The Villainess Enjoys a Carefree Married Life in a Former Enemy Country in Her Seventh Loop

“Honestly. Her Highness Harriet is just…!”
“Please don’t scold Lady Harriet, Head Lady-in-Waiting.”
Smiling wryly, Rishe walked through the castle.

A few steps behind came Harriet’s Head Lady-in-Waiting. Hair drawn tightly back, spine straight as a rod, she walked on, indignant.
“That will not do. To think Her Highness would leave it to Lady Rishe to come fetch me…!”
“No. I asked Lady Harriet to let me go and fetch you. I wanted to secretly peek in on how the maids were doing.”

When Rishe said so with a rueful smile, the Head Lady-in-Waiting first looked startled, then cleared her throat with a prim little cough.
“I-if that is the case… Even so, though Lady Rishe’s maids are still quite green, they are all highly motivated and splendid.”
“Yes! They are my precious, pride-worthy maids.”

Beaming at the praise, Rishe offered the Head Lady-in-Waiting her thanks anew.
“Thank you very much for your instruction.”
“…After all, we’ve ended up relying on you to help guard Her Highness Harriet. This much is only proper.”
Her expression turned solemn.

The guarding had in fact been something Rishe herself had asked to do, and yet the woman seemed to feel a kind of responsibility for it.
“The Women Knights of the Sigwell Kingdom have rejoined us, and the Fabranian knights seem to be recovering their health. Not all of them, but a few should be able to resume guarding Her Highness Harriet tomorrow.”
In truth, even if their condition had stabilized, Rishe would have preferred to recommend rest until their strength returned.

But she could not interfere in another country’s security; at most she could offer a suggestion.
Resigned, Rishe shifted to small talk.
“Head Lady-in-Waiting, you’re from the Sigwell Kingdom, aren’t you?”

She wanted to hear about Sigwell for the sake of future conversations with Harriet.
So she asked—but the Head Lady-in-Waiting looked at her, surprised.
“…How did you know I’m Sigwell-born?”

“Have you kept it a secret?”
“No, nothing like that… But if I don’t specifically explain, everyone tends to assume I’ve «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» served Fabrania all along.”
With that, she lowered her gaze, giving off a somewhat cool impression.

“I suppose they judge so from the way I deal with Her Highness Harriet.”
“…”
When Rishe blinked, the Head Lady-in-Waiting went on like this:
“I served the family of the late queen—Her Highness Harriet’s mother—at her natal house. I attended her until she married in, and after Her Majesty entered the royal household, I remained with her family, the ducal house.”

“Then you’ve met Lady Harriet and Prince Curtis…?”
“I was granted an introduction to Her Highness Harriet when her bridal training was decided and I was selected to accompany her. As for Prince Curtis, this is my first time meeting him.”
If so, the Head Lady-in-Waiting would not know that the Curtis here was an impostor.
If Rishe hadn’t experienced the repetition, the only person who might have realized Curtis’s true identity would have been his sister, Harriet.

“To speak frankly, when I first met Her Highness Harriet, I felt something close to despair.”
“…”
Those words were too strong for one’s liege. Rishe simply looked at the Head Lady-in-Waiting in silence.
“Sigwell does not possess all that much strength. Books are abundant, but it is a nation without the weapons to face other countries. Had the marriage with Fabrania not been concluded, the royal family would never have been invited like this to mighty Galkhein.”

She knit her brows and spoke with stern gravity.
“For Sigwell, relations with Fabrania are vital. But if the key to that—Her Highness Harriet—appears that unreliable, far from building friendship, she may damage Sigwell’s reputation.”
“Even so, Lady Harriet said she wants to change.”

“She did? …Even so, it will be difficult. Her Highness Harriet is a person of exceedingly weak spirit.”
Such words fell in the middle of the corridor.
“At this rate, she will do no more than shame Sigwell before Fabrania.”

“…Head Lady-in-Waiting.”
“The other maids besides me were bestowed by the Fabranian royal house. They have built no relationship of trust with Her Highness Harriet and treat her in a merely clerical manner. Naturally so—those maids cannot be expected to want to serve that Lady Harriet.”
Rishe came to a crisp stop.

They were right before Harriet’s room. In front of the great door, Rishe turned back to the Head Lady-in-Waiting.
“Head Lady-in-Waiting.”
And she smiled, sunny and sure.

“The very thought ‘I want to change’ is proof the change has already begun.”
“…That is…”
Facing the door again, Rishe knocked lightly, several times, but no reply came from within.

