Sophia leaned against the soft high-backed chair, massaging her slightly throbbing temples.
The strong wine she had just swallowed was beginning to go to her head, stripping away a bit of her usual icy demeanor and adding a touch of languid warmth to her gaze.
"Come in," she called out softly.
The first to push the door open and enter was Irene.
The little girl, who was usually as lively as a sparrow, currently had flushed cheeks from drinking a bit of fruit wine at the banquet. She seemed to still be immersed in the earlier dinner and the fireworks show.
"Your Majesty, did you call me here alone because there's another experiment to do?" Irene muttered softly, though her eyes darted around the study.
At a glance, she spotted a large pile of items over there.
Sophia curled the corners of her lips. Without saying a word, she merely gave a slight nod toward the mahogany side table nearby.
Two exquisite boxes sat there.
"Open them and take a look."
Irene leaned over curiously and lifted the lid of the first massive velvet box.
In that instant, her breathing stopped.
Inside was a magnificent, heavily crafted pearl dress. The layers upon layers of lace were sewn full of large, round deep-sea pearls, flowing with a moonlight-like brilliance beneath the lamplight.
Before she could even let out a gasp of marvel, Sophia pushed another heavy golden token in front of her.
Carved upon the front of the gold medal in vigorous and powerful strokes were the five large characters for 'Chief Inventor'. On the back was Sophia Mason's private golden seal, its lines crisp and clear, representing the supreme authority within Mason's territory that seeing this token was equivalent to seeing the Queen herself.
"Your Majesty! This... this is too precious!"
Irene's eyes widened. Her hands hovered in mid-air, not daring to carelessly touch it.
Irene simply couldn't believe this dress was a product of Mason in this current era. In small countries, such a precious gift was something only Her Majesty and extremely powerful nobles could wear.
Ordinary ministers or noble ladies merely wore regular small dresses.
"For the conferment ceremony fifteen days from now, I want you to wear this dress."
Sophia stood up and slowly walked in front of Irene. Her fingertips absentmindedly twirled the strands of Irene's hair resting on her shoulder, the movement so gentle it bordered on intimate.
"You are the spark of Mason, Irene.
And it's not just you. Delilah, Daphne, and the others will also officially receive their own titles on that day."
Feeling the warmth transmitted from those fingertips, Irene's heart swelled with fullness. Hearing that the others would also receive rewards, her first reaction was actually:
"That's wonderful! This way, Delilah and the others will definitely work even harder to serve Your Majesty! With proper titles, everyone's hearts will be even more united!"
Looking at this little fool whose heart only held 'Your Majesty' and 'everyone,' the ice within Sophia's heart melted a few more degrees.
"Willow," Sophia called out softly.
Willow, who had been waiting outside the door all this time, walked in with a beaming smile, carrying a celadon plate.
Neatly arranged on the plate were six plump, adorable white dumplings, still emitting wisps of hot steam.
After setting the plate down, Willow shot Sophia an encouraging look before silently retreating outside.
"Were you not full, Your Majesty?" Irene looked at the plate of dumplings in confusion and sniffed. "Smells so good. It seems a bit different from the scent of the ones I taught the kitchen maids to wrap just now."
"I wrapped these myself."
Sophia lowered her eyelashes, masking a trace of unnatural shyness.
"With the very last bit of filling. Want a taste?"
Irene's eyes instantly lit up astonishingly. That overwhelmed, flattered expression made her look like she was about to cry.
"Your Majesty... Your Majesty wrapped them yourself? For me to eat?"
With trembling hands, she picked up a dumpling with chopsticks and stuffed it into her mouth. Ignoring the scalding heat, she chewed haphazardly a couple of times.
It was so savory, seemingly even more fragrant than the meat filling at the banquet.
The outer wrapper was soft, resilient, and chewy, while the filling inside was fragrant yet not greasy, achieving a perfect harmony with the dough.
Suddenly, her teeth clacked against something hard.
Irene spat it out in confusion to look, only to find it was a thoroughly scrubbed, gleaming silver coin.
Irene stared blankly at the silver coin in her palm, then looked back up at Sophia.
