43.
“Hey!”
Just then, someone came running from behind the maid.
As far as Philomel knew, there was only one person in the Imperial Palace who would run like that without a shred of concern for their dignity.
“Nasar is here? Is he still here? Don’t tell me he’s already left…”
The person caught sight of Philomel standing before the maid and skidded to a halt.
“…Princess Ellensia.”
Philomel inclined her head in a formal greeting.
“Oh, Philomel.”
Ellensia smiled brightly and stepped toward her.
“We met this morning, and now we meet again.”
“So we did.”
“By any chance, has Nasar been here?”
“…If you mean the young Duke of Abridon, he just left. It seems you and he missed each other.”
Philomel hesitated for a heartbeat at the mention of the name “Nasar,” but she replied with a practiced air of indifference.
Ellensia scanned the surroundings, hopeful that he might still be nearby. Philomel found herself suddenly curious as to whether the two were already acquainted.
“Did you perhaps have an appointment with the young Duke?”
“Hehe. It’s not like that.”
She answered shyly, her peachy cheeks deepening in color.
“I heard rumors that the young Duke of Abridon is quite a wonderful person, so I wanted to meet him.”
Does that mean they haven’t officially met yet?
“Then, is this maid serving Her Highness the Princess?”
Philomel pointed to the maid who had been peering at the door.
“That’s right. Emily saw the young Duke near here and sent word. I ran over as soon as I heard, but I was too late.”
So the maid’s name was Emily.
“If you wish, you could simply have a maid go and call the young Duke back.”
Philomel said, narrowing her eyes slightly.
Strictly speaking, summoning someone without an appointment was a breach of etiquette, but no one would find it offensive if a member of the imperial family committed such a minor rudeness.
Moreover, Ellensia wasn’t just any royal; she was the only daughter of an Emperor who had built up unprecedented power in history.
“Oh, no. I’d feel too bad to do that. Besides, it’s not like we’re bumping into each other outside; it feels a bit much for me to summon him.”
I didn’t know what kind of “a bit much” that was, but I understood the desire to encounter Nasar by chance.
Well, the meeting between the heroine and the male lead is usually natural, isn’t it…
‘Ah, I’m thinking like this again.’
Realizing her deep-rooted habit, Philomel bit her lip.
Because *Princess Ellensia* happened to be a novel, she had developed a habit of viewing this world like a romance story. She kept trying to break the mold, but it wasn’t easy.
Ellensia, who had been watching Philomel blankly, asked, “…Are you close with Nasar, Philomel?”
“I wouldn’t say we were that close, though we met often as fiancés. But don’t worry. We are no longer engaged.”
Philomel answered in a measured tone.
“…It’s fine. Why would I be worried even if you two were close?”
Ellensia replied with a dark look for some reason.
“But I envy you, Philomel.”
“What do you envy?”
Ellensia looked down at the tray Philomel was holding and said, “The fact that you don’t have maids trailing after you, bothering you. I’m grateful that everyone looks after me, but honestly, it’s uncomfortable how they keep doing things I can do myself. I don’t need them to. It must have been quite inconvenient for you, Philomel. Being a princess.”
She then added, “Maybe it’s because I grew up in an environment where no one attended to me.”
“Anyway, I’ll be going now. I’ll have to save my meeting with Nasar for another time.”
With that, Ellensia left with her maid, Emily. Philomel didn’t even have a chance to explain that her own maids had only stepped away for a moment.
Philomel watched her retreating back and thought:
‘Was I just ignored?’
If I hadn’t heard Katherine’s words, I would have dismissed it lightly, thinking Ellensia was just being naive.
But now, a sinister sense of unpleasantness crept up my spine.
If I had met Ellensia without ever having read *Princess Ellensia*, would I still have accepted her as a kind and lovely girl?
‘I really need to read that book again.’
It seemed I needed to carefully scrutinize the character descriptions of Ellensia.
* * *
“Oh my, please, let us do that! Your Highness, you should just rest.”
In the end, the tray was snatched away by the returning Countess Deles and her entourage, and Philomel set off for a walk.
When the Countess worried that it might be dangerous without an escort, Philomel pointed to the cat.
“This cat will protect me, so it’s fine.”
At that, Countess Deles and the maids burst into laughter.
“You’re quite the joker.”
I wasn’t joking.
Still, even if he were a father, I didn’t think Leguin would pretend not to know me if I were in danger.
‘If he were a real cat, I would have held him in my arms.’
Not wanting to carry her biological father around like that, Philomel asked him to follow her. Fortunately, Leguin followed her to the garden inside the Imperial Palace without a word of complaint.
“You can turn back into your original form now. There’s no one around.”
