Warm Diary, Blushing Diary #37
“A... alright, my lady.”
In the end, Isel raised the white flag. How could she refuse when Silia’s big eyes sparkled like that? She could just gloss over the slightly embarrassing and shameful parts. Silia probably wouldn’t understand them anyway.
Silia scampered back to her room with an excited grin, grabbed her diary, and plopped down at the round table again.
“Here’s my diary, Hero!”
“Oh, y-yes, thank you.”
“Hee, thank you. For showing me.”
“N-no, it’s nothing...”
Isel’s face was already burning up, so she pulled out a sheet of paper and fanned herself. Today, it really felt like summer had arrived.
“Then I’ll read it gratefully~!”
“Y-yes. Me too...”
And so, the two opened each other’s diaries.
A “diary swap”—something Isel had never even done in the modern world. There was no surer way to peer into someone’s heart, but that raw honesty was mortifying. These were real stories, unpolished and unfiltered, written without any thought of sharing. If she’d known about the swap, she would have fabricated something sanitized. In that sense, this sudden exchange was perfect for glimpsing true feelings.
The small comfort was that Silia was just a 13-year-old girl from a different world—she wouldn’t get a lot of it.
A hush of reading settled over Isel’s room. Silia wiggled her toes happily, lost in the pages, and Isel began reading hers too.
Once she started, she was genuinely curious about Silia’s diary. What secrets did this young lady hold, with her age-appropriate innocence mixed with surprising maturity and insight?
Isel turned the pages.
Unlike her own sporadic entries, Silia’s were written every single day—but as with most children’s diaries, they were short, so the pages flew by.
Then she stopped at one.
The first mention of the Hero.
Dad said not to come out, so I stayed in my room, but I could see the Hero from the window. She looked so thin. She seemed sick. What happened? Dad’s too much. She has so many pretty clothes, but he made her wear that.
It was the day Isel first set foot in the Rosel mansion—Silia must have been watching from her window. The stream-of-consciousness style was utterly adorable.
Today Dad said the Hero’s heart hurts, so let’s help her in secret. I went to see her secretly. Eating something tasty makes you feel better, so I brought macarons. But I made her cry. I feel bad... I hope she doesn’t cry.
Reflecting on that day through the diary brought fresh emotions. When they’d first met, Isel had still been in her broken state and couldn’t accept Silia. But the macaron she’d brought had melted in her mouth, chasing away some gloom for the first time in ages with its sweetness.
Reading it confirmed what Isel already knew: Silia was pure-hearted yet profoundly deep.
The Hero said there’s something called comics in her world, so I asked her to draw some, and it was so fun. I asked for more. I want to see her real story. I don’t believe it at all. Our Hero must have been framed.
With each page, Isel’s chest tightened with emotion. It felt like warm solace from a child’s pure faith etched in these pages.
This was the belief she’d craved amid utter despair—the trust no one in the kingdom had given her. From the day she’d crumbled as the Hero until now, it was recorded here without a shred of doubt.
Isel’s nose stung.
Today I bathed with the Hero! Kyaa!! It was so great! Like bathing with Mom? I never wanted to leave the bath with the Hero. It was that good. I wish we could do it again. Heehee. But the Hero’s breasts are really big.
Isel chuckled. The diary’s vivid words rang in her ears like fresh fish flopping about. Amid the touching moments, she couldn’t help smiling at Silia’s age-appropriate innocence.
She’d never been this absorbed in a book, even in the modern world. Lost in Silia’s diary, Isel forgot all about her own and kept turning pages.
Today I showed the young masters and ladies the comics. The reaction was explosive, as expected! If these comics with our Hero’s true story spread far and wide... maybe everyone will know it’s the truth? I want the Hero to be happy!
Happiness... Isel repeated the word inwardly.
Could a slave even feel happiness? The master and mansion staff treated her kindly, but sharing peace was easy—when it was threatened, would they turn venomous like the royals?
Brikal the tyrant had the power to shatter this peace. It was serene now, but if he used her as a hostage, wouldn’t betrayal repeat for their own survival?
One word—happiness—stirred a whirlwind of worries. Though healing through others’ efforts, Isel was still fragile.
