IDKML 08

Chapter 8

Leaving behind Cooper, who gave a hollow laugh, and Iris, whose eyes were as cold as shattered ice, Ophelia exited the aide’s office.

Soon after, she arrived at a warehouse — or more precisely, a sacred storage room where the “holy beans” were piled together with sand.

Of course, being “holy,” they couldn’t just be stacked any old way. Instead, they were enshrined right in the center of one of the guest rooms in the Crown Prince’s palace.

Once the attendant finished guiding her and left, Ophelia found herself alone before the pile of beans — or rather, the mixture of beans and sand.

Tap, tap.
She rapped on the large container filled with the mixture, then reached her hand inside.

The sand was finer than she expected. She plucked out a few beans, then a few more.

But there was no way she could keep doing this by hand forever — the container was large enough to fit a whole person inside.

Still picking through the beans, Ophelia murmured,
“I feel like I’ve seen something like this before…”

Tilting her head, her eyes suddenly widened.
“Psyche!”

Psyche — the woman who, unable to resist her sisters’ whispers, lost her husband, Eros.

To atone for her mistake, she sought out Eros’s mother, the goddess of love, Aphrodite, who gave her a series of impossible tasks.

“One of them was sorting out bird feed, wasn’t it?”

She couldn’t remember all the details, but it was definitely about separating things of different sizes — sand, grains, whatever.

“It’s not exactly the same situation! But that story’s a myth, and this world is a novel, so maybe it’ll work similarly. What did Psyche do again…?”

It wasn’t the most solid reasoning, but Ophelia was utterly serious.

As she rolled the beans between her fingers, she thought deeply, then stood up, stretching her numb legs.

“Ah right, the ants sent by Eros sorted them out for her.”

In other words — Psyche’s solution was absolutely no help to Ophelia right now.

“How am I supposed to command ants…? Ugh, there’s really no answer to this.”

Just then, a familiar voice spoke behind her.
“Ants?”

“Your Highness?”

Somehow, without her noticing, Richard had come in and was now leaning casually against the closed door.

“Ants, you say.”

Ophelia dashed over to him immediately.
“Your Highness! Don’t you have any free time?”

“That sounds rather offensive, though the way you said it was almost too cheerful.”

“No offense intended! I was just wondering if you could help me with something.”

Richard raised his brows as Ophelia clasped her hands together and leaned toward him — only for him to place a palm on her forehead to stop her advance.

“You, the one who works like an ox as an aide, are asking me for help? Even with my help, there’s no way you can finish picking out all these beans today.”

Ophelia, forehead still in his hand, kept her shining eyes fixed on him.
“Oh, I don’t mean for you to sort them out personally, Your Highness.”

“Then what?”

“Your Highness,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“Can’t you maybe… summon insects? Like ants, or something?”

For a moment, Richard was at a loss for words. Ophelia, however, waited patiently.

When he realized the hopeful gleam in her blue eyes was genuine, he finally asked,
“…What?”

“Ants! You know, ants! Tiny black bugs that crawl on the ground, with a head, waist, and abdomen.”

“I know what ants are. But command them? Like people?”

“Yes! Well, they don’t have to be ants, really — just something strong enough and numerous enough to separate the beans from the sand!”

“I have no such ability.”

At his curt reply, Ophelia clicked her tongue and flung his hand away.
“Honestly, Your Highness, you’re no help at all.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘useless’ for not being able to command ants.”

“You’re the Crown Prince! Shouldn’t you at least be able to control a few insects?”

Richard stared at her for a while, then turned his head aside slightly, suppressing a laugh.

“…You’re laughing again.”

She didn’t know what was so funny, but she ignored him and went back to thinking of solutions.

After his laughter subsided, he asked,
“So, what will you do now? I can’t command ants, but I can command people.”

“If I go that far, the other aides will probably eat me alive. They already glare at me enough as it is.”

“Hmm.”

