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The Reincarnated Thirty-Something Woman’s Otherworldly Reform Life

The Chancellor's Thoughts

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While it was hardly rare for royalty and high-ranking nobility to have their marriage partners set in stone from the moment of their birth, a shifting geopolitical landscape meant the high nobility of our kingdom tended to formalize engagements only after the children had reached an appropriate age.

This custom largely arose from political necessities, as it was often vital to keep options open for accepting a foreign princess or sending a daughter abroad to seal an alliance.

Two decades had passed since the current Margrave of Azenda and the late King successfully quelled the chaotic era of war. Though the realm suffered a period of lingering instability in the aftermath, the internal conflicts of the surrounding nations had mostly subsided, allowing for ten years of relatively peaceful days. Even so, it could hardly be called a time of absolute peace; dangerous sparks still smoldered all across the continent.

A few years had passed since the Ascald crown changed hands. Given that the princesses of neighboring realms were all significantly older than our own Prince, the political consensus assumed that any foreign bride accepted into the royal house would not enter as a mere "Crown Princess." It was under this precise assumption that today's matchmaking session—rather, the tea party—had been arranged.

The Prince was still only ten years old. While not overly early for a royal, it was certainly a tender age for a child to be facing an engagement. Perhaps this little tyrant would transform into a fine, receptive gentleman after a few more years—then again, would he?

No, he almost certainly wouldn't.

Still, while the crown would continue to do its best to correct his behavior, one could only look to the future with hope and entrust the task to these future ladies of society.

The Chancellor harbored those exact thoughts as he watched over the gathering of little ladies...

Whenever marriage to the royal family became a topic of discussion, the highborn Ducal houses were naturally the first to be put on the chopping block. However, none of the three current Ducal families possessed a daughter of an compatible age. By some twist of fate, every single house had been blessed exclusively with male heirs; the few daughters they did possess had already been wed to foreign courts or married into families within their own political faction.

Technically, the law permitted the Prince to choose any noble daughter who caught his eye. Realistically, however, while a girl from the lower nobility might suffice as a secondary consort or a concubine, it would be nigh impossible for her to effectively fulfill the grueling public duties required of a Crown Princess or a Queen. The role demanded an individual capable of managing diplomacy with foreign royalty and high officials, as well as playing host to international dignitaries. It was a staggering burden that even full-grown adults found difficult to bear.

The required air of refinement, proper education, impeccable deportment, and the innate common sense absorbed through a lifetime in high society—it required no stretch of the imagination to see that these were absolute prerequisites.

In terms of sheer readiness, the position logically belonged to Lady Gardinia of the premier Marquis family, who had been aggressively groomed for the Crown Princess education since early childhood. Yet, a completely unexpected candidate had suddenly thrown a wrench into the gears. It was Lady Magnolia of the House of Gilmore—a family that, despite holding the title of Marquis, wielded the practical influence of a Ducal house.

Her sudden emergence onto the social stage brought a chaotic mix of joy and despair to the court.

If the royal family were to secure a marital alliance, the House of Gilmore was a far more lucrative target than the House of Steizen. They possessed a bottomless treasury, one of the finest private knight orders in the realm, and a lineage boasting spectacular talents like her grandfather, father, and uncle.

On one hand, this match might finally force the elusive Gerald to accept the mantle of Chancellor... but on the other hand, the terrible rumors floating around the capital made the court hesitate.

A hidden debut at age six, a fragile and sickly constitution, a monstrous appearance, and severe mental development delays...

Given that she had been rusticated to the Azenda Margraviate at the age of four to live with her grandfather, the Chancellor had ordered his foolish second son—who was currently playing at being a commoner—to investigate. The boy had sent back a message containing a single, terse line: 『She is entirely unsuited to be Queen.』

(Dammit! You're supposed to write down the exact details of *how* she's unsuited and send it to me!!)

