Chapter 11
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Precious Person
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Time flew by like an arrow, and Philomel turned ten. She was spending time with Nassar, who had come to visit her as usual.
Nassar suddenly asked,
"Does Your Highness dislike me by any chance?"
Philomel, who had been reading a book, looked up in surprise at Nassar sitting across from her.
"Pardon? No, not at all."
But the boy's dark expression didn't brighten.
"...Did you perhaps overhear the conversation I had with my father back then?"
The "back then" Nassar referred to was the day he had visited with his father. It was also the day Philomel had decided to let go of her feelings for him.
As Philomel fell silent, Nassar rose from his seat and dropped to one knee on the floor.
"I apologize."
"Nassar! Get up!"
Philomel reached out in shock.
"No. I will beg for your forgiveness until Your Highness feels better."
But Nassar kept his head bowed resolutely.
Philomel spoke cautiously.
"There's no need for you to apologize to me. You weren't badmouthing me behind my back, nor did you say it on purpose for me to hear. It was just a coincidence that I overheard it."
"...The very fact that you harbor such thoughts is the problem."
'This is awkward.'
Philomel didn't hate Nassar.
Of course, she had resented him at the time. But as some time passed, that resentment faded away.
"How can you control that? It's not like my feelings are something I can command at will."
Philomel truly believed that. His love wasn't something she could have just because she desperately wanted it, and even if he couldn't love her, that wasn't his fault.
But Nassar stubbornly refused to stand.
"I must even control my own heart. So, harboring such improper thoughts is my failing."
Philomel felt a twinge of pity for Nassar.
'How harshly must Duke Averyden have drilled him for him to act like this?'
Duke Averyden was infamous for raising his son with ruthless rigor. Whether studies or swordsmanship, Nassar could do anything demanded of him, which only seemed to make the duke push harder.
Philomel herself had come to understand a bit of Nassar's struggles now that she was receiving proper heir training.
Nassar's shoulders, kneeling before her, looked particularly small.
The boy, with a woeful expression, pleaded,
"If there are any other shortcomings in me, please tell me. I was born to serve Your Highness, so if you just let me know, I will correct them."
Philomel couldn't hold back any longer and shouted,
"Why were you born to serve me, Nassar? You're just Nassar!"
"But Father always says I must serve Your Highness with that mindset..."
It seemed this young boy had been trained from a very early age to become the princess's consort. Brainwashed, even.
'Duke! What have you done to your own son!'
Philomel clutched her forehead.
'If he clings to me like this and later finds out I'm not the princess, won't he end up resenting me for no reason?'
She definitely couldn't leave Nassar like this.
"Nassar, sit here."
At Philomel's firm words, the dejected boy obediently complied.
"Repeat after me."
"Pardon?"
"Just repeat exactly what I say, once."
"Understood."
"I am a precious person."
Nassar hesitated before repeating,
"...I am a precious person."
"I am not an existence born for someone else."
"...I am not an existence born for someone else."
"I will live my life following my heart."
"I will live my..."
The boy's voice trailed off and then burst out after a pause.
"...life following my heart."
He was the heir to the ducal house and would eventually marry Princess Ellensia, but Philomel still hoped he would live his own life.
"That was good just now. Let's keep doing it like that."
"Yes!"
And so, Philomel's dubious deprogramming session continued for a while, even she wondered if it would work.
When the allotted time was up and Nassar had to leave,
"Then, Your Highness... I shall take my leave."
Nassar bid farewell hesitantly. He somehow seemed reluctant to go.
'The duke will probably just order him around with this and that the moment he gets home.'
His pitiful look, like a puppy that hadn't eaten, tugged at her heart, so Philomel stopped Nassar from leaving.
"Nassar. Have dinner with me tonight before you go."
"...Is that alright?"
"Of course. I'll let the duke know. And Nassar."
"Yes."
"From now on, if the duke says anything contrary to the words we repeated together today... just ignore it."
"...I'll try."
"If he says something utterly ridiculous, tell me. I'll scold the duke for you."
Unsure if he took it as a joke, Nassar let out a small chuckle.
