It was her first day on the job.
Cindy- Clara, she corrected automatically in her head- had almost forgotten what it felt like to be officially employed again. The familiar rhythm of preparing for work, organizing lesson plans, and mentally reviewing possible disasters felt strangely comforting.
Today would be her first official meeting with the princess.
No disguises.No cloning magic.
Just the real Princess Veronica.
Clara was admittedly curious. Yesterday she had only seen fragments of the girl behind illusions and borrowed faces. If the vovel descriptions were true, the princess was considered as the the most beautiful figure in the imperial court- sharp-minded, dangerously talented, and notoriously difficult to manage.
Hopefully the "beautiful" part is true, Clara thought dryly. If I'm going to be bullied by a teenager, at least let her be aesthetically pleasing.
Clara was being escorted through the palace corridors by the real Terry Belmont this time. Without the tension of the examination hall, he appeared far more approachable, offering her a gentle and reassuring smile as they walked.
The palace halls were quiet at this hour, sunlight spilling through the tall windows and glinting off polished marble floors.
After a moment, Clara decided to break the silence.
"Sir Terry," she began politely, "the princess's… whims yesterday. Were they random? Or was that the first time she personally proctored the examination?"
Terry chuckled softly.
"Well, she didn't technically proctor the exam," he admitted. "But she once tried pretending to be one of the examinees."
Clara blinked.
"The princess," he continued diplomatically, "gets bored rather easily. She's… a free-spirited person."
No kidding, Clara thought. Free-spirited enough to casually threaten my execution.
"The Imperial Advisor was unavailable yesterday," Terry explained. "And Her Highness volunteered to select her own tutor."
He paused briefly, scratching the back of his neck.
"To be honest, I believe her true intention was to fail every candidate."
Clara stopped walking for half a second.
"I see."
"She has always disliked home tutoring," Terry added apologetically. "She finds the lessons… dull."
Ah.
So her plan was to sabotage the exam until no tutor remained.
"That's why she didn't plan on revealing her identity either," Terry continued. "But when she heard your explanation, she must have changed her mind."
He smiled again, this time with a hint of admiration.
"I suppose she thought that a truly wise tutor might last longer."
The words were clearly meant as encouragement.
But Clara couldn't stop the faint shiver that ran down her spine.
Last longer?
The way he phrased it made the position sound less like a teaching job…
…and more like a survival challenge.
Fantastic.
I've been employed for less than twenty-four hours and my job already comes with a life expectancy.
"Are you sure you don't want me to help with those books?" Terry offered, eyeing the tall stack in Clara's arms.
"I'm a strong independent woman," Clara replied confidently. "This is nothing."
She had carried heavier books in her past life- during exam weeks, during library inventory days, during the particularly cruel semester when three professors believed in assigning ten textbooks each.
This was manageable.
As they approached a pair of massive carved doors, Terry stopped and gestured toward them.
"Her Highness is waiting inside."
Clara stared at the doors.
Behind these doors… her life's fate probably depended on what happened next.
Alright.
Let's do this.
She adjusted the stack of books in her arms and knocked.
A calm voice answered from inside.
"Come in."
Clara pushed the doors open.
The room that greeted her looked like it had been designed centuries ago for the sole purpose of educating imperial heirs- and judging by its condition, the empire had never stopped maintaining it.
Sunlight streamed through enormous arched windows framed with velvet curtains embroidered in gold thread. The marble floor reflected the light like a mirror, patterned with delicate silver inlays forming the imperial crest. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that looked older than some kingdoms.
A long mahogany table stood at the center of the room, polished so perfectly that Clara could almost see her reflection in it. Elegant chairs with intricate carvings surrounded it, their cushions stitched with silk.
Everything in the room whispered the same message.
Power. Wealth. History.
Wow.
This room alone probably costs more than my entire hometown.
And seated by the window-
Still in her nightwear-
Was Princess Veronica herself.
Clara froze.
Long, silky silver hair cascaded down the princess's back, shimmering softly under the sunlight. The color was unmistakable- silver like moonlight-something only members of the imperial bloodline possessed.
Her skin was flawless, porcelain-smooth without the slightest blemish. And when the sunlight hit her eyes-
Purple.
A deep violet that seemed to glow faintly.
Just like the novel had described.
But seeing her in person was something entirely different.
Veronica was more beautiful than Clara had expected.
