'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

It was one of those rare, quiet moments she actually got to herself.

No perverted Yama Lord trailing behind her, no unpredictable undead Aizen lurking nearby, and no persistent butlers or fussing maids hovering around every corner.

Just her.

The garden stretched wide and vibrant under the filtered sunlight, blooming with an eclectic collection of flowers and plants, some familiar, some teetering on the edge of bizarre.

It was like walking through a dream assembled by a botanist with a love for fantasy.

One particular greenhouse tucked away in the far end of the garden had pulled her in by accident.

Mize found herself drifting through its open archway, drawn in like a curious butterfly, and was instantly enchanted.

Strange specimens lined the glass-walled enclosure, each potted with care, some looked normal enough, others... not so much.

Hovering like a drifting wisp before a pot shaped like a wine goblet, she leaned in close, tilting her head.

Her fingers gently poked at the fleshy, veiny stem of the flower inside, trailing upward until her gaze met the strange bud at the top.

It resembled... something very specific.

Which she quite hated the way this "looks"

“Is this flower even legal?” she muttered to herself, squinting, eyebrows furrowing with a hint of amusement. “It looks rather… 18+, no?”

She gave the tip of the bud a few more cautious pokes.

And then, pfft, a squirt of greenish liquid shot out, catching her completely off guard.

“Eeee, what the hell?!” she shrieked, flailing backward through the air and floating several meters away in a panicked flutter, like a startled cat.

“This flower is totally illegal!”

Still recoiling, she snapped her fingers, summoning a white handkerchief into her palm and hurriedly wiping herself clean, scrubbing at her fingertips like she’d touched something cursed.

Moments later, another flower caught her attention, thankfully one that didn’t look like it belonged in a questionable gallery.

This one stood tall and radiant, a sunflower, but with petals and a core that shimmered like it was sculpted from pure ice.

“Ooh,” she cooed, circling it slowly, her eyes lighting up. “Iced sunflower juice? That sounds like a marketable drink.”

She floated lazily around the flower a few times, admiring its delicate crystalline structure.

A quiet smile tugged at her lips.

“Where in the world does Harb even find this kind of flora?”

“The Lord bought them, Your Highness.”

“ARGH!” Mize nearly spiraled, instinctively curling around the flower like a startled squirrel.

She spun around mid-air, eyes wide, only to see the looming figure of Harb, standing a few paces behind her.

Covered head to toe in full blackened armor, the emblem of a serpentine crest across the back of his cloak, he looked every bit the terrifying general in charge of thousands.

Except… he was holding a tiny, delicate flower pot like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“Ah. It’s you, Harb.”

“Greetings, Your Highness.” Harb let out a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

“Apologies for the scare. I wasn’t expecting someone of your… status… to show up in this humble greenhouse of mine.”

His eyes, usually squinting with restraint, opened just a little as he gave her a curious once-over, not lecherous, but observant.

There was a flicker of confusion in his expression.

“…Strange. I’m not affected by Her Highness’s charm anymore?”

Mize folded her arms, floating lazily as she let out a breath. “Skill. Helps tone it down a bit. Trust me, it’d be a disaster if people started jumping on me everywhere I went.”

“Understandable,” Harb replied, nodding in agreement while stroking his beard. “That would certainly be… problematic.”

With a courteous gesture, he stepped aside and offered, “Since you’re already here, Your Highness, might I prepare a little high-end tea and a bite to eat?”

The moment food was mentioned, Mize didn’t even hesitate.

Totally not because of food, obviously. It was out of politeness to her loyal subject.

Obviously.

Harb led the way deeper into the greenhouse.

They arrived at a serene garden nestled at the heart of the structure, a quiet little alcove that looked almost handcrafted by fairies.

A small wooden roof arched overhead like a folded leaf, and beneath it sat a quaint table and chairs, surrounded by trickling water features and curling vines.

Mize hovered over and lowered herself onto one of the chairs, her fingers brushing the edge of the carved wooden armrest.

“This place near the lake,” she remarked, glancing around with mild wonder, “that was your handiwork too, wasn’t it?”

“That one?” Harb shook his head, seating himself across from her.

“No, Your Highness. Surprisingly, even the head butler doesn’t know, but that particular part of the garden was crafted by the Lord himself.”

He reached into a small cloth bag by his side and pulled out a teapot and matching cups.

From another pouch, he retrieved a handful of golden, curled leaves that gave off a subtle citrusy aroma as he started to brew.

The contrast was striking, a massive armored warrior gently brewing tea like a seasoned caretaker.

Watching him delicately pour hot water, Mize blinked, the sight almost too strange to process.

“…Wait, Liam made some of this?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Of course,” Harb said while stirring the mixture. “The lakeside, the tiny seating area, those were his work. The maze, a few paths, even some of the flower arrangements. I wasn’t planning to plant most of the field blooms, but the Lord insisted.”

He laughed lightly, setting the teapot lid in place and letting it steep.

Mize’s brows lifted slightly. “Was it some sort of formation tactic?”

Harb began pouring the tea into a porcelain cup and passed it to her with both hands. At her question, he simply smiled and shook his head.

“No, Your Highness. It was for you.”

Her hand paused mid-reach, fingers curling back slightly. “For me?”

“Naturally.” Harb nodded again, this time more solemnly. He took out a tray and began placing a few delicate cookies and snacks across the table.

He then glanced left and right, ensuring no eavesdroppers lingered in the shadows.

Lowering his voice, he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially.

“The Lord was… obsessed with you.”

"Very obsessed with you"

Mize blinked. Her hand froze, cookie halfway to her mouth.