Instead, she heard multiple voices. The Head Lady-in-Waiting must have noticed as well; she glared at the door with a frown.
“…What is this? It seems oddly noisy…”
“Heh-heh. …Lady Harriet, I’m coming in.”

The instant Rishe eased the door open, a bright voice rang out from within.
“Oh, you truly look beautiful!”
At that girlish exclamation, the Head Lady-in-Waiting’s brow twitched.

“Your skin is so fair—truly lovely.”
“There’s no irritation from the cosmetics either…”
“The dress suits you perfectly. So summery—so fresh!”

They were the voices of maids.
Sensing the irregularity at once, the Head Lady-in-Waiting fell silent for a few seconds, then, with a start, hurried into the room.
“What is the meaning of this…”

Eyes opened to their limit, she turned toward the woman by the window.
“Y-Your Highness Harriet…!?”
There stood Harriet, transformed from head to toe.

Her bangs had been braided and swept to the side to bare her forehead; she cast down her olive eyes, shyly.
Her cool, young-grass-green dress had a slim overall silhouette that brought out the innate refinement she possessed.
“Um, this is, that, um…”

Watching those unsettled eyes blink and blink, the Head Lady-in-Waiting stared at her, dumbstruck.
Her golden hair, thinned to control the volume, had been loosely curled with a larger iron. Put into a half-up, the hair left down had been given a curving motion, creating a soft, airy impression.
As Harriet ducked her head, hair scented with a sweet oil swayed lightly.

The maids attending her, encircling her, spoke up with beaming smiles.
“This dress is the latest cut, isn’t it? It gives such a chaste impression—perfect for gentle Lady Harriet.”
“U—uh…! Th-thank you… very much…”

Fidgeting, Harriet nevertheless bowed politely to the maid.
Then, with a little look of relief, she glanced Rishe’s way.
Smiling at her, Rishe gave a single nod.

It had been Rishe who applied the gentle, kind impression of makeup to Harriet’s face.
She dusted on a light touch of powder, tidied the brows only the slightest bit, and colored her lips a rosy hue.
That was all for everything but the eyes—but around the lids and lines, she had made several adjustments.

They changed the long-troubling upturned shape of Harriet’s eyes into a softer impression.
With a brush, she added a few strokes to create areas that read as shadow, and, conversely, set colors that gathered light.
As Rishe worked, Harriet’s expression had grown brighter and brighter.

—One effect of cosmetics is that you can hide the parts of your face you dislike.
Rishe explained that to Harriet, who was glued to the reflection in the mirror.
In truth, there was another effect she wanted her to know. But for now, what Harriet would accept most easily was the concealing side of cosmetics.

The Head Lady-in-Waiting gazed at the Harriet before her with a troubled expression.
“Your Highness Harriet, that appearance…”
“I—I-I—I’m so sorry…!!”

For her part, Harriet looked mortified, head lowered, yet tried her best to get the words out.
“Um, uh, th-then—does it look… strange…!?”
“!”

The Head Lady-in-Waiting’s eyes widened.
Rishe thought she understood why the woman was surprised.
Surely, the Harriet up until now would have declared, “It looks strange, doesn’t it.”

But the Harriet standing here was different.
The one who would understand that change most keenly was the person closest to her: the Head Lady-in-Waiting. Though Harriet still hung her head, shoulders trembling in fear, she nonetheless peered up at the woman.
Those olive eyes were not hidden behind heavy bangs.

Looking squarely down into them, the Head Lady-in-Waiting opened her mouth slowly.
“…You look beautiful, Your Highness Harriet.”
“!!”

Harriet’s face twisted, on the verge of tears.
It was an expression stained with shy emotion.
But clearer than that was a vast relief.

Watching, Rishe felt joy rise and spoke to Harriet.
“Just as I said, isn’t it, Lady Harriet? I was sure the Head Lady-in-Waiting would praise you…”
“However!!”

“!!”
At the crisp scolding tone, Harriet’s shoulders jumped.
“Your Highness Harriet, what is that posture!? How many times must I remind you—beware the hunching of your back!”

“Y-yes!!”
“Straighten your spine! Hold your chest high! Otherwise, all that fine attire is wasted!”
Flustered, Harriet tried in a panic to draw herself up.

Somehow the exchange was endearing, and Rishe tittered softly.
She never imagined that the bashful face Harriet wore now would cloud over so soon.