Chapter 5
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Polite Rejection
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The next morning, as Philomel stirred awake, Nanny peered at her with a troubled expression and asked if anything strange had happened overnight.
"Strange? Nothing comes to mind. Why, did something happen?"
"...No, never mind. As long as nothing did, that's fine."
What was that about?
Philomel shot her a dubious look, but Nanny swiftly changed the subject.
"More importantly, His Majesty the Emperor sent over some fruit from the World Tree—it's said to be especially good for restoring one's vitality."
"...From His Majesty?"
Philomel blinked in surprise.
"Yes. Be sure to thank him properly next time you see him. To think he'd send something this precious for a mere cold..."
The World Tree stood at the heart of the continent, a tree of immense sanctity, and its fruit was renowned for its restorative powers.
It was an elixir that could make even an eighty-year-old feel young and spry again—practically a common cold remedy to the Emperor of the Empire.
No wonder, since a dozen or so fruits were offered as tribute each year. Still, it was unexpected for him to give some to Philomel.
In the days when she knew nothing, she would have jumped for joy, seeing it as a father's love and attention.
But now, all she felt was a dry realization: Count Polan must have sent this in the Emperor's name.
She appreciated the count's kindness, but that goodwill was aimed not at her, but at the Emperor's daughter.
Philomel replied matter-of-factly.
"Got it. Please convey my gratitude for this undeserved grace. And bring the fruit out with my medicine."
"Oh? Is that all?"
"Why? Do I need something else?"
"Nothing at all."
Nanny seemed puzzled by the lukewarm response but quickly moved on to the next matter.
"Oh, and upon hearing that Your Highness is ill, Young Duke Averyden has requested permission to visit."
Young Duke Averyden—Nassar Averyden, Philomel's fiancé.
"I see."
"He said he'd come whenever it suits Your Highness. When shall we schedule it?"
Thanks to resting the entire previous day, Philomel was feeling much better. The cold symptoms had mostly faded.
"If possible, this afternoon? Unless he has other commitments, in which case tomorrow it is."
Philomel answered, recalling the boy who had stood in the rain.
Soon after, word came from the duke's household confirming the afternoon visit.
As Philomel thought of Nassar's refined features, she clutched the bedsheets tightly.
This was her chance to gauge the true feelings of the Nassar who had always been so kind in her presence.
When she learned that her fiancé Nassar ended up with Ellensia, the novel's male lead, Philomel had been furious.
Not content with stealing her father and status, he took her fiancé too.
In the novel, Nassar was every bit the romance novel hero—bold, romantic, devoted. But only to the heroine Ellensia.
None of it matched the Nassar she knew.
But he was never mine to begin with...
If a blow was inevitable, better to take it swiftly. Lingering pain would only drag on.
A few hours later, the appointed time arrived.
"Nassar, fix your expression. Her Highness the Princess will be here any moment—surely you're not planning to show her that sulky face?"
Philomel's steps halted at the voice drifting from the private drawing room.
She signaled the maid, who had been about to announce the princess's arrival, to hold.
Since Philomel was always late to their meetings, they must have assumed the same today—Nassar and the duke were chatting amiably.
Until now, I'd always fretted over what to wear to look my best for him, which made me late... but not anymore.
She wore a simple outfit now.
"But Father, today I..."
"I know you're upset about missing your plans with friends because of this visit. But duty must come first. Have you forgotten who you are?"
"...I know full well."
The duke's quiet admonishment silenced Nassar's complaints.
Philomel mentally counted to ten before entering the drawing room.
"It's been a while, Your Highness. How fares your health?"
The duke greeted her first, and Nassar erased his boyish demeanor, standing properly before Philomel.
"I was greatly worried to hear you were unwell."
"It's been a while... Duke... and Nassar. The cold is nearly gone. Thank you for your concern."
After the formal pleasantries, the duke excused himself for a meeting he had to attend.
Not forgetting to exchange a pointed glance with his son—a silent reminder not to offend Philomel.
