The Kingdom of Mason.
Accompanied by the clip-clop sound of the carriage wheels rolling over the stone-paved road, Sophia lifted the curtain and gazed expressionlessly at the royal city not far away.
This was the sixteenth year since Sophia Mason had been born into this world.
Perhaps because she had done good deeds in her past life before dying, she was able to reincarnate with her memories into this world, which resembled the Western Middle Ages.
In a world without magic or dragons, being a princess of a small kingdom was actually quite leisurely.
She didn't have to work hard like the heir, and because Sophia was born with a 'paralyzed face' and couldn't learn most of the etiquette required of noble ladies, she wasn't needed for political marriages. She was, essentially, a princess with absolutely no utility value.
Spending her days eating and drinking at the Noble Academy in the Imperial Capital, then buying a manor with the kingdom's money after graduation to live a laid-back life... that was Sophia's original plan.
But plans never keep up with changes.
While she was still slacking off at the Noble Academy, she received bad news from the kingdom.
The King of the Mason Kingdom, Sophia's father, had gone missing.
This matter wouldn't have affected Sophia much on its own, but the news that followed caught everyone off guard.
Her eldest brother, the firstborn son who was frail and sickly yet constantly strove to maintain the kingdom, died suddenly half a month ago.
The cause of death was sudden heart failure, but rumors in the streets said it was the work of some chronic poison.
Her second brother, a brute who only knew how to wave a greatsword, fell into a low-level trap while leading troops to suppress a rebellion and was turned into a hedgehog by random arrows.
Her third sister, the smartest of them all who best understood how to judge the situation, fled over the border mountains with her most trusted guards the day after the second brother died. She announced she was giving up her succession rights and sought asylum in a neighboring country.
Eldest brother died of illness, second brother died in battle, third sister defected... and thus, Sophia succeeded to the throne in the line of succession, becoming the first Queen in the history of the Mason Kingdom.
—
"Your Highness, we have arrived."
The old butler, Victor, stood outside the carriage window. His voice was suppressed very low, carrying a trace of a slight tremor that was hard to detect.
Sophia walked mechanically out of the carriage.
She wondered if she would be able to eat the charcoal-grilled lamb chops she had been craving at the academy for her first meal upon entering the palace.
After all, in order to rush back to this mess, she had eaten nothing but black bread and dried jerky for three days straight.
This body hadn't finished developing yet; eating such non-nutritious things would stunt her growth.
However, in the eyes of the onlookers and those trembling nobles, every step this Queen-to-be took was filled with the oppressive aura of a ruler descending upon the world.
"She didn't even frown."
In the crowd, a minister whispered to his companion.
"The old King is missing, two princes lost their lives in succession, and the third princess fled overnight... Yet she returns to this blood-soaked land as if she were returning to her own back garden.
Look at her eyes. Those are the eyes of someone looking at dead men."
Sophia heard these fragmented whispers, but she didn't turn her head.
She just felt that the wind in the Mason Kingdom was a bit strong; it was making her eyes dry.
Sophia stepped into the main hall of the palace.
Prime Minister Valery was waiting there with a group of ministers.
This old fox had been operating in the Mason Kingdom for many years and was once the most trusted right-hand man of Sophia's father.
At this moment, his forehead was covered in beads of fine sweat.
"Welcome back, Your Majesty Queen Sophia." Valery knelt down, his forehead pressed firmly against the floor.
Sophia looked at him, puzzled.
Wasn't this guy pretty arrogant before? Why is he kneeling so decisively today?
She remembered that this man used to walk with his nose in the air all day, not kneeling easily even when he saw her eldest brother.
Also, what did he just call me?
Your Majesty? I haven't held the coronation ceremony yet.
Because she found it troublesome, Sophia didn't open her mouth to correct him. She simply nodded slightly, and then, in that flat, modulation-free tone of hers, spat out two words:
"Rise, then."
These two words fell into Valery's ears like a thunderclap.
It is as I thought!
Valery's heart sank to rock bottom.
She didn't even bother to feign modesty.
This attitude of taking it for granted shows she has long held everything in the palm of her hand.
Those rumors about her being 'stone-faced', 'stupid', and 'only knowing how to eat and drink' were all smoke bombs she released to paralyze everyone!
The First Prince's poison—was it really an accident?
The Second Prince's ambush—wasn't it because someone leaked the marching map?
A smart person like the Third Princess—if not forced into a dead end, how could she give up her noble status and flee in panic?
There is only one beneficiary of all this, and that is Sophia Mason, who is only sixteen years old and is currently looking down on everyone with indifference.
"Your Majesty, regarding the funerals of the two princes, and... and the process for your enthronement, we have already drafted a plan."
When Valery stood up, his legs were still a little weak.
If he didn't understand the times, would he end up with an even worse fate?
