Prologue — The Morning of Reite-Hungaria (Sixteen Years Old) Comes Early
“I, awaken──!”
Yes, my morning, the morning of Reite-Hungaria, comes early.
Before the stone-chicken basilisks at the quarry even begin to crow, I rise and begin my morning preparations all by myself.
I sit before my dressing table and run a comb through my proud, silky silver hair.
I do not allow the maids to assist me.
Why, you ask? Because just the other day, they got into a fistfight over the “right to assist with my morning preparations.”… Read more
