Chapter 52
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: The Crowded Patisserie
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Even if she couldn't win Jeremiah over to her side, at least she wanted to stop him from ever developing feelings for Ellensia.
Manipulating someone's emotions was impossible, but Philomel had knowledge from the book. She knew exactly what sparked Jeremiah's initial fondness for Ellensia and how he fell head over heels for her.
'What if I let him experience it all beforehand?'
There was no way he'd develop deep feelings for Philomel instead of Ellensia, but she could definitely build up some goodwill. Hadn't his attitude softened quite a bit after she gave him those cookies yesterday?
Philomel mentally reviewed her plan as she pulled an item from her bag. She finished preparing to head out to the square and called for Jeremiah.
"Jeremiah, shall we go now?"
"Yeah, sure....... You! What's that?!"
Jeremiah whipped around to face her and shouted in surprise.
"Pardon? What's what?"
"That on your face."
"Oh, it's a mask to hide my identity. As you know, my face is pretty well-known."
That's why she'd come fully equipped with a hood and mask she'd prepared in advance. She was confident no one would recognize her even if she strolled right through the middle of the square.
But Jeremiah frowned, clearly displeased with her getup.
"Take it off."
"What?"
"You look suspicious as hell."
"......That suspicious?"
"Incredibly, tremendously, outrageously."
"They'll think it's just for blocking the sun."
"Yeah, right. You're lucky if you don't get stopped for a search."
Philomel fiddled half-heartedly with her mask.
'Is it really that weird? I thought all the ladies fussing over their skin were doing this these days......'
That's what it had said in the romance novel magazine Nancy had lent her.
"Maybe it's because it's a third-rate rag—most of it's not reliable anyway!"
Come to think of it, Nancy had added that when she lent it over.
Media aimed at commoners was full of inaccurate or exaggerated tales about noble life. They threw in whatever would catch the eye of subscribers dreaming of high society.
'I thought masks were in fashion and the ladies just weren't telling me about it......'
Most of them were friendly toward her, but they still seemed to hold back because she was a princess.
As Philomel pouted dejectedly, Jeremiah scratched the back of his head and stepped closer.
"Jeez, what a pain."
He pulled a necklace from his pocket and draped it around her neck. Then he removed her mask and led her out into the street.
"There, that's better. No one will pay you any mind now."
True to his word, not a single person passing through the square so much as glanced at Philomel.
Instead, nearby women turned their attention to Jeremiah. Blushing and whispering among themselves, they started heading this way.
"Tch, this is exactly why I hate crowds. Let's hurry."
Jeremiah pulled his hood low and grabbed Philomel's wrist, leading her along.
Philomel touched the necklace hanging around her neck.
It was a silver locket engraved with the image of a mask on its surface.
She already knew about it from Princess Ellensia.
It was the necklace Jeremiah always wore to avoid drawing attention—a high-end magic item despite its somewhat crude appearance.
"While you're wearing it, others see your face as someone else's."
Noticing her fiddling with it, Jeremiah explained.
He stopped in front of a shop window and pointed at their reflections in the glass.
"Whoa......"
Reflected in the glass was a stranger dressed in Philomel's clothes. Not just her features—her hair color and eye color were completely different too.
As Philomel slowly examined the reflection, she caught sight of Jeremiah's profile. It was like an ice sculpture crafted with exquisite care by a master artisan.
His thick silver lashes, reminiscent of snowflakes, fluttered every time he blinked.
No wonder they called him the Ice Prince.
'Even beauties must have their troubles.'
How else could you explain him carrying something like this around?
As they reached the central square, Jeremiah slowed down, and Philomel spoke to his back.
"Thanks for the necklace."
"I'm just lending it."
"Still, thank you. It's an important item of yours."
"It's nothing special."
Nothing special, huh. It was described as a national treasure-level item in Princess Ellensia.
Philomel pouted where he couldn't see.