By now, Sophia had stepped very close. She extended her slender, fair fingers, her fingertips lightly brushing past Irene's temples. Her voice was as low and soft as silk in the wind.
"Congratulations, Irene.
I remember you once mentioned offhandedly... in that hometown of yours, finding a coin inside a dumpling during the Year-End Festival signifies that you will be lucky for the entire new year."
The air in the study seemed to turn thick and sweet at this moment.
Irene gazed into Sophia's pale golden eyes, which were currently brimming with tenderness and nostalgia.
In this alternate world, in this unfamiliar time and space, this Queen before her had actually remembered a casual murmur she had spoken in her sleep.
"Your Majesty..."
All of Irene's feigned strength and eccentric quirkiness completely collapsed in this instant.
She suddenly leaned forward and plunged headfirst into Sophia's embrace. Her hands tightly wrapped around the other's waist, and her tears instantly soaked the black fox fur.
"I thought I would never be able to eat this kind of dumpling again. I thought I no longer had a home..."
Irene cried in Sophia's arms like a wronged child.
Sophia did not push her away. She merely let out a soft sigh, resting her palm on the back of Irene's head and stroking her hair stroke by stroke to soothe her.
Silly girl. Since I am the ruler of Mason, then my embrace is your only sanctuary in this world.
Sophia did not speak these sentimental words aloud, but her gentle force had already provided the answer.
This kind of palpitation that transcended the relationship between monarch and minister, carrying a trace of something called 'companionship,' was warmer than any magic in the freezing night of the Year-End Festival.
After crying for a few minutes, Irene actually fell asleep directly in Sophia's arms.
Feeling helpless, Sophia supported Irene and laid her down on her own bed. After covering her properly with the quilt, she closed the door to the inner chamber and returned to the outer room.
Willow, who was standing guard at the door, naturally knew what had happened. She immediately went to fetch the next person Her Majesty was to receive.
The falling snow outside the study grew increasingly heavy, yet it only served to accentuate the toasty warmth of the charcoal fire indoors.
Having settled the deeply asleep Irene, Sophia adjusted her posture slightly.
Accompanied by a burst of steady, rhythmic footsteps, Delilah pushed the door open and entered.
She was still wearing that crisp, tailored light armor, her entire body carrying the biting chill of having just returned from patrol.
But the moment she saw Sophia, that blade-like sharpness instantly retracted, transforming into a touch of softness in the depths of her eyes.
"Your Majesty."
Delilah knelt on one knee in salute, her movements as crisp and clean as an unbreakable javelin.
Sophia raised her hand and pointed at the long sandalwood box on the side table that had remained unopened all this time.
"No need for formalities. Come over and take a look at this."
Delilah approached and pressed the latch with her slender fingers.
With a 'click,' a longsword entirely pitch-black with ancient runes carved all over its scabbard lay horizontally within the brocade.
When Delilah gripped the hilt and slowly drew it out, a crisp hum of the blade resonated through the study, its cold gleam flowing beneath the firelight.
The most eye-catching feature was a massive, blood-red ruby embedded at the end of the pommel, resembling a cluster of burning embers under the lamplight.
"Is this... the one from Mason's treasury..."
Delilah held her breath.
As a commanding officer, she possessed an almost instinctual yearning for a divine weapon of this caliber, yet she hadn't dared to carelessly touch it due to its extreme preciousness.
Sophia stood up and slowly walked to her side. Her pale, fair fingers lightly stroked that icy gem, her voice carrying the huskiness of slight intoxication.
"When I saw it in the treasury a few days ago, I was thinking... this deep yet blazing red looks exactly like your eyes, Delilah. On the battlefield, amidst that slaughter, what puts my heart at ease the most is that pair of eyes of yours that never shrink back."
Delilah's fingers abruptly tightened, her heartbeat skipping a beat.
She looked down at the ruby, then met Sophia's languid yet focused gaze in her peripheral vision. For a moment, she actually felt her sword-holding hand grow hot.
"Your Majesty, an item this precious, this minister..."
"It is yours now. A New Year's gift."
Sophia cut off her hesitation, her tone carrying an unquestionable imperiousness.
