Ascendance of a Bookworm

Chapter 144: The Book to the Head Priest and Cinderella (121.1)

When I got to the Dean’s Office in the temple, I had to change into my blue robe, but I couldn’t do it myself. Dalia would growl at me angrily if I changed on my own. Whether I bend or straighten my arm, I had to match her movements. At the beginning we had no understanding. Changing clothes was like a fight, which made me think I’d better do it myself. But now I was naturally in her service. “I am a little like a noble daughter.” I thought as I waited for her to comb my hair, but she was distracted, and then suddenly murmured,

“It’s better than I thought.”

“What?”

She said it so suddenly that I really didn’t know what it meant. At my question, Dalia’s pale blue eyes widened as if offended.

“I mean the picture book you want me to be the first to read! Didn’t you say you wanted to hear my thoughts?”

“Ah, so that’s what you said. I just didn’t get what you were saying. I’m glad you’re willing to share your thoughts. Have you read the whole book? You seem to have picked up a lot of words.”

Dalia had been studying alone and at a slower pace than Gil. To be honest, I didn’t expect her to finish it so soon.

“… I asked Gil to teach me some words and how to play Karuta.”

She had always regarded Gil as a competitor, and now she asked him to teach her to read. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the scene. As I smirked, Rosina cut us off with a serious expression.

“Master Maine, there is no time for you to chat now. Please hurry up and practice the fespiel.”

“What’s the matter, Rosina? You look nervous.”

“I have received a letter from the Head Priest, in which he asks you to perform the second etude at your meeting.”

When I heard Rosina say that, I understood immediately. No wonder she was so nervous. Anyone would be nervous at such news.

“Well, I’ll have to practice. When did he specify?”

“After lunch.”

Rosina’s answer skipped the date, and with an ominous foreboding, I asked slowly:

“… Which day’s lunch, Rosina?”

“Today’s.”

Fran told Rosina that the Head Priest had to go to the Harvest Festival in a nearby village and would not be back for a long time, so he wanted to meet me before he left. While I was glad he was willing to take care of my affairs as soon as possible, his request was too much of a surprise.

“Grace, Master Maine, is in deliberation. Be careful not to betray your inner confusion to the Head Priest.”

I practiced ferociously until the third bell, then calmly assisted the Head Priest with his duties until the fourth bell, just like I didn’t think performing in front of him was a big deal. During my stay in the Head Priest’s Office, I had been quietly testifying to him that I was methodical in spite of his sudden request on me to perform. I then had a frantic lunch and practiced until the last second of my break. I wish someone would compliment me on my efforts behind the scenes.

I’d improved since I was forced to practice more, but I was still nervous about performing in front of the Head Priest. In particular, I was going to perform an original piece — although I claim it was original, it was actually a song I learned in my last life.

I gave up the love songs in the movie for the regular school songs. The lyrics of love songs were difficult to translate or adapt, so I sang them differently every time, and sometimes I slipped out of English, which made Rosina worry a lot.

“It will be all right if you keep calm, for you are a better player than I am.”

“Thank you, Dalia. I’ll try.”

Encouraged by Dalia, my confidence soared. I went with Fran and Rosina to the Head Priest’s Office. The children’s Edition of the Scripture and the first draft of Cinderella were held by Fran, while the fespiel was held by Rosina.

“Sorry to be so sudden. Let me hear how much you’ve improved since then.”

I could not hear any apology in the Head Priest’s voice. Sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, I took the fespiel from Rosina, positioned myself, and took a deep breath.

From deep inside my ears came the sound of pounding heart. I plucked the strings and performed an etude and a school song one after another. When I performed the school song, I didn’t use the chestnut in the lyrics, but changed it to a local nut so that it didn’t sound out of place. The Head Priest nodded with satisfaction, praising my performance as “very good”.

“You are making great progress. Here is an etude for you to play next time. Also, the song you wrote is very interesting. Try to write a new one next time.”

I looked at the score handed to me by the Head Priest and found that the next etude was a little difficult. I couldn’t help but feel exhausted, but also relieved that I had made it through.

“Rosina, hold this for me, please.”

I handed Rosina the fespiel and reached for Arnaud’s tea. After the trial, I felt that the tea tasted especially good today. The Head Priest, on the contrary, had been listening to me while drinking his tea, and was putting his teacups back on the table.

“So you asked for a meeting because the Children’s Edition of the Scripture was ready?”

“Yes. Here it is.”

I looked at Fran. Fran bowed his head and quickly handed the picture book to the Head Priest. The Head Priest stared at it and tapped his temple with his fingertips.

“You call it a book? What’s with this cover?”

Unlike in the secret room, his expression barely changed, making it difficult for me to read his emotions, but there was a clear note of reproach in his voice. Why did he make such a shrill voice just because he saw the cover?

“It’s just paper. Why?”

“I know that. What I want to ask is why there are flowers in the paper?”

“Huh? Because we put flowers in it.”

“I know that too. I mean, why did you put flowers in it?”

The more impatient the Head Priest became, and the more severe his tone became, for there was no answer he wanted to hear; but I had no idea why his mood had suddenly taken such a turn. When Seeing this cover, Benno was very happy and thought that it would be very popular among the noble daughters. Did the aristocrats forbid flowers in the paper?

“Er… because I think it’s cute. What’s wrong with that?”

The Head Priest shook his head as if unable to understand me. He got up and went to the secret room at the back. I couldn’t understand his reaction either, so I followed him to my feet.

“Don’t forget this, Master Maine.”

Fran hurried over to me the paper on which the Cinderella was written. After Thanking him, I went through the door the Head Priest opened.

Stepping into the permanently cluttered secret room, I walked to my usual bench. I was about to push away the files that occupied the bench when it occurred to me that they might be those related to magic.

“Maine, I said you couldn’t.”

Before I could peek, the Head Priest, who had detected my intention, took the file from my hand and placed it on the table. The files on that desk must be all about magic. I thought about this and looked around the room, and it struck me that the room looked different. It was amazing. The Head Priest drew up his chair and frowned.

“Don’t look around.”

“I beg your pardon… what would you like to ask?”

“I’m asking you, how on earth do you have to make paper with flowers in it? I wouldn’t force you to answer, if it’s a feat of the workshop, but it’s very unusual to have flowers in the paper, isn’t it?”

“Unusual? You add petals to the materials and you make the paper like this.”

“… Add petals?”

I moved my finger and made the motion of sprinkling the petals into the papermaking machine, but the Head Priest didn’t seem to understand. It occurred to me that the only “paper” he had ever seen was basically parchment. If he only knew how to make parchment, he really couldn’t understand how to make flower-paper.

“Well… Plant-paper is made in a completely different way from parchment, so if you’re curious, please visit the workshop sometime.”

“All right. I don’t understand your instructions at all.”

Presumably giving up the answer he wanted to hear, the Head Priest crossed his feet and placed the picture book in his lap.

When he opened the title page and saw the articles and the illustrations, he looked disgusted at once.

“A book is a work of art. It should be covered in leather, decorated with precious stones and gold, and painted in lots of colour. The whole book should be bright and beautiful. From an artistic point of view, this book is of little value. The illustrations are so good that they should have been coloured. What a waste.”

Let the calligrapher write, let the painter draw, and let the craftsman make the cover, so as to make the book in his mind. I had only to think back to the books in the library to see what he is thinking at once.