Cursing his useless second son, the Chancellor had turned to the Marquis of the East Wolf to verify the facts. Yet, after staring intently at the King, the Queen, and the Chancellor, the Marquis simply echoed the exact same sentiment as his foolish boy: 『She is entirely unsuited to be Queen.』

「Are the rumors truly accurate, then?」 the Queen had asked in her usual gentle, leisurely tone.

Iris could only offer a wry, complicated smile.

「I cannot say what specific rumors Your Majesty has heard... but I suspect the citizens of Azenda would never allow her to leave.」

The citizens would never allow her to leave. That phrase alone implied she had immersed herself deeply in the governance of the territory and achieved monumental accomplishments for the sake of the people.

It proved she was no mere political pawn, but an indispensable asset to the territory as a member of the ruling family.

If that were true, it lent absolute credibility to the other rumor—that she was the true mastermind behind the staggering economic transformations sweeping through the Azenda Margraviate of late.

(And here I was, entirely under the impression that Lord Claude was the one orchestrating those projects...)

As if reading the Chancellor’s inner thoughts perfectly, Iris had simply smiled.

「Furthermore, she is the absolute jewel in the crown for both the 'Demon General' and the 'Black Lion.' I strongly advise you to handle her with the utmost caution.」

***

Following that warning, the palace had requested her presence at court on several occasions. For a year and a half, however, the family had played a perpetual game of tag, alternating between excuses of her failing health and urgent, unavoidable business regarding her commercial enterprises.

...If her health was truly so fragile that she couldn't manage a simple trip to court, they had no business driving her ragged with regional governance and industrial projects! It was an absolute, undeniable case of malingering. There was no doubt about it.

The Chancellor had cornered Gerald on multiple occasions, demanding that he bring his daughter to court, but the Marquis would merely offer a fluid, nonchalant smile and stubbornly maintain that he had no intention of letting her leave Azenda.

...An attempt was made to deploy imperial spies to uncover the truth, but every single agent was ruthlessly neutralized and sent packing.

Left with no alternative, the Chancellor utilized foreign channels to monitor her movements within the territory, specifically around the port town of Crux. The subsequent intelligence reports were utterly beyond belief.

The cure for Sailing Sickness had been entirely her own breakthrough. Far from merely "helping" with the regional enterprises and territorial advancements, she was the original visionary and the sole executor behind them.

Furthermore, her appearance was said to be the spitting image of the late Lady Azelia.

Rather than a fragile invalid, she was a picture of perfect health and a brilliant, sharp-witted prodigy. She was known to fly across the land from east to west, tearing through the territory to cause problems—and solve them—in equal measure.

She was a young lady who wouldn't hesitate to bark threats at a gang of thugs, who actively threw herself into field work alongside the common farmers, and who possessed a profound, unyielding love for buying street food.

...Admittedly, she did not sound like the type of young lady who would thrive in the refined social circles required of a Crown Princess. In fact, she seemed to have shattered the boundaries of a conventional noble daughter entirely.

(Why go to such lengths to hide her? Was she truly sickly during her infancy?)

Strigingly, she lacked the middle name that any legitimate child of the Marquis house ought to carry.

The Chancellor had initially suspected she might be an illegitimate child... but intelligence from a foolproof source confirmed that she was, without a shadow of a doubt, the legitimate daughter born to Gerald and Lady Wisteria.

The only logical conclusion was that the family had been so desperate to shield her from the royal house that they were willing to strip her of a traditional name. Her sheer brilliance, however, simply made it impossible for her to remain in the shadows; she had burst forth and caught the court's attention anyway.

The King, anxious to avoid provoking the Margrave of Azenda, remained largely passive on the matter. The Queen, conversely, developed an almost pathological obsession with Lady Magnolia.

...It was an open secret in high society that the Queen was immensely fond of Gerald. If she couldn't be his wife—a reality made impossible by the vast age gap between them—she had likely harbored a desperate desire to marry into the House of Gilmore. For Gerald, of course, this unrequited affection was nothing short of an absolute, unmitigated nuisance.

