Chapter 83
How on earth did this happen?
It was already unbelievable enough that she had ridden in a carriage so luxurious it made her jaw drop in her entire life, and then—
“Where… are we?”
“This is the Duchy of Aracrene.”
Sonette stared up at the Aracrene ducal castle with a blank, stupid expression.
As Oberon approached the massive castle gates, the gatekeeper bowed his head.
“Welcome.”
Rumble—
With a heavy sound, the firmly shut gates swung open.
Good heavens.
Sonette felt like she was suffocating.
The person looking for her appeared to be none other than “Aracrene,” a grand noble of the Declaire Empire.
…Come to think of it, I’ve never sued the Aracrene ducal house.
Was it finally time to reap what she had sown?
And only now, years after publishing that work?
So tense she could barely think straight, Sonette followed as the man continued deeper and deeper into the castle.
The further they went, the more luxurious the clothes of the people they passed became, making her think that one wrong move here could easily cost her her head.
“Before you meet my master, I will inform you of a few precautions.”
The man, who had introduced himself as Oberon before departing the capital, spoke as he walked ahead.
“First. Please conduct yourself with the utmost courtesy, using all the knowledge and etiquette you possess, when in my master’s presence.”
That went without saying.
Unless she wanted to disappear without a trace, she had no choice.
“Second. You must answer truthfully whatever my master asks. Do not even attempt to lie.”
“…Yes.”
“Third. Do not treat my master like a child simply because of their age. They are, without question, an Aracrene.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Oberon stopped in front of a particular castle.
The surrounding buildings were all splendid, but the one he was about to enter stood out even among them.
The outer walls were embedded with all kinds of magic stones so that it would be comfortable to live in regardless of the season, and the gardens were filled with rare flowers that were hard to come by.
Sonette, who had diligently researched materials while preparing various works, could only click her tongue.
If I wrote something like this in a novel, people would criticize it, saying that even real nobles wouldn’t live this extravagantly.
That was how excessive it was.
Upon entering the castle, Sonette once again found herself unable to close her mouth.
“Th-that’s a Mermaid’s Tear?”
“Yes. It was a gift from Duke Marcella to my master.”
Sonette’s mouth went dry.
The master whom Oberon served was surely someone extraordinary even among the members of the Aracrene family.
To think that Duke Marcella personally prepared gifts for them.
Unsure where to rest her gaze, Sonette lowered her eyes to the gleaming marble floor.
“This is the place.”
After going up to the second floor, Oberon stopped in front of a room.
He raised one hand and knocked carefully.
“Miss Rierusha, it is Oberon. I will enter.”
Oberon turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
And the person inside was—
“Welcome, Oberon.”
A cute little child was sitting there.
“Your name is Sonette?”
“Yes, miss— …Gah. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“I’m Rierusha Aracrene. Nice to meet you.”
Rierusha looked at Sonette, whose hands were trembling uncontrollably from nervousness.
As Sonette tried to drink her tea, it spilled and flowed along her shaking hands.
Watching the fidgeting Sonette, Rierusha sighed inwardly.
Is this person really the author who wrote The Golden Age*?*
Her complexion was pale, and with her brown hair tightly tied back into a single bundle, Sonette looked—
No matter how one looked at her, extremely frail in both body and mind.
And very timid.
Then what kind of confidence did she have to write such a fairy tale?
She had heard that The Golden Age was taken off the market not long after its release.
It was probably because she couldn’t keep selling it due to outside pressure.
There was no way the nobles would just sit back and watch such a fairy tale exist.
“Did you really write* The Golden Age*?”
Rierusha narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
At that moment, Oberon whispered quietly into her ear from behind.
“She is also the author of The Throne of Lubnesia.”
“What’s that?”
“A work that satirized the Empire’s four great ducal houses and ended up being sued.”
“Huh, really?”
Then she must have been in serious financial trouble.
Rierusha stared intently at Sonette.
