Chapter 61
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: A Spicy Suspicion
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Philomel silently chewed the food in her mouth. There was no need for her to say anything.
"So I jumped out to catch it, but the rabbit got away, and I ended up wandering all over the mountain..."
It was because Ellensia had been chattering nonstop since earlier.
The dining table was her one-woman show.
Endless childhood memories poured out of her effortlessly. Philomel and Justis, who were seated with her, could only nod along.
Slightly overwhelmed, Philomel felt a twinge of doubt.
'Was Ellensia always this talkative?'
She hadn't gotten that impression from reading the book.
But there was no description saying she wasn't talkative either, so it was hard to conclude that Ellensia differed from the book based on this alone.
Philomel gazed at the beaming Ellensia.
"Hehe, even though I was freezing cold, it was so much fun."
Her face looked utterly innocent.
That very face had nearly driven Katrin to her death. A sliver of suspicion crept in—that perhaps a terrifyingly different true face lay hidden beneath.
'No. Don't get scared.'
Philomel consciously straightened her hunched shoulders.
Eating preemptively out of fear would get her nowhere. Reminding herself of her resolve to stop running away, she focused on the conversation.
Ellensia's cheerful voice echoed through the dining hall.
"So I begged Mom to let me raise the baby rabbit, but she wouldn't allow it."
Justis replied.
"If you want, raise it here."
"Wow, really? That's exciting!"
The warm, harmonious atmosphere continued unbroken.
Honestly, Philomel found it terribly awkward. She had dined with Justis plenty of times, but never in an atmosphere like this.
Their conversations had been like seasonings sprinkled lightly on the food—sporadic at best—and they had focused more on eating than talking.
That didn't mean she preferred it, though.
'This is too noisy and chaotic.'
Back then, there was less talk, but her mind had been more at ease.
Ellensia turned to her father with a friendly tone.
"The most fun I had was skipping temple services to hang out with friends. Has that ever happened to you, Dad?"
"No."
"Ah..."
Perhaps realizing his response was too curt, Justis added,
"I've never skipped services quietly, and I have no friends."
"......"
"......"
"......"
The mood sobered instantly.
It felt like someone needed to say something.
Thinking she might have been too quiet, Philomel opened her mouth to toss in a casual remark.
"Come to think of it, I once skipped services when I was younger..."
"It's okay! I'll be Dad's friend!"
Ellensia cut her off as if she hadn't heard and chattered on.
'She must not like me speaking up.'
Fine by her. No need to wrack her brain for topics. It was actually more comfortable this way.
Letting the two of them talk, Philomel began observing Ellensia.
There were things you could only notice from up close.
Ellensia.
The true princess and protagonist of Princess Ellensia.
What had been the author of Princess Ellensia's purpose in writing it?
Its novel-like narrative made it hard to see it as a simple record of a foreseen future, unlike other prophecies.
Among the prophecies Philomel had investigated, not a single one focused on personal romance like this book.
They spoke of wars in the future, natural disasters, or magical tools proliferating so even commoners could wield magic freely.
Grand, momentous prophecies, all of them.
There had to be a reason Princess Ellensia stood apart from the others.
What was it? For what purpose?
'Something the author gains only by writing it as a novel?'
But she couldn't even guess what.
If it was money or power, they could have informed the emperor of his real daughter's existence and claimed a reward instead of writing a book.
If fame as a prophet was the goal, why only one book? There were too few clues to infer the author's intent. All she had was Princess Ellensia itself.
But that was a clue in itself. Words were a mirror of the writer, after all. Traces of the author must linger in the book.
Philomel flipped through the pages in her mind for the thousandth time.
Personality, preferences, linguistic habits...
Anything reflecting the author's self would do. Even trivial details she'd glossed over before were precious now.
Beyond the sea of text, faint outlines flickered. Some grew sharper.
Yes, it was...
"...What about you, Philomel?"
The unexpected question halted her racing thoughts abruptly.
The emperor was staring at her.
"Pardon? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."
Philomel asked, flustered.
"Don't you have anything special to tell me?"
"Well... not really..."
"Any topic is fine. I want to hear your stories."
