Rights are proportional to obligations.
It was not a statement that always held true, but in most situations, it was a sound proposition. Who could deny the argument that the higher one rose, the greater the responsibilities one had to bear?
Even high-ranking dignitaries had hardships of their own.
Though, when you actually listened to them, most of their complaints were the sort only the well-fed could make.
Yet why was it that, lately, I found myself wanting to lend an ear to their grumbling?
Perhaps it was because I had ended up in a position where I, too, could make such “well-fed complaints.”
My day began in the early hours of dawn.
“Breakfast will begin shortly. Today, His Highness Vilteon and Her Highness Sien are scheduled to join you, and…….”
“Senior Neris.”
Just as the distant eastern sky was beginning to brighten, I quietly called out that name.
It belonged to the woman standing before me. She was a beauty with neatly arranged brown hair, a hairpin in her bangs naturally drawing the eye. Her slender figure even reminded me somewhat of the elf I had seen not long ago.
Perhaps the right word was flawless.
Her spotless skin and attire devoid of the slightest unnecessary embellishment gave her a clean-cut impression. In a way, one could even call her a perfectionist. I recalled the nickname that had once referred to her.
‘Queen of the Ball.’
She had once dominated the Academy’s rumor mill, meticulously accumulating goodwill with her eloquent speech and carefully calculated behavior. Someone who had carried herself like such a thoroughly rehearsed actress was now standing before me in such a docile manner.
It felt strangely unfamiliar all over again.
“Yes,…