The Prince in Disguise
As soon as I arrived at the reception room of the publishing house, a man with an extraordinary presence was waiting for me. I rolled my eyes, quickly taking in the atmosphere. Flanking him were two men in casual clothes that concealed weapons, standing protectively at his sides, while a woman who appeared to be a maid stood behind him with her head bowed.
"So you're the author Homerus, who wrote Don Quixote. Since you refused the invitation, I had no choice but to come in person."
And then the word 'invitation' slipped from the man's mouth. Realizing the situation, I immediately dropped to one knee and paid my respects.
What the hell is this bolt from the blue?
Somehow, Kindersley Publishing's president had already fled the reception room. Maybe I should take my next work to a rival publisher.
"...Your humble servant of the Empire greets Your Imperial Highness the Prince."
"If my sudden visit seems rude, I apologize."
"Rude? Not at all, Your Highness."
"You refused the invitation, so it seems you consider it plenty rude. Or was there some special reason?"
Cold sweat trickled down my back. No way a prince would personally show up just because someone turned down one invitation, right?
"I-It was such an undeserved honor that I didn't dare accept it."
"That's not for you to decide."
"My apologies..."
"When I read Don Quixote, I thought you'd be a bolder sort, but you seem surprisingly timid."
Who wouldn't be tense in a situation where one wrong word could cost you your head?
"Haha..."
"To be honest, I was a bit curious. Just how impressive must someone be to turn down an imperial invitation?"
"I'm sorry if I fell short of your expectations."
"No, this is interesting in its own way. For starters, your age. You look like you haven't even undergone your coming-of-age ceremony yet. Am I right?"
"Yes..."
"The author of Don Quixote is just a kid like this? The critics who raved about it would faint if they knew."
While I was fielding these interrogative questions from the prince, the maid standing behind him cautiously spoke up.
"Your Highness. I hate to interrupt, but there's some lint on your clothes."
"Hm?"
"Allow me to tidy it up."
"Ah, go ahead."
Thanks to the maid, I could finally catch my breath. Was removing lint really more important than jumping into the prince's conversation? Well, the sensibilities of the highborn were probably different. Given the prince's pristine attire, it wouldn't be strange if he had OCD.
After brushing off the lint, the prince continued.
"To produce such a great work at your age—your future looks promising. I'm actually impressed."
"Thank you..."
...Hm? Had the tone of his voice changed?
"My preamble dragged on. The reason I came to see you... is that I want to patronize you. There's nothing more meaningful than supporting a promising artist."
"...It's an honor."
An imperial patron of the arts. It wasn't uncommon. From medieval times, the wealthy had sponsored artists to boost their prestige and show off their discernment.
"But this is my first time patronizing a literary figure, so I'm pondering the method. Usually, when supporting painters, one commissions a portrait in return... but you can't ask a novelist to write your biography. How are literary patrons typically handled?"
"...If it's sponsoring a work, we could include a note of thanks to Your Highness in the preface."
"If I patronize you, could you ensure my name appears in all your novels as the sponsor?"
"That's not a difficult request, but..."
Something felt off. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding a certain word.
Time to test the waters.
"...Whose name does Your Highness wish to have listed in my novels?"
"Hm? What a silly question. Whose name would it be if not the patron's?"
"That's why I'm asking—who is the patron?"
"...How rude for a mere scribbler."
Jackpot. I suddenly felt like the protagonist of a detective novel. Maybe it was the thrill of tension running down my spine, but I was getting a bit excited.
"If my question was rude, I apologize. But is the prince standing before me... actually a stand-in?"
"You have a big mouth—"
As the man raised his voice, one of the guards at his side cut him off.
"Enoch, enough."
"...My apologies."
"It's fine. Deceptions don't always work."
Whoa. He even prepared a double to anticipate this? Being royalty must be tough. A double's double—I'd never have imagined it.
Impressed, I turned to the 'maid' quietly standing behind.
"...Even in this situation, you're remarkably composed, miss."
"Pardon?"
"Will my remarks cause trouble?"
And understandably so—
"Your Highness."
—because she was the real prince.
My sudden declaration froze the room. Was I right? I had to be, right? I didn't screw this up, did I?
"...How did you know?"
Perfect. Nailed it.
"Please, speak casually, Your Highness."
"This is my natural way of talking. Royals don't have to be haughty and condescending all the time, do they?"
Think about how it feels for the person hearing honorifics from royalty. It's super awkward.
"So, how did you figure it out? Most people buy the Enoch deception and move on."
"Your arms."
"My arms?"
"Women naturally move their arms while avoiding their chest. But when Enoch was removing the lint from his clothes, his arm movement gave him away as a man."
