Chapter 29
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: A Desperate Plea
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It was an embarrassing position, but now wasn't the time to worry about such things.
"If I go to the imperial palace, I'll die. Nassar doesn't want me to end up like that either, right?"
"Calm down. That won't happen. Who would dare harm the Princess?"
"Who else but His Majesty the Emperor!"
"...Pardon? That's a misunderstanding. His Majesty truly worries for you, Princess."
She swallowed the urge to snap back that it made no sense whatsoever.
"Why would he worry about me, when I'm not even his real daughter? He must be grinding his teeth in rage right now."
"The talk that you're a fake princess is all just baseless rumor..."
"No. I'm definitely not His Majesty's daughter."
Philomel forced down her frustration and answered.
"That can't be..."
He trailed off in shock for a moment, then shook his head.
"No, even if that's true, His Majesty's concern for you is genuine. Count Polan said the same."
"Must be the Count's misconception."
Count Polan did have a tendency to see the world through rather rose-tinted glasses.
"..."
Philomel's firm attitude left Nassar visibly confused.
He'd only heard the details secondhand from Count Polan—he'd never faced the Emperor himself.
'Could His Majesty truly...?'
Philomel didn't miss the bewilderment flickering across his face.
"Please, Nassar... Just let me go. Do that, and I'll do anything you want."
Nassar's eyes shook violently.
Looking at his face, Philomel felt certain she had a shot at survival.
Nassar was upright and kind at heart. He'd been merciless to the book's 'Philomel' for tormenting Ellensia, but he was gentle with everyone else. He wasn't the type to shove the current Philomel toward death.
Over the past few years, she'd kept her distance without pestering him, maintaining a cordial relationship.
Everyone agreed the Princess and Young Duke made an ideal engaged pair. If she appealed to his compassion, he might just look the other way this once.
And silencing the Duke's knights and Anghelium's security team wouldn't be hard for him.
Truth be told, her offer to do "anything" was just empty words—kind Nassar wouldn't make any outrageous demands anyway.
"..."
Yet Nassar's reaction was anything but ordinary.
"Why... why test me with words like that?"
His face crumpling like he might cry, Nassar gently pried Philomel off him with utmost care and sat her back in her seat. His fingers trembled faintly.
"What did I...?"
Philomel was utterly baffled.
'What the hell did I do!'
Was begging for her life wrong? What did he even mean by "testing" him?
Nassar swept back his bangs and bowed his head low.
"That remark just now was impertinent toward Your Highness. I apologize."
"...I have no idea what's going on, but you don't need to apologize."
After that baffling apology, nothing but silence filled the carriage.
Nassar stared out the window with a look of profound disappointment—not directed at Philomel, but at himself.
Was there something in their exchange he could blame himself for?
They had no time to waste like this, but with Nassar acting this way, it was hard to press the issue.
Suddenly, he spoke up.
"I can't honor your request not to inform the Emperor."
"Why not?"
Meeting Philomel's gaze, Nassar spoke in a tone thick with regret.
"Truth is... before we boarded the carriage, I ordered a message sent to the imperial palace."
The memory flashed of Nassar speaking to one of the knights.
"I'm truly sorry. I was so overjoyed at finding you, Princess, that I just... I sent it via magic messenger bird, so it'll reach His Majesty by morning at the latest."
"..."
Philomel struggled to assess the situation coolly. At least their group had no mages, so they'd used a bird instead of a communication stone—that was some small mercy.
Communication stones required a mage, but messenger birds could be used by anyone once pre-charged with mana.
"His Majesty finding out is inevitable now. But I still want to help you, Princess."
Nassar continued, glancing at her cautiously.
"What if you stay at the Averyden villa in Saint-Gen? We'll report to the Emperor that you slipped away, or that it turned out to be someone else."
"Do you think he'll buy that? Even if he does, it'll just make you look like a fool."
Excuses like losing one woman amid a group of grown men, or mistaking one's own fiancée, strained credulity.
Especially from the brilliant Young Duke Averyden? Forget Emperor Justis—even a random three-year-old passerby wouldn't swallow it.
