Chapter 111 ….
Cyrus had drunk countless medicinal concoctions created by Lizzie and suffered through the side effects of just as many failures.
Yet, through the scene unfolding before his eyes, he realized that even those failed medicines had, in a sense, been successful.
Because true failure was happening right now.
“…….”
Parararak! Parak! Parak!
The first thing Cyrus saw when he opened the cabin door was a dazzling explosion of multicolored flames.
“Damn it! This is going to blow! Orange-spotted fruit! Quick!”
He then saw Lizzie, stretching her hand toward the cauldron and calling out frantically while keeping her gaze fixed on it.
[Oh… the orange-spotted fruit… here it is!]
He noticed the massive Galloway eagle rummaging around the small cabin and eventually finding the orange-spotted fruit.
[No! Damn, that’s…!]
A crow, reading something carefully in its notebook, suddenly screamed.
[That’s Edward…!]
[Gyaaak.]
And the bullfinch was hurled violently by the Galloway eagle.
In short, it was a total mess.
Parararak! Parak!
The flames above the cauldron continued to erupt in a stubbornly flamboyant display.
[Mo-mom…!]
A tiny mouse near the stove trembled and clutched a pepper shaker tightly.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow slightly at the sight.
[Gyaaah… aaah.]
Cyrus strode forward and snatched the hurled bullfinch out of the air.
Then Lizzie tossed the real orange-spotted fruit, which had been rolling on the table, into the cauldron.
Phew.
Haah.
The two birds exhaled in relief at Edward’s safe return.
Meanwhile, Cyrus walked calmly under the distracting fireworks and rescued the frightened mouse.
[Uheh… Spark… no, big human, thank you…]
Bang.
Finally, he opened the cabin window, letting the scents of all the potions diffuse into the still-chilly spring breeze.
The animals, temporarily knocked out by the chaos, regained their composure.
[Damn.]
[Huh?]
[Die.]
Cyrus’s gaze moved to Lizzie as he nodded in satisfaction at the bullfinch cursing thickly.
Without even looking at the orange-spotted fruit she had thrown, Lizzie expertly squeezed its juice into the overflowing cauldron.
Shraaak.
“…….”
Watching the seemingly solid fruit mummify in Lizzie’s hands, Cyrus remained silent as the bubbling cauldron suddenly settled.
Peace finally returned to the cabin.
A peace met by everyone in disarray—except Cyrus.
“……Phew. That was a perfect entrance. If I’d been a little later, we could have blown up the cabin.”
Lizzie wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and said.
“Does this happen often?”
“Well… yeah. Developing new medicines isn’t easy.”
“…….”
Cyrus’s gaze drifted toward Lizzie’s hand holding the ladle.
Her hands were covered with cuts and burns from handling the ingredients.
“Ah, don’t worry.”
Noticing where Cyrus was looking, Lizzie shrugged lightly.
“They all heal once you put on the ointment anyway.”
“I don’t doubt the efficacy of the ointment.”
“Then?”
“…….”
Cyrus instead turned his head toward the crow.
Its ear tips were flushed red, though the blazing stove hid it well.
“Garrett, I’ve picked the tomatoes.”
[Ah! Already? How’s it this time? You picked them carefully, right? The stems okay?]
After a brief pause, Cyrus answered Garrett.
“……Yeah.”
Garrett looked at Cyrus with a pitying expression.
[Shining human, you really are bad at lying.]
“You’re bad at dodging questions too,” Lizzie added.
“…….”
Lizzie let out a light laugh at Cyrus, who maintained his no-comment stance, then grimaced at the chaotic cauldron.
“Ha ha… haah… Damn, I wanted to make something stronger than ointment for ‘that day’… but it’s harder than I thought.”
“The ointment is enough.”
“Not enough. ‘That day’—”
“‘That day’?”
“—is an important day.”
“…….”
Lizzie Atkins was also incapable of lying or dodging words.
Cyrus, observing her with pursed lips, let out a short sigh and sat down.
He didn’t press further. Experience had taught him that some questions never got answered, no matter how many times you asked.
Cyrus’s behavior as he looked around the cabin was natural.
Even without Lizzie’s guidance, he was now familiar enough to enter and settle comfortably.
He chatted a little with the birds, accepted the medicines Lizzie handed him, and even sought out remedies from the cupboard to treat sudden side effects.
Lizzie Atkins was far too busy to micromanage every step.
All of this was because of ‘that day’.
Ever since realizing how close ‘that day’ was, Lizzie secluded herself here to focus entirely on making medicines.
—You’ll meet countless people on that day, right? One ointment won’t be enough. And you didn’t like the strawberry scent!
—I don’t… dislike it.
—Of course, this ointment is peach-scented though.
—What? But strawberry scent is better than peach…
—I already made it.
—……
Cyrus could only accept the peach-scented ointment Lizzie offered.