So beautiful that for a moment Clara forgot something very important.
This woman literally got me killed in the original story.
Even Veronica's side profile- quietly gazing out the window- was enough to make Clara momentarily forget how to breathe.
Then the princess turned.
Their eyes met.
And Clara became even more starstruck.
The infamous seductress of the novel- the woman who could make any man fall to his knees with a single smile- stood before her exactly as the story described.
The beautiful and cruel Princess Veronica von Aethelgard.
And then-
She smirked.
Clara blinked.
Smirked?
Why does this woman always smirk?
And then it happened.
Without warning, the stack of books in
Clara's arms suddenly shimmered.
The leather covers rippled.
The pages fluttered.
And in the next second-
The books exploded into a swarm of buzzing bees.
"—?!"
The bees immediately turned toward Clara.
And charged.
Clara barely had time to process what was happening before the swarm surrounded her head.
Buzzing.
Loud.
Aggressive.
Clara flailed her arms in pure panic.
"AH—HEY—WAIT—!"
The bees chased her as she stumbled backward across the room.
"This bit-"
She caught herself just in time.
"-THIS MISCHIEVOUS PRINCESS!"
The bees continued their relentless attack.
Clara ducked behind a chair, swatting wildly at the air.
"I literally just entered the room!"
At the sidelines, Veronica watched the chaos with clear amusement, her chin resting lazily on her palm as if she were observing a circus performance rather than the tutor she had just assaulted with magically summoned bees.
A small laugh escaped her.
The bees continued chasing Clara around the room.
No wonder no tutor ever lasts with this princess.
But Veronica had miscalculated something.
Standing in front of her was not a delicate noblewoman who had spent her life in drawing rooms and etiquette lessons. Clara Valeria might look like one now, but Cindy- the person she used to be- had lived a very different life.
In her previous world, she had been pushed around plenty.
Bosses who piled work onto her because she never complained.Customers who yelled because they knew she couldn't talk back.Supervisors who treated her like something disposable because she was an orphan trying to survive.
Hierarchy existed there too.
And Cindy had been born at the very bottom of it.
For a long time, she endured it. Because she had to. Because survival meant swallowing pride and lowering her head.
But all those years had taught her something important.
If someone already decides you are beneath them, obedience will never earn their respect. It only teaches them that they can push harder next time.
Bullies don't stop when you submit.
They stop when they realize you might bite back.
And besides-
Hierarchy is a subjective human construct, the objective reality is that our shared mortality makes us fundamentally equal.
When her mind finally settled, something inside Cindy snapped into place.
The panic vanished.
Clara slowly straightened her posture.
The bees continued stinging her arms and shoulders, buzzing furiously around her face.
But she didn't move.
She didn't run.
She simply stood there, letting the swarm circle her.
Across the room, Veronica blinked.
What…?
The princess straightened slightly in her seat.
What on earth is she doing?
Clara brushed one bee off her sleeve and began walking forward.
Step by step.
Directly toward the princess.
She frowned.
Veronica was a master of manipulation, she wasn't used to people being truly unpredictable. Her previous tutors had always reacted with predictable, useless anger- they yelled, they cried, or they ran.
Clara did none of those things.
Clara continued marching forward through the swarm of bees like a soldier crossing a battlefield.
Veronica's confidence faltered for the first time.
"W–what are you—"
Too late.
Clara reached her.
Before Veronica could react, Clara grabbed a handful of her long silver hair and pulled her forward.
The princess gasped in shock.
Then Clara's arm slid around her neck- not tight enough to truly choke her, but firm enough to lock her in place and limit her movements.
Veronica froze.
Her brain struggled to process what was happening.
Someone… had just grabbed her.
How dare she! Casually touching the imperial princess!
Veronica immediately tried to slap Clara's arm away.
But her slender, sheltered strength was nothing compared to someone who had spent years hauling heavy books, working long shifts, and surviving on stubborn determination.
Clara held her easily.
"Your Highness," Clara said calmly, despite the bee stings still peppering her skin.
"Lesson one."
Her grip tightened just enough to make the point clear.
"If you bully your tutor…"
She leaned closer, voice low.
"Your tutor might bully you back."
"L–let go of me this instant!"
The ever-composed princess—usually wrapped in that calm, haughty aura—now sounded completely undone. Her voice wavered with indignation as she struggled in Clara's hold.
