, what would they do to her? She started trembling, even though it wasn’t cold, and sipped more of her tea.

Isabelle’s eyes stopped on Monica’s head. “Come to think of it, your hair… It’s different from when I saw you before.”

“Um, this is… A girl in my class, um, did it for me…”

“Well, it’s very cute. And it suits you well! …Agatha, please style my hair to match!”

“We can’t do that,” chided Agatha with a smile at Isabelle’s plea. “The villainess can’t match her hairstyle to that of the girl she torments, as if they were friends.”

Isabelle groaned, disappointed. “Well then, in that case, let’s do it on a holiday, when nobody is watching!”

“Yes, my lady. When the time comes, I shall do my utmost to give both of you adorable matching hairstyles.”

Excited, Isabelle exclaimed, “Then it’s a promise!”

As she watched their exchange, Monica thought about Lana. Isabelle had been overjoyed at her appointment as accountant, but that was because Isabelle was her coconspirator. Most people would think she was acting far above her station, wouldn’t they? Even Lana, who had braided her hair—if she found out about the appointment, would she come to hate Monica for showing off?