Chapter 2: My New Job Turned Out to Be the “Royal Palace Graveyard”
Freedom is a wonderful thing.
In the morning, I wake to birdsong instead of being beaten awake by an alarm clock.
When I open the window, the lively bustle of the lower town greets me.
Nibbling on the bread baked by my landlady, Mina, I plan out my future life.
“…Well then, shall I work?”
I have savings.
Enough to live idly for several years.
But doing nothing at all makes me restless, a habit ingrained from my former life as a corporate slave.
Besides, completely cutting myself off from society carries its own risks.
My conditions are threefold.
First, I leave work on time.
Second, minimal human interaction.
Third, a decent wage.
Especially the second point.
I am utterly sick of the noble society’s probing games and its unspoken rule of “you should understand without being told.”
Wearing a hooded robe over my commoner clothes, I head to the job placement guild in the commercial district.
The guild’s bulletin board is crammed with parchment notices.
“Urgently Hiring! Adventurer baggage carrier. Must be physically strong.”
…Rejected.
I see nothing but a future with a ruined back.
“Tavern poster girl. Applicants with lovely smiles welcome.”
…Out of the question.
My facial muscles’ polite-smile function is broken.
“Accounting clerk for trading company. Overtime required.”
…Just seeing the word “overtime” is enough to give me hives.
As I am about to sigh, a single sheet of paper catches my eye at the very corner of the board, fluttering as if its pin is about to come loose.
[Royal Palace Second Library – Manager Wanted]
• Duties: Collection management, cleaning, lending services
• Hours: 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. (overtime generally none)
• Salary: Three gold coins per month
• Requirements: Must be able to read. Must be able to endure solitude.
“…This is it.”
The conditions are too perfect.
The fact that it is within the royal palace grounds gives me pause, but the palace is vast.
The Second Library, if I remember correctly, is an old tower in the northern annex.
It is far from the main facilities, and the chance of running into Kyle or the others should be low.
I tear the notice down and bring it to the reception counter.
“I would like to apply for this.”
The receptionist stares at the paper I hand her, her face stiffening in shock.
“Eh… t-this one?
Are you serious?”
“Yes.
Is there a problem?”
“N-no… it’s just that… we’ve sent many people there already, but none of them lasted even a single day…”
“Is the work excessively harsh?”
“No, not exactly… they just said ‘I can’t stay in a place like that.’”
She trails off.
Hmm.
Probably something like “it’s haunted” or “there are rats.”
Compared to living people, especially bosses, ghosts are adorable.
As for rats, you can just chase them out.
“I don’t mind.
Please process the application.”
“Y-yes… ah, your name?”
“…Lia.”
I decide to use a false name.
I have already tampered with the magic tool that serves as my identification.
If it were discovered that I am a former marquess’s daughter, I might be dragged back into that troublesome world again.
The next day.
Holding my hiring notice, or rather an on-the-spot employment pass, I pass through the palace’s back gate.
When I ask a guard for directions, he looks at me with pity and says, “Ah, that place…”
Is it really that bad?
I pass through a deserted garden and head deeper into a small grove.
There stands a stone tower covered in ivy.
This is the Second Library.
Commonly known as the “Royal Palace Graveyard.”
The heavy wooden door is not secured with a massive lock and is instead left half open.
What kind of management is this?
“Excuse me.
I’ve been assigned here as the new manager starting today…”
I greet the room as I push the door open.
At that moment.
Crash!
Something collapses with a loud sound, and an avalanche of dust pours down at my feet.
“…”
Silently, I hold down the hem of my skirt.
Dust swirls into the air.
Once my view clears, I survey the interior.
“…I see.”
This is less a library and more a gigantic trash heap.
Bookshelves reaching up to the high ceiling.
Books that did not fit are piled on the floor like geological layers.
There are no aisles.
You have to climb book mountains to move deeper inside.
The windows are sealed with cobwebs, making it dim even though it is daytime.
Memos reading “Unsorted,” “Important,” and “Put here for now” are scattered everywhere, but the memos themselves have weathered with age.
