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Chapter – 25
I accidentally dropped the teaspoon I was holding. The silver teaspoon fell onto the thick navy carpet without a sound.
“The author… to me?”
“They said they mercilessly rejected the Princess’s offer, filled with delicate consideration, and made her feel embarrassed, not knowing what to do. It seems that with all their nerves being sensitive due to the newborn child, they were in a state where they couldn’t take someone’s goodwill and advice at face value.”
I just blankly listened to what Marquis Orelano was saying.
His mouth… the author was using his mouth to speak to me.
“They said that in a state of mental and physical instability, no inspiration came to them at all, and they even disliked the pre-written manuscripts, so they tried to burn them all.”
“Oh, no.”
“But they said that after the day I told them about the Princess, there was a change in their feelings.”
I gulped and waited for his next words.
“…As you know, the author hasn’t been able to write for a while.”
The Marquis paused, slowly uttering his words with a tone laden with weariness.
“Putting aside that their affection for the work decreased due to the changed environment, they confided that they simply couldn’t write like they used to.”
Th-This is a slump! It’s clearly a slump, no matter who looks at it! Maybe it’s because of postpartum depression!
“They want to conclude the work as much as they originally aimed for… but they said that now that the serialization has resumed, they often can’t properly visualize the work. Do you understand what that means?”
“Yes, yes!”
I clenched my fists tightly and nodded enthusiastically, responding to the Marquis’s words.
“…So, they asked me to convey a special request to you.”
“Huh?”
“They asked me to receive your opinions as a reader about the work or points that need improvement.”
It’s unbelievable. Losing my composure, I shot up from my seat and covered my mouth with both hands.
It was such a reaction that if someone like Susan or Tashana had been nearby, they would have pointed out my behavior, which was far too unbecoming for a noble young lady.
Marquis Orelano paused for a moment and looked at me, as if trying to gauge my thoughts. The corners of his mouth curled up slightly as he instantly realized I was excited.
But precisely because it was Marquis Orelano, precisely because he was the one with whom I had been most openly frank, more than anyone else in the capital…
It was because I was in front of such a person that I could express my emotions without hesitation, and I ended up losing my composure.
But the author never cared about readers’ opinions at all. Why, why me? Why is the author, who never communicated with anyone, making such a request to me?
“I can’t possibly believe it just by your words.”
At my trembling voice, the Marquis smiled quietly and pulled out a small letter from inside his jacket. Clutching the hem of my dress tightly with both hands, I muttered with utmost seriousness at the letter bearing a seal.
“I’m already so shaken up, and now I’m asking for proof… how ridiculous. You can laugh at me. You don’t know anything, Marquis. You don’t know anything about my feelings.”
“That seems to be the case.”
“Why on earth, how come… why me, of all people, by the author? And with you right here, Marquis!”
“It seems our positions are somewhat different.”
“Well, that’s true. You only see the author as someone who writes works that make you a lot of money.”
“That’s too harsh. It’s not to that extent.”
The Marquis, who had been laughing lightly with his eyes narrowed, held out the letter, damp with moisture, pinched between his index and middle fingers.
I quickly tried to snatch the letter with both hands. But Marquis Orelano just slightly moved his wrist and evaded my grasp. The letter envelope brushed past my fingertips.
What is this…?
As I stared at him with wide eyes, the words that came out of his mouth were…
“I have plenty of time today.”
What on earth are you trying to say now?
“I rushed here eagerly to see you. But if you receive this letter, you won’t pay any attention to me, will you? You’ll just treat me as a mere messenger.”
The Marquis said this while straightening his back and looking into the distance, feigning hurt and sadness.
I, with my arms awkwardly raised, stared at him for a moment, then quickly racked my brain.
What on earth does this mean? I’ve been treating him quite hospitably. There weren’t many noble heirs who received hospitality from Susan, my protector within Saltmore.
But this person always says things that deviate from my expectations.
“Weren’t you wanting to see me all this time?”
Yes.
“You must have watched the play again that you saw without fail all last week. You must not get tired of it no matter how many times you watch it. But how about me?”
…I didn’t really think about you?
Did my answer show on my face? The smile that had been hanging on the Marquis’s lips disappeared without a trace.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why on earth… did you want to see me?”
Unable to figure out the reason, I couldn’t help but ask back honestly.
Could it be that his constant talk of wanting to see me since earlier wasn’t just a mere formality?
This time, the Marquis pressed his lips tightly together. Had my behavior crossed from honesty into rudeness? His clear eyes, just staring intently at me, began to feel increasingly burdensome.
Before my transmigration. I recalled the fox from that classic masterpiece that many called the novel of a lifetime.
When I first encountered that novel at a very young age, I found it hard to grasp what the fox in the novel meant. In my childish mind, I even thought the fox was a sly villain deceiving the prince.
Why does the fox from back then remind me of the Marquis now? He speaks as if I have come to mean something to him, but I don’t understand.
…What could be the problem with the Marquis, who used to wag his tail like a fox?
My existence filled his eyes, which were brimming with dissatisfaction.
As if he didn’t even think to hide it, as if he was particularly bad at concealing his emotions, the topic he brought up was unexpectedly…
Love. Love?
Did he just say he loved her, without even knowing that the person right in front of him was the author Yvbure?
Upon hearing that, Shane couldn’t manage his expression. He couldn’t hide his true feelings, which he had kept concealed until now.
He had thought he had broken the heart of a foolish woman who knew nothing of the world. Yes. Clearly, Liberta Ruar’s eyes at that time had been denying reality.
Yet, curious about the reason she came to see the play every day, Shane bought the seat next to Liberta’s at the last minute for a high price, pretending it was a coincidence.
He openly asked why she kept coming to see the play based on the original work by Chelle Yvbure, who had rejected her feelings, trying to dissect this new kind of human he was encountering.
But love?
Moreover, being right next to her, he intuitively felt that Liberta Ruar was expressing her true feelings, so he knew that the word ‘love’ wasn’t a lie.
After the debut actor’s first stage successfully ended. Liberta Ruar’s reaction was, to anyone who saw it, that of a young lady in love. And not just in love with a handsome young male actor.
The applause Liberta gave to the new actor roughly meant this:
Thank you for not only filling a corner of the world that is Chelle Yvbure so well, but also for making it shine.
‘Are you Chelle Yvbure’s mother or sister or something?’
Baffled, Shane stared intently at Liberta Ruar, who was looking at the stage with a rapturous expression, and then, thinking it was about time, stood up.
“Well, now that the play is over…”
But without even a moment to answer Shane’s question, as soon as the play ended, Liberta, oblivious that her hat had fallen from her hand, frantically grabbed her dress hem and ran out.
The stars that seemed about to spill from her eyes were particularly striking.
Her flustered personal maid quickly snatched up the fallen hat and ran after her. For some reason, her unusually nimble movements caught his eye, but that wasn’t the most important thing for Shane right now.
They definitely had a promise, twice no less?
Left alone and deserted, he felt a slight surge of anger simultaneously with a sense of emptiness. He clenched his fist lightly, retrieving his hand that had been awkwardly hovering in the air.
Standing alone and still in a world where others were cheering and shouting, he muttered silently.
How can you do this?
Even after hearing words from someone whose status and gender you don’t even know, words that denied your very existence… Why don’t you care about other people’s gaze like this?
How can you so wholeheartedly pursue what you love?