"It was just rolling around in Rguin's room, so I picked it up on a whim."
Was it really nothing to these people......?
Either way, the fact that he'd lent her something he always carried was a good sign.
'At this rate, winning some favor shouldn't be too hard.'
Philomel grinned to herself.
Just then, Jeremiah glanced around the crowded square and asked,
"So, where are we going? It's too noisy to talk here."
True to its reputation as the heart of the capital, the central square teemed with people.
Seeing Jeremiah's face already scrunching up, Philomel quickly took the lead.
"I know a good spot, so let's head there. Just trust me and follow!"
"Hey, wait up!"
Philomel darted through the crowd like a squirrel, and Jeremiah followed behind. Luckily, the square wasn't too complicated, so she could navigate using the mental map from the magazine.
Soon, Philomel stood dumbfounded in front of a building with a pink exterior.
A flashy sign reading [Crecion Patisserie] gleamed brightly.
"No way......"
But a long line of people stretched from the entrance far into the distance. Everyone was waiting to get into Crecion Patisserie.
"There are way too many people......"
"Yeah."
Jeremiah replied, one eyebrow furrowed.
"If we get in line now, how long until we get in?"
"Who knows."
The question was answered soon enough.
A clerk at the end of the line held a sign that read: [Three hours from here.]
Philomel clutched her forehead.
Three hours was far too long.
If they endured, they might make it inside before it was time to head back.
But pastries weren't the point—Jeremiah was.
The sweets were just a sacrificial offering to break down emotional walls and smooth the conversation.
Was she really going to make Jeremiah—who hated people—stand in this dense crowd just for some pastries?
'I didn't expect this many people.'
This patisserie had been founded generations ago when an ancestor of Count Crecion sponsored a young, talented pâtissier.
[Delicious pastries for those who earnestly desire them.]
That was Crecion Patisserie's founding principle.
True to it, they only served customers with reservations made long in advance or those who waited in line.
Even if some noble threw money around and demanded special treatment, they ignored them completely.
But there were always exceptions.
No one dared tell the emperor to wait, so Philomel had always been able to enjoy their fresh-baked pastries whenever she pleased.
She'd known the lines were long, but optimistically assumed thirty minutes or so would do the trick.
Jeremiah narrowed his eyes and said,
"No helping it with a crowd like this. Let's go somewhere else."
"But they say this place has the best pastries in the empire......"
"It's still just pastries, no matter how good."
"You say that because you haven't tried them. Even a plain egg tart is so tender and flaky here...... I really wanted you to taste them."
A dark gloom settled over Philomel.
'Why does this always happen to me?'
Her seven years of escape planning had fallen apart in mere days. All her efforts reduced to nothing, just like that.
Come to think of it, things rarely went according to her plans since she was little.
She'd had to struggle desperately just to earn half the praise that book-Ellensia received without trying.
Maybe her curiosity about the book's truth was just pointless meddling.
Ordinary people like her should be content just staying alive. Better to quit chasing unnecessary adventures.
As Philomel's face grew paler, Jeremiah shouted,
"Fine, I'm good with that one over there, so let's go in!"
"......Which one?"
"That one!"
Jeremiah was pointing at a small, shabby shop.
Its peeling sign reading [Rainbow Pastry Shop] was the only hint of what it was.
If he hadn't pointed it out, she might not have even noticed it existed.
Opening a competing shop right across from Crecion took some serious guts.
"It doesn't look like the pastries would be any good. And there don't seem to be any customers."
"Perfect for me, then. Probably no one inside either."
Fair enough. It might actually be an ideal spot for him.
Philomel boldly decided to give up on the pastries' quality.
'As long as it's sweet, it'll be fine.'
There had to be other decent shops besides Crecion, but she felt bad dragging Jeremiah around any longer.
"Alright. I'll treat you, so eat as much as you want."
Jeremiah let out a short chuckle as Philomel pulled out her wallet with a determined declaration.