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‌‌ Chapter 61 Dale began listening intently to his words. Enya had definitely mentioned it before. It was a story about a ‌‌noblewoman and a phantom man, and I remember how disappointed ‌‌‌Enya had been that it remained unfinished. "Is there a way to find an author who stopped writing ten years ago?" Dale asked Getty with a ‌‌‌‌solemn expression, interlacing his fingers. It was as if he were testing Getty's abilities. "Of course, I've already narrowed it down to a few likely places." The moment Getty presented the documents ‌‌again, Dale's eyebrows rose slightly. It was an intriguing gift, certainly different ‌‌‌‌from what came before. "However." Dale tapped the desk leisurely. "I wonder if something that doesn't carry the value of a jewel is truly suitable as a twenty-first birthday gift for the Princess." It was a probing question. There was ‌‌only one opportunity to give a gift each year. For Dale, this ‌‌‌was the most crucial moment of decision. Getty grinned as if he had anticipated the question. "I am certain, Your Majesty." "Then support your confidence with reasoning." "Jewels can ‌‌‌become tedious. The noble Princess surely lacks no jewels in her collection. And while designs may fall out of fashion, books do not." Getty spoke with assurance. "Books remain on their shelves through the ages, and above ‌‌‌all, the Princess loves them. One cannot say they lack material value compared to jewels. Out-of-print books command prices that soar competitively, and there are those who collect rare books precisely for this reason." "...." "And most importantly, there is this heart! This emotion! The profound sentimental value! Every ‌time the Princess sees that book, she will absolutely think of The Emperor. Whether it snows or rains, ‌‌‌‌whether she lies in bed or sleeps, even in her dreams, she will be reminded! Does the Princess not read books frequently and abundantly?" Dale, who had been listening quietly, began to frown subtly. He was absorbed, and Getty whispered like a demon blinded by success. "In other words, this is an excellent opportunity ‌‌‌to be engraved upon the Princess's heart, Your Majesty." It was an exceptionally loud briefing that failed to account for The Emperor's preference for quiet. Soho thought he should stop Getty. It was certain The Emperor would grow angry. "That sounds acceptable." Yet ‌‌the moment those words of approval fell from his lips, the Aides' reactions split in two. Some were astonished, others amazed. And Dale issued a command to Getty, who stood grinning with certainty. "Find the author's exact whereabouts." * * * Bang! "Oh, g-goodness, you startled me." I'd been organizing the bookshelves at home when suddenly books came tumbling down, and I instinctively jumped back to avoid them. Though the servants kept the house ‌‌immaculate, I preferred to arrange my precious collection myself. Truth be told, that was merely an excuse—I had several books with rather explicit content that I didn't want anyone discovering. "It's embarrassing, after all." I returned the ‌‌‌scattered books to their proper places. "Did I really buy this one too?" Having collected them indiscriminately, I'd forgotten about several purchases. The unfamiliar feeling of seeing them for the first time made me ‌‌‌flip through the pages slowly. Hours passed like that. ‌‌‌What was meant to be a brief glance turned ‌‌into reading several ‌‌‌volumes, as the stories ‌‌proved far more captivating than expected. I abandoned the shelving project ‌‌‌entirely, squatting on the floor with my back against the bookcase, lost in the novels. "What should I read next?" Dismissing the organization from my mind, I reached for another book. Madame Cozette was a prolific author, and her series seemed endless. ‌‌‌【The Imprisoned Empress】 The title felt oddly familiar, unsettling even. It bore a striking resemblance to ‌‌the original world's setting, and the protagonist was also an empress—exactly the same. But since I hadn't read it before, why not give it a try? The premise felt refreshingly original. 