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The royal lab had fallen.
Not to an invading nation. Not to magical beasts. Not even to one of Princess Anisphia's explosive experiments.
No, it had fallen to flirting.
"Can the two of you not share a lap right now? I'm recalibrating a mana conductor!" Tiltil Claret snapped, her voice echoing through the stone chamber.
Euphyllia was seated primly at her workstation, a stack of ancient manuscripts beside her. Anisphia—sparkling with pride, though some traces of a blush could be seen on her cheeks—had somehow draped herself halfway into her queen’s lap, murmuring something about the “perfect alignment of theory and passion” while Euphyllia giggled in her serene, otherworldly way.
"You're literally glowing," Tilti added sourly, pointing at the shimmering aura of mana Euphyllia exuded. "And you!" She turned on Anisphia. "Since when do you make logical leaps that work on the first try?! You're supposed to mess up and get carried by raw mana and recklessness! That's your brand!"
Anisphia looked sheepish. "Euphie said if I focused more, she'd reward me…"
"Unbelievable," Tilti muttered, face twitching.
Then, like summoned by her frustration, Lainie and Ilia entered with tea. Not hand-in-hand—Ilia was too composed for that—but Lainie kept stealing glances at her maid lover like a puppy denied pets. As soon as they sat, Ilia gently tucked a stray hair behind Lainie's ear. The later nearly combusted.
Tilti stood up, chair scraping.
"Okay. Enough. Is this a research lab or a sapphic spa retreat?!"
Everyone stared. Euphyllia blinked. "Tilti... are you alright?"
"No! I'm not! You all went and found girlfriends and decided to have a honeymoon right here, in front of the lonely, reclusive witch! I didn’t mind at first—gods know I prefer being left alone—but then Anis starts making coherent decisions and Lainie learns to cast silent spells just to whisper sweet nothings to Ilia in public—in magic script, no less—and suddenly I’m the odd one out!"
"Love makes you grow wings as they say." Anisphia raised a hand slowly. "Are you... jealous?"
"No!" Pause. "Maybe a little! Mostly frustrated. I used to be the eccentric genius who didn’t care for romance. Now I’m just the weird third wheel with a flask of anti-mana slime who hasn’t been hugged in a year! I am definitely not jealous that the four of you were able to enjoy the couple's meal during our outing at the restaurant, while all I received was a pitiful look from the waitress. Definitely not jealous!"
The room fell quiet.
Then Anisphia turned to the others, grinning wickedly. "Group meeting. Operation: Get Tilti a Girlfriend."
"Wha—no! I refuse to be a mission objective!"
Ilia steepled her fingers. "We should start by considering her type."
"I don't have a type!"
"Energetic girls," Euphyllia offered.
"Bookish, but with backbone," added Ilia.
"Definitely someone who can match her moodiness," said Lainie thoughtfully.
"You’re all just listing yourselves!" Tilti cried, cheeks now very much aflame.
"But seriously," Anis said, leaning forward. "We’ve… grown a lot, and I think we left you behind. That wasn’t fair. You’re important to us, Tilti. If you're feeling lonely, we want to help."
Tilti stared down at her gloves, fidgeting. "...I don’t know if I’m lonely. I like being alone. I just… I guess I didn’t expect to be the only one left alone."
A pause. Euphyllia rose, her presence gentle and otherworldly now that she was both the Queen and an immortal spirit contractor. "Then we’ll help. Not because you need to date someone. But because you deserve the choice."
"...Fine," Tilti muttered. "But I’m not going to some court ball."
Anisphia smirked. "Who said anything about a ball? I’ve got a list. Let’s start with—"
"Don’t you dare say Tilty No. 2."
"Oh, come on, she has cute freckles!"
It began with an official proclamation posted at the central plaza of the royal capital.
Printed in bold gold-lettered ink with the royal seal at the top, it read:
Royal Notice: Courtship Candidates Sought
Her Majesty Euphyllia Magenta Palettia, Queen of the Kingdom of Palettia, hereby invites suitable young women of kind heart, curious mind, and strong spine—and maybe a bit odd—to attend a series of court-hosted social gatherings with the aim of possibly courting one Tilti Claret, court magician, genius researcher, and sometimes gremlin.
