The Story Being Rewritten
As the night drew to a close on a chaotic day filled with all sorts of happenings, I escorted Lene back to her room and hurried toward the quarters I had been using during our stay.
“Whew. Somehow, another day is over.”
Stepping inside, I let out a sigh at the sight I had grown used to over the past few days. I walked to the window, stared at the street where the shadows of people still going about their lives flickered beneath the glow of magic lamps, then drew the curtains shut. One by one I closed every curtain in the room, washed with hot water that felt perfectly satisfying—far better than the facilities back at the Lorelei mansion—and took my time drying my hair.
“Ugh, this is such a pain…”
A small burst of irritation rose while I dried the long hair that now demanded so much attention. Still, the situation didn’t allow me to simply cut it short. For a noblewoman to cut her hair meant something as tragic as a broken engagement or the loss of a spouse; even children were never permitted to wear their hair short.
“…I tried suggesting it once. It did not go well.”
I shuddered at the memory of tentatively bringing the idea up with Mother, wondering if the atmosphere here might be different from other noble houses, only to endure half a day of lecturing. Better to endure this annoyance than sit through hours of talking, I had decided.
By now the routine had settled into my body. I braided my hair neatly so it wouldn’t tangle while I slept, slipped into plain pajamas, and headed for the bed.
“Haa… Tomorrow’s the day.”
Lying down, I thought about the academy graduation ceremony awaiting us. Anticipation for the location that had been a stage in the original story, the schedule for returning to the territory afterward—I blinked slowly, turning the thoughts over in my mind, when one sudden question rose.
“Now that I think about it… did Arlan ever get married in the original?”
I wasn’t certain, but I recalled that neither Arlan nor Aran had married. With personalities like theirs, marriage was probably impossible anyway.
If their personalities in the original had been so off-putting, a love match like this would have been out of the question. Realizing it was far too late to wonder about such things now, I pushed the thoughts aside.
After all, my very existence wasn’t even in the original story…
“Since things are already flowing differently from the original, I hope a lot more people end up happy.”
I hoped everyone—Lene included, except for the truly rotten ones—would be far happier than they had been in the original. Yawning as sleep rolled in, I pulled that wish close so it couldn’t escape, drew the blanket over myself, and closed my eyes. My consciousness floated gently in the sun-dried scent of the bedding and the cloud-like softness of the mattress before sinking into sleep.
“René. At least wear this hair ornament…”
“No one will see it if I pull my hat down.”
“Ugh…”
The next morning, while we ate breakfast and prepared for the academy graduation ceremony, Mother—unable to let go of her small lingering hope—tried to persuade me with the accessories she had brought. I shook my head and crossed both hands, refusing every last one.
“You’ve raised four children. You know how it is. If they don’t want to do something, they won’t, no matter what.”
“Even so… Sigh. Lene loves dressing up, so I can’t understand why René hates it.”
Mother gave a bitter smile at Grandmother’s gentle words. She had been thinking a lot about the contrast between the brightly adorned Lene and my plain, calm appearance. In the end she tried to frame it positively, saying that at least no one would confuse which of us was which when we dressed like this.
Once Mother and Father were ready, we climbed into the carriage and headed for the academy.
“Whoa…”
When I let out an involuntary exclamation at the tall academy buildings visible beyond the carriage window, Lene—who had been sticking close—peered at the buildings herself before quickly turning her gaze back to me. When I asked whether she wasn’t interested in the academy, she made a face and said she didn’t particularly like studying.
“There are things you have to endure even if you hate them.”
“If it can’t be avoided, I’d rather that moment come as late as possible.”
“Hehe, true.”
Smiling in agreement with Lene, I watched the scenery outside until I noticed the carriage slowing as we approached the main gate. I quickly checked that nothing was out of place. While I straightened Lene’s slightly rumpled clothes and fixed her hair, the carriage came to a stop. A waiting academy staff member opened the door and greeted us with perfect courtesy.
“So this is the academy…”
I followed my parents out of the carriage. The small excitement that had set my body tingling at scenery even more magnificent than I had imagined while reading the original cooled sharply when we were told that guests attending the graduation could only walk in the permitted areas.
