The job hunt wasn't something I actively thought about. I wasn't exactly the ambitious type. So when I found the job listing —

  “Royal Assistant Needed — Monthly Salary: 200,000 yen. No experience required.”

  200,000 yen? That’s more money than I’d ever seen. A sum big enough to make me reconsider my lack of ambition.

  And now, here I was.

  Clad in an oddly formal black-and-white waiter’s outfit, my eyes widened as I stepped through the ornate gates of the royal estate. The sprawling garden, towering pillars, and shimmering gold accents looked more like something out of a fairy tale than reality. If I squinted, I half expected a princess to descend from the heavens with a tiara.

  I took a breath. Okay, this was a big deal. Maybe I wasn’t so unambitious after all.

  But just as I was about to get lost in the splendor, the peaceful atmosphere shattered with a loud crash — followed by a scream from somewhere upstairs.

  A flower pot. Seriously?

  Before I could even begin to process what had just happened, a regal figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

  She was tall, poised, and carried herself with the weight of centuries of nobility. Her long silver hair fell in perfect waves, and her presence commanded respect. She wasn’t the type to scream at the slightest inconvenience, but there was no mistaking it: she was the elder princess.

  Her eyes locked onto me with an intensity that could freeze fire. I felt my spine straighten, my heart pounding in my chest. She wasn’t shouting — no, she was simply... waiting.

  And then, the words came.

  “You must be the new assistant.” She sounded calm, almost like she had expected me to be a walking disaster.

  I stammered out a nervous, “Y-yes, Your Highness.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Her eyes softened just a fraction, and she gave a polite nod. “Good. You’re just in time. We’ve got a few things to handle today.”

  Before I could even ask what “things” meant, she handed me a formal-looking contract.

  “Sign this,” she instructed in a composed tone, as if handing over a ceremonial artifact. “It's to ensure you understand your responsibilities here.”

  I glanced down at the contract. One word stood out: unconditional.

  I quickly signed it without a second thought. A job was a job, right?

  “Very well,” she said, satisfied. “Let’s begin.”

  Just like that, she moved on, as if everything was normal. No fanfare. No drama.

  I trailed behind her as we moved through the halls, my brain still racing.

  “I assume you’re familiar with the usual duties of a royal assistant?” she asked, not looking at me.

  “I, uh... I think I’m more of the ‘grab the coffee’ kind of guy?” I offered weakly, hoping that was a safe answer.

  She glanced at me, her expression thoughtful. “We’ll see,” she said cryptically, leading me to what could only be described as the heart of the estate — a massive library full of ancient tomes and dusty scrolls.

  I was still processing the fact that I was standing in the presence of a literal princess, and now we were in a library that probably contained more history than I could ever read.

  “The first task,” she began, handing me a book thicker than my whole body, “is simple enough. We need to catalog these texts for the royal archives.”

  I blinked, momentarily stunned. “That’s it?”

  She nodded, her voice as calm as ever. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s important work. The royal archives are crucial to our legacy.”

  I had no clue how I was supposed to organize a book like that, but I didn’t want to look like a fool, so I nodded.

  But before I could reach for the book, there was a loud squawk.

  I froze.

  A macaw flew in, swooping down and landing gracefully on the shoulder of none other than the princess herself.

  “The bird... uh, is that normal?” I asked, half-joking but more curious than anything.

  She gave me a sideways glance, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, this is Captain Fluff. He’s the royal advisor for matters of communication.”

  I looked at the bird, who proceeded to give me a piercing glare. “Okay, then...”

  I didn’t dare ask more.

  Before I could process everything further, the princess turned, giving me a polite nod. “You’ll do well. I trust you’ll keep up with the pace.”

  And just like that, I was part of the royal routine — a daily whirlwind of tasks, reading, organizing, and attending to details I never thought I’d deal with. But it wasn’t all bad.

  The princess was as composed as ever, never faltering or losing her cool. She had a way of making everything feel like it was part of the grand design of the kingdom. Her maturity was clear — everything she did, every word she said, carried weight.

  She wasn’t exactly easygoing, but she didn’t need to be. She wasn’t the type to yell or get emotional. No, she simply exuded an aura of leadership.

  And I had a deep respect for that.