Chapter 4

Overrated Far Too Much
Despite muttering “Have you gone mad?” His Majesty clearly feared what might happen if he lingered any longer.
He looked at me as if I were some kind of monster and spat, “I have no use for a deranged woman,” before swiftly leaving the room.

Apparently, he’s going to confirm the documents I submitted to the House of Lords.
Even as he thinks of me as an insane woman, it seems he still can’t bring himself to let go of his tool—me.

After His Majesty left, I sat down on the sofa and crossed my legs.

(Well, if I’m not around, naturally, things won’t go as smoothly for him anymore.)

The council of nobles, audiences with the king, reports—all of it had been handled by me on his behalf.
And yet, despite delegating all that to me, he still had the nerve to complain afterward.
Even though he personally reviewed and stamped the documents with the royal seal, he’d still come to me later with grievances.
He was the very definition of a troublesome boss.

(“Huh? I reported that to you just the other day,”—how often I’ve had to say that…)

It was entirely because he didn’t read the reports.
He would come barging into my chambers, demanding explanations, but in essence…

To put it plainly, I was nothing more than a convenient tool to him—a cog in the machine that kept the kingdom running.

But even if a single cog breaks, society somehow keeps turning. That’s how it always is.

(In workplaces constantly short on staff, even when a veteran quits, they find a way to manage.)

Or rather, they have to. But that’s for upper management to worry about.
The gears on the ground shouldn’t have to grind themselves down for the sake of keeping things running. That’s how I see it.

Even without me, the ministers remain. The chancellor is still there.
Some of the ministers even take extended vacations themselves.
And really—

If this kingdom collapses just because the queen—me—is gone, then the country has no future to begin with.
If things fall apart simply due to my absence, then the nation was doomed either way.

As my shoulders felt lighter from cutting my hair, my heart felt lighter too.
My mood was excellent—refreshed, even.

After His Majesty left, my personal maid Sarasa rushed over in a panic.
Her behavior lacked the grace expected of a queen’s attendant, but it showed just how serious the situation seemed to her.
Sarasa was a serious maid with tightly tied, light ash-blonde hair.
Pale-faced, she looked at me with a trembling voice.

“Your Majesty… your hair…”

Was she asking what I intended to do about it?
Or why I’d done something so outrageous as to cut it?
Perhaps both.
But I simply shook my head, ran my hand through my short hair, savoring the unfamiliar feeling, and smiled at her.

“… What do you think? It’s nice, isn’t it? A little change of pace.”

“—What have you done…!!”

As I expected, Sarasa let out something like a shriek.
Then, acting swiftly, she brought over thinning scissors, proper hair shears, and a white towel, scolding me seriously.

“What on earth were you thinking, cutting your hair with a knife?!”

“...…”

Falling silent, I let her scold me further.

“If you cut your hair with a knife, it’ll damage it terribly!”

“… Huh?”

Lifting my gaze, I saw Sarasa sigh and move behind me.
Other maids were gathering the scattered hair from the carpet and bringing oil to condition what remained.
His Majesty hadn’t taken the cut hair, so I handed it to the maids for disposal.

Sarasa instructed me, “Stay still, I’ll tidy it up,” and expertly began snipping away.

“I’m no professional, so I can only even it out for now… But Your Majesty, the moment we arrive, I’ll arrange for a proper hairdresser.”

“R-Right… Um, aren’t you all shocked? That I cut my hair?”

It seemed Sarasa wasn’t angry about the fact that I cut my hair, but rather about the reckless way I did it—with a knife.
Normally, a noblewoman cutting her hair so drastically is unthinkable.
I should be facing scorn and disapproval. Yet none of them said a word about that.
Puzzled, I asked, and Sarasa’s hands paused.

“… We were certainly surprised.”

At that moment, Mary, another maid preparing oil, looked up and smiled at me.
She had soft, wavy red hair, faint freckles across pale cheeks, and a youthful, innocent face.

“But knowing you, Your Majesty, we figured you must have had your reasons.”

“…?”

Her unexpected words widened my eyes.
Mary continued gently.

“We trust and respect you, Your Majesty. So yes, we were shocked, but… it was very much like you.”

“Like… me?”

I tilted my head and was promptly scolded by Sarasa.

“Please don’t move, Your Majesty.”

Hastily, I returned my head to its proper position.
Mary applied oil to my shortened hair and replied.

“Yes. Dignified, unshaken no matter the circumstance… our admirable queen.”

“……”

“Even if you step down as queen, our hearts belong to you. At least, I have no intention of serving the new queen.”

The “new queen” was surely referring to Veronica.
Ordinarily, I should be scolding Mary for such disrespectful words.
Veronica was the daughter of a count and His Majesty’s mistress.
Regardless of her character, she was not someone to be insulted so freely.

But I said nothing.
Instead, I looked down and, choosing to ignore the latter half of Mary’s words, sighed softly.

“… I feel like I’m being vastly overrated.”

Muttering that, Mary smiled faintly, and once again—

“Please don’t move, Your Majesty.”

Sarasa scolded me, her scissors still busily snipping away.

What do you think about this chapter?