Transmigrated into a Fantasy World with No Clue What To Do Chapter 38: Chapter 37: The Morning After / Mon Dieu! Is Perfection, No?

Read chapter 38 of Transmigrated into a Fantasy World with No Clue What To Do by PrincessArylin on NovelPedia.

Chapter 37: The Morning After / Mon Dieu! Is Perfection, No? After Maribelle’s concise tale, we chatted for a bit, or rather, Izzy chatted, mostly about the academy, Mari interjected, and I mostly listened, though I did ask a few questions since I might be required to go there with the start of the next semester. I made a mental note to talk to my mother about it the next time I could get her alone, since neither she nor my father had ever said anything about sending me away to a school. Eventually, Izzy ran out of steam, and we all settled in for the night. When I wake, I feel a heavy weight draped across my chest and something wet on my left shoulder. I open my eyes and blink them a few times as they adjust to the sunlight streaming in. I look down and see a small arm draped over my chest and following from the hand up the arm I see familiar pink hair. I vaguely remember Izzy mentioning sleeping in the same bed, which was more than big enough to fit five girls our age, to prevent me from disappearing. Mari nodded, and they both planted themselves on either side of me. Looking at her face, I find out why my shoulder is wet. She’s been drooling on it. An involuntary shiver runs up and down my spine because drool is just something that I find disgusting. I look to my other side to see if I can find Mari, only to find that she isn’t there. Figures she would be the first to wake up. I wonder where she went. I look around my room as best as I can and notice the curtains that were drawn when I came in last night are now pulled back, and apparently behind them is a glass door leading out to a balcony. There, through the glass, I can see Mari sitting in a white chair and reading a book while sipping at what I suspect is some kind of tea. Slowly and carefully, I extract myself from the princess’s grasp, but not before she mumbles something and bites my shoulder, leaving tiny impressions of her teeth behind. Shaking my head as I crawl out of bed, I stand and then stretch, taking care not to groan loudly like I usually do with my first stretch of the morning. I pad over to the open door and join Mari on the balcony, plopping down in a chair beside her. “Good morning, cousin,” she says, not even looking up from her book. “Good morning, Mari,” I reply with a smile. “D-did you sleep well?” She nods, her attention never wavering. As if summoned, Mary appears, setting a cup of juice down beside me. “Lady Beira, I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you of your agenda today,” she says. “Breakfast begins in thirty minutes, after which you will have about forty-five minutes of free time before the royal tailor arrives at nine o’clock to get your measurements in order to put the finishing touches on your gown for Princess Isabella’s ball. Lunch will follow that, after which you will have three hours of free time, in which you and your friends may do whatever you wish. However, after those three hours of free time, the Duke and Duchess have requested your presence in the Duke’s study. They were not clear how long that meeting would take, so I blocked out the rest of the afternoon for it. Afterwards, if you still have time before dinner, you will be free to rejoin your friends. I will summon you all to dinner at six o’clock sharp. Prince Angus will be joining us once again for dinner. Afterward, the royal tailor will be returning with your completed ball gown for you to try on in case there are any last-minute alterations needed. The three of you will then be free until ten o’clock, at which time, both Princess Isabella and Lady Maribelle must head to their separate rooms to sleep since they have classes beginning at eight tomorrow morning and can’t afford to be late.” Mary gives us a curtsy and excuses herself to go attend to the still sleeping princess. I look at Mari and am about to say something when she sets her book down and plugs her ears with her fingers. I look at her in confusion. “Trust me, cousin,” she says in response. Following her le