Philomel spoke once they entered the Maze Garden, one of the many gardens on the imperial grounds.
In the past, there had been a garden exclusively for the royal family where the Maze Garden now stood. It was the very place where the Marquis Eross family had fallen into ruin after flapping their mouths too much.
“I’ve seen it too often; it’s boring. Redecorate it to be more interesting.”
The garden was reborn as a Maze Garden following the Emperor’s sudden command. Since Eustis never visited the garden unless Philomel suggested it, this place was effectively hers alone.
I had wondered where the most secluded place in the Imperial Palace was, and this was the only place that came to mind.
I was worried that they wouldn’t let me in now that I wasn’t a princess, but the guards at the entrance merely raised their spears and offered their respects.
“Meow.”
But Leguin didn’t seem to have any intention of turning into his human form.
“Why? It’s fine to transform.”
“Meooooow.”
“Are you hurt somewhere?”
Just then, a voice cut in.
“Since I’m here, he isn’t going to transform.”
It was a tree located next to the canopy.
“Who’s there!”
Startled, Philomel shouted sharply. A figure then dropped down from beneath the tree.
“Now that you know it’s me, why don’t you transform? You ill-tempered old geezer.”
The man in the robe brushed the leaves off his clothes.
‘Wait, that outfit?’
Now that I heard it, the beautiful voice, which seemed to be somewhere between a boy’s and a man’s, was familiar to Philomel’s ears.
“You’re the person who caught that swindler back then!”
“Huh?”
The man’s gaze turned toward Philomel at the voice recognizing him.
“What’s this? It’s that dull little kid from back then?”
Philomel, wrapped in confusion, looked back and forth between the cat and the man.
“Uh, oh?”
As the man pulled back the hood of his robe, a familiar face emerged. It was a face very similar to Leguin’s, with eyes of a different color.
The sky-blue eyes were chillingly cold.
* * *
“To dare call your father an old geezer. You’ve grown even more insolent while I wasn’t looking, Jeremiah.”
“Hmph, ‘father.’ Do you remember how long I’ve been away from the Magic Tower?”
“Hmm. A week?”
“It’s been three months. Don’t pretend you know when you don’t care at all. You old geezer.”
Philomel spoke carefully to the two, who were arguing as if she weren’t even there.
“…Excuse me. Both of you, stop it.”
“I’m not at an age to be called that yet.”
“People always want to deny their age as they get older. You’re getting more pathetic by the day, Leguin.”
“Fine. You’re sentenced to eight hours of confinement in the dark dimension. Go to the restroom first.”
But they acted as if they couldn’t hear Philomel’s voice, only growling at each other.
“I said stop it!”
Finally, Philomel couldn’t hold back and shouted.
Only then did the magic circle that had appeared above Jeremiah’s head vanish.
Philomel, who had raised her voice without meaning to, shut her mouth in surprise, but neither of them seemed offended.
The three were currently sitting under the wooden canopy in the center of the Maze Garden, having a conversation.
Or rather, it was a father-son argument masquerading as a conversation.
To clarify the situation, Philomel spoke up.
“So, this person’s name is Jeremiah, and he is the Tower Master’s son, is that right?”
“Don’t call me ‘Tower Master,’ use my name.”
Leguin gave an answer that had nothing to do with what she had asked.
“Yes, Leguin.”
“Leguin.”
“…Alright, Leguin.”
Do they prefer to be called by their names without honorifics? Now that I thought about it, Jeremiah also just called Leguin by his name.
Still, to call one’s father by his name. It was contrary to Philomel’s sense of etiquette, but she convinced herself they must have their own rules.
“So, Jeremiah is Leguin’s son…”
“I hate to admit it, but it’s true.”
This time, Jeremiah, who was sitting slouched, replied.
“I hate to admit it, too. Don’t go around telling people he’s my son.”
“Even if you paid me to say it, I wouldn’t.”
“Stop, stop.”
Philomel sighed softly, stopping the argument that was about to ignite again.
It seemed this father and son, who looked as if they had been stamped out of the same mold, really, really did not get along.
“By the way, Jeremiah, how did you get in here? There are guards stationed at the entrance.”
“I climbed over the maze wall. The fact that they didn’t notice just goes to show the level of the Imperial Palace guards.”
Jeremiah seemed to have a cynical personality toward everything, not just Leguin.
“Then is Jeremiah the person Leguin said you were going to meet?”
“That’s right. But why did you come alone while the others are…?”
“I don’t know. They said they were having some sort of interview.”
The others? Was there someone else besides Jeremiah they were supposed to meet?
As Philomel tilted her head in confusion, someone else appeared in the Maze Garden before her.
“I have passed the interview. It was merely a simple, formal procedure.”
This time, it was someone Philomel knew well.