"I don't care if they call a wretch like me a fool. Your safety is all that matters."
It was a touching line, but utterly misplaced. She wasn't Ellensia.
"I'm not okay with that. And I can't fathom why the Young Duke would go so far for me. If you're caught hiding me at an Averyden villa, the Duke's house itself will face suspicion."
It was far kinder than simply pretending not to see her.
"That's because I... you..."
"Me?"
"You..."
Nassar only mouthed the words.
No matter how patiently she waited, the rest never came.
"Fine. We'll go with me having escaped. I'll gratefully accept the Young Duke's kindness."
Whatever his reasons, Philomel wasn't in a position to nitpick.
"But I'm not going to the Averyden villa. I don't want to cause trouble for the Duke's family."
And while she might trust Nassar, his father, Duke Averyden, was another story entirely.
Now that the real princess had appeared, Philomel was nothing but an eyesore to him.
The Duke had wanted a princess as his son's match—not Philomel.
"Then what's your plan from here?"
"Once we reach Saint-Gen, I'll head straight somewhere else."
"Where to?"
"Haven't decided yet. I'll figure it out as I go. Anywhere far from the imperial palace will do."
She spoke casually, but her real plan was to return to Anghelium and head for the Magic Tower.
Time was too tight to scout and relocate to someplace new. She just hated to tip Nassar off about it.
'He's a good person, but I can't fully trust him.'
Philomel stole a glance across from her.
Nassar Averyden.
A fine fiancé for nearly a decade, but nothing more or less.
As children, they'd sometimes shared meals and played silly echo games, but those days were long gone. As they grew, both got busy, and their meetings dwindled sharply.
'In the end, he'll be Ellensia's lover.'
She didn't dislike him, but there was no benefit in getting too close.
Nassar, who somehow looked sorrowful, spoke with resolve.
"Even so, I want to help you on your way, Your Highness."
"...Do whatever you want."
Philomel brushed him off, too annoyed to care further. With her course set, exhaustion crashed over her.
The sky outside had grown dusky. Dawn was already breaking.
"You're tired, aren't you? Try to get some rest."
She took his suggestion without protest, leaning back comfortably.
Even with eyes closed, tension kept sleep at bay. After a few tosses, Nassar's cloak slipped off her.
Nassar picked it up and draped it back over her, adjusting it meticulously to cover as much as possible with delicate care.
"Rest easy, even in your dreams."
His whisper tickled her ear.
To her dismay, Philomel stayed wide awake until daybreak. She was dead tired, yet sleep stubbornly eluded her.
"We've arrived in Saint-Gen."
The scenery of Saint-Gen after a few days felt unchanged.
Without needing her circuitous route, the group could cross in a single night. The carriage pulled up near the hotel where the Duke's entourage was staying.
"Thank you for everything up to now. I'll never forget your grace today."
"Leaving right away? You must be famished—let me at least treat you to breakfast."
"No time. And it won't do for anyone to see us together."
"...You're right."
"Then."
It'd cost a bit, but she'd head to a communication office and contact Lexion to come fetch her.
She'd mulled it over in the carriage—that was the fastest way to the Magic Tower.
If Lexion could use teleportation magic, perfect. If not, one of his acquaintances surely could.
As Philomel moved to leave, Nassar's voice stopped her.
"One moment. I'll have them prepare something simple to eat on the road at least. Please, don't refuse even this."
What to do.
She was starving, after all, which made her hesitate.
The hotel housing the Averyden entourage was Saint-Gen's finest for nobility, renowned for its exquisite cuisine.
Not missing her hesitation, Nassar swiftly instructed one of the accompanying knights.
"Tell the hotel kitchen: something tasty, easy to digest, highly nutritious, simple to eat, quick to prepare, and portable. Pack it for travel. Mild flavors."
"Yes, sir!"
The knight dashed into the hotel, flustered by the lengthy, detailed order.
'He remembered I like mild food.'
Philomel bit her lip hard as an ache bloomed in her chest.