Before Delilah could recover from the shock of the ruby, Sophia retrieved a heavy gold-sealed token from her sleeve, slightly warm from her body heat.
Right in the center of the token, the word 'General' was written in sharp, vigorous strokes, and the side impressively bore Sophia Mason's private golden seal.
Delilah's breath instantly hitched.
If the longsword was a warrior's glory, then this General's token bearing the private seal meant the Queen was unreservedly entrusting the back of the entire nation—and even her own life—to her.
"Your Majesty..."
Delilah's voice finally carried a trace of trembling.
Without any hesitation, she fiercely dropped to one knee again, accepting the gold medal with both hands.
"Delilah's life has belonged to Your Majesty since a long time ago."
She tilted her head up. Those fiery red eyes were now coated in a thin layer of mist, yet they flickered with the fanaticism of pledging loyalty unto death.
"As long as this minister draws breath, anyone who wishes to touch Your Majesty must step over this minister's corpse."
Sophia looked at the heroic and imposing female general before her. That absolute determination to disregard life and death left her feeling both a pang of heartache and helplessness.
She bent down, closing the distance between them.
The air was filled with the faint scent of fruit wine and the cold fragrance of the black fox fur.
Sophia reached out her hand, covering the top of Delilah's head with a gentle yet controlling movement, her fingertips caressing her somewhat stiff hair.
"Your life is mine?" Sophia lowered her voice, carrying a trace of intimate pressure.
Delilah kept her face tilted up, feeling the warmth belonging to the Queen radiating from the top of her head. Her heart trembled as she answered hoarsely, "Yes... Everything this minister has belongs to Your Majesty."
"Then remember it well."
Sophia's fingertips trailed along her temples to behind her ear. Applying slight pressure, she forced Delilah to look straight into her eyes.
"Since you have already given me your life, then without my permission, you are not allowed to squander it carelessly.
I forbid you from dying, and I forbid you from pulling any 'stepping over my corpse' drama for the sake of so-called loyalty.
Your body, your life—even a single strand of your hair—is now my asset.
Delilah... you are not allowed to break this contract. Understood?"
Delilah's mind went blank in that instant. Only Sophia's phrase, 'you are my asset,' continuously echoed in her ears.
That feeling of being cherished like a private possession caused this cold and glamorous general to sink deeper than any reward ever could.
She subconsciously shuffled forward half a step on her knees. Closing her eyes almost piously, she felt the lingering warmth of the Queen's palm.
"...Accepting the decree. This minister shall absolutely not break the contract."
The red light of the stove in the study flickered, casting their overlapping, swaying shadows against the wall.
Delilah tilted her head up, feeling the slight coolness and silkiness transmitted from the hand atop her head.
Perhaps the ruby longsword was too heavy, or perhaps the aftereffects of that strong wine had finally burned its way to her heart.
This female general, who normally wouldn't change expression even if Mount Tai collapsed before her, actually turned her face slightly, as if possessed by some ghost.
Like a lone wolf seeking solace, she extremely lightly and slowly nuzzled her cheek against Sophia's extended palm.
That delicate touch of skin caused Sophia's fingers to stiffen slightly.
However, she did not pull back. Instead, she smoothly slid her hand down. With a trace of imperceptible tenderness, her thumb gently caressed Delilah's cheek—a cheek slightly taut from years of wind and sun exposure, yet astonishingly hot at this moment.
"...You've worked hard, Delilah."
Sophia's voice was very soft, exuding an intoxicating magic in the quiet dead of night.
Delilah only felt as if a ball of blazing magma had been stuffed into her chest, her heart pounding so fast it threatened to burst through her ribcage.
She looked at the Queen so close at hand, looking at her own flustered yet fanatical reflection in those pale golden eyes.
Some unprecedented impulse made her fingertips suddenly dig tightly into the floor tiles.
She wanted to get closer.
She wanted to tell Her Majesty that she didn't want to be just a sword.
Just as the atmosphere in the study became so thick it was practically dripping water, a muffled 'thud' suddenly sounded from the inner room behind the screen, followed by a string of incoherent sleep-talking:
"Hehe... Your Majesty. Let's have another one, seafood filling..."