‘I can’t stay in a place like that.’
The receptionist’s words come back to me.
An ordinary person would despair just from looking at this chaos.
They would have no idea where to even begin.
However.
My impression is different.
‘…There’s no one here.’
No matter how hard I listen, I only hear the wind and the breathing of what must be an owl sleeping on a beam.
No boss yelling.
No coworkers’ snide remarks.
No Kyle’s off-the-mark speeches.
It’s dirty?
So what.
I am a woman who once ran the single worst black department in the royal palace.
Compared to mental pressure, physical filth is nothing more than a gentle breeze.
“…This looks rewarding.”
I roll up my sleeves.
First, I will secure a space where I can sit and drink tea.
That is today’s goal.
“《Clean》.”
A pale ripple of light spreads from my fingertips.
Generally, the 《Clean》 spell is a beginner’s spell that only repels surface dirt.
But mine is different.
Target: “Books.”
Excluded targets: “Ink,” “Paper fibers,” “Binding glue.”
Removal targets: “Dust,” “Mold,” “Hand grime,” “Mites.”
I set search filter conditions in my mind and weave my magic into threads as fine as silk.
As the spell passes over the shelves, only a century’s worth of dust separates cleanly into the air, compresses into spheres, and is expelled out the window.
I repeat this dozens of times.
The air in the room is completely replaced in an instant.
“Good.”
Next comes physical organization.
I mechanically sort the books scattered across the floor by size and color alone.
There is no time to read their contents.
“Red, large.”
“Blue, medium.”
“Leather-bound, small.”
I pack them into the shelves like a game of Tetris, leaving no gaps.
I climb ladders carrying heavy books.
Sweat forms, but it is a pleasant fatigue.
No one complains that I am slow.
No one dumps extra work on me saying, “While you’re at it, do this too.”
After about five hours of total immersion.
A miraculous space has been created in the roughly six-tatami area near the entrance.
A polished floor.
Neatly arranged shelves of books, at least on the entrance side.
The antique sofa that had been buried in dust has regained a color that looks almost new.
The window glass is clear, and the western sunlight streams in warmly.
“…Perfect.”
Using the portable magic stove I brought with me, I boil water and brew some herbal tea.
Steam rises.
The scent of chamomile.
I sink deeply into the sofa.
Silence.
Clean air surrounded by books.
‘Ah… so this is what happiness is.’
When I was undergoing crown princess training, I did not have even a single second like this.
Just sitting and drinking tea.
I had no idea it could be such a luxury.
I lift the cup to my lips and let out a soft breath.
That is when it happens.
Creeeak…
The entrance door slowly opens.
“…?”
It is not the wind.
There is clearly the presence of someone entering.
I freeze with the cup still in my hand.
Who would come to a place this remote?
Could it be a ghost?
The one who enters is a man.
He wears high-quality, though slightly disheveled, clothing resembling a knight’s uniform.
His features are well-defined, but his complexion is shockingly poor.
Dark circles hang under his eyes, and his steps are unsteady.
Just like me in my previous life after three consecutive all-nighters…
Either he does not notice me, or perhaps he cannot see me.
He staggers like a ghost and is about to collapse onto the sofa across from me, the one I just finished cleaning—
“Ah.”
Before I can even speak, he flops face-first onto the sofa.
“…Did he die?”
No, I can hear steady breathing.
It seems he is simply severely sleep-deprived.
I blink.
This is my workplace, and also my place of rest.
Normally, I should wake him up and throw him out.
But.
His sleeping face is far too peaceful, and those dark circles far too desperate.
‘…I understand.
That feeling.’
Until yesterday, I wanted to sleep like a log too.
I stand up and take the blanket I had set aside in the corner.
Gently, I drape it over his shoulders.
He lets out a small groan, “Ugh…,” and buries his face into the blanket.
“…I’ll lend it to you until you wake up.”
I take another sip of my tea and quietly open a book.
Thus begins a quiet time with my strange new roommate.