Chapter 04: Diana’s way of handling things.

(Diana’s Point of View)

Everything happened too fast for me to make sense of it. One moment, I jumped from a rooftop, welcoming the end. The next… I woke up in a world that wasn’t Earth, staring at hands that weren’t mine—delicate, adorned with golden rings. This body wasn’t mine.

And now, I am Towa, a queen tasked with stopping a rebellion threatening a kingdom I hardly know. How ironic—escaping one life only to be thrust into another, with stakes far higher than I could have imagined.

There’s no escaping it. I have to face the consequences of both my past and this new life.

“How troublesome,” I muttered, letting out a heavy sigh as my eyes drifted to the ceiling of my office. Documents were scattered across the desk, each one covered in unfamiliar symbols. I had never seen letters like these on Earth, yet somehow, I could read and write them. Towa’s lingering knowledge in this body had granted me that ability, though it hardly made the work any easier.

The documents chronicled decades of problems in the kingdom, many of which still persisted. At the top of the list was the issue of exorbitant taxation—money that had been collected yet never reached its intended purpose. Infrastructure remained stagnant, salaries were shrinking, and the prices of goods continued to skyrocket.

Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes and let out another heavy sigh.

“This is more problematic than I thought.” The words slipped out before I realized it, drawing Lucas’s attention.

“What’s on your mind? Are the rebels giving you that much trouble?” he asked, his tone serious, eyes sharp as they bore into me.

I rolled my eyes and gestured toward the scattered documents. “That’s not a serious threat—for now. By the way, who’s managing the taxes, Lucas?”

He stepped closer to my desk, his shadow stretching across the scattered papers. “It’s a bit complicated,” he began cautiously. “When Towa’s father was alive, he created two groups to manage the kingdom’s finances. The first was the Congress—they were tasked with protecting and storing the money. The second was the Collectors, responsible for gathering taxes from the citizens.”

Lucas hesitated, his expression tightening.
“After the king’s death, the two groups declared their independence, swearing loyalty only to his late majesty.”

I frowned, fingers curling against the edge of the desk.
“How is that even possible?”

Lucas folded his arms, his jaw tightening as if holding back frustration.
“They secured support by handing out small amounts of food to the poor. It looked generous, but it was a calculated move. They manipulated public sentiment, and in the end, Towa had no choice but to accept their demands.”

The weight of his words sank into me like lead. I scanned the documents again, the stark lines and foreign symbols blurring beneath my growing frustration. Decades of corruption and scheming lay bare before me. The situation felt like a writhing knot, and every attempt to untangle it only seemed to tighten the strands further.

“And if I use military force to overthrow them?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could temper the desperation in my voice. My gaze snapped up to meet his.

Lucas stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The backlash would be severe. The people trust them, even if they don’t realize they’re being exploited. If we act openly, we risk losing their loyalty entirely—and the rebel nobles would seize the opportunity to turn public sentiment against us.”

His words hit like a blow, yet they brought a sharp clarity. This wasn’t a battlefield I could conquer with brute force. A faint smile tugged at my lips as a plan began to form—its edges rough, but promising.

“That’s an excellent point, Lucas,” I said, rising from my chair so abruptly that he blinked in surprise. My voice carried a newfound determination. “I know how to handle this. But before I face external threats, I need to fix the problems within the palace.”

All of a sudden, a series of sharp knocks echoed through the room. The door creaked open, and a maid stepped inside. She didn’t bow, didn’t even spare me a glance of respect. My brow tightened instinctively—her insolence burned like a taunt.

“I’ve gathered all the maids as you requested,” she said curtly, then turned to leave before I could even respond.

The door clicked shut, leaving behind a silence that screamed louder than her words. My nails dug into my palms, desperate anchors against the tide of fury threatening to break loose. They had mocked Towa in life, and now, even under my reign, their disdain festered. They would learn—no, they would regret every slight.

“These maids…” I inhaled deeply, my voice low and deadly. “They will pay for mocking me.”

The sound of her footsteps slowly faded, leaving a heavy silence lingering in the air. I straightened my posture, forcing the simmering frustration within me under control.

Lucas’s ruby eyes bore into mine, worrying swimming just beneath their fiery surface.

“Do you have any plan to deal with it?” he asked, his voice low and cautious. He knew how close I was to losing my temper and didn’t want to stoke the flames further.

I didn’t answer immediately. The chair scraped against the floor—a jarring sound that mirrored the tension in the room. I strode toward the door, a cold smile tugging at my lips as my resolve hardened.

“Respect for the crown starts here, in this palace,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “If we let this kind of disrespect grow, how can we expect the people to follow us? If they mock the queen now, what’s stopping the rebellion from doing worse?”

Lucas nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning as he processed my words. “And your plan?” he asked, his tone sharper now, laced with curiosity.

I reached for the door, my fingers tracing the outline of the wood as I turned back to meet his gaze. My expression hardened, all traces of warmth stripped away.