“For several days in a row,” Harb continued in a hush, “he talked about you constantly, morning till night.”

He leaned back with a dramatic pause. “And… there’s a secret room. He named it , ‘For My Love.' legend has it, there is a treasure there"

Mize’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Ohhh?” she purred, leaning forward with a smirk. “Now that sounds interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” Harb said eagerly, leaning forward a little as though sharing a secret he’d been dying to tell. “I got curious myself and ended up wasting an entire night just trying to find that room.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “My gut told me it had to be hidden somewhere inside the maze beneath the castle.”

“But no matter how long I searched, I just couldn’t find it.”

“A maze?” Mize perked up, her ears twitching faintly. “There’s a maze under the castle?”

“Ah? Your Highness has never been down there?” Harb raised his brows, lifting the cup to his lips.

He took a slow sip, savoring it before exhaling with mild satisfaction. “There’s a massive maze down below. It’s Aizen’s design, apparently. His laboratory is hidden somewhere within it too... though I’ve never had the chance to visit it myself.”

Mize tilted her head slightly, the steam from her tea swirling up past her cheek as she spoke. “Then… are you aware of the huge water chamber down there?”

Harb’s brows pinched together, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he set his cup down.

“A huge water chamber?” he repeated, his voice trailing with surprise. “No, I’ve never heard of that. When it comes to secret places, the Lord has us generals beat by a few thousand miles. Just this week, I’ve discovered at least five I didn’t know existed.”

“I see…” Mize murmured, her gaze dropping to the teacup. “So Liam really has a habit of creating hidden spots everywhere.”

“More like a hobby, huh?” She let out a soft exhale, reached for a cookie, and took a bite, crunching down with thoughtful ease.

From there, the two simply chatted. Harb spoke the most, spinning small stories and sharing little tidbits that were surprisingly pleasant.

Mize found herself quietly enjoying the simplicity of his thoughts.

Harb, despite his gruff appearance and his role as one of the generals, spoke with a tone that was entirely devoid of malice.

Even when the stories leaned toward darker moments, he had a way of turning them around, always finding something to smile about.

There was no bitterness in his words, only an almost naïve optimism.

Time passed like a breeze through leaves.

Before they realized it, the sun had begun its slow creep toward the horizon, and the clock quietly approached six.

Mize glanced at the floating panel beside her, the soft glow of the numbers casting a faint light on her cheek.

Her right hand wandered idly over the table, fingers reaching for another biscuit and casually popping it into her mouth.

Across from her, Harb was doing the same, reaching toward the same plate. And then, mid-reach, his voice broke the calm.

“Your Highness, pardon me for asking this,” he began, tone casual, though his eyes flicked toward her with something unreadable behind them, “but what do you think of Sir Elias?”

The biscuit paused just inches from her mouth before she took a bite.

Mize’s brows rose slightly.

The question had come out of nowhere, and the way he phrased it didn’t sit right with her.

Something about it felt off, like a trap with velvet lining.

Still, she beckoned with her chin, playing along with a cool exterior. “Elias, huh.”

She tapped her chin lightly with one finger, another biscuit already halfway gone as she chewed thoughtfully.

“He’s hardworking, definitely. Kind, tolerant… very understanding toward the people.”

She glanced off to the side for a moment, as though watching distant memories. “With how he’s been managing the town lately, I’d say he deserves full credit. He’s done excellent work.”

“Ah…” Harb breathed out, as though taking those words into his chest and feeling them settle heavily.

His fingers slowly lowered the half-eaten biscuit back onto the plate, no longer interested.

A small sigh escaped him. “So Your Highness thinks he’s a good man?”

“Yes?” Mize replied with a blink. “Everything about him gives off good guy energy.”

A pause.

“Why?” Her tone shifted, faintly sharper now. “Is there something wrong with him?”

She leaned slightly forward, her expression tinged with suspicion.

This was starting to sound less like idle chatter and more like gossip, and she didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

But still… there was a small part of her that couldn’t help but wonder if something was going on that she hadn’t noticed.

Clack.

Harb lifted the cup and took another measured sip.

The sound of it being placed back on the table echoed a little too loud in the silence.

“I’m not trying to stir anything up within the territory’s leadership,” he said slowly, eyes avoiding hers. “But… just be careful, Your Highness.”

Mize didn’t say anything. She just looked at him. Long and quiet.

“There’s more about him than what meets the eye,” Harb added, barely above a whisper now. “More than even Your Highness is aware of.”

Clack.

The cup in Mize’s hand landed hard on the table.

Louder this time, sharp enough to cut through the quiet warmth of the greenhouse and snuff it out entirely.

“I won’t tolerate anyone speaking ill of those who work hard for this territory.” Her voice wasn’t raised, but it was firm, clipped at the edges. “J-Just…”

She sighed, standing from her seat as she slowly floated up, her hands coming to rest at her hips.

Her gaze locked onto Harb with something colder now, stern.

“Let’s not go there. Whatever grudge you have with Elias, that’s between you and him. Don’t drag me into it.”

Harb said nothing. He simply sipped from his cup, face unreadable.

Mize lingered for a moment, her frown deepening, then turned and drifted off with a quiet swish, her figure retreating quickly toward the greenhouse exit.

Harb remained seated, watching the trail of her departure with tired eyes.

He shook his head slowly, again and again, his shoulders rising and falling with a long sigh.

“She’s been completely fooled by him,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Does she really think Elias is the normal one among the three of us?”

A low laugh escaped him, dry and tinged with disbelief, as he scratched the back of his neck and stood from his chair.

“In fact,” he said, smiling to no one in particular, “Aizen’s the most normal one out of us all.”