Delilah's body instantly stiffened. Her instincts from being in a perpetual state of combat made her fiercely grip the hilt of her sword, her gaze turning as cold and sharp as a blade in a flash.
"Who is it?!"
Sophia, however, helplessly rubbed her forehead. She retracted her hand, her expression returning to its usual indifference.
"It's Irene. The girl cried herself tired just now, had a bit of wine, and fell asleep directly on the bed in my inner room. She probably rolled over and fell off."
Irene.
Sleeping on Her Majesty's bed.
These two keywords were like two poisonous thorns, instantly piercing into Delilah's heart.
That overflowing tenderness from just a moment ago was instantly submerged by a flood of intense jealousy, so sour it made the roots of her teeth ache.
"Your Majesty actually... let her sleep in your Bedchamber?" Delilah's voice was as stiff as if she were chewing on ice cubes.
Sophia didn't notice that heavy stench of jealousy, merely nodding faintly.
"She's not a very good sleeper. I was afraid moving her would cause her to act up again, so I just let her be."
"How can that be allowed?!" Delilah stood up abruptly.
She spoke loudly with righteous indignation, her voice even rising an octave. "Your Majesty attends to countless matters of state every day and is already exhausted from the Year-End Festival. If that crazy girl Irene kicks off her blankets or talks nonsense in the middle of the night, it will definitely disturb Your Majesty's peaceful dreams!"
Sophia was slightly taken aback. "It's not that serious..."
"No, it is absolutely necessary!"
Not giving Sophia a chance to refuse, Delilah strode past the folding screen and charged into the inner room.
Just a moment later, Sophia saw Delilah walk out with a darkened face.
Those powerful arms of hers—originally used for gripping swords, slaying enemies, and defending the nation—were currently hauling the dead-asleep Irene over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, showing absolutely no tender pity for the fairer sex.
Irene's head hung down behind Delilah's back, her twin-tails bobbing up and down in tandem with Delilah's resentful footsteps.
"This general suddenly remembered that having received the title of General, guarding Your Majesty's peace is this minister's primary duty."
Delilah puffed out her chest, her tone as murderous as if she were heading off to siege a city and conquer territories.
"This minister will now conveniently deliver this troublemaker back to her invention workshop. I guarantee she will absolutely not make a single sound to disturb Your Majesty tonight!"
Sophia watched Delilah's retreating back, which was murderous yet exuded a certain 'diligent energy'. She didn't even have time to say, "You haven't taken Irene's cloak."
...Delilah truly has changed a lot.
Watching the two figures disappear into the night, Sophia sighed with a hint of gratification.
"To think she appears so frosty normally, yet is actually so warm-hearted toward her colleagues in private. Yes, truly worthy of the General I selected."
Hearing Sophia's words, Willow, who was standing to the side, lowered her head and giggled secretly, her shoulders shaking.
The study door closed once again, shutting both Delilah's unconcealable 'gunpowder scent' and Irene's unconscious sleep-talking outside.
Sophia let out a long breath. Before she could even lean back in her chair, Willow's voice—ghost-like in its punctuality and carrying a teasing smile—sounded by the door:
"Your Majesty, the last 'troublesome' little one has been waiting outside so anxiously she's about to scratch her heart and liver out."
Sophia raised her eyebrows in resignation. "Let her in."
Daphne pushed the door open and entered. The lingering traces of the Holy Light fireworks from the banquet earlier still clung to her hair. The specks of faint light made her pretty face look all the more exquisite, like a porcelain doll.
"Your Majesty..."
Daphne tiptoed to the center of the study. Her gaze swept across Sophia's face, keenly capturing that trace of lingering warmth.
"General Delilah was running so fast carrying Irene just now. Did something fun happen?"
"Nothing. Their sisterly bond is just very deep."
Sophia spun a lie without batting an eyelid, then retrieved the final slender silk box from under the desk.
"Come here. This is for you."
Daphne held her breath and carefully lifted the lid.
In that instant, the entire study was filled with a dreamy pink luminescence.
Lying inside was a brand-new staff.