Contrary to appearances, she seemed to become fearless once she held a pen.
Rierusha gradually began to like Sonette more and more.
Yes, for what she planned to do next, she needed someone like Sonette.
Someone bold, honest, and capable of writing works that would stir controversy.
“I’m lookin’ for a writer.”
“…A writer?”
“Yeah. A writer who’ll write the story I want.”
Rierusha sucked on her straw.
Sweet liquid filled her mouth.
“…Are you saying you’re looking for a ghostwriter?”
“Yeah.”
“…Ah.”
In an instant, Sonette’s expression stiffened.
It happened often—nobles seeking ghostwriters to write their autobiographies.
They would dress up stories full of lies and somehow turn them into respectable-looking books.
Sonette firmly shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Miss Rierusha. I do not do ghostwriting.”
“Why?”
“Well… because it doesn’t align with my values.”
“Hm.”
Rierusha tilted her head.
She hadn’t expected Sonette to refuse without even a second’s hesitation.
“But since that fairy tale, you haven’t published anything. Aren’t you unable to work?”
She had once asked for everything written by the author of The Golden Age, since it had left such a strong impression on her.
But The Golden Age was all there was.
Struck right where it hurt, Sonette flinched.
“…You’re right, Miss Rierusha. There are no publishers who like authors who write works like that.”
Publishers needed the patronage of nobles—there was no way they would favor an author who wrote works hostile toward the nobility.
Sonette was surely on every publisher’s blacklist.
After The Throne of Lubnesia became famous, her face had become known, and she could no longer publish even fairy tales.
Though no one knew that she had written that fairy tale.
I’ll probably regret refusing today’s offer.
Sonette bit her lip until it hurt.
Watching her quietly, Rierusha spoke indifferently.
“Think about it again.”
“I’m sorry. My opinion hasn’t changed.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Rierusha muttered that it was a shame.
“If it were our family, you could write anything you wanted.”
“…Pardon?”
“We’re also preparing the Kadimo Theater Troupe.”
Sonette sharply inhaled.
The Kadimo Theater Troupe was every writer’s dream.
Having a performance staged based on one’s own work was already dreamlike—
But the Kadimo Theater Troupe, considered the very best?
Seeing Sonette waver, Rierusha shrugged.
“What I want you to write is basically that kind of thing anyway.”
“…What exactly do you mean by that?”
“The imperial family. Secrets. Exposure.”
Rierusha lowered her voice as if sharing a secret.
Her airy, slightly slurred pronunciation pierced straight into Sonette’s ears.
Not a single word could be ignored.
“But I don’t plan on forcing someone who doesn’t want to do it.”
Rierusha let out a regretful sigh.
Then, as if about to leave, she got down from her chair.
“Oberon, see our guest out safely.”
“Yes, understood.”
That was when it happened.
Sonette suddenly jumped to her feet and bowed at a ninety-degree angle.
Rierusha, who had been about to leave the room, turned her head.
Seeing Sonette acting without proper decorum until the very end, Oberon frowned in displeasure.
“Mi, Miss Rierusha!”
“Hm?”
“Pl-please give me just one chance.”
“Didn’t you say earlier you didn’t want to?”
“Yes, I still don’t want to do ghostwriting. However…”
Sonette’s eyes shone sharply.
“If what you said earlier is true, then I want to try.”
“Really?”
“Yes!”
Clink.
In the quiet room, the coin pouch at Sonette’s waist shifted and made a sound.
Ah—of all times, money had to make a noise now.
Sonette grimaced and lowered her head deeply.
“Five days.”
“…Excuse me?”
“I have some things organized. If you write it within five days, I’ll consider it.”
At Rierusha’s glance, Oberon opened a drawer in the room and brought out several sheets of paper.
As Sonette read through them, her eyes widened.
If she had the backing of the Aracrene family, could she really work with the Kadimo Theater Troupe on material like this?
With a trembling voice, Sonette replied,
“…Yes, miss. Five days will be enough.”