Lately, she’d tasted happiness’s sweetness, but fear loomed that it might turn bitter again. This tranquil life felt precarious.
Like fearing familiar flavors, the destruction she’d known lingered deep, chaining her ankles against joy.
Now she understood the vague anxiety’s source. Reading Silia’s diary made it clear.
Like treating illness, knowing anxiety’s root was key to overcoming it. This diary swap, which she’d dreaded as pointless, was proving invaluable.
“...Hero. Tam...pon? Magic Day? What’s that?”
Of course, fortune came with a catch. Isel snapped from her reverie, eyes wide over teary emotion.
Her pale face flushed crimson.
Ugh, everything’s great, but a tampon would be perfect. Magic Day messes with my head so much I can’t focus on training...
Silia, reading Isel’s diary like a comic with a beaming smile and twirling her hair, paused at that page.
“Tampon? Magic Day?”
Silia tilted her head, pondering. Magic Day existed—the day the first magic formula book was published, Continental Year 368, June 6th, designated as Magic Day.
But tampon? No clue. It seemed important to the Hero, so she wanted to help.
“Uh, th-that’s, um...”
A diary written without an audience. She’d vented her longing for modern tampons—how to explain?
Isel stammered, face exploding red.
“What is it? Tell me freely. I wanna get it for you! It seems important.”
“...Y-yeah, it’s important, but you can’t get it here.”
“Aww, too bad. But what is it? And this wasn’t Magic Day.”
The entry was dated April 13th—two months from Magic Day.
Isel racked her brain.
“W-well, a tampon is, uh, a h-hemorrhage tool.”
“Hemorrhage tool? Like bandages?”
“Y-yes.”
“Ah~ Got it.”
Isel smiled in relief, nodding. A perfect dodge—not wrong, even. In this medieval world, menstruation was taboo; women let it flow or padded linen cloths below. Noble dresses were often red for that reason.
To Isel from the modern world, it was unhygienic hell. She’d missed tampons and pads terribly.
She’d adapted to linen pads now, but back then? Torture.
Phew... Nailed it.
Silia, seemingly satisfied, asked more.
“But what’s Magic Day? Does your world have it too?”
“Oh, that’s... menstruation.”
“Menstruation? You call it Magic Day?”
“Y-yes. In our world, it’s still embarrassing, so we euphemize.”
Silia sounded amazed.
“Embarrassing, but such a pretty name. Menstruation as Magic Day... Hee, sounds nice.”
“R-really...?”
“I want my Magic Day to come soon too...!”
“...Better late than never. It’s super inconvenient and painful...”
“Still, it means you’re becoming an adult. Some friends already started. Hng.”
“You wanna grow up that fast?”
Silia nodded without hesitation.
Kids always dream of adulthood—for freedom from control, for owning their lives.
Knowing that bitterness all too well, Isel smiled softly.
“I’d rather you stay just like this, Lady Silia.”
But Silia shook her head firmly twice.
“Hng, no way. I wanna debut at a ball soon, fall in love with a handsome guy...! Hold hands...! Kiss...!”
“Ah.”
Isel smiled, nodding as realization dawned. Silia craved not just freedom, but romance. Pre-debut, love was taboo.
Silia leaned forward, eyes sparkling at Isel’s reaction.
“H-Hero, have you kissed...!?”
Sudden intimacy from the 13-year-old, awakening to such curiosities.
But today, Isel might need to wipe tears again.
Averting her eyes, she muttered like a sinner.
“...A holy Hero doesn’t kiss or...”
“Th-then in your original world?! You were an adult, right? Adults have partners...!”
“Ah, th-that time. I was too busy...”
“...”
Silia deflated, leaning back. Her eager eyes cooled.
She’d seen Isel’s self-portrait of her original world self—gorgeous enough for romance.
“...Hero. No boyfriend?”
“...No, none.”
“None?”
“None.”
“Why not?”
“...Just... none.”
“Oh, you did?”
“No, really none.”
“...”
“S-sorry. It’s just hard to believe...”
Sniff.
“N-no, it’s fine...”
Solo heroine Emilia had to sniffle twice today.