LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 62
Chapter: 62
“Ugh, I feel like I had a nightmare…. Did I sleep poorly?”
I woke up feeling pretty stiff. I can’t remember much, but I think I had a bad dream.
It’s probably the carriage sickness.
I purposely chose the carriage because I had to change trains a couple of times, but now I think I’ll just take the train back. Reading a book in a carriage is just not a human thing to do. They say the Empire has good roads, but that bumpy ride was unbearable.
“…But what am I doing here again?”
Ah, right. I came because I heard there’s an old library at the Duke of Kapeter’s consulate.
From what I’ve heard, it’s a library that existed even before the Empire was called an Empire. A historical archive rebuilt from the era of heroes and philosophers. I’ve heard it holds countless ancient texts and religious writings.
So, as a translator and a reader, I definitely can’t just let that slide.
I declared with all the confidence of a boy who has found an old abandoned house in the woods.
“It’s adventure time!”
.
.
.
“I’ll get your library access sorted out. Please wait a moment.”
“Okay!”
“The entrance has a list and a layout of the collection, so if you’re looking for something, you can check there first.”
“Thanks!”
Sadly, there wasn’t going to be any “adventure in the forgotten library” sort of situation.
It looks like the Duke’s library, an ancient legacy, is being maintained pretty meticulously. The entrance was tidy and clean, and I didn’t feel any of that dusty book stuffiness since there was good ventilation. Even the layout of the books was well organized, easy to navigate for first-timers.
Seeing that there wasn’t a whiff of musty book mold, I could infer the books were in excellent condition.
In many ways, it was the dream of a book lover. They probably don’t have any automatic ventilation system, so they must have someone check in regularly to maintain it. Or maybe there’s some sort of magic at play—I really don’t know.
The important thing is, there were books right in front of me.
“You can borrow up to two books from our collection. If a book is damaged, you’ll need to return it with a copy of it.”
“Oh, sure. That’s fine; I’ll just keep reading here.”
“Yes, here’s your pass. When you leave, show this to the caretaker and sign the list.”
“Okay!”
With that, I received my pass and stepped into the library.
The entrance was filled with relatively new books, while the older ones were deeper inside. Naturally, my goal was the ancient texts said to be left in this duchy. Since I made the trip to the Duchy, I should read the books unique to this place.
Of course, if there are any recent books I haven’t read yet, I’ll probably read those first.
There were plenty of books and enough time.
I wandered inside, picked up a book, brought it to a seat, and started reading.
Days passed by just like that.
.
.
.
When I finally closed the book, I suddenly realized my eyes were stinging and my throat was dry, and I could really go for a glass of water.
If Sion had been here, he would have taken care of it before I even noticed, but it’s tough to keep track of anything else when you’re just reading alone.
I’ll finish this next book, then get a drink of water.
I stacked the book I just read on the side, picked up an unread one from the other side, and just as I was about to open it, a hand shot out from the side and grabbed my wrist.
Startled, I looked at whoever had grabbed my wrist. Was it time to leave the library already?
“I see you’re finally looking this way….”
“Hmm? Who… are you?”
Contrary to my expectations, it wasn’t a librarian or a caretaker who had grabbed my wrist.
A woman in a neat white frilly dress was looking at me and sighing.
“It’s me. Isolde Reinhardt. Your cousin.”
“Oh!”
I took a moment to examine her face.
Sure enough, I could see traces of the child I used to know. She even resembled my aunt when she was younger.
I nodded in admiration, and Isolde let out a weary sigh.
“My mother said you were coming here, and I waited for you, but I hadn’t heard from you, and then I heard rumors about a ghost in the library who doesn’t eat or drink, only reads books… and I thought, that must be you. How come you haven’t changed much from when you were a kid?”
“Oh, come to think of it, I kind of forgot to eat.”
“That’s not something you should forget… You’d die without food…”
Isolde chuckled and rubbed her forehead. Clearly, she couldn’t understand how someone could forget to eat.
In all honesty, when I’m reading, I often lose track of meal times. Back at Frieden Manor, Sion would take care of my meals, and in the Kingdom of Haren, staff would deliver my meals right on time. So remembering to eat on my own was a little challenging.
Because when I dive deep into a book, I tend to lose all sense of time.
“A few days is fine—I won’t die.”
