Chapter 7
Imperial Year 588. April 20th. 8:00 AM.
Ophelia woke from what felt like her first proper sleep in ages, feeling utterly refreshed.
Just the fact that she had escaped the cycle of infinite regression and that a new today was beginning made the world seem beautiful—no matter how filthy it might be.
And so, for the first time in a long while, Ophelia could smile brightly even at her mother.
“It’s such a beautiful day, Mother.”
“You’re suddenly sentimental. And noisy, too. Where are you off to this early in the morning?”
“To the Imperial Palace.”
“What—? At this hour? Where are you—wait, what?”
“I’ll be back later!”
“Hold on! Ophelia! Ophelia!”
Leaving her mother’s calls cheerfully behind, Ophelia headed straight for the palace.
“Ophelia Bolscheik here.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“In that case—”
Ophelia interrupted the guard and pulled a small token from her sleeve.
“No appointment—but I do have this.”
The token Richard had casually handed her, like offering a piece of candy, when she became his aide was no mere trinket.
It was a mark that only members of the royal bloodline could grant—essentially a royal free pass, allowing the bearer unrestricted entry into the palace and personal access to the royal who had issued it.
The soldiers’ eyes immediately dropped from her face once they confirmed the emblem engraved with Richard’s seal.
“Our apologies, Lady Bolscheik.”
“Oh, don’t apologize—you’re just doing your duty. Now then, if you’ll excuse me.”
Bathed in the sunlight pouring down like a halo, Ophelia passed the guards with the serene smile of a saint.
And without hesitation, she entered the Crown Prince’s palace and went straight to his office.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
“Good morning!”
The door flew open with a bang as Ophelia bounced in like a spring, beaming at Richard.
“You look cheerful.”
“And Your Highness still looks as gloomy as ever.”
“You might be the only person in the world who’d say that to me.”
“Because I’m the only comrade trapped with you in that damned loop! But since the regression ended yesterday, surely it won’t start again today?”
“Who knows. Though, depending on what you have to do today, you might end up wishing for another regression.”
“Work?”
“Exactly.”
Ophelia blinked rapidly, as if to say, You’re seriously asking that?
She glanced around—the enormous desk, and the mountain ranges of papers piled to the floor.
Even so, the sight of all those suffocating documents couldn’t crush her high spirits.
“Of course, work! Naturally! I’m Your Highness’s aide now—I should be assisting you!”
Rolling up her sleeves enthusiastically, she looked back and forth between Richard and the papers, her eyes gleaming.
“You don’t need to touch any of these. Head to the aides’ office—second door to the left from here.”
“Right away!”
As she marched out energetically, Richard’s expression softened ever so slightly.
“She said ‘I’ll be back’… to here, huh.”
He caught himself smiling, quickly straightened his face, and shook his head.
Leaving Richard’s office, Ophelia paused in front of the aides’ room, taking a deep breath to calm her excitement.
Richard’s face she had seen countless times during all those regressions—so much that formality between them hardly mattered anymore.
But the aides inside… she would likely see them again and again in future loops, too.
Still, only she would remember them.
Ophelia shook her head. No gloomy thoughts right now.
She straightened her clothes and posture.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Unlike earlier, she opened the door carefully this time.
And the first thing she saw inside wasn’t people—it was mountains of paperwork.
“What brings you here?”
A voice floated over from somewhere beyond the paper mountains.
“Hello. I’m Ophelia Bolscheik, newly appointed as His Highness the Crown Prince’s aide as of today. Pleased to meet you!”
Her words were met with… silence.
Only the faint scratching of pens filled the room.
After a long pause, as Ophelia tilted her head and began to step forward, a curt voice stopped her.
“You don’t need to come any closer.”
“Since you said you’re starting today, you’ll need a desk arranged. Ask the head attendant.”
Though the tone was professional, the content was polite enough that Ophelia felt somewhat reassured.
“Thank you. I’ll do that.”
After she left—without even seeing their faces—one of the aides finally spoke.
“What was that just now?”
Iris, who had been frowning behind her stack of papers, spoke without looking up.
“What?”
“That lady who just came in and introduced herself.”
“Huh? Someone came in?”