***

Faced with her continuous refusal to attend court, the Chancellor had taken a somewhat aggressive measure, utilizing the formal wax seal of a state summons to deliver the invitation. It was an unmistakable declaration that absence would not be tolerated this time.

He let out a massive sigh of relief when she finally yielded to the pressure and made her appearance.

Desperate to discern the truth behind the wild rumors and observe her true character unfiltered, the Chancellor had requested her chaperone, Lord Claude, to recuse himself, forcing Magnolia to occupy a table entirely on her own. As a concession, he arranged for her mother, Lady Wisteria, to be seated in the adjacent guardian section. He figured a long-overdue reunion between mother and child would prevent any formal complaints.

The moment word reached him that all attendees had arrived, he escorted the Queen and Prince to the venue. There, sitting at the lower end, was a young girl whose face bore an unmistakable, striking resemblance to the late Lady Azelia.

(Why on earth is she seated at the lowest table? Was there a blunder in the arrangements?)

Naturally, a Chancellor did not micro-manage the seating charts of a children's tea party. When he questioned a nearby lady-in-waiting, she informed him that a massive confrontation had occurred upon the girl's arrival.

The Chancellor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

(I explicitly told them to treat her with the utmost deference and care!)

Just look at her. While every other young lady in the garden was draped in radiant, pastel-colored gowns, she sat alone in a dress so dark it was practically black. It was a glaring, unspoken protest against her treatment.

When her eyes flickered over toward him, she tilted her head and directed a look of profound, almost mocking sympathy toward his direction.

(............)

The Chancellor had hoped her mood might improve once she beheld the Prince, but her demeanor remained a stark, undeniable contrast to the rest of the room.

She studied the boy with a look of profound skepticism before tilting her head and reaching out for her tea. While the other young ladies sat with shimmering eyes, drinking in the Prince's endless monologue, her eyes alone were completely dead.

She let out a tiny, suppressed sigh, glanced between the Queen and the Chancellor with a thoroughly bitter expression, and then aggressively began devouring the untouched pastries on her table. All the while, her eyes remained fixed on the other girls, tracking their every move.

(She has completely taken herself out of the running... She's actively evaluating the others to see who is best suited to take the hit.)

As if reading his thoughts in real-time, her eyes locked onto his, and she flashed him a sharp, knowing grin.

What a truly terrifying young lady.

(She would be an incredibly formidable ally to have on our side... but she is catastrophically, fundamentally incompatible with the Prince.)

Her behavior at the table was nothing short of bizarre; she refused to make eye contact with the Prince, choosing instead to focus entirely on clearing her dessert plates. Her body language made it perfectly clear that she was more than happy to surrender all conversation to the young ladies who actually wanted to speak with him.

When the Queen stepped in to guide the conversation, asking the girls what sort of gentleman they hoped to marry, the other young ladies offered wrapped, indirect answers that clearly pointed to the Prince. Magnolia, however, delivered a completely different response.

「I suppose my ideal partner would be someone stronger than my grandfather, wiser than my uncle, and far more strategically brilliant than my father.」

The moment Lady Magnolia's answer echoed through the garden, the low hum of chatter in the guardian section instantly died.

No, no, no, no. A human being like that doesn't exist on this planet. The Chancellor was certain that every single adult in attendance shared that exact thought.

The moment she set the baseline at "stronger than the Demon General," she effectively disqualified the vast majority of the human race.

「I happen to be far stronger than the Demon General!」 the Prince bellowed boastfully.

Magnolia turned her dead, hollow eyes toward him.

「Oh. Is that so? How truly spectacular, Your Highness.」

Her voice dripped with the most hollow, transparently mechanical flattery imaginable. Then, she flicked her eyes back toward the Chancellor, sending him a glaring, unmistakable look that practically screamed: Hurry up and end this farce already.

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