Rationally, I understood it was the safest option—an important occasion with nobles from many countries gathered, so preventing unnecessary trouble made sense. Even so, instinct made me feel a twinge of disappointment that they couldn’t have allowed just a little more freedom. Walking along with those conflicting feelings, I felt a small burst of fondness when I saw the statue of the academy’s founding headmaster.
Though I was seeing it in person for the first time, the internal familiarity built from staring at it endlessly on the original novel’s cover made me smile. I decided the cover version looked far better than the uniform he wore here.
“Wait, isn’t that Marquis Lorelei?”
At the voice calling Father from behind, he stopped and turned. The man who approached had white hair combed neatly back. Despite his age, he possessed a presence that could easily stand shoulder to shoulder with younger men. Father bowed without hesitation.
“It has been a long time, Duke Wintersong.”
“Hoho, I never expected to meet you at an occasion like this.”
The Duke of Wintersong smiled at Father as comfortably as if greeting an old friend’s child and said he was genuinely surprised. Father replied with an awkward smile that he had come because Arlan was graduating second in the class.
“Hoho, second place? That is impressive indeed.”
“You flatter me.”
While the duke—who had shown goodwill both for the help Grandfather had given the North in difficult times and from personal friendship—chatted with Father, I turned my attention to the girl behind him. She was cradling a pure white puppy and tilting her head at us with a curious expression.
Silver-white hair and blue eyes…
The distinctive Wintersong family features from the original story, an appearance that called to mind a haughty cat, and around the same age as Lene. While I wondered who this girl was—she seemed like someone who could have stepped out of the original but whose identity I couldn’t recall—Lene waved cheerfully at the girl close to her own age.
“Ah, I am late with introductions. This is my granddaughter.”
Only then did the duke turn his attention to us. The girl offered a polite greeting and introduced herself.
“My name is Irene Wintersong.”
Since she had greeted us properly, I set my questions aside for the moment. We sisters returned the courtesy and introduced ourselves in turn.
“I’m Lene. Lene Lorelei.”
“I am René Lorelei.”
After our introductions, the duke began boasting about his clever granddaughter who had a weak constitution and often fell ill, while Father proudly spoke of the twin daughters he had gained late in life. The two men resumed their private conversation.
Leaving the adults to their talk, I followed Lene, who was showing clear interest in Lady Wintersong.
Irene… Irene, huh.
As I mulled over the young lady’s name and searched my memories of the original, Lene expressed interest in the pure white puppy cradled in Irene’s arms.
“Um, may I pet it?”
“Yes. Please stroke it gently so you don’t startle it.”
Lene reached out carefully following Irene’s advice, but when the puppy suddenly twitched she yelped and jerked her hand back. Irene chuckled softly, clearly finding it adorable. When my steady gaze turned to her, she immediately apologized, saying she had meant no harm.
Confirming that the duke and Father were deep in a conversation unlikely to end without interruption, Irene approached us with genuine curiosity on her face and asked,
“Which one of you is the real Lady Lorelei?”
“What do you mean by ‘the real one’?”
When I expressed confusion at the strange remark, Irene hesitated before adding that, as far as she knew, there was only one Lady Lorelei. Seeing her confident tone and the way she looked back and forth between us twins with puzzled eyes, I realized a beat later what she was implying.
Irene let out a small laugh at my reaction, stepped closer, and smiled.
“…So you read it too.”
After a pause at her pretty, cute smile, I asked in Korean on the off chance. She nodded readily.
“The ending was seriously… It really wasn’t like that, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
We grumbled together, recalling the original story’s ending, then waved at Lene—who was only blinking in confusion because she couldn’t understand our Korean conversation—as if to say it was nothing important.
By then the guests attending the graduation had been urged to enter quickly, bringing the duke and Father’s conversation to a close. Feeling a small pang of regret at parting without properly talking to someone in the same situation, I received Irene’s promise that she would come find me later so we could speak at length. She then walked off after the duke as though nothing unusual had happened.
“René. What on earth were you two talking about?”
“It’s the language of a country where summer is so hot it’s hard to breathe, and winter is so cold you’ll freeze if you stop moving.”
“What is that supposed to… Tell me properly.”
As we walked after Father and Mother following Irene and Duke Wintersong’s departure, Lene persistently pestered me about what the two of us had said. Even though I had explained everything I could without hiding a single detail, Lene still couldn’t understand and clung to me even more tightly than usual.