Lizzie insisted a stronger medicine was necessary, at least for ‘that day’.
Cyrus couldn’t understand her reasoning at all.
“What went wrong? Did I add the pearl powder too quickly…?”
Looking at the ruined cauldron, Cyrus asked Lizzie what had gone wrong.
“Lizzie, I’ve told you before, the ‘Foundation Day Banquet’ isn’t that important—”
“No, it’s very important.”
Before Cyrus could finish, Lizzie interrupted firmly.
<Foundation Day Banquet>
It wasn’t just any banquet.
It was the most important annual event attended by all noble families of the Empire.
Not all family members needed to attend, but the head or an heir had to be present.
In the original story, Helena, Evan, and Cyrus had their first three-way encounter here.
Cyrus, as head of the Blanchard family, inevitably attended, encountering Evan invited by Helena.
If you can’t avoid it, you enjoy it.
Lizzie Atkins thought so.
Even if it meant expending her own stamina, relying on the birds’ endurance, and grinding countless herbs and tears.
Showing a changed Cyrus at the banquet with numerous nobles was crucial to altering the original story.
‘…It would be even better if Helena’s heart could be won.’
Lizzie muttered as she removed the failed cauldron from the stove.
She still assumed Cyrus’s emotions would follow the original story.
Cyrus had loved Helena—and would continue to do so.
Anyone who had seen <Helena’s Choice> would expect it.
The author didn’t give the villain a past, but the depth of emotion was painstakingly described.
So perhaps this was a chance to alter the trajectory of this mismatched relationship.
Cyrus’s love could succeed.
Even if it was unclear how it would change his life.
‘And I might not even realize the change is happening.’
Sighing, Lizzie set a new cauldron on the stove.
“Why do I have to be an extra and a gardener…”
Only nobles or former nobles could attend the Foundation Day Banquet.
Even if the princess liked her, Lizzie, a gardener and ostensibly a commoner, couldn’t attend.
Birthday parties could be flexible, but the grand palace banquet was different.
In other words, only one person could inform her of what happened at the banquet.
“Cyrus.”
“Yeah.”
Cyrus, sitting at the table, responded to Lizzie.
He didn’t need to turn his head to look at her. He had been watching her all along.
“Stick close to the princess.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Lizzie poured a bucket of water into the empty cauldron, speaking soothingly.
“I’ll do my best to make an effective medicine. With the ointment, it’ll be enough—”
“No.”
She calmly dropped hazel leaves into the still-cold water.
“Why not? You like the princess, don’t you…”
She stopped herself, realizing being too direct might backfire.
“What?”
“I mean, the princess is pretty.”
“I’m not sure.”
[Shining human, are your eyes crooked?]
The crow asked seriously.
“I’m not shining anyway, so your eyes are probably wrong.”
[Ignoring me?]
The bullfinch bit the crow’s rear, and the crow deflated instantly.
Cyrus’s gaze returned to Lizzie.
“I have no intention of sticking near the princess, so give up.”
“No!”
Shaking containers of mugwort powder like maracas, Lizzie shouted.
Shakashaka!
The powder fell cheerfully into the cauldron.
She needed a plan.
A way to keep Cyrus near Helena.
A way to let Helena—and others—see that Cyrus was a decent person.
“Th-then… yes!”
Suddenly, an idea struck Lizzie.
“I need a spy to report what happens over there!”
A spy.
It was Lizzie’s excuse.
Of course, being beside Helena was more important, but this reasoning would convince Cyrus.
“……A ‘spy’?”
“Yes, an agent.”
“……”
“A scout.”
“……”
“Informer.”
“Stop, I get it.”
Seeing a gardener propose using a duke of the Empire as a spy made Cyrus smile lightly.
At the same time, he felt relieved.
Lizzie only needed someone to monitor the princess.
A mere gardener keeping tabs on the princess—it was absurd, but Cyrus didn’t mind.
If it was Lizzie’s request, he was willing.
“……Alright, fine.”
“Really?! Great! Good thinking.”
Being near Helena would give him plenty of chances to be noticed.
If Cyrus couldn’t read others’ emotions well, he wouldn’t act overly sensitive, and the scene would surely catch attention.
Nothing there would be more noticeable than his face.
Perfect plan!
Lizzie thought so.
The only problem: Cyrus didn’t.
“I’ll make sure to inform you of everything.”
Cyrus said with subtle confidence.
Being perceptive, he could overhear much without being beside the princess.
His good eyesight meant he could simply watch from afar.
Just greeting the princess made him uncomfortable, so that distance was sufficient.
“Perfect.”
“Indeed.”
Both nodded in satisfaction, fully aware that input and output at the chaotic site had completely malfunctioned.
Only the three birds and one mouse, exhausted from helping with the medicine, thought, “Something’s off here.”