It was knowledge from a detective novel, but who'd have thought it'd come in handy?
"And?"
"Pardon?"
"The prince could just have unusual tastes and make his servant cross-dress. That doesn't prove I'm the prince."
"Ah, and after removing the lint, Enoch's tone suddenly turned friendly. I figured that was some kind of signal... or warning."
"A warning...?"
"Yes."
A prince who came all the way to the publishing house because he loved Don Quixote.
"A prince who adores Don Quixote wouldn't stand by while someone mocked the author's youth."
Any fan driven by passion would relate. If the creator of your favorite work turned out to be a kid, wouldn't admiration come before scorn?
"...You concluded I was the prince based on that?"
"Well, if those reasons aren't enough..."
Honestly, it was half a lucky guess.
"Does a writer need grand reasons to recognize a passionate reader?"
"...Pfft, haha! You're a fun one, author."
"Was I rude just now?"
"Extremely."
"Sorry."
"Kidding. I just wanted to see your face, but I never expected you'd uncover that I'm the real prince."
The prince giggled for a good while, clearly delighted. Was it magic? She looked and sounded every bit a woman, causing a slight cognitive dissonance. At least the tension eased.
"Life as royalty must be exhausting. Dressing as a woman just to hide your identity."
"Oh, no—this form is my preference."
"...Pardon?"
What did I just hear? The beaming prince covered her mouth and whispered softly, confirming I hadn't misheard.
"Don Quixote mistook Aldonza, a village girl, for the princess Dulcinea, right?"
"Ah, yes..."
"If someone wants to believe they're a knight, isn't it natural for someone else to wish to be seen as 'Dulcinea the princess'?"
A mad idea. With her hand over her mouth and a mischievous smile, she was clearly a madwoman. The tragedy was that this madwoman was the Empire's third prince.
I nodded vigorously, pretending to empathize.
"Indeed, you're right."
"See? I knew Don Quixote's author would understand."
"Ah, yes..."
"Did you know? In this world, some people are born with a body that doesn't match their inner self."
"Yes... Inner sense of self and identity don't always align with the flesh."
Who'd have thought I'd be discussing 21st-century political correctness in this world?
"Oh, you get it! The church bishops who preach soul-body unity would never accept it... but our God loves beauty. In a world where only the obvious and visible hold value, where would beauty come from?"
"Ah, yes."
Why am I discussing this with an imperial prince? Is this a dream?
"What do you think, author?"
The talk on sexual identity dragged on for nearly 30 minutes. The longest 30 minutes of my life.
......
"You're letting him live?"
"Oh, Enoch. Anyone would think I go around killing people willy-nilly. How can one claim royalty without cherishing the lives of the people?"
Inside the carriage heading back to the palace, the prince leaned back in her seat with a satisfied smile.
Born with this soul, she'd lived her whole life branded 'blasphemous'. She could only go out behind her stand-in's shadow, and even that required permission, so she spent most of her time confined to the palace.
Naturally, she'd fallen into popular novels... and Don Quixote had been a single ray of light in that dark world.
"I'm worried the rumor might spread. If one life can prevent blasphemy, isn't that the right choice?"
"Then taking my life would be the quickest way."
"...My apologies. That wasn't my intent."
"No. Hey, want to look outside? Everyone's faces look so bright. Don't they?"
Since the rise of magitech, the Empire had changed dramatically. Living standards improved, and people now sought education and entertainment beyond mere survival. Monster circuses and magic shows flourished, imperial influence waned as the assembly grew stronger.
The world was changing rapidly. Everyone took pride in it, believing without doubt that it was progressing.
They willfully ignored the side effects. Mana was polluted, great forests destroyed, new mutant monsters appearing worldwide. People said the world was advancing, but it was no different from a magic train hurtling madly without knowing its destination.
"See those people in wandering knight outfits? Or the ones giggling with books in hand?"
"...Frankly, they all look insane."
"Hehe, too honest? Well, you're right."
But one novel was changing the world. People no longer dismissed the past as barbaric. They didn't scorn justice as fantasy or mock courage as recklessness.
Excessive nostalgia for the past was worth cautioning against, but this world had charged forward too blindly for too long.
"If the world's gone mad, then being too sane is the real madness."
Even if we trip over the past, we must stop leaping off cliffs.
......
"The sponsorship amount... is how much?"
I'd thought the royalties from Don Quixote had made me quite wealthy.
I was wrong.
"...President."
"Yes!"
"I'll forgive you for leaving me alone with the prince in the reception room and running away."
"Haha... Th-thank you so much..."