Applicants must not fear late-night rants about magical conduction theory or possess a bias against necromantically animated paper golems.
Tea and pastries provided. Results may vary.
See notice bellow for the date and for further explanation.
— By Royal Decree
By noon, copies of the notice had spread across the noble quarter, the magic district, and—due to Anisphia’s personal meddling—even several taverns known for serving high-mana clientele and socially awkward adventurers.
At the royal palace, Orphans, the former king, blinked at the copy someone respectfully placed before him.
“She’s advertising for a girlfriend?”
Next to him, Grantz, the ever-serious prime minister, adjusted his glasses. “There’s a non-zero chance this qualifies as unprecedented royal policy.”
“She’s not even asking for herself.”
“No, that would be too sensible.”
They both turned as a soft, melodic laugh echoed through the chamber. Sylphine—ever composed, ever deadly—sipped her tea with a smile. “Well, Euphyllia is the queen now. If she wishes to host matchmaking socials for eccentric alchemist shut-ins, who are we to interfere? It's not as if this will cause chaos nor will it drain our budget.”
“She’s organizing multiple events,” Grantz muttered. “The first one is called ‘Love in the Library.’ I have the budget request on my desk.”
Orphans sighed. “As long as no one sets anything on fire.”
“…I make no promises,” said Anisphia cheerfully as she burst into the room, a stack of enchanted flyers in her arms. “Tilti deserves love! And if it takes a royal campaign to find her a cute girlfriend who understands the appeal of magically-altered fungi, then by the skies above, we will make it happen!”
“Anis,” Sylphine said, still smiling, “are you going to be involved in the selection process?”
“Absolutely! Euphyllia and I are vetting every applicant personally! We’re calling it the Witch Wife Festival.”
“…This is starting to feel like a state-sponsored dating sim,” Grantz muttered.
Meanwhile, in the far wing of the palace, behind three locked doors, two magical passwords, and a hallway that smelled vaguely of burnt copper, Tilti Claret remained completely unaware.
Clad in soot-smeared robes and surrounded by half-assembled golems and humming mana circuitry, she was mid-rant.
“No, no, no! The interlocking runes are not harmonizing. I told that slug-faced scroll that reverse-scripting can’t stabilize without inverse diffusion! Curse you, past Tilti!”
A paper golem flopped off a table in protest.
She ignored it.
The sounds of footsteps, giggles, and magical rehearsals echoed faintly from beyond the walls, but Tilti—who had banished all outside noise using a triple-layered silence ward—heard none of it.
Outside her lab, Anisphia stood with Euphyllia, holding a large poster featuring a cartoonish chibi version of Tilti, complete with big glasses and a grumpy frown.
“Too much?” Anis asked, turning to her queen.
“She’s going to hex you into a mushroom when she sees it.”
“Worth it.”
A few meters behind them, a line of applicants—some noble, some commoner, all women—was beginning to form near the registration table. Lainie and Ilia managed the queue, offering tea and gently judging romantic compatibility.
Sylphine, observing from a balcony, shook her head. “At least they’re doing something productive with the nation’s budget. I can foresee this event lead to several good things.”
Grantz sighed again, having already prepared three contingencies in case Tilti mistook the event for a hostile summoning circle.
Orphans muttered something about stepping down again if the “Witch Wife Festival” turned into a magical disaster.
And Euphyllia—poised, radiant, her ethereal glow shimmering like moonlight—simply smiled.
“She’s not ready to ask for love. But maybe, just maybe… someone will walk into her life who fits anyway.”
Scene: Tilti’s Laboratory, 10:13 AM
Tilti had just finished stabilizing a self-sorting alchemical shelf (that had previously attempted to sort her into a storage bin) when the door exploded open in a burst of light and unreasonable enthusiasm.
“Tiltiiiiii~!”
“Nope.” She turned around immediately and began walking in the opposite direction. "How did you even get past my magical doors?"
“Too late!” Anisphia shouted, leaping through the smoke with glitter trailing behind her. “I told you I’d drag you out if I had to. The interviews start today!”
“I am not looking for a girlfriend!”
“That’s okay! We’re looking for one for you!”