"I'm not kidding. I can really scold the duke."
At least as long as the duke believed Philomel was the princess.
That day, Nassar had dinner, chatted idly with Philomel, and then went home.
Shyly, he confessed that when he grew up, he wanted to become a hero, not a duke. The duke would never let his precious only son hunt monsters, but Philomel cheered him on enthusiastically.
It was a time when she felt like she had gotten to know a little about the boy 'Nassar,' not the novel's male lead or the young lord of Averyden.
'Yeah. This is good enough.'
Watching Nassar wave goodbye as he left, Philomel thought.
There was no need to get too close to Nassar, but no need to avoid him either.
"If we just keep things like this, it should be fine."
Everything was peaceful.
That night, after Nassar left.
Philomel approached the roaring fireplace with Princess Ellensia in hand.
"I've memorized the contents..."
Until now, Philomel had read this book over and over and over.
Just in case, she had rewritten important parts in code-like notes and scattered them in various places, not just one spot.
There was no more need to keep the dangerously incriminating Princess Ellensia. It was time to destroy the final piece of evidence.
This book was far too dangerous. She had managed not to let the cleaning maids discover it so far, but there was no guarantee it would stay that way.
"Hup!"
Philomel hesitated, glancing between the fire and the book, then closed her eyes and tossed it into the flames.
Whoosh.
The paper burned away completely, turning to ash. But at that moment, something unbelievable happened. A beam of light spread across the floor right in front of the fireplace, and Princess Ellensia reappeared. Pristine, without a single scorch mark.
Philomel was so stunned that she just stared blankly at the book on the floor.
The next day, Philomel visited the imperial magic research lab located in the magido building.
"Here's your tea."
Mage Humphrey placed a cup of hot tea before the princess.
"Thank you. I'll enjoy it."
Philomel, draped in a cute cape, replied brightly.
He watched the young princess drink her tea with a pleased expression.
Humphrey was a mage introduced by Count Polan after Philomel had mentioned her curiosity about magic. He was a talented individual from the Magic Tower who had recently changed jobs.
"Your Highness, what is it you're curious about? I'll answer anything within my knowledge."
"I read in a book that there's this kind of magic..."
Philomel deliberately cited fantastical spells from fairy tales that would captivate a child, peppering him with questions as a smokescreen to hide her real interest.
"It seems the author exaggerated that..."
Humphrey answered earnestly.
After some back-and-forth, when enough time had passed, Philomel casually brought up her main topic.
"It would be great if there were a book that could tell the future in times like these!"
"You mean a book of prophecy?"
"Yes! I've only heard rumors about books of prophecy, but do they really exist?"
Humphrey stroked his chin, choosing his words carefully.
"One could say they exist, or one could say they don't."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, what people commonly call a book of prophecy is a book that accurately records future events, right?"
"Yes, that's right."
"But that's theoretically and practically impossible."
'Impossible?'
Philomel's face crumpled involuntarily.
"You look disappointed. But it's true. A mage's magical prediction of the future is just one facet of countless possibilities."
"What about priests?"
Philomel asked, unable to let go.
"Priests' prophecies are the same. Even the high priest's predictions miss the mark about thirty percent of the time. And it's hard to say the remaining seventy percent are perfectly accurate."
He expounded passionately.
"Prophecies are mostly vague statements that you can claim came true after the fact when something vaguely fitting happens. Like saying it's an earring if it hangs from the ear, a nose ring if from the nose. They claimed that prophecy from over a dozen years ago about divine wrath falling from the sky predicted the shooting star just the other day. And the temple is unnecessarily conservative..."
Oh no.
Humphrey clamped his mouth shut, his face flushing.
"Aigoo, I absolutely did not question the existence of God. I tend to get carried away when talking about magic..."
"So, what Humphrey means is that books of prophecy don't exist?"
"Exactly. The so-called books of prophecy out there are mostly complete fakes. Only a tiny fraction are written by priests or mages recording possibilities they've glimpsed. Unless it's God Himself, how could anyone know the future for certain?"
But Philomel already knew of such a book.
'Then what the heck is that book?'
Philomel pressed her lips tightly together.