The Tsundere Lady's Honesty Plan Backfires Spectacularly - Ariana in the Mirror and the Escaped Greeting

"Good morning. It's such nice weather today, isn't it?" I should be able to say it. Just twelve characters. Twelve characters, and yet. Ariana Von Gracia stared at herself in the mirror. 170 centimeters tall, white-framed full-length mirror. Her daily adversary. Silver-gray wavy hair swayed above her shoulders, and sapphire eyes glared back at her from within the glass. White lace blouse, navy long skirt, a pendant bearing the family crest hanging properly at her chest. By any measure, she was a marquess's daughter. So she should be able to say it. "G-good... good morning..." Her voice trembled. No good. One more time. "Good morning, the weather is... w-what, I don't care!" Wrong. That was the bad pattern. Three months standing before this mirror. Three months of this daily training. The signs of improvement were zero—no, they'd gone into the negatives. On the second attempt, her face burned and she looked away from the mirror. On the third, she crossed her arms to hide her embarrassment and blurted out, "I-I don't care about the weather anyway!" She didn't even understand herself. How could she say she wasn't interested in the weather when that's what she was talking about? Fourth, fifth, sixth attempts. With each repetition, the distortion worsened. On the seventh try came, "...don't look at me!" On the eighth, "...it's none of your concern." Her conversation partner was a mirror. She was telling a mirror it was none of its concern. And the seventeenth attempt. "G-good... g-good... I... m-morning! Never mind!" She pointed at the mirror and shouted. Silence returned. The Ariana in the mirror stared back at her, cheeks flushed crimson. Breathing heavily through her shoulders, Ariana pressed a hand to her forehead. (Using full-sprint levels of stamina just to say hello—there's no way that's normal.) The problem was knowing it was abnormal. Knowing it, yet her mouth produced different words. Between the words in her heart and her lips lay a thick wall. Ariana knew that wall's name well. The house rules of Marquess Gracia. "Keep emotions locked away." She'd been raised that way since birth. Showing emotion was shameful, weakness, and—dangerous. The result of that conditioning: she couldn't say she liked things. Couldn't say she was happy even when she was. And now, she couldn't even say good morning. It was a complete curse. The Ariana in the mirror sighed. Ariana sighed too. The timing was perfectly synchronized. The only person she was in perfect sync with was her own reflection—which was pathetic, she thought. ———— The second-floor corridor was filled with morning light streaming through the windows. The stone-paved bell tower street continued below the windows. The Suiwa Ward mornings were quiet. The sound of carriage hoofbeats, the faint rustling of distant gas lamps swaying in the wind, the bell tower's chimes from moments ago—and now, silence. Ariana walked the corridor. Portraits of successive house heads lined both sides. Twelve paintings, counting from the first. All facing forward, none smiling, all seeming to say "keep emotions locked away." She disliked this corridor more each time she walked it, yet she walked it every day. And then. Beyond the corridor. Past the twelve portraits, there was one painting that didn't belong. Two meters wide, one point five meters tall. Oil painting. A burning rose garden. And before it, a single figure. Ariana stopped. She usually passed by without a glance, but today she stopped. As if pulled by something, she looked up at the painting. The flame's color flickered in the dark oil paint. Rose petals scattered as they burned. The figure was small, its gender indeterminate, simply standing there. It was a story from ninety years ago. Imperial Calendar Year 217. Elze, a daughter of Marquess Gracia—Ariana's ancestor—fell in love with a gardener who served the marquess's household. The Oath Marriage System—without approval from the Imperial Marriage Bureau, no engagement above the rank of viscount could be valid. Despite such a system existing even then. The two tried to escape. The result: fourteen dead. Over fifty wounded. Elze was confined to a convent. The gardener disappeared. In the rose garden of the Gracia estate, on a winter morning, frozen rose petals were stained with blood. That's why it was called the "Frozen Rose Rebellion." Every morning since childhood, passing before this painting hundreds of times, her tutor's voice echoed. "Keep emotions locked away. Do not forget what Lady Elze did." Because one young lady showed her feelings openly. That's how she was raised. That's what was drilled into her. So Ariana became a woman who couldn't even say hello honestly. (But... that can't possibly be right.) Ariana stared at the figure in the painting for a few seconds. Then she suddenly looked away. "Young lady." A voice came from behind. Ariana turned. Coming down the corridor in a light jog was Emma, the senior lady's maid. Twenty-eight years old, chestnut hair tied neatly back, gentle eyes. She'd served Ariana since she was eight. The person in this household who knew best about Ariana's "reversed words" phenomenon. "What are your plans for today?" Emma asked while opening her appointment book. In Ariana's chest, an answer surfaced. (I want to see Leon. I wish I could go to Silver Peak Academy and see Leon.) Her mouth opened. "Nothing special. I'm just bored, so I'll take a walk or something." Emma's face took on a "sure, sure" expression. She smiled gently and simply said, "I'll have the carriage prepared." Ariana didn't respond. Emma was already heading back down the corridor to arrange the carriage. Watching her back, Ariana sighed quietly. (I said a walk, but she's already talking about the carriage—she knows it's Silver Peak Academy. She knows, and she didn't say anything.) Emma was clever. Having watched Ariana's "reverse translation" all these years, she could already interpret it. That was partly grateful, and partly