Some manga series grow from what was originally intended to be a stand-alone tale. And, depending on both the richness of the base material and the writer/artist's skill in expanding their initial concept, this can read as either natural or forced. I was reminded of this reading the first volume of Natsuna Kawase's shojo romance, A Tale of An Unknown Country (CMX). Though loaded with charming moments, much of the book reads like an afterthought to its opening 34-page chapter, which was originally crafted as a single story.
An All-Ages-rated romance, Country is set in two mythical kingdoms, each with its own distinct personality. Ardela, home to the series heroine Princess Rosemarie, is a "small country that's rich with nature" but economically struggling. The tiny kingdom is so cash-poor that both the sixteen-year-old princess and her older brother Mache regularly mingle with the commoners to sell bread and act as tourist guides. Eager to lift their country form its lowly fiscal state, wheeler-dealer Mache arranges his sister's engagement to the prince of a neighboring, richer country. "It's only natural to seek out a connection to a wealthy nation," he explains.
Said nation, the unfortunately named Yurinela, is a "large country on the cutting edge of science," and its seventeen-year-old prince, Reynol, seems suited to this more secular environment. Hearing that the prince is a "cold, selfish weirdo who almost never goes outside," Princess Rosemarie is understandably reluctant to become engaged to this unknown entity. Manipulative brother Mache, though, cajoles her into visiting the prince disguised as a servant: "Marie, Princess Rosemarie's handmaid." This she agrees to do: a hard worker, "Marie" has no qualms about taking on drudge work.
Reynol, for his part, has heard via the rumor mill that Princess Rosemarie is a flake. The central romantic conflict, then, is between the uptight, science-based Yurinelan prince and the more open, natural Ardelan princess. Workaholic Reynol is so mind-centered that he barely takes it upon to eat regularly, something that Marie in her role as handmaid immediately keys into. She pushes the prince into a healthier eating regime, stating that "for the people of Ardela, health is the number one priority." So what we've got here is more than a shojo romance, it's a dramatization of mind and body duality.
Of course, we all know that out couple is destined to fall in love; though they're products of a two different cultures, they've very much in tune with each other. ("You really are weird, Reynol," Mache says late in the volume. "You say almost the same things Marie does.") By the time the first chapter has concluded, Rosemarie's maid impersonation has been put aside and the two admit their attraction for each other. What else is there to do?"
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