There was a snap, a poof, and a puff of pink smoke—and before Tilti could react, magical cuffs formed around her wrists, tethered by glowing ribbons.
“Anis, I swear to every arcane deity—”
“No swearing before your future spouse!”
Scene: Royal Meeting Hall, 11:00 AM
The meeting hall had been redecorated for the occasion, with one long judging table, a single plush chair centered across from it and four other less ornate chairs surrounding it. A floral banner read “Witch Wife Festival: Final Auditions” in an aggressively cheerful font. Magical spotlights glimmered on Tilti’s slightly-smudged face as she was unceremoniously plopped into the hot seat.
On the judging panel beside her sat:
-
Anisphia (grinning like a goblin who found emotional treasure),
-
Queen Euphyllia (calm and majestic, holding a clipboard),
-
Ilia (stern, sipping tea with military-grade judgment),
-
Lainie (gently encouraging and slightly terrified of what was to come).
“I hate this,” Tilti whispered.
“You’ll thank me when you’re married,” Anis replied.
Euphyllia cleared her throat. “Begin candidate evaluations.”
Candidate #1: A Farmer Girl
“I heard she likes potions? I brought turnips!”
Tilti: “…Do you think turnips and potions are the same thing?”
Score: ★★☆☆☆
Notes: “Too enthusiastic. Doesn’t know what mana is.”
Candidate #2: A Noble Lady
“I believe I can tame her eccentricities into elegance. Ho Ho Ho.”
Tilti: “Tame me and I’ll turn your hair into licorice.”
Score: ★☆☆☆☆
Notes: “Tension level: Fatal.”
Candidate #3: A Young Girl (Age 8)
“I wanna be a witch’s girlfriend when I grow up!”
Anisphia: “Aww!”
Tilti: “I refuse to be arrested.”
Score: [REDACTED]
Notes: “Very sweet. Legally inadmissible.”
Candidate #4: A Grandma
“Dearie, I just brought cookies. You looked lonely.”
Tilti: visibly softens “I... thank you.”
Score: ★★★☆☆
Notes: “Surprisingly comforting. Not a romantic match. Cookies were excellent.”
Candidate #5: A Boy Dressed as a Girl
“I read the sign wrong but… I mean, I’m cute?” winks
Tilti: blank stare “Do you even like girls?”
Boy: “I like science. And also cute things, such as girl's clothes, so I guess that counts, right?”
Score: ★★☆☆☆
Notes: “Respects the hustle.”
Candidate #6: A Wandering Bard
“I seek only to witness the mythical romance of the witch and the queen’s decree!”
plays dramatic lute solo mid-interview
Tilti: “Get out.”
Score: ★☆☆☆☆
Notes: “Didn’t stop singing. Even while escorted out.”
Candidate #7: A Fellow Witch
“Drink this. If you survive, we’ll be compatible.”
places mysterious bubbling vial on the table
Tilti: pauses “…I don’t hate her.”
Anis: “That’s the best score so far!”
Score: ★★★★☆
Notes: “Possible future chaos lab partner.”
By mid-afternoon, Tilti was slumped in her chair, eyes glazed, surrounded by empty cookie plates, potion bottles, lute strings, and rejected interview notes. The rest of the panel was taking it a little too seriously—especially Ilia, who had already started a ranking board using enchantment-enhanced graphs.
“I’m calling the guards if another poet shows up,” Tilti muttered, head on the table.
Anisphia giggled. “You’re doing great! That last one even made you smirk!”
“That was indigestion.”
“I’ve never seen you this expressive around anyone.”
“I was glaring, Anis.”
“And it was adorable.”
Euphyllia spoke gently. “You don’t have to pick anyone, Tilti. We’re not forcing you. But… maybe it’s nice to see how many people would try for your heart, even if it’s a bit chaotic.”
“…I still think this is ridiculous.”
“Yes,” Euphyllia agreed. “But you smiled. That’s worth something.”
“…Maybe.”
Lainie held up a hopeful note card. “Should we keep going?”
Tilti sighed, staring at the magical scoring crystal on the desk.
“…Fine. But if the next one sings a song about ‘witchy yearning,’ I’m releasing the golems.”
