Chapter 63
The voice even sounded gentle, but the moment she heard it, Cordelia’s fine hairs bristled. When she turned to look at the man, he too seemed to feel the same way, as a faint crease formed between his brows.
“The story of how the protagonist, Icarpus, overcomes all sorts of trials and fulfills the mission entrusted by a noble figure is standard, yes, but it’s handled with such excellent writing that it’s hard to look away.”
Elisa, her gaze flicking briefly to the iris badge on the man’s chest, continued.
“Especially when he was imprisoned—the scene where Icarpus realizes the princess has abandoned him and erupts in anger left a strong impression on me. Normally, one wouldn’t believe such a thing until they heard it directly, but his monologue, filled with scorn for the princess despite his long-shown loyalty, was striking.”
Her voice carried no particular rise or fall, yet it somehow had a tension that made people uneasy.
“And yet, in the end, he marries the princess. Even though there was a handmaiden right beside him who had followed him with unwavering devotion.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Don’t we all live through interaction with others? Emotions that arise between people naturally become a significant part of life. I only wondered whether, by focusing too much on appearances, you might be neglecting what is truly important.”
Wow. To sound that cutting, and in such a calm tone… not an easy feat.
Looking around at the baron and the others, their expressions souring, Cordelia felt inward admiration for Elisa, who still stood there unshaken.
Somehow, I think she’d get along with my sister.
“When someone has a great dream, it’s only natural that they sometimes neglect smaller things, don’t you think?”
Another person rose to object. Elisa’s gaze took on a peculiar glint as she looked at Count Eshilon, who also wore a blue iris badge.
“A person who cannot even keep track of a single coin purse—how could such a one ever become a great merchant?”
As the daughter of a wealthy merchant family, Elisa’s metaphor hit home. The count replied seriously.
“People must live by giving to others. If I see someone hungry along the road, I should open my purse and feed them.”
“…But there’s a difference between opening your purse willingly and losing it, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you give will one day come back to you. A lost purse is no different.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Do you really think that’s the point?
Even though Elisa surely hadn’t meant it that way, the count barreled on in a strange direction, completely missing the context. Cordelia sighed inwardly.
He’s just thrilled to blabber about what he knows.
And so the atmosphere grew increasingly irrecoverable. Elisa’s expression was starting to crease as she faced the count’s sermon disguised as conversation—when a new voice cut in.
“So, to sum it all up—isn’t that the conclusion?”
All heads turned toward the source. Rising from the sofa, Jasmine lightly brushed her skirt. Once enough attention had settled on her, she spoke.
“Forgive me for intruding on your discussion. But listening to everything, it seems to me that both of you are saying the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whether it’s a yearning for chivalry or the bonds between people—aren’t both simply forms of romance? At their core, they’re about pursuing an ideal, are they not?”
Thanks to Jasmine’s deft mediation, the overheated atmosphere cooled into something more positive. Cordelia watched in bewilderment, her gaze shifting between Jasmine and Elisa.
That people here could voice the same thoughts she had… it felt unfamiliar. They weren’t like the people she usually met at banquets or salons.
Her chest tightened, as though something had knotted there—but it wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, it felt reassuring. Different from when she thought of her sisters.
A word suddenly fit the feeling. Ah—so this is what belonging feels like. A place where she could stand as herself, not as family, but as someone with companions pursuing the same goal.
It was a truly foreign sensation.
Of course, that didn’t erase the absurd fact that their entire discussions over the other two books had been just as full of sparring.
After hours of meetings, the men departed quickly. Too exhausted to move, Cordelia leaned her neck against the sofa’s backrest. A groan slipped from between her lips.
Ughhh, I’m done for.
Talking the whole time had left her throat sore. And while the men had greater numbers, she’d had only two allies. One of the women had kept her mouth shut the entire time—whether because she agreed with the men or simply didn’t want to get involved, Cordelia couldn’t tell.
Which was understandable. Most people would stay quiet just to avoid trouble. But still!
She wanted to flail about with joy at her release, but held back. After all, there were still three others in the room.
Jasmine Robin, Elisa Perriente, and the host, Viscount Owen. That old man still seemed brimming with energy for some reason.
“Young people truly are remarkable. This old man can hardly keep up with your vigor.”