Meanwhile, the bees continued to sting Clara relentlessly, circling her arms and shoulders while carefully avoiding the princess entirely.
Clara winced but didn't loosen her grip.
"Undo the spell first," she said through gritted teeth, "and I'll let go."
Veronica narrowed her glowing violet eyes.
"If I yell loud enough," she threatened, "the guards might imprison you."
Clara snorted.
"Then yell," she shot back. "For all I care."
Silence fell between them.
They locked eyes.
A tense, ridiculous staring contest began.
Then-
Veronica started laughing.
Not loudly.
Just a small, breathy laugh that escaped from her lips.
Clara's eye twitched.
Even in this situation she's laughing?!
This woman seriously pisses me off.
What Clara didn't realize was how easily
Veronica could have ended the situation.
The bees could have become crows in an instant, sharp beaks tearing at Clara's grip. She could have summoned a gust of wind strong enough to throw Clara across the room. She could have screamed for the guards- or even cried, twisting the entire scene into something that made Clara look like the aggressor.
Veronica possessed more than enough power to reverse the situation.
But she didn't.
Because for the first time in her life…
One of her toys had fought back.
Her days were usually filled with dull tutors, frightened servants, and predictable nobles who either flattered her or trembled in fear.
Playing with them had become boring.
They always reacted the same way.
But this one?
This one marched through a swarm of bees and grabbed her by the hair.
A fearless, idiotic toy playing with her own life.
Veronica found it fascinating.
Of course, no matter how hard Clara tried, the truth remained unchanged.
At the end of the day, the princess still held all the power.
Her toy was completely in the palm of her hands.
But that didn't make the game any less entertaining.
If anything…
It made it far more fun.
Veronica finally flicked her fingers.
The buzzing stopped instantly.
The swarm of bees gathered together midair, their tiny bodies shimmering before slowly folding into pages and leather bindings once again. Within seconds, the angry cloud reverted back into the same stack of books Clara had been carrying earlier.
The princess brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Then, much to Clara's surprise, Veronica called for the Imperial Physicians.
The lesson ended before it even began.
Apparently getting stung by several dozen magically aggravated bees counted as a workplace injury- even inside the imperial palace.
****
The next day, Clara woke up completely healed.
The Imperial Physicians were terrifyingly competent. The swelling, the red marks, even the lingering soreness were gone as if the previous day had never happened.
Clara stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Wow.
If hospitals in my old world had doctors like this, people would live to two hundred.
For a brief, naïve moment, Clara thought the princess might have learned something from yesterday's… incident.
She was wrong.
Very wrong.
Veronica did not stop playing with her.
*****
On the second day of lessons, Clara entered the classroom with quiet determination.
Veronica looked bored.
Then she snapped her fingers.
Clara's hair suddenly turned bright cotton-candy pink.
Veronica leaned her chin on her palm, clearly waiting for a reaction.
Clara calmly opened her notebook.
"Today's topic is the Third Expansion War," she began.
She did not acknowledge the hair.
Veronica blinked.
Five minutes later, Clara's hair rearranged itself into an outrageous hairstyle that looked like a decorative bird's nest.
Still nothing.
Clara continued writing on the board.
"The war began in the year 784 when the southern duchies-"
3rd day of lessons
Clara's chair suddenly floated into the air.
Higher.
Higher.
Until she was several feet above the floor.
Clara adjusted her posture slightly, maintaining her balance.
Then she continued the lecture.
"-attempted to challenge imperial taxation policies."
Veronica stared.
Clara was now teaching imperial history… while hovering in midair.
4th day of lessons
A cockroach appeared on the floor.
It started normal.
Then Veronica casually enlarged it.
The insect grew.
And grew.
And grew.
Until it was the size of a small cat.
Clara froze for exactly one second.
Oh my god.
Oh my god it's huge.
Do not scream.
Do not scream.
She turned back to the chalkboard.
"Chapter five," she said stiffly.
The giant cockroach skittered across the floor behind her.
Clara did not look back.
The for the next following days
The pranks continued.
Books meowed like cats whenever Clara opened them.
Her chalk kept teleporting to random corners of the room.
Ink turned into glitter and exploded across the desk.
One time Veronica turned the classroom floor temporarily into jelly.
Clara simply adjusted her footing and continued teaching while slightly bouncing.