The next candidate stepped into the chamber with a rustle of silver-trimmed Gothic dark blue dress and the faint shimmer of elemental spirits twirling about her like stardust. The room dimmed for a moment—not due to magic, but the overwhelming presence that entered with her.
“W-Wait…” Anisphia squinted, then immediately froze. “No way.”
Ilia dropped her clipboard. Lainie let out a small, startled squeak. Euphyllia blinked.
Only Tilti stared in numb disbelief as the elegant, ageless woman approached with the casual grace of someone who’d once ruled the world and had all the time in the world to do it again.
“Oh dear,” said the woman with a playful smile. “You’re all so stiff. Did I interrupt something important? Should I come back later?”
“…Lumielle,” Euphyllia said, standing. “This is... unexpected.”
“Don’t be like that, my dear descendant. I merely saw the notices and thought, how could I resist such an utterly ridiculous event?” She turned to Tilti, studying her with amusement. “And this is the famed Tilti Claret? Quite the reputation you’ve earned, little witch.”
Tilti slowly turned her head toward Anisphia. “You invited a mythical ancestor to flirt with me?”
“I DIDN’T!” Anisphia hissed. “SHE SHOWED UP ON HER OWN!”
Lumielle gracefully took the candidate seat, crossing one leg over the other as tiny spirits perched on her shoulders like glowing ornaments. “It’s lovely to see young people so invested in romance. You’re all so lovey-dovey, aren’t you?”
Her eyes flitted to Euphyllia and Anisphia. “Still attached at the hip, I see. Adorable.”
Then to Lainie and Ilia. “You two as well? You’re glowing with affection.”
Ilia coughed lightly. “This is a formal process, Lady Lumielle.”
“Oh, let me have my fun. When you’re my age, flirting is formal etiquette.”
Tilti face-planted into the table.
By the end of the day, nearly fifty candidates had been politely rejected, escorted out, or had mysteriously wandered off with one another (including the wandering bard and the introvert witch, now happily chatting about poison resistance over tea).
The final list had been narrowed to three:
-
Serrah, a librarian who came originally to ask for a book and accidentally got shortlisted after fixing Tilti’s potion catalog mid-interview.
-
Rira, a quiet apothecary’s apprentice with sharp wit, deadpan delivery, and a casual obsession with Tilti’s research journals.
-
And Lumielle, the flirty immortal ancestor with cryptic insight and a worrying amount of free time.
Evening Banquet – Royal Ballroom
Tables sparkled with enchanted lights as the remaining candidates, staff, nobles, and the simply curious gathered for a celebratory dinner. Music played softly, wine flowed, and Tilti sat rigid at the corner of a long table, chewing her food like a prisoner on death row.
“…I hate this.”
“You’ve said that four times,” Anisphia replied, sipping juice like a smug villain. “Drink some tea. It’ll help.”
Euphyllia stood at the head of the room, smiling with the gentle authority of a queen. “We are grateful to all of you who came—whether out of curiosity, affection, or sheer chaos. May friendship bloom even if romance doesn’t.”
There was laughter. There were cheers. There were at least two spontaneous love confessions by the dessert table.
Tilti watched as the witch who brought poison flirted openly with the farmer girl from earlier.
“…I think we accidentally created a dating service.”
“You’re welcome,” Anisphia beamed.
Fortunately, no additional incident happened and the day ended on positive note.
Later that Night – Tilti’s Lab Door
She reached for the handle, ready to collapse into the blessed silence of her runes and ruins—
Only to find a note stuck to the door.
~ Tilti’s Royal Courtship Week ~
Monday: Tea date with Serrah at the palace library
Wednesday: Herb foraging walk with Rira
Friday: Astral moonlight dinner with Lady Lumielle (location: shifting pocket realm)
Attendance mandatory. Magical escort arranged. No excuses.
— With love, Anis ♡
Tilti stared at it for a long, long time.
Then slowly opened the door, walked inside, and screamed into a pillow.
Monday — Date One: Serrah, the Librarian
The palace library was blissfully quiet when Tilti arrived, escorted only by a rather chipper magical automaton carrying a date-schedule scroll.