Even knowing full well the princess was smitten with his son, the duke never skimped on precautions. That was the mark of a duke.
Once seated across from the boy, Philomel spoke.
"Nassar."
"Yes, Your Highness."
She recalled the first time she saw him.
Philomel had fallen head over heels for the mature, beautiful boy.
His unusually adult demeanor and the mystical aura of his rare platinum hair captivated her. Even his crimson eyes, which others called eerie, charmed her completely.
So she was over the moon when he became her fiancé.
"Your Highness."
"..."
"Your Highness? Are you all right?"
"Ah, yes. I'm fine."
Nassar gazed at her with concern. She must have been lost in old memories for a moment.
"I'm still worried you're pushing yourself too hard."
The gentle Nassar.
In the past, she'd believed that gentleness stemmed from feelings mirroring her own.
Indeed, he was kinder and more courteous to her than anyone else around her.
But after reading Princess Ellensia, cracks formed in that long-held belief.
Philomel said his name again.
"Nassar."
"Yes, speak."
"Once I'm fully recovered, would you like to go on a picnic somewhere?"
On nice days, they'd sometimes head out with a basket of food prepared by the maids.
They never went far—just to a hillock on the palace grounds, accompanied by a full entourage—but it was Philomel's favorite time.
"That sounds good."
Nassar nodded readily.
"Where shall we go for the picnic?"
"Wherever Your Highness desires."
"Is there nowhere you'd like to go?"
"Anywhere, as long as I'm escorting Your Highness."
Impeccable manners and response.
"Actually, a picnic might not suit this weather. It poured the other day, even postponing the Founding Festival. What do you think?"
"You're right, Your Highness."
"We could have an indoor picnic with snacks."
"Yes, that works too."
"One of my maids mentioned a pianist who's all the rage in high society. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have them play for us?"
"I've heard of them. Excellent idea, Your Highness."
Still impeccable—but nothing more.
Ah, Nassar doesn't want to do anything with me at all.
Philomel realized.
From start to finish, he expressed no personal desires. He merely accommodated her suggestions.
She'd once thought this willingness to go along with her whims came from love.
Yet in the novel, Nassar was desperate to fulfill Ellensia's wishes before she even voiced them.
A man helplessly in love, like any ordinary fellow smitten.
The reason he could always remain so composed and polite before Philomel was...
Because he felt not the slightest shred of love.
Even wanting to visit today was probably the duke's will, not his.
Her recent experiences had peeled away the comforting illusions, and now her clear-eyed view revealed the world around her all too plainly.
"Then we'll arrange the pianist on our end. Once Your Highness has recovered, just send word and..."
"No."
Philomel cut him off and rose from her seat.
"Pardon?"
Nassar looked at the princess in bewilderment.
"Pretend that conversation never happened. Thank you for visiting. I'm still not fully recovered and tire easily, so please take your leave, Young Duke."
Philomel tried to smile as courteously as Nassar while swiftly delivering her prepared words.
"And from now on, you needn't come to the palace twice a week to keep me company."
"What do you..."
"I've taken too much of your precious time without reason. You must have your own schedule. From here on, spend your time freely with your other friends."
"Please wait. Have I offended Your Highness somehow? If so, I apologize. Please, don't be angry..."
"Not at all. You've done nothing wrong."
Nassar grew confused by Philomel's unwavering smile.
"Even as fiancés, meeting so often has left me no time to make other friends. Don't I need friends of my own besides you?"
"...Understood."
"Farewell, then."
Leaving Nassar with his unsettled expression, Philomel left the drawing room.
Back in her room, she checked her expression in the mirror.
Did she smile just like Nassar earlier?
After practicing a few times by narrowing her eyes, a convincing smile formed. This would be the mask Philomel wore from now on.
Imitate Nassar. Be kind to everyone, but give your heart to no one.
...That way, when it's time to run, I can leave without regrets.
The girl in the mirror wore a lonely smile.