Chapter 28
“When do you think this book was published?”
“I’m not sure, honestly.”
In this world, there were no publication dates written inside the cover. Since every book was hand-copied by scribes, that couldn’t be helped.
Damian flipped through the pages.
Just then, the servant who had gone to bring refreshments returned. He set down teacups and a pot, along with a three-tier tray decorated with sweet desserts and flowers, on the tea table in front of us.
Damian didn’t even glance at him.
“The fifth story…”
He had skipped a few pages without realizing it — as if he’d continued reading even while the servant was gone.
The servant’s face went pale as he poured the tea, while I rested my head comfortably against Damian’s chest.
When the teacup was filled, I asked Damian,
“I’d like to stop listening now and have some snacks.”
“There’s still a lot of story left.”
“I might get nightmares…”
“Then I’ll sleep with you.”
Even without a subject, the meaning behind those words was blatant. Was he serious or teasing?
He smiled at me with the mischievousness of a teenage boy.
I narrowed my eyes at him once, then sat up. The arm that had been holding me loosened gently.
But as I tried to move to sit across from him, he grabbed my wrist again.
“Can’t you stay beside me?”
So I did — sitting next to him, sipping my tea.
Damian set the book aside on the sofa, held his cup, and paused for a moment before drinking. Steam rose softly.
“His Majesty has granted permission for your outing. However, he said you must leave tomorrow.”
That was faster than I expected. I nodded, and he leaned lazily against the back of the sofa, watching me.
“Is there somewhere you wish to go?”
“I’d like to go quietly. Not to a busy area — I’d rather disguise myself, since being recognized would be troublesome… I’d like to look for more books.”
There was a street in the capital famous for its antiques — a long road lined with shops selling old trinkets and books.
They were all imperial relics, so there was no guarantee I’d find a true magic tome there, but I couldn’t give up without even trying.
It was far less risky than sneaking into the imperial secret archives or the Land of Death. If I could find something here, I might finally catch my breath.
He nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ll prepare things so you can enjoy a quiet trip.”
He smiled faintly — soft and distant, like winter sunlight through glass.
I quietly watched him sip his tea. His features, his gaze, his hair, his eyes — all were clear and beautiful. Yet sometimes, his face seemed as though it might dissolve like smoke.
The crown prince of an empire, the man destined to be emperor — no one could threaten his position.
So why did he sometimes seem so… ephemeral?
Well, I had my own future to worry about.
I swallowed a sip of tea and popped a cookie into my mouth. The crumbly texture was rich with butter.
When I told him I’d be heading back, Damian held me tightly for a long time.
He buried his face in my hair and breathed deeply — as though I were the air he needed to survive.
Only after a long moment did he release me.
“Tomorrow, I’ll come to the crown princess’s palace.”
I nodded, stepped into the corridor, and left his residence.
It was already well past afternoon, but the world was still bright. The crisp air felt refreshing, carrying the faint scent of drying grass.
So autumn had come.
I blinked — the grass was still green, though.
As I walked back toward the crown princess’s palace, the exposed skin on my face cooled against the chill breeze. Still, the warmth of the tea kept me from feeling cold.
Damian had naturally taken the book with him. He would probably continue reading it alone.
The thought of visiting old bookstores with him tomorrow made my heart flutter.
It would be nice to visit every shop along that alleyway, but that wouldn’t be possible.
I’d have to narrow them down — though, since I rarely went out, I only knew the capital’s geography from maps.
‘I wonder if Damian knows better than I do.’
He probably didn’t know much more.
As I pondered that, my steps brought me to the crown princess’s quarters. The maid walking a few paces behind hurried forward to open the door.
Though the sun was still up, the light outside had turned bluish, while the interior glowed warmly.
A maid pacing the hall spotted me and rushed over.
“My lady—oh, pardon me—Your Highness, Crown Princess! It’s quite chilly out. Were you cold?”
I blinked at her for a moment. Oh, right — this girl. I smiled softly.
“I’m fine, Marsha. I had some warm tea. I’d like to bathe and rest now — can you fill the tub for me?”
“Of course, right away.”
Marsha had come with me from my family estate. She was a commoner, not of noble birth, so she couldn’t be an official lady-in-waiting.
When the palace had ordered me to bring only one servant, Father had chosen her.
She hadn’t served long but was loyal — and since my other maids were focused on training Estelle and helping her adapt to life in the ducal family, that was enough for me.
Frankly, all the servants were about the same in my eyes.
‘If Father and Damian truly are allied against the Emperor, perhaps that’s why he avoided choosing a noble servant. Nobles could easily be influenced or used for surveillance.’
As long as her loyalty to me and my family was certain, her background didn’t matter.
Marsha, being a maid, had no authority to command others.
So she hurried off to fill the bath herself. I yawned behind my hand and turned to the maid who had followed me earlier.
“It’s evening already — go rest. I want to bathe and relax alone.”
The maid bowed and left.
I walked slowly toward the bathroom. Warm, humid air leaked through the cracked door.
While I bathed, I had dismissed all the other maids except Marsha. The only sound left was the water spilling from the faucet.
“Marsha, do you like books?”
Hand-copied books were a luxury, but not entirely out of reach for a duchy maid’s salary — especially if secondhand.
I’d heard some of the maids talking about novels they’d read together, though I couldn’t recall if Marsha was among them. Still, I thought it worth asking.
But Marsha shook her head.
“No, not really. I prefer knitting or embroidery.”
Looking closer, I noticed faint pricks and scars on her fingertips — marks from needles. I’d been hoping for luck without even observing properly.
While I chided myself for that, she continued.
“Why do you ask, milady?”
“I’m visiting old bookstores with His Highness tomorrow. But I’m not sure which ones are worth going to.”
Marsha thought for a moment, soaking my hair in rosewater.
“Well, Ellie used to visit a certain old bookstore every holiday. But I don’t know if you or His Highness would like it.”
“Why not?”
Marsha hesitated, offering a sheepish smile.
“Because… Ellie liked romance novels.”
I laughed.
“Oh, that sounds perfect for a newlywed couple! Tell me where it is.”
Romance novels, huh?
A shop that sold such popular fiction might also have books about myths, folktales, or superstitions — maybe even grimoires disguised as stories.
My cheerfulness seemed to reassure her, and Marsha nodded.
“You’re right. I don’t remember it well — I wasn’t interested — but…”
“Is this the place?”
Damian asked me, and I nodded.
“She said the sign had a sweet-and-sour word in it — so this should be it.”
The streets were full of people.
Contrary to the gloomy image of old bookstores, each shop here had its own charming decor.
All Marsha had remembered was the impression of the name, but it had been enough.
We stopped in front of a shop called Blanc Prune.
Books were neatly displayed in the large glass windows, covers facing outward.
The white-painted columns outside looked freshly cleaned, and the shop’s pink ribbon-like signboard lettering gave it a whimsical feel.
Damian gestured subtly to the disguised guards who had followed us.
“They’ll stay nearby instead of coming in.”
Both Damian and I wore the oldest clothes we owned for our disguise.
Even so, anyone looking closely would notice the fine lace and cufflinks — hints of our status.
We couldn’t risk disguising too deeply, or the Emperor might take unwanted notice.
We opened the door and stepped inside.
The air was thick with the musty scent of old paper — mixed with the sweet fragrance of plums.
“Welcome,” came a greeting.
The counter near the entrance was painted a creamy white — not at all what one would expect from a typical old bookstore.
Arm in arm, we slowly wandered between the shelves.
The shop was filled mostly with women, though occasionally a couple strolled by together — just like us.
Damian leaned close and whispered,