He didn’t mention that those same aides would probably praise her if they knew she could make him move at all. Especially Iris — she’d skin Ophelia alive just for “using” the Crown Prince.

“Well, I thought about using a sieve, but…”

“But?”

“They said the beans are precious and can’t be scratched. If I sift this much, they’ll definitely get damaged.”

“True. The sand would rub against them.”

“Yes. And since they contain holy energy, it’s probably too optimistic to think they’d stay perfectly intact.”

“Overly optimistic, indeed.”

“As expected… But, Your Highness.”

“What now.”

“You sure you don’t have anything to do? This time I am asking with impure motives.”

Bluntly asking Aren’t you going to leave?, she looked at him expectantly.

“I don’t have anything right now.”

“You’ve already finished that mountain of paperwork?”

“No.”

“Then…?” she asked, her forehead practically spelling out the question.

“I don’t have work because I don’t want to work right now.”

Ophelia bit back the words How nice it must be to live like that.

She knew better than anyone that he didn’t actually live an easy life.

“Come to think of it, if Your Highness stays here, I’ll have an easier time spotting assassination attempts. Let’s just stay together here.”

A rude thing for an aide to say to the Crown Prince, but both of them had long since stopped caring about formalities like that.

As Ophelia picked out beans and Richard quietly watched her, time slipped by.

Rubbing her aching back, she licked her dry lips.
“What are the odds that if I jump into this barrel and thrash around, the beans will fly out?”

“Approaching zero.”

“You could at least tell a white lie.”

“Well, if you did get in there, something would fly out — beans, sand, you name it.”

“I guess that’s true. It’s not like it’d overflow like wa—…”

Ophelia trailed off, blinking rapidly.

Richard straightened from the wall and took a step forward.

Not startled at all by his sudden closeness, Ophelia narrowed her eyes.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Expressionless face, dry gaze — but after countless loops of regression, she had learned to read the tiniest traces of emotion in his eyes.

There it was — faint interest.

“I’m just wondering what kind of nonsense you’ll come up with this time.”

“Nonsense? I’ll have you know I’m an aide, not a jester.”

“So?”

“I said I’m not a jester.”

“A fine aide, then.”

“Could you say that with a bit more sincerity?”

“Alright. Aide. So?”

Not fully satisfied, but close enough, Ophelia gave the answer he was expecting.

“Archimedes.”

“Another insect, like the ants?”

His absurdly fast and bizarre question made Ophelia freeze.

Oh, right — this is a novel world.

After spending so long in it, through so many regressions, she often forgot that her memories from her previous life didn’t belong here.

Still, that had its advantages.

She looked at Richard thoughtfully.

Despite his unreal beauty and inhuman power, he didn’t feel like a paper doll to her anymore.

People in possession-transmigration stories often said that, didn’t they? That even when the novel world becomes your “reality,” its characters don’t feel real — until one day you’re struck by the realization that they are.

“Your Highness. May I… touch you for a moment?”

It was an out-of-nowhere request, but he didn’t object — he simply took her hand.

Feeling the rough, dry warmth of his palm, Ophelia let out a small, rueful laugh.

For someone who had lived and died through countless regressions, his hand was… warm.

“It’s lukewarm,” she murmured.

“So, what about this Archimedes?”

“Oh, him. Just a scholar. Don’t give me that look — he’s basically an old man from the countryside.”

She shamelessly reduced one of the greatest mathematicians in Greek history to a neighborhood grandpa, but she wasn’t plagiarizing his work, so who cared.

“What he said was a lot more complicated, but all I really need right now is water.”

“Water, huh. Because the sand will sink and the beans will float?”

“How can you guess that from just one word? You’re really no fun, Your Highness.”

“A simple but highly effective solution.”

Ophelia momentarily borrowed back her lost elegance and gave a graceful half-bow.
“Thank you for the praise, Your Highness—”

Then she suddenly stopped, her expression turning serious.