“I will remind them,” I said, my voice dropping to a chilling tone, “what it means to serve a queen who wields both authority and consequence.”

“Everything was planned. If I want to solve the issues of this kingdom, the first thing I must do is eliminate the rats inside my palace.” I paused, standing before the servants’ hall. The door was slightly ajar, and through the narrow gap, their voices slithered out like poison, dripping with scorn and mockery.

“Why did she suddenly call us to gather here?” a woman’s voice sneered through the crack, laced with disdain.

“Probably because she’s trembling in fear over the rebellions. The coward’s likely wetting her gown,” another maid jeered, her laughter sharp and derisive.

“That’s both pitiful and hilarious!”

Their laughter erupted, a cruel chorus bouncing off the walls. But not everyone joined in. Near the back of the room, a small group of newer maids stood silently, their faces tense with unease. Swollen eyes and furrowed brows betrayed their discomfort, a quiet contrast to the boisterous ridicule surrounding them.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply to quell the anger bubbling within me. They mocked me so freely, so foolishly, unaware of the reckoning that awaited them. Soon, their laughter would turn to cries of regret. For now, composure would guide me.

Letting out a slow, measured breath, I stepped forward and pushed the door open.

The instant I entered, the room fell silent. Their laughter cut off mid-chuckle, sharp gazes snapping toward me. The weight of their stares pressed down, thick and suffocating, yet I remained unmoved. Their attempts at intimidation were laughable, like cubs growling at a lioness.

Scanning the room, I noted that not a single maid bowed in acknowledgment. Their defiance hung heavy in the air—a blatant challenge to my authority. Then, a shift. A young maid at the back, her blue eyes shimmering through the light, lowered her head deeply, pressing a hand to her chest in a gesture of respect. Her action sparked a ripple; thirteen others quickly followed, bowing deeply in unison.

I kept my expression neutral, but a flicker of warmth stirred in my chest. Even among these withered flowers, some still recognized Towa as their queen.

“Is everyone already here, or is someone missing?” I asked, my voice calm, eyes sweeping across the room.

The maids in the front exchanged glances, their silence thick with quiet rebellion. Then, as if emboldened by their numbers, they began whispering again. Mocking glances and sly smiles fanned the embers of my irritation.

Breaking the tension, a maid in the back row hesitantly raised her hand, fingers quivering. “I-I think e-everyone is present, Your Majesty,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper yet her golden eyes filled with purity.

Her courage caught me off guard, and I nodded, letting a gentle smile soften my expression. “Thank you for answering me,” I said, my tone warm with genuine gratitude.

It took several minutes for the chatter to fully subside. When silence finally settled over the room, I gestured toward the maids standing to my left.
“I want to know your names. Starting from there, introduce yourselves,” I instructed, my voice measured yet firm.

The maids hesitated, their stiffened postures betraying unease. Under my steady gaze, however, they complied. One by one, they introduced themselves, each name delivered with an air of exaggerated importance. They listed noble family ties as if those connections could shield them from the consequences of their behavior.

As the introductions dragged on, I silently noted the names of the fourteen maids who had shown respect earlier.

When the final name was spoken, I clapped my hands twice—sharp, commanding. “Thank you for your effort,” I said, my gaze sweeping across their faces with keen precision, measuring every reaction.

“Now,” I continued, my voice dropping to a sharper tone that cut through the tension, “when I call your names, come forward—silently.”

Opening my notebook, I began to read aloud. “Rose, Alice, Beatrice, Lui, Ellis, Anne, Anna, Anabelle, Alyssa, Maxine, Matilda, Elise, Ella, and Tetra.”

The fourteen maids stepped forward hesitantly, their nervousness evident in trembling hands and downcast eyes. One fidgeted with the hem of her uniform, shoulders hunched as though bracing for a blow.

I approached her slowly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Are you alright?” I asked softly, my tone gentle.

She flinched but managed to nod. “I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m just nervous.”

“You don’t need to be,” I said, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Before I could continue, sharp laughter erupted from those I hadn’t called, slicing through the gentle air like a poison blade.

“She only called the beginners,” one voice sneered.
“Of course. She’s probably going to fire them in the worst way possible,” another added, venom dripping from every word.

Their cruel laughter grated on my nerves, pushing the last of my patience to its breaking point. I closed my eyes briefly, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. When I opened them, my gaze was as cold and unyielding as steel.

“To those whose names I did not call,” I said, my voice lingering through the air with absolute authority, “your services are no longer required. Thank you for your hard work over the years. You are all fired.”

Gasps rippled through the room, my words crashing down like a thunderclap. Faces paled, panic spreading in whispers that slithered through the air like wildfire.

I stood tall, unwavering, watching the chaos unfold. Their priceless reactions only cemented my resolve. These rats deserved no leniency. Should they dare provoke me further, their punishment would be merciless.