The New Year's Perfect Smile

Tiffany's eyes shook violently for a moment.

"W-what do you mean by that?"

"Well, you know better than anyone. The reason you happen to own a white version the brand never released."

"Ha, that's ridiculous. Are you accusing me of wearing a fake? This was specially made for me by the brand. It's a world someone like you could never understand!"

Tiffany wasn't nearly as shameless as I'd expected. Her face flushed bright red in an instant—what was I supposed to do with that?

She might as well have been wearing a sign that read I'm lying right now.

"Yeah, I'm so jealous it was custom-made just for you."

Tiffany bit her lip hard and glared at me.

"Oh, and if you get stuck on anything while working on the assignment, feel free to ask me anytime. I like protecting and helping the students of Dormitory 3."

I walked right past her.

A moment later I heard furious huffing behind me. When I turned, Tiffany was hurling that so-called "specially made" headband across the room.

With that, quite a few problems had been settled for the time being.

The negative rumors that had been swirling around me in Dormitory 3 died down considerably. At least a few students even came to me in person or sent notes to apologize.

I accepted every single one, which earned me a thorough scolding from Joy.

Even though the entire "let's apologize" atmosphere had been her idea in the first place as vice president of Dormitory 3.

I hadn't done anything at all. Joy was simply a wonderful person who understood the meaning of responsibility.

She really was a good kid.

After she became vice president, the students of Dormitory 3 grew far more cooperative. When lights-out arrived, everyone dimmed their own lights without being told. The laundry room stayed cleaner than before, and the amount of trash stuffed into corridor wall gaps dropped noticeably.

It was a shame that the maximum living points available to me as class president had decreased slightly, but leaving things as they were would have meant unavoidable negative points anyway.

With so many issues resolved, the first semester drew to a close.

Well, except for one thing.

The fact that I would have to be Cyrus Quinton's chemistry lab partner for the entire next semester.

Unfortunately, there was no escaping it. In that class, the only two people who hadn't found partners were Cyrus and me.

That probably meant we'd end up tied in experimental chemistry.

At first the thought made me so angry I could barely stand it, but I soon changed my mindset.

All I had to do was dominate every other subject with overwhelming scores while also excelling as dorm class president. If I managed that, first place next semester would unquestionably be mine.

Now that my direction was clear, all that remained was to keep moving forward steadily.

No more incidents would happen.

It was all over. Completely over.

As winter deepened, the new year arrived before we knew it.

Royal High School entered its short New Year break before the second semester, and most students headed home to celebrate with their families.

Of course I returned home too. But unlike the others, it wasn't to spend time with family.

For the royal family, New Year's Day was never simply a time to happily drink champagne.

For the small nation of Alden, this was the day the royal family and parliament presented a "performance report" to the citizens in the form of New Year's greetings.

Since childhood I had been taught that even if I felt like I might collapse, I had to show perfect composure during the New Year's greeting. I had grown up watching my parents do exactly that.

The clearest memory was from five years ago.

Even when an assassination attempt by poisoning occurred among the royal siblings, Father stood in that very place.

After drinking some of the poison sent by my uncle, he still maintained absolute perfection.

And right there he declared that he would completely "clean up" the younger brother who had tried to poison him, thereby calming the chaos.

Before the joy of the new year could even fade, my uncle was no longer of this world.

Even setting aside such heavy stories, the yearly spectacle of my parents—who had been loudly fighting the day before—holding hands and smiling at each other repeated almost every year.

Could Cyrus manage something like that?

Faking a smile for others to see.

"He absolutely wouldn't."

I muttered under my breath.

The strategy of absorbing the era's brightest talents into the royal family had worked to some extent so far, but that kind of luck couldn't last forever.

Cyrus Quinton would surely bring disaster.

Even during the performance report he would radiate cold indifference, spawning endless speculative articles.

He wouldn't stop to consider how those seemingly insignificant "speculative articles" could affect the economy of a small country like ours.

"Like I said, he's no good."

"Cyrus Quinton?"

The sudden question from beside me made me jump. I turned to see my secretary, Owen.

How had he known the name I was only thinking?

I quickly shook my head.

"W-why would I be thinking about Quinton all the way out here?"

"Here," of course, was inside the palace.

And it was an extremely important moment—just before the New Year's greeting was to begin from the terrace.

The greeting would be broadcast live not only to the crowd at the Royal Plaza but to the entire kingdom.

Although my only job was to stand behind my parents and smile brightly, I had been taught that maintaining that lively expression was important too.

"That's what I'd like to ask. Why are you thinking about that fellow here? Our princess is going to claim first place anyway."

"That's true. And I wasn't thinking about Quinton."

"I truly hope so."

Owen called the waiting makeup artist and asked her to darken my eye makeup a little more.

"Of course you look perfect already, Princess, but it might be better to change your impression slightly for this."

"The kids at school won't be watching anyway."

"Yes, research shows teenage live viewership is close to zero percent. It's quite worrying. Kids these days."

"They're probably watching the highlight reel. 'Kids these days' are busy."

I dared to speak up as a representative of those very kids.

Wasn't it too much to load them with work and then expect them to sit through a boring live broadcast on top of it?

Still, it was fortunate that teenagers had no interest in this outdated event. The students at Royal High School would surely feel the same.

But safety first, so I obediently let them adjust my makeup.

Before stepping onto the terrace, I glanced at the decorative mirror on the wall.

Evey Underwood with her tacky glasses and oversized hoodie was nowhere to be seen.

The eyes that had been hidden behind thick lenses now shone with their true light.

My hair, usually left hanging to hide my face, was elegantly swept up to reveal a smooth jawline. My porcelain-white skin sparkled softly beneath the lights.

The girl in the mirror was Evelyn Clare de Crest, princess of this kingdom.

"...Owen. Do you think Nanny is watching?"

I asked quietly. He stepped closer and answered in a gentle voice.

"Yes, I'm certain she is."

It was probably just meant to comfort me.

Nanny had been driven out of the palace because of a mistake I made during those terrifying days when a bloody wind swept through the royal family.

We had searched for her ever since, but no matter what we did we could never reach her.

She was probably living freely somewhere beyond our knowledge, together with her clever son.

"It would be nice if she could see. With that boy beside her."

"Princess."

"Of course, only if I remain a good memory for her."

"...It's time to move."

I checked my reflection in the mirror one last time, then turned with unshakable composure.

It was time to fulfill my duty.

Wearing a soft smile, I walked past Owen.

Everyone waiting in the room followed behind me.

Meanwhile, at the same moment.

Logan glanced at his roommate Cyrus's tablet and was mildly surprised.

He was on a video site.

Of course even Cyrus was a modern person who sometimes passed time watching videos, but his usual choices were long-running, highly authoritative documentaries.

Today, however, the screen of my notoriously picky roommate looked different.

Especially because it was a live broadcast with real-time chat messages scrolling nonstop.

(Logan had once been caught digging through the search history out of curiosity whether his roommate ever watched anything inappropriate.)

Logan, who had been lounging crookedly on the bed and fiddling with a basketball, finally stood and moved behind Cyrus's desk.

"What the heck are you watching... Oh."

When he saw the royal family on screen, Logan nodded in understanding.

"They're really well prepared, huh."

He patted Cyrus on the shoulder and chuckled softly.

"Making sure your princess is still pretty? You envious bastard."