She had just grasped a thread, and now this.
Philomel scrambled for any words to dive back into her thoughts.
But nothing came.
The conversation's flow demanded she share a fun memory like Ellensia. The problem was, she had none.
Politics, diplomacy, society—she could steer talks on those endlessly.
But when it veered personal, Philomel was always the listener.
"Uh, um..."
Any decent memory?
Racking her brain yielded only dull days as the boring princess.
Then her eyes fell on the apple dessert.
'Right, that.'
"Once, a maid brought me an apple pie from the central square, and surprisingly, it was delicious. Even the commoners' fare is decent."
Actually from her secret outing with Jeremiah, but she adapted it suitably.
Justis's eyes lit up.
"Exactly where in the central square did they say it was sold?"
"Something about... rainbow this or that."
Why was he so interested? Did he like apple pie?
Ellensia said,
"It sounds so good—I want to try it too! I've tasted all sorts of fancy palace sweets since coming here, but sometimes I miss those simple flavors from before..."
Just like that, Ellensia seized the conversation again.
As Philomel finally relaxed to sink back into thought,
"I see. I'll have the head chef prepare the foods you ate in the past. But Philomel, don't you have any other stories?"
Having listened to his real daughter's lengthy tale, Justis turned to Philomel again.
'Why is he so focused on me? Leave me alone!'
Swallowing her outburst, she hunted for another topic.
'I really don't. No choice. A memory I don't particularly want to recall, but...'
Among topics she could mention here, one fresh experience none of them had likely had was hers.
"As you know, when I left the palace, I was locked in a security office cell. It was my first time, uncomfortable but a novel memory..."
Philomel's voice trailed off.
Justis's face twisted fiercely.
"You were in a cell?"
Killing intent dripped from his low voice.
"Uh... yes. Didn't Young Duke Averyden report it?"
"There was no such detail."
'Damn.'
Philomel clicked her tongue inwardly.
Nassar must have overlooked it by mistake.
Justis ground his teeth.
"...That insolent whelp."
Philomel opened her mouth to defend Nassar.
"The young duke must have been too busy rescuing me. Everyone makes mistakes, so please show mercy."
She didn't want him punished over something trivial because of her—it would weigh on her conscience.
At her persuasion, the emperor's intensity softened somewhat. His eyes still burned fiercely.
Honestly, she wasn't sure why Nassar's omission upset him so much, but it was fortunate regardless.
Afterward, an awkward air hung over the table. Unsure of the emperor's reaction, Philomel stayed silent, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts.
Ellensia, who had shared only bright stories until then, suddenly began lamenting palace life's hardships.
The meal ended amid the discomfort. The emperor left hurriedly, with Ellensia trailing after him like a chick.
Philomel, rising last, paused. A sharp, pungent spicy scent tickled her nose.
She asked a maid clearing the table.
"What's that?"
A small spice jar sat where she pointed.
The maid stopped and bowed politely.
"Hosa powder."
Hosa was a spicy vegetable, and its ground powder added heat to food.
"Why is hosa powder here...?"
Most imperials didn't enjoy spicy food. Hosa powder was cherished mainly in the empire's far south.
"Her Highness the Princess sprinkles it on every meal. She seems to like spicy dishes."
The jar had been at Ellensia's seat.
It was no coincidence that the author of Princess Ellensia flashed in Philomel's mind.
[The envoy picked up a tantalizing red chicken leg. Amid the addictive spiciness filling his mouth, he tore into the meat greedily and said,]
A passage from Princess Ellensia—the clue about the author she'd just uncovered.
It was from a scene where southern envoys plotting intrigue held a secret meeting.
'Tantalizing red chicken leg' and 'addictive spiciness' felt strikingly alien.
In the empire, spiciness was just spiciness. Like sourness, some liked it, but it never evoked 'delicious' in the general sense.
Until now, she'd assumed it reflected the envoys' southern preference.
But the more she mulled it over, the stronger the sense that it mirrored the author's taste.
Ellensia liked spicy food too. Of all things, spicy food.
'Coincidence...?'
Tastes could overlap easily enough.
But the lingering unease made Philomel clench her fists tight.