"The two of them? Didn't Second Brother die outside?"
How do you hold a funeral if he died outside?
Sophia looked at the thick stack of documents and felt a headache coming on.
She just wanted to rest now, so she pushed away Valery's hand and said expressionlessly, "You handle it. No need to ask me."
After saying that, she walked straight toward the bedchamber in the depths of the palace.
The great hall was dead silent.
The ministers exchanged terrified glances.
"'You handle it'... What does that mean?" a finance official asked in a whisper.
"This is a test."
Valery wiped his sweat, his voice suppressed extremely low.
"She is telling us that she doesn't care about these tedious formalities at all; what she cares about is our obedience.
If we make any mistakes in the process of 'handling it', or reveal any dissatisfaction, then the fate of the three heirs will be our tomorrow."
"Then... shall we still hold the funeral for the Second Prince?"
"Her Majesty's meaning is already very clear... If you don't want to lose your head, then hold it."
"Terrifying. Such cold control... The Mason Kingdom has never had such a tyrant in its history..."
"Silence! Do you want to die? Now, she is the only true god in this court."
Meanwhile, Sophia, who had already returned to her bedchamber, was paralyzed on the soft large bed with absolutely no regard for her image.
"Exhausted," she muttered.
She rolled over and looked at the reliefs on the ceiling.
What did that look from Valery mean just now?
Did he think I was too lazy, not even wanting to manage the funerals?
Sigh, as a puppet queen, should I have acted a bit more sorrowful?
Forget it. My face can't make expressions anyway. Let them think what they want.
Sophia did not know that while she was resting her eyes, a secret letter titled "Mason's New Master: The Rise of the Girl Tyrant" was being transmitted to surrounding countries through various channels.
On the desks of those neighboring monarchs, Sophia Mason had already transformed into a deeply hidden, cruel, political genius who had purged all competitors and successfully ascended the throne at the age of only sixteen.
"A ruler who sheds not a single tear and has no emotional fluctuations."
The intelligence chief of a certain country wrote at the end of the report: "She is the sharpest sword of the Mason Kingdom, and also the most terrible nightmare for its neighbors."
Inside the bedchamber, heavy velvet curtains blocked the afternoon sunlight.
Sophia sat at a dining table covered with an exquisite tablecloth, expressionlessly cutting the steak on her plate.
As an ordinary female college student who had died young in her previous life to save someone, the predicament she faced now far exceeded final exams.
She did indeed carry memories from her past life, but precisely because of that, she deeply understood the truth of "regretting having too little knowledge when it's time to use it."
She thought of those transmigration novels.
The protagonists could always casually create soap, perfume, or even improved black gunpowder, then quickly accumulate wealth and sweep across the continent.
But Sophia looked at the silver table knife in her hand and fell into deep thought.
Soap... seems to be boiled from grease and alkaline water?
But what is the ratio?
And how do you prepare alkaline water?
Gunpowder... one sulfur, two nitrates, three charcoal?
But what composition of ore is that 'nitrate'?
As for antibiotics, she only remembered that penicillin was extracted from moldy oranges, but if she really fed moldy stuff to the ministers, the title of 'Girl Tyrant' would probably change to 'Source of Plague' by tomorrow.
"Troublesome."
Sophia muttered in a low voice.
Because her facial muscles didn't listen to her commands, these two words sounded exceptionally chilling.
The hem of the maid standing to the side suddenly trembled.
In the maid's eyes, this newly crowned Queen was elegantly cutting bloody beef while staring out the window with the eyes of a hunter watching prey.
That word "Troublesome" must definitely refer to those domestic remnant forces that hadn't been cleaned up yet.
Then, is a maid like her, who has served in the royal city for a long time, also about to be 'cleaned' up?
"Y-Your Majesty."
The maid walked forward trembling, holding a delicate small wooden box in both hands.
This was a gift she had prepared to save her own life.
If she could win even a tiny bit of Her Majesty's favor, perhaps she could survive?
"This is a fresh novelty called 'Soap' that this slave bought from the Imperial Capital's black market.
It has excellent cleaning effects and a faint floral scent. Please have a look, Your Majesty."
Sophia stopped her knife and fork, her gaze falling inside the wooden box.
It was a semi-transparent cube that hadn't been cut very neatly, carrying the roughness peculiar to the early stages of industrial civilization, but it was indeed soap.
Sophia's eyes froze.
This level of completion was definitely not something an alchemist of this era could toss together by accident.
In this world, could there be a transmigrator?
"Who made this?" Sophia looked up, her tone remaining completely flat.
"It... it was a girl in the slums named Irene.
She claims to be an inventor, specializing in making strange and weird things."
The maid knelt on the ground, speaking extremely fast.
"If Your Majesty feels this thing has profaned your skin, this slave will go and arrest her immediately to be executed!"
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