She expected awkward silence. Instead, she found Serrah already waiting—tall and calm, feline ears twitching ever so slightly—well, they are actually just hair accessory—as she held out a stack of organized reference scrolls.
“I’ve compiled research topics based on your published notes and current spellwork interests,” Serrah said in a quiet, practical voice.
Tilti blinked. “You… read my journals?”
“You published half of them in Arcane Digest. The others were in the restricted section.”
“You got into the restricted section?”
“Your cataloging system had gaps. I fixed them.”
Tilti stared. Serrah blinked. The silence stretched.
“…Sit,” Tilti finally said. “We’re starting with vol. 3. It has errors.”
And just like that, hours passed in peace. They argued about elemental channeling ratios. They recalibrated shelving enchantments. At one point, Serrah even suggested a more efficient ritual ink formulation—and Tilti paused, pen in hand, actually impressed.
When the sun set, she realized she hadn’t once felt the need to escape.
“She’s quiet. Competent. Understands how to handle reagents without blowing anything up. Could be a perfect assistant.”
— Tilti’s Private Notes (scribbled in the margins of a mana flowchart)
Wednesday — Date Two: Rira, the Apothecary’s Apprentice
Tilti had not been outside this long since that time Anisphia talked her into collecting airborne spores during a thunderstorm. But Rira made it easier.
Short, steady, and practical, Rira spoke in calm tones as she pointed out herbs in the wild forest edge just past the capital. Her leather satchel jingled with vials, and her boots never once stepped on a sensitive root.
“That one’s shiverleaf,” she said. “You can’t pick it in the morning. Loses potency after sunrise.”
Tilti crouched beside her, examining the leaf structure. “I’d only seen it preserved. So the rumors of its smell are real.”
“Yes.” Rira held up a corked vial. “And very flammable.”
Tilti raised a brow. “I like you.”
Rira smirked faintly. “You said that earlier when I told you I filed paperwork properly.”
“It was justified.”
They spoke of potion balances, the ethics of mana-altering drugs, and the criminally underappreciated class of fungal tonics. It was... refreshingly grounded.
By sunset, Tilti found herself feeling something unfamiliar: relaxed.
“Would work well in a field unit. Respects safety protocols. Not allergic to moss.”
— Tilti’s Private Notes (written on a dried leaf she pressed into her research sketchbook)
Friday Morning — The Royal Garden
Tilti had barely settled at a stone bench when Anisphia landed beside her with all the subtlety of a falling pegasus.
“So~?” Anis wiggled her eyebrows. “How’s our bookworm feeling? Found your one true love yet?”
“I evaluated both,” Tilti replied, adjusting her glasses. “Serrah would integrate into my lab structure efficiently. Rira’s pace and methods align with my alchemical schedule. Either one would enhance my productivity.”
Anisphia blinked.
Then frowned.
Then pouted, arms crossed.
“That’s not how love works, Tilti.”
“Yes, it is. I weighed compatibility and potential benefit—”
“Nope. Wrong. You’re doing the nerd thing again.”
“…I am a nerd.”
“Love isn’t about who makes the best lab assistant! It’s about the fuzzy feeling! The giddy stomach flips! The I want to hold your hand even when it’s covered in suspicious goo kind of thing!”
Tilti stared blankly.
“Ugh.” Anisphia huffed. “You’re hopeless. No wonder you’re scared of Lumielle.”
“I’m not scared of her,” Tilti snapped. “She’s just—unreadable! Immeasurable! Entirely illogical!”
“Exactly!” Anis slapped her on the shoulder. “Which is why tonight’s dinner is going to break that silly little spell-circle you call a heart wide open.”
Tilti groaned.
“Dress nice,” Anis added, standing. “She did mention showing you the stars.”
Tilti groaned louder.
Friday Night — Shifting Pocket Realm, Astral Garden
Tilti stood at the edge of the conjured platform suspended beneath a sky of impossible stars. Each constellation shimmered with unnatural clarity, far brighter than any mortal eye should witness. The world around her seemed to hum with quiet magic — not overwhelming, but ancient, steady, and waiting.
She tugged awkwardly at the ceremonial outer cloak Anisphia insisted she wear. “This is absurd,” she muttered.
And then Lumielle arrived.