frustrating. ———— From the Suiwa Ward in the imperial capital Velshite to Silver Peak Academy took approximately twenty-five minutes by carriage. Silver Peak Academy stood on the southern slope of Silver Peak Hill in the northern part of the imperial capital. A full-boarding school for children of viscount rank and above, it had stood on the hilltop for one hundred twenty-seven years since its founding, its stone main building unchanged. When the carriage window showed the hill's ridge line, Ariana gripped the window frame slightly. Every time she came from Suiwa Ward, she thought the same thing. This was a place she liked. —Though she'd never say it aloud. Passing through the academy gates and stepping down from the carriage, the cold stone pavement transmitted through her shoe soles. Early spring, the air still thin and cold. The stone walls of the main building gleamed white in the morning sun. She entered the courtyard. In that instant, Ariana stopped. In the center of the courtyard, it stood. The Silver Birch—Zilvalinde. One hundred twenty-seven years old, approximately eighteen meters tall. Planted the same year the academy was founded. When spring came, it bloomed with silver-white flowers, petals dancing in the wind. Considered the most beautiful sight in the imperial capital. For now, it was still before the flowers, branches simply spreading toward the sky, yet it commanded presence. Standing upright, simply existing there. Confess beneath this tree, and your feelings will reach the other person. An academy legend. For Ariana, this tree was designated as "absolutely forbidden territory—minefield." Because if the day ever came when she stood here—the words that came from her mouth wouldn't be "I love you," but definitely "I just happened to pass by, that's all!" It would happen. One hundred percent. So she always passed through the courtyard at an angle. Maintaining proper distance from the Silver Birch—ten meters or more. That was Ariana's self-defense strategy. Entering the main building corridor, her heels echoed on the stone floor. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, crossing the corridor. Her feet stopped before the bulletin board. One white paper was posted. —"Spring Grand Ball. Three weeks hence. To be held at Marquess Gracia's estate." Something clicked in Ariana's chest. Three weeks. The grand hall of Marquess Gracia's estate. Six-meter ceiling, three chandeliers, white marble floor. Capacity of approximately two hundred. Held annually, and every year Ariana failed to speak properly, made the same mistakes. But this year would be different. This year— (I'll become honest by the time of this ball.) The moment that thought surfaced, something ignited in her chest. (I'll tell Leon my true feelings. Properly, in words. Without reversing them, correctly.) If such a thing as the flame of resolve existed, it was now kindled in Ariana's heart. Three weeks remained. If she started today, she'd make it. Practice greetings, start with short conversations, gradually— "—Um." A voice came from behind. A younger student girl walking down the corridor met Ariana's eyes and stopped. Third or fourth year, perhaps. Small, black-haired, with a slightly nervous expression. In Ariana's chest, a voice rose. (Start here. A greeting. I can manage a greeting honestly. Just say "How do you do?"—that's all.) She took a deep breath. I can do this. I absolutely can. Three weeks' worth of resolve burns in my chest. Ariana opened her mouth. "...Why are you staring at me like that? Stop it." The younger girl's eyes grew visibly watery. Then she ran down the corridor at tremendous speed. Her footsteps struck the stone floor, faded, and vanished. Silence returned to the corridor. Ariana stood frozen like stone. (That's not it!! I just wanted to say hello!! It has nothing to do with staring!! I just wanted to greet her!!) Her heart screamed, but her mouth was already closed. The corridor was silent. The white walls seemed to watch her. Outside the window, the Silver Birch swayed in the breeze. (Why. Why does that happen? How does "How do you do?" transform into "Stop staring at me"? What kind of brain structure do I have?) She wasn't on the verge of tears so much as wanting to scream. This had transcended personality issues. There was a defect in her language function. ———— "Young lady." Quick footsteps approached. Emma. Somehow she'd caught up, appearing in the corridor slightly out of breath. Her gentle eyes compared the direction the younger girl had disappeared and the frozen Ariana. A moment of silence. "You were trying to greet her, weren't you?" Emma whispered quietly. A lifeline descended into Ariana's chest. Yes. That was it. If she could say "Yes! That's it! Thank you, Emma!" here, that would be the first step. If she could be honest, she could change starting today. If she began by being honest with Emma— Ariana genuinely tried to say exactly that for one second. "That's not it!!" It came out. "I was just... concerned about how she was walking down the corridor!! Walking so loudly like that...!!" Even as she said it, she was fully aware that "the one who walked loudly was the younger girl who just ran away, and that was her own fault." Aware of it, yet her mouth said something else. Her face burned all the way to her ears. Emma said nothing. She simply smiled "sure, sure" and said only, "Shall we have some tea?" "I can have tea anytime!!" Even as she said it, her feet turned toward the academy's tea room. Emma's back walked ahead. Chestnut hair. Quiet footsteps. A back that knew everything about her. Ariana sighed within her chest. (Becoming honest in three weeks—I've already failed after just one greeting.) A greeting. Just a greeting. Simply saying "How do you do?" to a younger student she passed. It became "Stop staring at me." (If I face the ball like this, I don't know w

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Episode 1

Name: The Tsundere Lady's Honesty Plan Backfires Spectacularly
Author: Novelia

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