Cooper, the other aide, finally looked up from his papers and peered around—but Ophelia was long gone, and all he saw were piles of documents.
“There’s no one here.”
“Ugh, you idiot. Why can’t you multitask like a normal person?”
“So, what happened?”
“Apparently the new aide—Lady Bolscheik—came to introduce herself.”
“New aide?”
“Did you hear anything from Gruga?”
“No way. The only one in contact with His Highness right now is His Highness.”
“Now that you mention it, he never said when he’d be back.”
“He went to inspect one of the territories, so it’ll be a while.”
“So His Highness hired a new aide in the meantime?”
Cooper tilted his head, then smirked.
“Wait… Iris, are you jealous?”
“Of course I am. Aren’t you?”
“Nah, not really.”
Iris shot him a glare sharp enough to kill.
“Lady Bolscheik? Never even heard of her name.”
“Then she’s probably just an ordinary noblewoman.”
“Exactly. Nothing exceptional—no title of note, no skills that would actually help His Highness. Yet she’s been made an aide without a word to us?”
“Hmm. That is annoying.”
“We’ll obey His Highness’s decision, of course.”
Her voice turned icy, making Cooper shrink slightly.
“But whatever her motives, we’ll find out just how useful she really is.”
“You’re not planning to do something, are you? Come on—if you even throw a pen at her, that ‘ordinary lady’ will probably faint.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
“Good. As long as you stay nonviolent, I’ll just watch.”
“Aren’t you at least irritated?”
“No time for that. Unlike you, I have to keep my pen moving all day just to keep up with His Highness’s work.”
Before Iris could retort, a knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
This time Cooper answered.
The door opened—and in came Ophelia again, followed by palace attendants carrying furniture.
They cleared a small space among the paperwork mountains and placed a desk before leaving, leaving just three people in the room.
Iris, arms crossed, finally approached her.
“I suppose I should introduce myself. Iris Philite. And that’s—”
“Cooper Halcy.”
“Since titles mean nothing here in the Crown Prince’s office, don’t worry about ranks. Cooper and I both hold no personal titles—so we’re equals.”
“Understood. I’m Ophelia Bolscheik.”
“Now that you have a desk, we can start working.”
Without even a polite let’s get along, Iris dove straight into business.
“Yes.”
And Ophelia didn’t bother with a token please take care of me either.
After all, she could only do so much—and it was better to stay silent than to make promises she couldn’t keep.
They’ll probably start me with something simple… like organizing papers…
“Please sort the beans from the sand.”
“…Excuse me?”
Ophelia’s eyelashes fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.
Did I mishear that? Or is this a joke?
But one look at Iris’s perfectly composed, humorless face erased that hope.
It was real.
Ophelia swallowed hard.
“Beans?”
“Yes. It’s simple. I can’t assign you anything complicated on your first day, so do what you can.”
Her tone was cold enough to burn.
Ophelia faltered. Weren’t aides supposed to handle paperwork?
Still, Iris wasn’t wrong—Ophelia couldn’t expect to touch classified or urgent files on her very first day.
She had planned to watch and learn for a day or two, and if things got too confusing, she’d just pester Richard for help.
She had an unreasonable amount of faith that he could somehow turn her into a competent aide overnight.
But beans? Picking beans out of sand?
That wasn’t just unexpected—it was absurd.
Iris watched her sharply.
“Those beans are rare imports from the Holy Kingdom of Garion. Since they’ll be used as ceremonial gifts at the upcoming hunting festival, they must be sorted carefully. Once you’re done, come straight back—there’s more work waiting. It’s simple, so you should finish quickly.”
As Iris’s crisp instructions rolled out, Ophelia’s uncertain eyes steadied.
After all, she’d already been through impossibilities—possessing a book character, being trapped in an endless regression.
What could be stranger than that?
Sorting beans out of sand barely even counted as odd anymore.
If anything, it was… cute.
“Yes. I’ll do my best.”
With a bright, unbothered smile, Ophelia turned and headed for the storage room.
Behind her, Iris’s brow twitched in frustration, while Cooper let out a quiet, amused whistle.
“Yeah… she’s definitely not your average noble lady.”