She didn’t walk—she glided, wrapped in a gown of glimmering silk and faint spirit-light, as if the stars themselves had stitched her attire. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like moonlight given form. Tilti felt her throat tighten.
“You look divine,” Lumielle purred, cupping her own cheek with feigned modesty. “But of course, I expected nothing less. Even grumpy witches deserve to be dazzling once in a while.”
Tilti frowned. “I’m not grumpy.”
“You’re grumbling right now.”
“…that’s not grumbling, it’s resisting the urge to teleport away.”
“Mm. Same thing.” Lumielle offered her arm with a teasing wink. “Shall we?”
To Tilti’s mild horror, the ‘dinner’ portion was an elaborate spread of floating plates held up by soft spirit motes. No chairs—just a starlit platform, plush cushions, and the unnerving closeness of Lumielle’s gaze.
They began in silence. Tilti picked at an herbed souffle while Lumielle leisurely sipped from a glass of shimmering nectar.
Then, the teasing began.
“So,” Lumielle started casually, “have any of your test tubes ever flirted back?”
Tilti choked. “What kind of question is that?!”
“You stare at them with such passion, I can’t help but feel jealous.”
“They’re chemical containers—!”
“And you’re blushing.” Lumielle grinned. “Charming.”
Tilti shifted awkwardly. “Can’t you stop being so…”
“Effortlessly bewitching? No.”
“You're doing this on purpose.”
“Oh, darling,” Lumielle whispered, “you’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to meet someone so adorably flustered by basic affection.”
Then she casually scooped a bit of starfruit cake, leaned forward, and held out her finger — topped with whipped cream.
Tilti froze.
“…open up,” Lumielle cooed.
“I have a fork,” Tilti said flatly.
“Don’t be rude. This is how spirits share sweets.”
“That’s not in any of the manuscripts.”
“It is now.”
After a long moment of internal screaming, Tilti hesitantly leaned forward—and allowed the whipped cream to touch her lips. Sweet. Silky. Intolerably intimate.
“W-Why do you do these things?” she asked, flustered beyond measure.
Lumielle’s smile softened. “Because immortality is long, and joy is fleeting. When you see something precious, you reach out and enjoy it.”
Later, once the food faded away and the teasing ebbed into quieter moments, Tilti finally broke the silence.
“…You became a spirit contractor in your youth.”
Lumielle blinked. “Yes.”
“That should’ve required… immense mana. And emotional resonance.”
“It did.”
“How did you not lose your mind?”
Lumielle tilted her head, moonlight catching in her silver lashes. “I nearly did. But I was very stubborn. Much like you.”
Tilti frowned thoughtfully. “Your contract is stable. Elegant, even.”
“You’re not asking about me,” Lumielle said, voice softer now. “You’re thinking about how to recreate it.”
“…Maybe.”
“Dangerous path.”
“I’m used to those.”
“You will be lonely,” Lumielle warned, tone suddenly gentle and serious. “Even if you succeed.”
“I already am.”
Lumielle regarded her for a long time. Then, to Tilti’s surprise, she reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face—not flirtatiously, not teasingly, but with quiet understanding.
“I see,” she murmured. “Then I hope someone walks beside you before you lose the will to reach out again.”
They sat in silence beneath the stars.
Tilti didn’t run. She didn’t teleport away. And when Lumielle eventually smiled and stood to escort her home, she followed.
Later — Outside Tilti’s Lab
Anisphia had been waiting.
The moment the teleportation shimmer faded, she all but jumped in front of her friend. “Well?! How was it?! Did she feed you moon cake? Did you fall under her immortal charm?! Are you in love?!”
Tilti blinked at her.
Then slowly, quietly… gave a small smile.
She walked past Anisphia without a word, cloak trailing lightly behind her.
“Wait—HEY—TILTI—WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”
The lab door closed gently behind her.
Royal Palace — Central Courtyard, Day of Judgment
The grand amphitheater was packed.
Nobles, commoners, merchants, and a shocking number of eager bards crowded every seat, balcony, and magically conjured viewing screen. Magical streamers drifted lazily through the air as the banners of Palettia fluttered in the wind, one now newly embroidered with an alchemical symbol surrounded by hearts.