The viscount stroked his beard as he ordered the servants to clear away the sofas. Another sofa was placed opposite Jasmine and Cordelia, and the table in between was filled with tea and refreshments.
Watching the viscount and Elisa take seats opposite, Cordelia was bewildered. What’s this? Why does it suddenly feel like another tea party is about to start? It’s already evening!
Forget it. I’m thirsty anyway.
Though she’d sipped water throughout the meeting, her throat was still parched. She wasn’t used to spending hours sparring like this with specific people—it had drained her completely.
After wetting her throat with warm tea, Cordelia finally took a deep breath and spoke.
“Um, Sir Owen.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. You invited me here, and yet I feel like I’ve caused you trouble.”
In truth, she hadn’t just failed to hold back—she’d gone rampaging without restraint. But Cordelia wasn’t someone who wasted guilt on such things; that part of her conscience had long since been tucked away.
The old man gazed at her quietly before shaking his head.
“Not at all. I found it most entertaining.”
His unexpected answer made Cordelia stumble over her words.
“Pardon?”
“Lately, these meetings have been so dull. Everyone gathers only to repeat the same things, over and over. If it were just an old fellow like me, that’d be one thing—but seeing the young ones stuck in such ruts, I could only pity them.”
So… in other words.
“Then, is that why you invited Miss Elisa Perriente here…?”
The viscount’s teal eyes gleamed as he stroked his beard.
“They say a person’s writing reflects their self. Everyone else has grown too stiff. I thought meeting someone with a wholly different perspective might bring fresh life to the room.”
Cordelia’s jaw dropped. He’d basically admitted to orchestrating today’s chaos on purpose. With shameless calm, the old man added:
“And your written opinion, which you sent me in your letter, was most impressive as well, Miss Cordelia. Thanks to you, I’ve had quite an amusing time in my twilight years.”
This man…!
“Forgive me if this is rude, but…”
“Speak freely.”
“Don’t people often call you eccentric?”
“When one grows old, such labels are inevitable.”
Cordelia silently clicked her tongue. Wow, this old man is formidable.
“By the way, how is the Queen these days?”
“…Pardon?”
“Ah, no need to answer. I’m sure she’s the same as ever.”
As he chuckled heartily, Cordelia cast a not-so-fond glance his way, then turned to the other two.
“Are you both all right?”
“I’m fine,” Jasmine replied, her tone calm enough to sound cold. Elisa, however, didn’t answer. Meeting her freckled nose, her glossy dark-brown hair, and those bluish-purple eyes, Cordelia felt a bit awkward.
And wasn’t Elisa staring back at her rather intently too? Do I have something on my face?
“Um, may I ask you something? Cordelia?”
“Ask away. And you don’t have to be formal with me.”
“Then, Cordelia—have you read what I wrote?”
Wow, straight to the point.
“Yes, I’ve read it.”
“I thought so.”
“Thought so?”
“Ever since we were introduced, you kept glancing at me. I figured, ‘Ah, she knows what I’ve written.’”
Was I that obvious?
Though her words sounded kind, Cordelia knew from the past few hours that they weren’t necessarily meant kindly. But that didn’t mean she needed to tiptoe.
“I’ll admit, I was surprised.”
“By the fact that an uneducated commoner could write?”
“No. Just that you looked different from how I’d imagined based on your work. I like your writing. It’s fun.”
At Cordelia’s straightforward answer, Elisa fell silent. Cordelia picked up a cookie and added:
“Writing isn’t the sole domain of nobles. Or men, for that matter.”
“The nobles we met earlier seemed to think otherwise.”
“They’re always like that. If you just ignore them like barking dogs, it’s fine.”
Her offhand reply made Elisa laugh and sip her tea.
“You’re right. That’s why I can’t date men. It kills my inspiration.”
Cordelia wasn’t sure whether to agree or not, so she chose silence. Elisa sighed in resignation.
“If only every man were half as thoughtful as the viscount, I wouldn’t think this way.”
“Haha, I’m sure you just haven’t met the right one yet,” the old man said kindly, even to a young woman of much lower status. Cordelia fully understood Elisa’s sentiment then.
Today had been both exasperating and amusing.
At banquets, people didn’t usually probe so deeply into one another, so it hadn’t been a problem before. But clashing opinions with others was truly exhausting.
That was why Cordelia generally preferred broad, shallow relationships.
“…By the way, Jasmine, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
