Chapter 19
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I possessed the body of a villainess locked away in a desolate tower. Chapter 19 Lemeia Salt had to be the most radiant jewel of Salt above all others. She could never allow such pathetic, pitiful circumstances to be discovered. Thus, Lemeia hastily covered her face. In the midst of her tears, her swollen eyes terrified her—what if they appeared unsightly?
"Your Highness, it is I."
"Count Ravioli...?"
Mason Ravioli. The man who had recently earned his title for his service in eliminating the pirates plaguing the Coastal Region, and....
"Are you well?"
Lemeia Salt's fiancé. His tone and expression were nothing but gentle, yet Lemeia did not readily lift her head. In truth, meeting Mason himself brought her no joy whatsoever.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
An uncertain call reached her, but still Lemeia remained silent.
"Have I come at an inopportune moment?" .... In fact, he had earned quite the reputation as a respectable man. Not only was he well-regarded, but the late Count Ravioli had left behind considerable wealth, making him affluent besides. Moreover, society whispered that he was a refined gentleman who respected women, so it was only natural that Berga had personally designated him as Lemeia's prospective husband. Yet he possessed a fatal flaw—one that negated every advantage previously known.
"I am fine."
Lemeia slowly wiped away her tears and finally faced Mason directly. In her eyes, the reflection of him was an irredeemable homely man. For one, his perpetually hunched posture left almost no difference in height between them. Moreover, his facial features were arranged most unkindly. His dull, dark brown hair lay unkempt and disheveled—to Lemeia's eye, it was the very epitome of provincial unfashionableness. Ignoring the hand he extended as escort, Lemeia rose to her feet by grasping a tree branch herself.
"I have been quite occupied with administrative duties of late and have grown stressed because of it... What business brings you to seek me out, Count?"
Her demeanor was soft yet distant, as though veiled by an invisible barrier. Mason withdrew his unrequited hand and offered an awkward smile.
"Ah, well... it has been quite some time since we conducted our informal betrothal ceremony, so I thought perhaps it was time we began discussing the matter of our marriage."
As his cheeks flushed crimson at these words, Lemeia naturally averted her gaze. What good was a person's virtue if his very face was difficult to bear looking upon? After a brief pause to compose herself, Lemeia managed only a smile in response.
"I understand your meaning well enough, but... I fear the timing is premature, do you not think?"
"Ah...."
"Today I have only just concluded a lengthy conference regarding diplomatic matters with Cletan, and I was about to take my rest. Should the matter of my marriage surface under such circumstances, Father would have all the more to concern himself with. I believe it best we postpone this for now. Surely you understand, Count?"
Of course, this postponement was destined to extend indefinitely according to her wishes. And should Lemeia find herself falling in love with Lyden, such a betrothal could be dissolved at any moment—though there was no need to explain that much to him. Lemeia completed her mental calculations lightly and glanced at him. Count Ravioli's visit without even arranging an appointment bothered me even more today.
"I, I see. I always respect Your Highness's wishes."
As expected, this naive and virtuous man could never resist when Lemeia persuaded him, merely nodding along—and this time was no exception. Lemeia gazed at Mason's broad bridge of nose as he smiled earnestly while maintaining his courteous demeanor, then bowed her head with understated grace.
"Then I have many remaining matters to attend to... I shall take my leave."
As Lemeia turned away with an aloof air, her mind was consumed only by thoughts of the letter she hadn't yet finished writing. She resolved that she absolutely must lodge a complaint with Lyden about this unreasonable and unjust situation. * * * Thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump. ...What sound was this, you ask? It was the sound of my heart—no bigger than a pea—pounding wildly in my chest. 'What should I do?' The Grand Duke, who had been silently reading a comic book for the past ten minutes, resembled a beautiful work of art itself. I was, after all, human with aesthetic sensibilities, so I didn't particularly dislike admiring him—it was pleasant to the eye. Yet whenever he maintained his silence, my heart would race as though I'd fallen in love, and there was nothing I could do about it. ...I'd heard of something called the suspension bridge effect before. Though my first impression of Kaian Blaire had been dreadful, as time passed, my image of him gradually shifted within my heart. He'd even directly intervened in the dispute among the Apprentice Painters Guild at my request. (Though the condition attached was a trap.) When I thought about it, he'd provided me with a capable and diligent maid, and he consistently delivered delicious desserts as promised... 'No, no.' I nearly revised my assessment of Blaire Grand Duke in a positive direction. But what if he'd deliberately induced this carelessness from the start? The more my guard relaxed, the more I needed to maintain my vigilance against this handsome man. With fierce resolve, I watched the Grand Duke turn a page, then carefully opened my mouth to speak.