At the center dais sat the five judges: Queen Euphyllia, Princess Anisphia, Ilia, Lainie, and—looking like she wanted to dissolve into mist and never return—Tilti Claret herself, dressed in an elegant sleeveless gown of storm-gray silk compared to her favorite dark-colored dress, which made her fade in the background, with her dark purple hair braided in a royal maner. She was fidgeting with her gloves. Gloves she wore today precisely to hide her hands from view.
“Why did I let them dress me like this,” she muttered behind her hands.
“You look stunning,” Lainie said kindly.
“You look like you want to flee,” Ilia added, more accurately.
“And I think you look like a pretty alchemical princess forced to choose between three fairy-tale suitors,” Anisphia chirped.
Tilti grumbled something about transmutation circles that probably violated public decency laws.
Queen Euphyllia stood and raised her hand, her voice amplified across the plaza with elegant magic.
“Citizens of Palettia,” she began, “thank you all for attending the first—hopefully only—Royal Witch Wife Festival.”
Laughter and applause followed.
“I extend my deepest thanks to the brave and unique candidates who took part in this... unusual endeavor,” Euphyllia said, graceful as ever, “and I also thank our dear friend Miss Claret for enduring our meddling.”
Tilti let out the smallest, strangled “ugh.”
“After reviewing compatibility notes, emotional feedback, mana resonance potential, and Tilti’s… subtle reactions, we have come to a conclusion.”
She turned toward the three final candidates—Serrah, the scholarly librarian who bowed politely; Rira, the practical apothecary giving Tilti a respectful smile; and finally…
Lady Lumielle, spirit-bound immortal, radiant in silver and amusement.
“And so,” Euphyllia declared, “the winner of this royal matchmaking is—”
A beat of suspense as the enveloppe was being opened under the gaze of the game inspectors.
“Lumielle Rene Palettia!”
The crowd exploded with cheers. Spirit motes shimmered like glitter in the air. Fireworks shaped like cauldrons burst overhead.
Queen Mother Sylphine, seated near the front, chuckled behind her fan. “Well, at least we’re keeping things in the family,” she whispered with clear amusement.
Former King Orphanse and former Prime Minister Grantz simply sat in stunned silence.
“She’s… a spirit-bound immortal, right?” Grantz murmured.
“Mhm.”
“And our daughter’s best friend is now dating her.”
“Apparently.”
Neither objected. No one had died. The economy was thriving. It was technically fine.
On the Stage
Tilti was melting. Her face was buried in both gloved hands. The dress left her arms exposed, with no sleeve to even help hide her face. Why did she agree to this again?
“Tilti~,” Lumielle sing-songed, standing beside her now, radiant and pleased, “the people want to see your lovely face.”
“I will hex this entire courtyard.”
“I will still kiss you.”
And then, right there on the stage, Lumielle leaned in and kissed Tilti on the cheek. Tilti squeaked like a startled tea kettle.
A moment later, Lumielle calmly cupped her cheek and—kissed her full on the lips.
The whole kingdom gasped.
Anisphia turned red. Full crimson. Steam practically rose off her head.
“W-WHY DO THEY KISS IN PUBLIC LIKE THAT—?!”
“Because they’re cute,” Ilia said, sipping tea calmly.
Lainie nodded, though a furious blush on her face. “And she clearly likes it. From what I can see.”
Tilti, lips still lightly parted, looked like a spell-blasted goose. “Did—did she just—”
“Yes.”
“In front of everyone.”
“You looked adorable.”
At least, she didn't faint.
Aftermath
As the crowd slowly dispersed, cheers and blessings filling the air, many of the former candidates laughed, hugged, and even left together—having found unexpected friendships or flirtations during the festival. A pair of alchemist apprentices were already planning a collaborative poison lab. The bard and the noblewoman were composing a ballad together. The two nominated candidates deciding to have some tea later and possibly forming a couple.
Anisphia plopped next to Tilti, now curled up and hiding behind a flower urn.
“So~? Happy ending?”
“…I hate you.”
“Love you too. Homies for life!”
Queen Euphyllia smiled softly as she stepped behind them. “Congratulations, Tilti.”
