She held her breath, mimicking the movements—lifting her skirt slightly, placing her feet diagonally, and subtly bending her waist. For the first time, she finally sat down with a semblance of elegance.
Flora in the mirror looked like a real princess with a hint of poise. But it was only a hint; overall, there was still quite a gap between her current self and the true identity of a princess.
Lena was so moved her eyes reddened. “Your Highness… you’ve truly become elegant.”
Flora forced herself to remain calm and tilted her chin. “Hmph… I’ve always had… great potential.”
However, her ears were as red as little flames.
Ilya gave a slight nod. “You did well.”
Flora’s heart skipped a beat, and she immediately looked away. “I-I DON’T NEED YOUR PRAISE!!!”
***
Three hours later.
Flora was slumped in her chair, her skirt sprawled out like limp seaweed.
Lena sat on the floor, holding the etiquette book with a look that was somewhere between a laugh and a cry.
Ilya remained as calm and composed as ever, though her gaze had softened significantly.
“That is enough for today,” Ilya said.
Flora didn’t even want to move her fingers. “I feel… I feel like I’m about to turn into a puddle of water…”
Ilya gave a soft smile. “You’ll get used to it.”
Lena whispered, “Your Highness, you really worked hard… You were wonderful.”
“Of course I was.”
The etiquette training had finally ended, but before Lena could even catch her breath, she heard Ilya speak softly. “Lena, go outside and wait for a moment.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Lena hurried out of the mirror hall. As she closed the door, she couldn’t help but steal one last glance at Flora, as if worried the girl was about to face some incredibly difficult trial.
The moment the door clicked shut, the mirror hall fell silent, as if a layer of air had been vacuumed out of the room.
Flora instinctively straightened her back. “W-what is it? Why did you send Lena away?”
Ilya did not answer immediately, simply staring at her in silence.
It was the kind of gaze that made one feel as though they couldn’t look away. There was no pressure and no reproach, yet it felt like a flicker of warmth landing on her heart.
Ilya raised her hand, extending a finger toward Flora. “Come here.”
Flora froze. “I-I’m not coming over. What are you trying to do now?”
“Come here,” Ilya repeated. Her voice was as light as could be, yet it left no room for retreat.
Flora shuffled over slowly, as if treading on her own shadow.
Ilya reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind Flora’s ear. “Don’t be nervous.”
Flora puffed out her cheeks. “I’m not nervous.”
In reality, however, Flora was so nervous her palms were sweating.
Only then did Ilya speak, her voice lower and steadier than before. “There is something very important. I must tell you now.”
Flora’s heart skipped a beat. “W-what is it?”
Ilya stared into her eyes and slowly uttered the sentence that caused Flora’s mind to go instantly blank.
“Starting three days from now… in front of others, you are to call me ‘Mother’.”
Flora stared. “…What… did you say?”
She felt as if she had been struck by lightning; even her hair felt like it was standing on end.
“What did you just tell me to call you? …Mother? S-say that again? Did I hear you wrong?”
“You didn’t hear wrong.”
Ilya’s tone was excessively calm. “You are the princess of the demon tribe. In formal settings, you must address me this way.”
“I can’t say it! That’s too embarrassing…!”
The tips of Flora’s ears turned crimson, the heat spreading from the side of her neck all the way to her collarbone. Her entire face felt as hot as if it had just been fished out of a pot of soup.
“I-I’ll die if I have to say something like that!”
Ilya suppressed a smile, maintaining a serious expression as she nodded. “That is why I am telling you now—so you can get used to it.”
“What… Don’t mess with me!!”
“I am not messing with you.” Ilya looked at her quietly. “If you can’t say it the first time, or the second time… it will only be harder when the formal occasion arrives.”
Flora’s toes curled into the carpet. “T-then we don’t need to practice right now, do we?!”
“We do.”
Flora was going frantic. “W-why?”
Ilya fell silent for a second.
That second was light and brief, yet it was weighted with deep emotion. When she finally spoke, her voice was so low it sounded like it had been hidden away for a long time. “Because… I want to hear it.”
Flora’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Y-you want to hear me call you… M-Mother?”
Ilya looked at her without flinching or joking. She was so honest it was impossible to refuse her. “Yes.”
Flora’s entire body began to hum with heat. Her ears burned, her head spun, and her toes shifted restlessly.
“If… if you want to hear it, just say so… Why did you have to say it was required for etiquette… Liar…”
Flora blurted the words out subconsciously, seemingly unaware of what she had even said.
Ilya caught her embarrassed, whispered grumble with a gentle tenderness. “It is indeed required by etiquette, but…”
She touched the side of Flora’s face with her fingertips, forcing the girl to look up at her.
“Personally, I truly wish for you to call me that.”
Flora’s entire spine stiffened. “W-why…?”
Ilya let out a very soft laugh.
It wasn’t her usual quiet, composed smile. It was a smile filled with a bit of warmth, a bit of relief, and a kind of… satisfaction that Flora had never seen before.
It was as if she had finally found something that had been missing for a long time.
“If you call me that, my heart will be at peace,” Ilya whispered.
Flora’s throat felt tight.
She wanted to say things like, ‘There’s no such thing,’ ‘I won’t say it,’ or ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’ But all her resistance was utterly crushed by that phrase, “my heart will be at peace.”
She had never heard anyone use that kind of tone before—as if a single title from her was a source of comfort.
Flora’s mind was a mess.
She turned her face away, her voice trembling as if her throat were being squeezed. “I-I’ll just try it once… Just a try… Don’t read too much into it…”
Ilya stayed close but didn’t force her, simply nodding. “Alright. Say it.”
Flora took a deep breath. Then another.
And then… she failed. Her lips parted and closed, but no sound came out.
The second time, the sound was pushed back down by the shameful thumping of her own heart.
By the third time, she covered her face. “No, I really can’t say it!!!”
Ilya gently took hold of her hands and pulled them away from her face. Her silver eyes were overflowing with tenderness. “Try again. There’s no rush.”
As Flora looked into those eyes, her heart tightened with every beat. She bit her lower lip and looked up with watery eyes.
In an extremely soft, tiny voice, she whispered, “…Mother…”
Ilya’s breathing visibly hitched for a beat.
That voice had been so soft and shy, like the first cry of a newborn cub—restrained and timid, yet it landed firmly on her heart.
Flora wanted to bolt for the door. “I-I said it! I’m leaving!”
However, her wrist was caught by Ilya. The Queen lowered her head and pressed a kiss as light as a feather onto the top of Flora’s head.
“Flora.”
Her voice trembled slightly, saturated with uncontrollable emotion. “Thank you.”
Flora froze.
The tips of her ears were burning, and her heart felt as if it were being held gently in someone’s palms. Panic-stricken, she felt as though she were about to fall into the mirror. “I-I was just practicing!”
“I know.”
Ilya’s smile faded slightly, but she remained incredibly gentle. “I won’t misunderstand.”
But the light in her eyes told Flora that she was, indeed, very happy to have heard it.