"Um..."
"So..."
Ugh! Why did our words have to overlap at precisely this moment? Like a scene from a third-rate drama, we both opened our mouths simultaneously, and I quickly averted my gaze before his eyes could meet mine.
"Please, speak first."
"No, the Princess should speak first."
"No, I was only going to say something rather trivial."
"Now I'm suddenly curious what this trivial matter was."
"No, it's really quite trivial..."
I retreated earnestly, but it had no effect on the Grand Duke. He maintained his silence with unwavering resolve. And naturally, I always lost in such situations.
"Um... Don't you think this might be worth some money, Your Highness?"
"You mean this comic book?"
"Y, yes."
I nodded while gazing at Volume 1 of "Safety Regulations of the Haunted Duke's Castle" held in the Grand Duke's hands.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you see...."
Explaining such a significant plan without a single business proposal felt oddly awkward when relying solely on words. But who was I? A seasoned slave who had scraped by in the wilds with no allies, even rolling through the Salt Royal Palace itself—this was nothing. I drew a deep breath, straightened my hunched shoulders, and began articulating my thoughts with deliberate clarity.
"As far as I know, in the Cletan Empire, less than 50% of commoners can read."
The Grand Duke listened silently, his expression unreadable. Since no denial came, it seemed the statistics remained unchanged.
"But these comic books allow people who struggle with reading to grasp the context and content through illustrations alone—and they're genuinely entertaining."
While the standard of entertainment varied from person to person, the concept of "comics" itself would undoubtedly be received as refreshingly novel. Moreover, with just a touch of advertising, considering the Empire's overflowing population, I felt certain we could break even even if it failed.
"First, once we capture people's attention, trends spread rapidly. Perhaps people might even begin learning to read to understand the content, which could positively impact literacy rates...."
One step, two steps. As I approached the desk where the Grand Duke sat, I clenched my fists tightly and poured forth my passionate argument. Presently, a measured voice flowed from the Grand Duke.
"How do you intend to distribute it?"
Naturally, I had already considered that as well.
"What if we publish it in the Imperial Newspaper that's already being distributed?"
"In the Imperial Newspaper?"
"Initially, we could pay them to allocate space for us, but after doing so a few times, they'll eventually pay us to publish our comics. Then couldn't we distribute those profits to the artists as well?"
"You believe we can generate meaningful revenue from merely that?"
The Grand Duke's skepticism was reasonable. People's typical response to unfamiliar things tends to be passive. I answered, conscious of the heat gradually rising in my cheeks.
"What we expect from the newspaper is promotional effect rather than revenue. Eventually, we should move toward publishing and selling comic books directly ourselves."
"How?"
"The Imperial Newspaper's printing system operates through the Magic Tower, so we could also..."
Before I could finish, the Grand Duke shook his head.
"The Magic Tower is currently facing significant problems. While their partnership with the Imperial Newspaper is solid, they won't necessarily do the same for us, having never conducted business before."
"That's... something we don't know for certain."
Encountering obstacles before even beginning was more common than I'd expected. Just as I was about to redirect my thoughts elsewhere, I belatedly caught something in the Grand Duke's words and looked at him. The Magic Tower is facing problems? Wait a moment.... Could it be?
"Um, Your Grace?"
"What is it?"
"Could I possibly learn what kind of problem has arisen at the Magic Tower?"
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