It was about three feet long, entirely forged from a nearly transparent pink crystal. The tip of the staff was not the traditional, old-fashioned spherical gemstone, but rather a massive pink pentagram crystal surrounded by several broken diamonds.
Compared to Daphne's original staff—a heavy, rigid antique passed down from the Divine Church—this one looked exactly like the standard equipment of a 'Magical Girl' straight out of a comic book. It was agile and full of playful vitality.
"So... so pretty!"
Daphne gripped the shaft of the staff with trembling hands. The moment she touched it, she froze as if struck by lightning.
An extremely delicate yet exceptionally warm aura transmitted through the staff and into her palm.
That was Sophia's aura.
"Every corner of this crystal was polished and inlaid by my own hands."
Seeing her dazed expression, Sophia assumed she had been shocked by its aesthetic.
"Although its magic conductivity is not as good as your original one, I thought... this style should be more suited for a Saint like you."
"No, Your Majesty..."
Daphne tightly hugged the staff to her chest, a mist gradually rising in her clear blue eyes.
"I can feel Your Majesty's warmth on the staff. Holding it feels... feels like Your Majesty is constantly holding my hand.
Even if it's only one-tenth of what it feels like when you personally hold it, it's enough to give me peace of mind in this cold world."
Sophia was momentarily stunned, not quite understanding her meaning.
But she quickly recalled that Daphne often found various excuses for physical contact with her. So, her claiming that the staff gave her the sensation of holding hands was probably because Sophia had inlaid that gemstone herself.
Sophia coughed lightly. With a backhand toss, she threw a gold token engraved with the word "Saint" onto the desk.
On the side of the token, Sophia Mason's private golden seal glittered under the lamplight.
Daphne held the token, blinking in confusion.
"Your Majesty, is this... is this the same as the ones they took just now? What is this token used for?"
Willow, guarding the door, stepped forward at the right moment and explained warmly:
"Lord Daphne, this represents the supreme religious authority and administrative immunity within Mason's territory.
Seeing this token is akin to seeing Her Majesty in person.
Aside from others of equal status to you—such as Delilah, Vasha, and Lord Irene—everyone in all of Mason, even the City Lord of the City of Hill, must kneel and cooperate when they see you.
This is an independent throne personally bestowed upon you by Her Majesty."
Daphne was so startled her hand trembled, nearly dropping the token.
"It's this precious? But I... I'm just a Magical Girl with weakened abilities who only knows how to shoot off fireworks. Can I really be of help to Your Majesty?"
Sophia sighed. She took the initiative to reach out and grasp Daphne's small hand, which was icy cold from nervousness, her fingertips gently squeezing her palm.
"Who says you can't be of help?"
Sophia looked straight into her eyes, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
"In the Royal City and the City of Hill, without your Holy Light, those people afflicted with the epidemic would merely be rotting corpses by now.
Daphne, you are Mason's mercy, and also This Queen's final fallback.
This token is a source of confidence given to a coward like you."
"Your Majesty..."
Daphne felt the genuine heat transmitting to the back of her hand. That inferiority complex, which had always felt like treading on thin ice, was instantly shattered by this domineering encouragement.
She reversed her grip to tightly hold Sophia's hand. She leaned in extremely close, her nose almost touching the side of Sophia's face.
"Since Your Majesty has said so... then for this lifetime, the next lifetime, and every lifetime after, this minister will be the light in Your Majesty's hands."
She closed her eyes. An extremely rich and pure Holy Light flowed between their tightly clasped hands.
In that moment, Sophia suddenly felt an incredibly comfortable magic, as warm as a spring, surge into her body through Daphne's palm.
The headache originally brought on by her hangover vanished into thin air instantly, and even her physical exhaustion seemed thoroughly cured by this Holy Light massage.
Was it an illusion?
That tipsy sensation, like basking in the sun, made Sophia feel incomparably comfortable.
After a moment of hesitation, she gently held Daphne's hand.
That familiar and comfortable feeling transmitted once again, as if an endless stream of vitality was radiating forth.
Sophia could be certain that prior to this, she had never felt this way when touching Daphne.
Such a feeling seemed to have only appeared just now, after Daphne declared she would entrust everything to her.
Could this be some sort of special ability of a Magical Girl?
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