11.
Time flowed like an arrow, and Philomel turned ten. As usual, she spent her time with Nasar, who had come to visit.
Nasar asked abruptly, “Does Your Highness perhaps dislike me?”
Philomel, who had been reading, looked up at Nasar sitting opposite her in surprise. “What? Heavens, no. That’s not it.”
The boy’s dark expression did not lift. “……Did you happen to hear the conversation I had with my father that day?”
The “that day” Nasar spoke of was when he had come to visit while she was recovering, accompanied by his father. It was also the day Philomel had decided to let go of her feelings for him.
When Philomel remained silent, Nasar stood up and knelt on one knee.
“I offer you my apologies.”
“Nasar! Get up!” Philomel reached out, startled.
“No. I will beg for your forgiveness until Your Highness’s mood is eased.” Nasar kept his head bowed, his expression resolute.
Philomel said cautiously, “It is not for you to seek forgiveness from me, Nasar. You didn’t speak ill of me behind my back, nor did you say it for me to hear on purpose. I merely happened to overhear it.”
“……The very fact that I harbored such thoughts is the problem.”
*This is difficult.*
If someone asked if Philomel disliked Nasar, the answer was no. She had felt resentful at the time, but as the days passed, that bitterness had faded.
“How can you say that? My heart is not something I can control at my own will.” Philomel truly believed this. His affection was not something she could possess just because she wanted it, and if he could not love her, it was not his fault.
However, Nasar stubbornly refused to stand. “I must discipline even my heart. Therefore, it is my fault for harboring such wicked intentions.”
Philomel felt a twinge of pity. *Just how much must the Duke be grinding the poor boy down for him to be like this?*
Duke Abridon was famous for his extreme harshness. Whether it was academics or swordsmanship, Nasar was capable of anything, which perhaps only drove the Duke to push him harder. As Philomel began her own formal training as an heir, she finally understood, at least in part, the weight of his burden.
The shoulders of the boy kneeling before her looked exceptionally small.
He looked up, eyes brimming with tears. “If there is anything else about me that is unsatisfactory, please let me know. I was born to serve Your Highness, so if you only tell me, I will fix it.”
Philomel could no longer stand it. “Why would you be born to serve me, Nasar? You are just Nasar!”
“But Father always said I must serve Your Highness with that kind of mindset…….”
It seemed this young boy had been groomed to be the Princess’s consort since he was a child. It was a level of instruction bordering on brainwashing.
*Duke! What on earth have you done to your own son!*
Philomel clutched her forehead. *If he’s this obsessed with me now, won’t he just resent me for no reason when he finds out I’m not the Princess?*
Clearly, she couldn’t leave him in this state.
“Nasar, sit here.”
When Philomel spoke firmly, the crestfallen boy obeyed.
“Follow after me.”
“Yes?”
“Just repeat what I say, exactly as I say it.”
“Understood.”
“I am a precious person.”
Nasar hesitated before repeating it. “……I am a precious person.”
“I am not an existence born for the sake of someone else.”
“……I am not an existence born for the sake of someone else.”
“I will live according to my own heart.”
“I will….” The boy’s voice faded, then burst out a moment later: “Live according to my heart.”
He was the heir to a ducal house and would eventually marry Princess Ellensia, but Philomel still wanted him to have a life of his own.
“That was good. Let’s keep doing exactly this.”
“Yes!”
Thus, the brainwashing reversal—which even Philomel doubted would be effective—continued for a while.
When the time came for Nasar to return, he hesitated. He didn’t look like he wanted to go back at all.
*Is the Duke going to make him do this and that the moment he gets home?*
Feeling pity for him—he acted like a puppy that hadn’t been fed—Philomel stopped him. “Nasar. Stay and have dinner with me today.”
“……May I really?”
“Of course. I will relay the message to the Duke. And Nasar?”
“Yes.”
“In the future, if the Duke says things that contradict what we repeated together today…… just ignore him.”
“……I will try.”
“If he says something that makes absolutely no sense, tell me. I’ll scold the Duke for you.”
Thinking it was a joke, Nasar chuckled.
“It’s not a joke. I really can scold the Duke.”
At least, for as long as the Duke thought Philomel was the Princess.
That day, Nasar ate dinner and engaged in trivial chatter before heading home. He shyly confessed that he wanted to be a hero, not a Duke. The Duke would likely never let his only son fight monsters, but Philomel cheered him on enthusiastically. It was a moment where she felt she had gotten to know “Nasar”—not the male lead, not the young master of Abridon, but the boy himself.
*Yes. This is enough.*
Watching Nasar leave, Philomel thought that while there was no need to be closer than necessary, there was also no need to be at odds.
“I’ll just keep living like this.”
Everything was peaceful.
***
The night Nasar returned, Philomel took *Princess Ellensia* and approached the burning fireplace.
“I’ve memorized all the contents, so…….”
She had read the book over and over, turning the important information into code-like phrases that she had hidden in various places. There was no longer a need to keep such a dangerous object.
“Hup!”
Philomel hesitated, looking from the fireplace to the book, then closed her eyes and flung the volume into the flames.
Whoosh.
The paper burned, turning entirely to ash. But in that moment, an anomaly occurred. A glow spread across the floor in front of the fireplace, and *Princess Ellensia* reappeared. It was completely intact, without a single speck of soot.
Philomel stared at the book, stunned.
***
The next day, Philomel visited the Imperial Magic Research Institute.
“Here is your tea.” Humphrey, a mage, placed a warm cup before the Princess.
“Thank you.” Philomel, wearing an adorable cape, smiled brightly.
Humphrey watched her with a content expression. He was a talented mage she had been introduced to after mentioning her curiosity about magic to Count Polan—a man who had recently left the Magic Tower for a new position.
“Princess, so what is it that you are curious about? I will tell you whatever I can.”
“I read it in a book, and it said such magic exists…….”
Philomel poured out a string of questions about absurd fairy-tale magic to captivate a child, all a disguise to hide her true intent.
“It seems the author of that book exaggerated……,” Humphrey answered conscientiously.
After a while, Philomel brought up her true curiosity. “It would be really great if there were a book that told you the future for times like this!”
“Are you talking about a Book of Prophecy?”
“Yes! I’ve only heard it as a rumor; does such a book actually exist?”
Humphrey rubbed his chin, choosing his words carefully. “One could say it exists, and one could say it doesn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“Usually, people think of a Book of Prophecy as a text that accurately records the future. But that is impossible, both theoretically and realistically.”
*Impossible?* Philomel’s expression crinkled.
“You look disappointed. But it is the truth. The future a mage predicts is merely a cross-section of countless possibilities.”
“What about the priests?”
“The prophecies of the priests are the same,” Humphrey said, venting a bit. “Even the High Priest’s predictions go astray about thirty percent of the time. Most are just vague statements, and later, when a plausible result emerges, they act as if they’d foreseen it. They say the falling star that hit the other day was a prediction of ‘the wrath of the gods’ from a decade ago. The temple is unnecessarily conservative…….”
He caught himself and covered his mouth, startled. “Oh my, I am not questioning the gods. I just tend to go too far when I talk about magic.”
“So, Humphrey, you mean there is no such thing as a true Book of Prophecy?”
“Correct. Market-bought ‘Prophecy’ books are nonsense. Only a small fraction are written by priests or mages about glimpsed possibilities. Unless one is a god, how could one know the future for certain?”
However, Philomel already possessed such a book.
*Then what is the true identity of that book?*
Philomel pressed her lips together tightly.