Chapter – 20….
Ah. Something I had forgotten suddenly came back to me, and I added it to what I had said to the Marquis.
“There’s something I didn’t mention earlier. I’m the kind of person who likes a man who would dig into both Mr. Ivbure, the author, and his works like a… pervert. Wouldn’t that be on par with the passionate way you talk about your ideal type, Marquis?”
The Marquis, a little flustered, smiled awkwardly—but gave an unexpectedly clear answer.
“Are there not many people like that?”
“Where?”
“At the reading club.”
“Oh. I’m already looking for one there.”
I didn’t even want to bother with a polite “See you next time” or any other formalities.
Apart from all the things I was grateful for, that was it. Just the part where he acted as my proxy in Lady Clenot’s bet. I wanted our relationship to be limited to exactly that.
Even if he was the one who discovered Mr. Ivbure, it was too much. The way he kept subtly tying himself to me, engaging in meaningless conversation, trying to read me—it all felt exhausting.
And the way he looked at me had changed slightly from before… it was unsettling.
“He’s coming to the mansion? Surely that’s a joke.”
I gave Tasha a look and slipped away from the place as if escaping.
No parting words or gestures followed. For some reason, I felt a sticky gaze on the back of my head, as if Loar were following me all the way to the villa—it was an uneasy feeling.
He was someone who made my heart feel strange whenever I thought of him.
The carriage running along Saltmore’s well-kept streets suddenly found itself unimpeded. I drew back the window curtain slightly and stared absentmindedly at the scenery outside. The faint yellow glow of streetlights floated like ghosts in each street, passing by as we moved. Even closing my eyes, the afterimage didn’t disappear.
The dazzling stage of the play I had seen earlier. The star who appeared dramatically.
Among the crowd cheering at that star’s entrance, you—I couldn’t tell what you were thinking.
Some things are only beautiful when there’s distance. Just as a writer and reader shouldn’t be too close…
Just as I needed to take a few steps back to watch Mr. Shell Ivbure.
“People like the Marquis of Aurelno are the same.”
I nodded slightly to myself as I thought, if only I could treat the Marquis like an actor on a screen.
That would be ideal…
But what am I supposed to do if Shane de Aurelno, carrying his most pressing interests, comes to the villa of his own accord?
The weekend with Saint Maricella’s procession had passed.
The original lead actor of Ketlin, Kansel, had a worse-than-expected flu. As a result, Ileo Peddle, who was only supposed to fill in briefly, covered for two more days. The audience reaction exceeded expectations, boosting the play’s success. On the days he acted, scalpers were even more energetic.
Even after Kansel returned, the Marquis of Aurelno didn’t appear.
For the whole week.
Was I bored that the smooth-faced troublemaker wasn’t there? On the contrary, it was nice to be able to watch the play comfortably.
I didn’t ask anyone about the Marquis. Unless it was something crucial for the original storyline I was tied to, he was just an extra like me. I could quietly avoid the main characters’ squabbles and indulge in my own fandom.
During that week, Vivian kept sending letters. Mostly invitations to dine together, since she herself was at a villa in the capital.
I had ignored them consistently, and only once did I respond with a refusal. I instinctively wanted to write a fan letter to the author myself, but I restrained myself. Writing what I couldn’t send would only make me sad.
I refused Vivian’s invitation, giving my father as an excuse.
Then came a manipulative letter saying, “Are you letting yourself be swayed by a father who does not love you?”
I suppose she thought this was the perfect time since I was away from Duke Loar.
I responded carefully, using the world’s premise—*“A terrible father is law”—*without overstepping the world’s limits. After that, no more letters came.
Even if someone tried to visit, it wouldn’t work. Suzanne stood firmly as my protector.
With such a strong ally, my fan life in the capital was exceptionally smooth.
I went to check the posters near the theater, as the Marquis had suggested. Only women who loved Mr. Ivbure’s works gathered at the reading club, held once a month at a café near the used-book street of the capital.
Before attending, the organizer meets prospective members for a brief verification. I went to the fabric shop run by Mr. Millie Incent, the organizer, to have tea and a short conversation.
The conversation itself was trivial. Mr. Incent explained that he meets new applicants to ensure they’re “normal” and not troublemakers.
Sometimes there are people spreading cults, people who hate Ivbure, or men pretending to be women just to get in—all filtered at this first step.
“Even in a world with a different body, people’s behavior is similar everywhere,” I thought.
I also heard that some nobles attended the club. But they hid their identities. In a gathering of people who loved Ivbure, status was a hindrance. Of course, everyone still treated others politely and respected their opinions.
So I didn’t reveal that I was the Princess of Loar. I deliberately disguised myself from the start as a servant who came to the capital with the young lady. I even borrowed Tasha’s casual clothes to thoroughly hide my identity.
Wouldn’t my cold Duke father be terrified if he found out I was disguising myself to attend a reading club?
The reason I could be so brazen was simple: the privileges of being the transmigrator.
“If the Mussen incident blows up, this much will be forgiven.”
The regular meeting was next weekend. I returned to the villa, clutching the note with the time and location, my heart racing.
I went to watch the play again while waiting. In the meantime, I refused all marriage proposals that arrived. Luckily, my father let them slide this year anyway. I was going to enjoy this time. Fully enjoy it!
And to match my excitement…
“Miss, ack!”
On a rainy morning, Tasha came running to me, tripping over her feet in excitement as I descended from my bedroom. I hurried to support her.
“What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
“Miss, look at this!”
Tasha handed me the slightly damp Plant Weekly.
“Mr. Ivbure has ended his hiatus!”
Oh my. To end a hiatus so suddenly… Well, shorter is always better, but… suddenly like this?
I couldn’t even take the magazine from Tasha, leaning against the wall, staggering. Somehow, my dreams today had been good…
Hearing Tasha’s exclamation, the other maids came running and exchanged looks before ushering me to the living room.
The excitement of the readers who had gathered was far more intense than the warmth from the fireplace. They clustered around the sofa where I sat, urging Tasha on.
“Tasha, what are you doing? Read it quickly!”
“Miss, you’re about to collapse. Slowly, elegantly, and carefully.”
Even Tasha, trembling with excitement, grew pale, but seeing my face, she adopted a solemn expression and opened the magazine like a sacred text, beginning to read aloud to the sound of rain.
Suddenly, the room was silent.
The Unfortunate Baron of Chern. The work Mr. Shell Ivbure had been serializing in the weekly magazine, notorious for repeated hiatuses.
Like his previous work Ketlin, it’s a romance. But unlike Ketlin, the heavy historical backdrop has been removed, and the tone is much lighter. Readers expecting the old mood were disappointed and abandoned the story early on.
Notably, the protagonist doesn’t even appear.