***
Veronica leaned forward, her chin resting on her palm, her violet eyes tracking Clara's every move like a cat watching a particularly stubborn moth. She was waiting for the snap. She wanted the high-pitched shriek of a noblewoman whose dignity had been soiled, or the indignant lecture of a scholar whose "superior" intellect had been mocked.
She wanted a protest. A shout. A flicker of genuine, hot-blooded anger.
Instead, Clara simply reached for a quill, her movements as methodical and rhythmic as a clock's pendulum. Even with her hair still tinged with the fading glow of a failed spell and the faint scent of ozone lingering in the air, Clara's expression remained a mask of professional boredom.
The Princess narrowed her eyes. To Veronica, the world was a stage where she was the director, and every tutor before this had followed the script perfectly: they resisted, they broke, and then they fled. But Clara Valeria was rewriting the play in real-time.
Why isn't she screaming? Veronica wondered, a thrill of genuine frustration sparking in her chest.
Eventually, Veronica stopped using spells.
Instead, she used the weapon she was even better at.
Words.
***
The princess's private study was less of a classroom and more like a museum of objects Veronica had likely broken out of boredom.
Clara stood in the center of the room, holding her leather-bound planner.
Princess Veronica was draped across a velvet chaise longue, looking exactly like the manipulative seductress the novel had described.
Her silver hair spilled over the cushions like liquid moonlight.
Her violet eyes were sharp.
Cold.
Currently fixed on Clara with pure, unfiltered disdain.
Veronica exhaled slowly, clearly unimpressed.
"So," she said lazily, voice smooth as velvet, "the tutor who refuses to scream."
Her gaze slid over Clara from head to toe.
"Floating chairs, giant insects, exploding ink… and yet you stand there like a statue."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Is that discipline, Clara… or are you simply too dull to realize when you're being mocked?"
Ah.
There it is.
Direct hit.
Clara bowed smoothly- low enough to show respect, but not so low she looked desperate.
"I assure you, Your Highness, I'm fully aware," Clara replied calmly.
Veronica's eyes narrowed.
"Then perhaps you simply enjoy humiliation."
Her gaze dropped to Clara's clothes.
"Tell me, do you always dress like a funeral director, or did you think your lack of style would help you blend into the bookshelves?"
Ouch.
"I find that black hides ink stains best, Your Highness," Clara replied evenly. "And given recent classroom conditions, it seemed like the practical choice."
"I didn't give you permission to speak," Veronica snapped.
She rose from the chaise longue and glided toward Clara like a predator.
With a flick of her wrist, magic burst through the air.
Clara's heavy bag flew off her shoulder.
It crashed onto the marble floor, spilling ink bottles, pens, and Clara's carefully prepared lesson plans everywhere.
"Oops," Veronica said sweetly.
Her eyes remained ice cold.
"My magic is so… temperamental today."
She tilted her head.
"Since you're so fond of organizing, why don't you organize those from the floor?"
Her smile sharpened.
"On your knees. It's a much better look for you."
The room fell silent.
The weight of imperial authority pressed down heavily.
A normal tutor would have been trembling.
Perhaps even crying.
But Clara simply stared at the mess.
Then she knelt down.
Not like a servant.
Not like someone humiliated.
But with the calm, practical movement of someone picking up a dropped book.
"As you wish, Your Highness," Clara said evenly.
She gathered her papers one by one.
But instead of looking at the lesson plans…
Her eyes briefly drifted toward Veronica's shoes.
"By the way," Clara said casually, "that's a lovely pair of Solari-style slippers."
Veronica frowned slightly.
Clara stacked the papers neatly.
"I heard the Duke of the North recently mentioned he prefers women who can walk without the help of… levitation charms."
She looked up.
"Apparently Sir Nikolai finds natural grace much more appealing."
Veronica froze.
The name Nikolai hit like a thrown dagger.
The air in the room crackled with magic.
"What did you say?" Veronica hissed.
Her face was inches away now.
Clara stood calmly, her lesson plans back in her arms.
She smiled faintly.
"Oh, just some gossip I overheard while blending into the bookshelves."
She tilted her head.
"If we finish the first three chapters of Imperial History today…"
A small pause.
"I might remember the rest of the conversation."
Inside Clara's head-
PLEASE DON'T KILL ME.
I COMPLETELY MADE THAT UP.
But if she wants to bully me…
I'll just weaponize her obsession.