Tilti peeked out, flustered. “…She’s going to tease me forever, isn’t she.”
“Yes,” Euphyllia replied.
“But,” she added with rare gentleness, “she will also walk beside you. For a very, very long time.”
And for once, Tilti didn’t argue.
The Lab of Wives, Lovers, and Lunatics
Three Weeks Later — Royal Research Wing, Top Floor Laboratory
“Hey Tilti, the left side of the mana array just combusted.”
“I know. I’m the one who combusted it!”
Tilti, sleeves rolled up and hair pinned back with three quills and a mana crystal, let out a sharp sigh as she conjured a containment field around the now-smoking array. Behind her, Lainie giggled while sweeping away the ashes.
From the ceiling, Lumielle floated slowly upside-down, holding two spell-chalks in a lazy spiral.
“I warned you the fire reaction wouldn’t stabilize without spirit circulation, darling,” she sang, tracing glowing script in the air.
“You also warned me after I started!” Tilti snapped, cheeks a little red.
“Mm. Consider it a practical lesson.” Lumielle twirled and landed beside her, utterly composed in her silvery robes, and tilted her head, smiling. “Would you like me to kiss it better?”
“No. Absolutely not. This is a lab, not a kissing parlor—”
Lumielle kissed her cheek anyway. Tilti squeaked. Again.
Meanwhile…
On the other side of the sprawling, high-ceilinged lab, Queen Euphyllia and Princess Anisphia were dissecting a magical flower that screamed when touched wrong. The flower screamed. Anis also screamed. Euphyllia did not.
“Darling, you’re holding it upside down.”
“I knew that. I was testing your observational skills.”
“You’ve passed,” Euphyllia said dryly, leaning in to peck her flustered wife on the temple.
“I am not flustered,” Anisphia lied.
Further down the room
Ilia and Lainie were working on enchanted kitchenware. Ilia had already developed a tea set that could identify moods and change flavors accordingly. Lainie was feeding it different teas.
“You’re making the teacup cry again, dear.”
“Oh no! Sorry! That was too bitter, wasn’t it? Let’s try chamomile.”
Back to Tilti and Lumielle
Tilti scowled at the neatly rewritten notes before her. “You rewrote my thesis outline.”
“I formatted it,” Lumielle corrected, perched casually on a barrel of starlight powder. “You wrote with exactly zero sentence structure. The spirits were confused.”
“They should be confused. That’s what discovery is!”
Lumielle just smiled, watching her fondly. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”
“I am always grumpy!”
“So you’re always cute.”
Tilti gave a long, guttural noise of despair and bonked her head on the table. “Why are you like this.”
“Centuries of practice.”
But despite the theatrics, Tilti didn’t tell her to stop.
She didn’t ask her to leave.
And when Lumielle leaned her head gently against Tilti’s shoulder, the witch just let out a sigh… and leaned back.
“…I guess this lab is… fine.”
“Only fine?”
“…Acceptable.”
Lumielle grinned. “I’ll take it.”
Outside, near the windows
Anisphia peeked around the doorframe like a spy. “They’re snuggling! I saw it!”
“Don’t call it snuggling,” Euphyllia whispered, sipping spirit tea. “It’s bonded academic proximity.”
“Ugh, you’re all turning into weird research romantics.”
Lainie passed by humming, holding hands with Ilia. “And happy!”
Tilti’s voice rang out from inside: “ANISPHIA STOP SPYING ON MY LAB!”
She was ignored.
Final Scene — That Evening
In the twilight-filtered laboratory, with glowing runes humming gently and herbs drying from the rafters, six women shared tea around a conjured table.
Three couples.
One lab.
A kingdom blessed with magic, madness, and far too many love stories for one archive.
Tilti was still Tilti — grumpy, brilliant, obsessive — but no longer alone. Her lab coat now hung beside five others. Her tea cup never sat untouched. Her notes had tiny spirit flowers drawn in the corners, courtesy of a certain immortal trickster.
And though she still complained, and grumbled, and threatened to hex Anisphia weekly…
She smiled, now and then.
And when Lumielle caught her hand under the table and gave it a soft squeeze, Tilti didn’t pull away.
The End.
(...until the lab explodes again.)