“Well, I’m not sure if I’m talking to a book ghost or my cousin here…”
Isolde had that sharp insight and saw right through me.
I had died once, so in a way, calling myself a book ghost was accurate.
“Anyway, it’s been a while, Isolde.”
“If it hadn’t been for this situation of finding you in the library after being blown about for days, I might have been more thrilled to greet you…”
“Haha… Sorry.”
“Well, I’m glad to know you’re still the person I knew.”
Princess Isolde finally let go of my wrist and smiled brightly.
Then she placed her hand on her chest, bowed slightly, and greeted me politely.
“I’m Isolde, daughter of Viscount Reinhardt. I look forward to spending the next few days with you, Mr. Ed.”
“Oh, uh, okay?”
She added with a smirk,
“Your mother is really quite something, isn’t she? Isn’t she?”
“Ah, yeah. Mmm.”
“Anyway, don’t stress too much and just relax. The Kapeter estate is pretty chaotic these days… but that also means you can roam more freely. Don’t just stick to reading books all the time. There’s so much to see in Cafeter!”
“……”
After all these years, Princess Isolde had really become quite… an adult.
She had this respectful tone, sprinkled in jokes to make it light-hearted, and expertly navigated wholesome and popular conversation topics. It carried a noble air while not feeling too stiff or antiquated.
She probably learned all that from mingling in high society. Not really my style.
But knowing Isolde from childhood made this transformation interesting to witness.
“You’ve grown up so much, Isolde?”
“Hehe, thanks for the compliment.”
She was just so different from the little girl I remembered.
“It feels like just yesterday you were crying because you didn’t want to play with me when we were kids….”
“Because I was a kid back then.”
Of course, that was natural. We were kids then, and now, they’re adults—so their personalities and speaking styles would’ve changed.
It’s just that the passage of time seems a bit… too stark.
That little kid has grown up so much. It made me feel a tad old. Maybe because I often lose track of time while reading all day.
“Didn’t I write you a fairy tale to cheer you up back then?”
“To cheer me up…?”
“Huh?”
“Pfft, my memory is a bit different, Ed. You weren’t exactly the gentle type back then, were you? Do you think you were worried about a kid crying?”
And so it goes.
And just like that, my “old story”—as Isolde remembers it—began.
.
.
.
– “What book are you reading?”
– “………”
– “Can I read the same book Ed is reading…?”
– “…Do as you wish.”
– “Hehe.”
As a child, Isolde was… just a child. A child pretending to be grown-up, overflowing with curiosity, eager to grab everything, but losing interest quickly.
She had the energy to cry because she wasn’t being played with but would soon dry her tears and come back smiling.
And.
– “Ed!”
– “…….”
– “That book you said was funny isn’t funny at all…!”
She was blunt.
Like every child, she had the knack to scratch a person’s feelings without any malice.
– “…That’s just because you didn’t understand it.”
– “I can read all the words!”
– “You’d be more suited for fairy tales than knightly epics. No, wait, all the fairy tales in this world are cruel….”
And.
Since I’m the kind of ordinary reader who can tolerate torture but cannot bear the thought of hearing ‘that book you thought was fun turned out to be boring’…
The next day, I made sure to write a fairy tale that even a small child could enjoy.
.
.
.
“Ah. I remember. You didn’t know how to read cursive back then, right, Isolde? So I taught you?”
“Pfft, you remember those things, huh?”
“Listening to this brings back memories…”
.
.
.
– “I still can’t read cursive….”
– “…I’ll teach you.”
– “Hehe. Thanks!”
I taught Isolde how to read cursive.
I spread literary knowledge like a devout fan proselytizing for their idol, but I didn’t actually think she would fall head over heels for it.
It was merely a duty—the duty of someone who loves literature.
It doesn’t matter if the person is a child or an old person.
And.
– “The Little Mermaid knew her love was unattainable, so she chose to cut off her tongue and become human. Even when she had the chance to take it all back, she chose to throw herself into the sea instead of stabbing her prince with a sword… So maybe what matters isn’t the outcome but the heart itself…?”
Isolde had a gift.
She saw right into the essence of the story without any prejudice, which was incredibly heartening—
I haven’t felt that way in a long, long time.
– “…Haha!”
I think I actually laughed.
Yes, it was that moment.
– “Huh?”
– “You were quite the impressive little one!”
– “Eh?”