Chapter 30
Damian was indeed not far from where I had met Mikhail earlier.
Had I hesitated even a little longer, he might have caught me.
He was scanning the bookshelves from the top down.
Standing beside him, I followed his gaze to the spines of the books he was examining.
‘Astrology section, huh.’
No need to waste time here.
I gently tapped Damian’s arm. He turned to me and smiled.
“Rose, did you find it?”
“Yes. Over there.”
I led Damian toward the shelf Mikhail had pointed out earlier.
When he saw that the “ghost story” section only took up two small shelves, his expression turned oddly puzzled.
“There’s less material here than I expected.”
“It’s still more than what we have in the Imperial Capital.
We can probably narrow it down from the books I haven’t already read.”
Without hesitation, I pulled out five books from the right side.
After flipping through them, I put back the ones whose covers or titles I remembered, and handed the rest to Damian.
He quickly scanned through the ones I gave him, then returned a few.
We worked in perfect sync — it didn’t take long before we had a decent selection.
In the end, we chose five books.
It didn’t feel like much, but I didn’t show my disappointment. Damian’s calm expression gave no clue whether he felt the same.
Together, we brought the books to the counter.
The shopkeeper eyed us suspiciously — and I couldn’t really blame him.
After all, two plainly dressed people had ignored all the romantic novels scattered about and instead grabbed every ghost story in sight.
Hopefully, we just looked like eccentric ghost-story enthusiasts.
I saw Damian take out a gold coin.
The shopkeeper returned four silver coins as change.
“Books are definitely expensive,” I muttered, snatching one of the volumes from Damian’s arms.
Five ghost-story books — old, worn, and probably never touched by anyone — yet they cost six silver coins. I sighed. Damian, in a soothing tone, said:
“There have been attempts to cast molds of letters, similar to how coins are minted.
If successful, they could arrange the letters, ink them, and print books in large quantities.”
“To lower book prices?”
Three silver coins could buy enough flour to feed a family of four for a month.
He nodded.
“If that happens, illiteracy will drop dramatically.”
Hmm. I hugged the books tighter.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized Damian had the qualities of a good ruler.
Which only made things more confusing.
Could he really be the culprit behind the poisoning?
Would he really kill Theo and Estelle?
From what I could see, even if he did attempt poisoning, there would be a reason — and he would never harm the children.
His diary never mentioned killing them, though it ended before that point anyway.
When we stepped outside, his guards naturally followed from the alleyway.
We took a carriage to the restaurant Damian had reserved — famous for its southern seafood cuisine.
The restaurant was “closed for business,” a disguise to ensure privacy.
All the other tables were occupied by guards, and the head chef himself came out to describe each dish.
The food, seasoned generously with spices, was exquisite.
Only, Damian seemed unable to eat shrimp. He looked at them as though they were some kind of insect.
“That’s unexpected. I actually love shrimp,” I said, teasingly.
When he looked so uncomfortable, I peeled one and offered it to him on purpose.
He gave me a polite, awkward smile, clearly trying to avoid the situation — but when I didn’t back down, he finally accepted it.
“I see why you like them. They’re quite good,” he admitted.
Though after that, he didn’t touch another one.
Fine by me — that just meant more for me.
We also had some wine.
Watching the sunset over the plaza through the large glass window was a pleasant experience — enough to make me forget how unreadable the man sitting across from me was.
“It’s been such a lovely day,” I said.
“To go out with someone I like, enjoy good food, and admire a beautiful view.”
The streets and rooftops glimmered with gold.
I tilted my wine glass. The faintly greenish white wine carried notes of oak and tart grapes — a perfect balance.
I’d barely touched water, drinking mostly wine — but that was fine.
Only the windows opposite us were open, so the autumn breeze that reached us was gentle.
“I’m happy too,” Damian said, swirling his glass slightly before taking a sip.
I watched his throat move as he swallowed, then smiled.
“Really? How happy? Happy enough to have no worries at all?”
“If this moment could last forever, I’d sell my soul to the devil.”
He said it so decisively that I couldn’t help but laugh — maybe because of the wine.
“Ha! I don’t think I’d go that far.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
He smiled back. We both laughed softly for a moment — and then I realized the situation was oddly chilling.
“What even is a devil, anyway?” I asked.
“I can’t believe something that drags people into ruin would only bring happiness.”
My words came out sharper than I intended, my emotions running hot through the haze in my mind.
Damian’s violet eyes looked almost like dark caves.
Though — were there ever violet caves? The thought crossed my mind just as he asked:
“You talk as if the devil would take a soul before one could even enjoy the good moments.”
“Exactly. It’s ridiculous.
How can something eternal demand your soul? That’s contradictory.”
He smiled faintly.
“Who knows? Perhaps that ‘eternity’ is the very moment I sell my soul.”
He deliberately lingered on the word eternity.
I studied his face — still calm, though his cheeks were slightly flushed.
I waved my hand.
“This is just useless musing. I’m in a good mood right now, and I don’t want to argue nonsense with you, Damian. Let’s just head back. That way, I can remember this moment fondly to the end.”
Damian nodded, eyes closed — almost like he was dozing off.
So he really was drunk.
How much had he drunk, anyway?
Still, I felt my own body growing heavy and sluggish, struggling to stay alert.
We both rose and left the restaurant, our guards escorting us.
Once we get back, I’ll just read one of these books before sleeping, I thought.
I needed something to show the Crown Princess’s maids, after all.
The carriage stopped in front of the Crown Princess’s palace.
Damian stepped out first and held out his hand to help me down.
Just then, the Crown Princess’s maids approached us.
Usually, they acted as though we didn’t exist unless spoken to — so their sudden appearance was strange.
Even stranger was how they bowed perfectly, with formal grace.
They had never done that before.
As I blinked in confusion, one of them spoke — not to me, but to Damian.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Your Highness.”
I was still standing half inside the carriage, holding Damian’s hand.
He tightened his grip — firm, but controlled, even in his drunken state.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A royal command. A room has been prepared inside for the two of you to share tonight.”
Damian turned to me.
In his violet eyes — furrowed slightly in confusion — I saw my own dumbfounded expression reflected.
So that’s why the Emperor had so readily permitted today’s outing.
What kind of scheme was this?
With Damian’s help, I stepped down from the carriage.
Behind us, a maid whispered something to the coachman, who promptly drove the carriage away.
‘So they really intend for Damian to walk from here to the Crown Prince’s quarters?’
It wasn’t that far, but still — the uneasy feeling in my chest grew stronger, piercing through the fading haze of wine.
We followed the maid into a parlor.
She gestured for us to sit side by side, then picked up a scroll sealed with the imperial crest.
“By His Majesty’s order…”
The strange atmosphere sobered me instantly.
The fire in the hearth crackled, casting flickering shadows across the room as the maid unrolled the scroll.
“His Majesty commands… that the two of you shall share the marriage bed tonight.”