'Transmigration?' I closed the book and examined the title and author's name again. This wasn't a book from my previous world, yet transmigration existed in this world's setting. It was a fascinating concept I'd never encountered in this era. "...Could ‌‌it be that I'm not the only one who transmigrated? Is Madame Cozette also a transmigrator?" The premise was bewildering, but I resumed reading regardless. "A female protagonist from another world is adopted into a duke's household and meets the male protagonist, who is an emperor...." ‌‌My eyes grew wider with each page. "As the male protagonist becomes obsessed with the female protagonist, he massacres the entire duke's household." My head tilted further in confusion. Was this really a ‌‌‌work by the Madame ‌‌‌‌Cozette I knew? Checking the author confirmed it was. Though unsettling, Madame Cozette had tastes as rigid as pine, frequently publishing near-identical works. "The reason for the massacre is that the female protagonist loved the duke's household more than the male protagonist." This too was eerily similar. Goosebumps began to rise. Reading this felt less like enjoying a book and more like receiving a fortune-telling. "...But all of this was merely a dream?" The pacing seemed far too rapid. All of this had occurred within ‌‌just twenty pages. So the real story begins from here, it seemed. "The protagonist, who believed all this misfortune was merely a dream, thought it was nothing more than a dream narrative, but...one day, she actually undergoes dimensional travel and falls into an unfamiliar world." The unease returns. "And then she's adopted into the Duke's household, living as a noblewoman, and encounters the male protagonist just as the story she knows describes." I closed the book and took a deep breath before reading again. "At that point, the female protagonist realizes she's ‌‌possessed someone inside the book. And when she faces the crisis of marrying The Emperor, ‌the male protagonist, she flees her family." Did I read that correctly? It ‌‌‍‌was so similar that I wondered if someone had written my own story. What is this? "The female protagonist, having fled her family, spends several years living as a runaway before meeting a man. ‌‌And...." And the rest wasn't written. "What is this!" I closed the book and quickly returned it to its place on the shelf. Just one volume, and even that single volume wasn't complete. How does a ‌‌book like this even get published? My heart raced with an unsettling mixture ‌‌of unease and excitement. How could content that seemed to peer directly into my mind be laid out before me like this? I had seen the original work too, so I didn't write this, but still—the content was far too identical. If it hadn't ‌‌‌‌stopped where it did, ‌‌‌‌I would have been curious enough to wonder if my ‌‌‌future was written there. It was almost eerie. "This is strange...." "Miss? Is something ‌‌‌the matter? Are you alright?" "Madam Marie, could ‌‌you bring me a cup of tea? Something calming, please." I sipped the tea the servant brought and steadied my trembling breath. No matter how ‌‌much I thought about ‌‌‌‌it, this didn't seem like the imagination of someone living in this world. Was Madame Cozette someone from the future? Or perhaps another possessor like me? I couldn't even understand why Madame Cozette's incomplete book was on my bookshelf in the first place. I calmed myself while sipping the tea Madam Marie had brought. 'I need to find Madame Cozette. The probability that she knows what I know is quite high.' She was no ordinary person. But how could I find such an irresponsible author who left the ghost story unfinished and disappeared, and left only one volume of ‌‌"The Imprisoned Empress" before vanishing? If Madame Cozette were a writer of that caliber, ‌‌‌the publisher would have tracked her down a ‌‌‌hundred times over demanding she complete it. "She's not just skilled ‌‌at writing—she's remarkably skilled at hiding too...." ‌‌‌I sighed and let the hot tea cool. The fragrant aroma of the tea helped me feel somewhat calmer. Does it have calming properties? "Mm, the scent is quite lovely." I blew gently on the tea, trying to ‌‌‌‌‌compose myself. "Wait. But." Suddenly, the scent of this tea felt ‌familiar. "What was the name of this tea...?" "That is a tea we're serving you for the first time, Miss. It's tea leaves we received ‌‌‌‌as a gift ‌‌‌when you and another visited Saloe Territory some time ago." Madam Marie answered my murmur. "Ah, so it was a ‌‌‌‌gift from that Scholar." ‌‌‌‌It was the tea ‌‌‌‌I received in return after carrying luggage all the way to the Scholar's house. But it doesn't feel like the first time I've had it—so why does this familiarity linger? I took another whiff of the scent.

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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org

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