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“Miss Emma.”
“Yes, Princess Larisa.”
Your poetry recitation was wonderful. Ivan's praise was not an exaggeration, was the kind of flattering remark I should have made for the timing to be natural.
“Has Valentin's fiancé been decided?”
“Yes, of course. It's me.”
Not only did the conversation veer toward a strange topic completely unrelated to the previous mood, but I received an even stranger answer.
Wait. Who, exactly?
“...You and he are engaged, Miss Emma?”
“It's not official yet. But probably, right? It's still a secret... Oh, please keep it to yourself, Princess Larisa. It won't be announced to the public until spring.”
“Ah, I see.”
I wondered why everyone revealed confidential information so easily. Her white face, smiling sweetly, was incomparably softer and warmer than Valentin's.
Not content with welcoming me, an uninvited guest, Emma had also casually let slip an unannounced engagement.
'Emma is a good person.'
To think such a good person was getting engaged to such an indifferent and unkind man.
“Miss Emma.”
“Yes?”
“You're too good for him.”
Emma looked at me with wide eyes. I didn't know if I should be relieved, but she didn't look shocked to hear her fiancé being badmouthed; rather, she looked surprised.
“Oh my, me? I've never heard that before. May I ask why you feel that way?”
“Well, Valentin is boring.”
“Hmm. Actually, I think so too, a little bit.”
Emma whispered softly with her head bowed, then covered her mouth and giggled. It was such a lovely laugh that it made my heart flutter.
“But Count Valentin carries such a heavy destiny on his shoulders. Wouldn't it be even harder for him to enjoy things like poetry recitations in a small room like this? Of course, I don't know him very well since I've had few days to talk with him. As we get closer, I might discover a different side to him. That's the fun of getting to know someone, after all.”
As she spoke gently, Emma suddenly seemed unable to hold back any longer; she bit her lower lip hard and asked cautiously.
“By the way, Princess. If you would allow it, may I dare to... lightly touch your cheek?”
“My cheek?”
It was a strange request, but since there was no reason not to, I leaned my face forward. With trembling eyes, Emma gently touched, poked, and stroked my right cheek. Giggling to herself as if something were wonderful, she hurried up to the refreshment table and returned with a white plate piled high with apple tarts.
“Please, eat!”
Emma watched me chew the apple tart with an ecstatic expression, then relentlessly handed me a second and a third.
Sticking close to my side, she looked just as happy as Tatyana, saying, “I love kittens so much, but I can't raise one because of my allergies. Seeing the Princess chew so diligently gives me vicarious satisfaction. So... so much.”
'No matter how small I am for my age, isn't calling me a kitten a bit much?'
Tatyana is the same. I could understand if I were a one-year-old baby crawling on the floor who couldn't speak, but how can they call a grown, thirteen-year-old giant girl a kitten?
After that, regardless of who was around, she enjoyed playing "living doll," shifting my hairpins around or even wrapping her own pins and scarves around me.
Her face looked too joyful for me to push her away in disgust, so I had no choice but to play along.
'Sigh. Why am I so mature?'
The only people in the whole world who know how broad-minded and deep I am are Tatyana and Vasily. Ivan is a fool, and Valentin is babbling stupid things about jealousy.
After the poetry reading ended successfully, Ivan took me back to the Imperial Palace and then abruptly left the castle again, saying he had business to attend to.
“Stay quietly in your room, have dinner, and go to bed. If Brother or Tanya ask where I am, tell them I went to play cricket.”
“At this hour? It's almost five.”
“Just remember it as I said.”
I feel like he's been wandering around more lately. I glared at Ivan's back and returned to my room, clutching an even more evolved grudge toward Valentin.
For about a week, I spent my time busy with my own affairs. It started with investigating the person known as Valentin. Despite having scoffed at the warning that it would be troublesome to be jealous of Emma, I still felt a strange obsession with Valentin.
Yes, I admit it. I am obsessed with him!
But I simply cannot understand it. Why am I obsessed with a young man who possesses a handsome face, precognition, a prestigious family background, and is sweeping up honor and wealth from various countries?
While my country has a history of considerable obsession due to an innate possessiveness, it was rare for the object to be a person rather than a thing, and this was the first time the person wasn't family.
'I must find the cause of this obsession.'
I wouldn't be able to rest until I uncovered the root. Consequently, my highly rational, logical, and intellectual brain was pouring all its energy into finding the source of this fixation.
'Why am I clinging to a man I've known for just over fifteen days?'
At first, I focused on the fact that Valentin was a prophet of gabhilism. In truth, I wasn't the only one interested in Valentin. From my brother Vasily on a small scale to the old Pope of the Holy See on a larger scale, everyone viewed Valentin as a plump, ripe apple.
Perhaps people are naturally drawn to the existence of a prophet? If so, I thought I should seek advice in my theology class.
“Bishop Parben. What were the previous prophets of gabhilism like?”
“Oho. The prophets, you say? You've been taking your lessons with such an active attitude lately. This Parben is beyond delighted.”
Parben's glasses glinted as he opened the scripture he always carried. Inside his scripture were about ten photos, all of which were copies of old portraits.
“The four saints on the left are the most famous prophets in the history of gabhilism who possessed the power of the oracle.”
“...These four? They aren't exactly beauties.”
“Hmph. I am disappointed by your overly worldly perspective. They are all great saints. Just as His Eminence Valentin did, they protected us humans from many hardships and adversities. They were also the representative cardinals of the Order of the Oracle.”
“The Order of the Oracle?”
“An organization that has now vanished. While the blood of prophets has nearly dried up now, about three centuries ago, enough prophets were born for the Order of the Oracle to be formed. About seven prophets of an era would constitute the Order, and they would gather and organize the divine revelations each had received to periodically announce prophecies. Here, these are the most famous prophecies left by the saints.”
With a long explanation, Parben flipped over the four photos.
On the back of the photos, sentences written in Parben's handwriting were listed line by line. <As human achievement rises, diseases sown by more wicked demons will find us; beware of plagues>, <A time will come when all are equal and without discrimination under God>, <This land will one day become an irrecoverable ruin due to human war>, and so on. Every single one was an ominous and depressing warning.
...But aren't these way too vague?
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