When I entered the Queen's room, the Queen and the walking maids quickly surrounded me, closing the distance to an extreme degree. The expression "putting their heads together" fit perfectly.
The reason they were so close was because the senior maid said,
"Could you sell us the youth-rejuvenating medicine?"
Her eyes were frightening — bloodshot. Directly opposite me, the Queen was smiling with complete composure.
"Even if you say that, production is limited…"
When I answered while pulling back a little,
"Can't you do something about it?"
"How much would it take for you to sell it?"
"We will pay as much money as possible."
"Please!"
The maids pleaded one after another. The Queen was grinning.
"It's not a matter of money. The raw materials are limited, and I only have enough for the days until my departure to give to the Queen!"
At my words, the maids put their heads together, whispered among themselves, then suddenly turned and glared at me.
