Ryan led Stardust and Bourbon to the third floor.
Dusk was deepening; hazy moonlight spilled through the windows onto the stone floor, making the castle feel older and graver.
"McQueen's room is here."
Ryan stopped at an elegant door; her voice echoed in the quiet corridor.
Stardust looked. The oak door was carved with delicate patterns, still clear despite the years—as if telling old stories.
"You go in and talk to her. I'll take Bourbon to the lounge to change and rest."
Ryan pressed an old brass key into Stardust's palm and waved.
Talking of changing, Stardust remembered—they were both in day-old, dirt-stained training gear—utterly out of place.
"Eh, I should change too—what if I dirty something?" she called.
"It's fine. Let McQueen see the real you," Ryan grinned. "What horse girl dislikes the dust of training? Bye-bye!"
Watching Ryan lead Bourbon away at speed, Stardust's eye twitched—she felt conned.
But… she truly didn't want McQueen to spiral.
She knocked, but waited long without reply.
Asleep?
Checking the time—just after seven. Not horse-girl sleeping hours.
Then it was as the matriarch said—still sulking, unwilling to talk?
What to do? Wait? Or…
She eyed the key Ryan had slipped her.
Normally, entering without a reply was extraordinarily rude. But both the matriarch and Ryan had asked her to talk sense into McQueen.
So she'd look in? If it offended, she'd apologize after…
She turned the key and pushed. A graceful chamber opened up.
Her first thought was: huge. Bigger than a normal person's entire home, luxuriously appointed with a princess air. Oil paintings on the walls—childhood portraits of Mejiro McQueen.
In the center stood a great bed; sheets and shams printed with cakes, topped with a purple spread. On the headboard sat two exquisitely crafted dolls: Mejiro Alpes and Mejiro Titan.
She hadn't seen the girl yet, but a faint rose scent hung everywhere.
Where was McQueen?
Not on the bed; not at the desk; not by the window…
A rustle sounded from the left side of the room.
"Excuse me?" Stardust called again, but still no reply—just as the sound stopped.
She followed—and turned—
The source was the bathroom door.
Wait—the bathroom?
She could dimly see a silhouette through the decorative glass. The rustle had been water.
Stardust realized and turned to go.
But the bathroom door swung open. A figure with pale violet hair stepped out, muttering as if to herself:
Wearing only a thin robe, hair still damp, Mejiro McQueen had clearly just bathed. Working a comb, she grumbled, "What is this? No way. How has it gone up again… Even though I'm controlling… mm?"
Halfway through, she sensed another's presence and looked up, puzzled:
"…Stardust Mirage?"
She asked vaguely, then realized and yelped, cheeks flushing fast:
"Stardust Mirage?!" McQueen cried, clutching her robe tight, voice trembling:
"What is going on—why are you here—no, you didn't hear anything—no! Get out! Just get out!!!"
After a long freeze, Stardust snapped awake and apologized: "Ah, sorry! I knocked a long time and no one answered, so—Anyway, I'll go! We can explain after!"
Damn it, the matriarch tricked me again!!!
She scuttled for the door, cursing inside.
From McQueen's state, Stardust saw no sign of depression.
Not going out because of that match? It was a ruse to push her into this embarrassment. And she'd looked so worried earlier… the old fox!
At the door, she ground her teeth—she wanted to leave and never come back—but she couldn't leave without explaining—
Blast it, was this all in your calculations, Lady Mejiro!
After a bit, McQueen reappeared dressed. Her face held a slight pink still, but her expression was calm again.
She led Stardust back in, took a breath, and said, "So what happened? Why are you here?"
Stardust scratched her head and gave the brief version.
"Sigh…" McQueen covered her face. "So it was Grandmother… goodness…"
"Well, thank you for coming to talk, but I, Mejiro McQueen, haven't sunk so low as to shut-in over a practice loss. Seeing me now, you can rest easy, right?"
"…" Stardust looked at her and said nothing.
"Mm? Is there more?" McQueen asked.
Under that stare, she swallowed, nerves sprouting from nowhere.
Her ears twitched; flustered, she clutched her chest and blurted:
"Wait, don't tell me—hey, don't take Grandmother seriously! M-marrying in is impossible! I'll beg Big Sister Bright to refuse!"
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