TOPFCP30

Chapter 30

As soon as I stepped inside, I grabbed an encyclopedia. My plan was to bore him to death, and what better way than flipping through a book full of dry facts? I was skimming the table of contents when Jereon leaned over and remarked,

“You said you were going to watch A Widow’s Risky Romance. So why are you flipping through an encyclopedia?”

I replied without looking up.

“A writer should have a wealth of background knowledge. They say books are food for the mind, right? My writing will become the nourishment for my readers. I can’t just throw words together carelessly.”

“And yet you made the protagonist bald?”

“…You seem to be the type who clings to the past more than I thought.”

The Crown Prince shot me a glare, so I buried my nose deeper into the encyclopedia and kept scanning the table of contents.

“Found it,” I murmured, flipping to a random page. As luck would have it, the entry was about raccoon mating habits — apparently, I had picked up an animal encyclopedia.

Jereon glanced at the illustration of two raccoons together, then eyed the dangling raccoon tail attached to his own hat.

“Look at this — raccoons are monogamous and mate between February and March,” I said.

“Not interested.”

“But you’ve got a raccoon tail on your hat. Don’t you feel guilty? What if the raccoon you caught was going to be a father? Since they’re monogamous, the poor mother raccoon would have had to raise her kits all alone. The babies might have never even seen their father’s face. Isn’t that sad?”

I patted the tail on his hat.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Raccoon.”

Jereon looked slightly embarrassed — perhaps he had never considered such sentimental angles despite hunting being his hobby. Sensing an opening, I pressed on. His boots had rabbit fur trim, so I quickly flipped to the rabbit section.

“See here? Judging from the long fur, this must be an Angora rabbit. Did you hunt such an adorable creature too?”

“That’s not from a hunt. The palace bred them.”

“Still, what a pitiful fate — ending up as nothing more than a bit of fluff on a bootlace.”

Finally, Jereon snatched the encyclopedia out of my hands.

“I’ll buy you this book so you can read it later. Pick something else.”

I had been about to target his wool vest next. It was almost disappointing — I might have succeeded in driving him away entirely.

We moved deeper into the bookstore. Jereon followed at a comfortable distance, glancing over the shelves. The palace had its own library, so picking a book here was technically pointless — but borrowing and owning were very different things.

Eventually, I spotted the general fiction section ahead. For a moment, I felt as though I had stepped back in time to my bakery days, when I would sneak in here to read without buying.

Back then, living day to day, I couldn’t afford books. I would secretly read a few pages each visit, memorizing exactly where I had left off.

I still remember how far I’d gotten in each story…

But now, all the novels I’d once read were gone, replaced by other titles. I pulled a random book from the same spot and opened it to the first page.

Thinking I was reading A Widow’s Risky Romance, Jereon hurried over — then looked unimpressed when he saw a different title.

“You read classics too?”

“Of course.”

“That’s pretty far from romance.”

“I like stories where good people are rewarded and bad people get punished.”

He picked up a book from the next shelf.

“Do you think I’m a good person or a bad one?”

“Can I plead the Fifth?”

“You really don’t know how to flatter.”

“You’re surrounded by flatterers already. If I joined them, wouldn’t it be unpleasant? Then how do you see me, Your Highness? Do I look like a good person?”

“Hmm…”

“Hard to say, right? People aren’t so easy to sort into good and bad.”

“Then why is the distinction so clear in novels?”

“Because authors rarely give villains a backstory.”

“True. There’s no grave without a reason, as they say. When criminals are on trial, they all plead their case. Some win sympathy from the jury and get released. But those who stay silent are deemed unrepentant, and the judge hands down harsher sentences — even for the same crime. That shows trials aren’t fair.”

Hearing the Crown Prince utter the word fairness made me bristle. My reply came out sharper than intended.

“Your Highness, the world was never fair to begin with.”

He stared silently.

“At least not when it comes to poverty.”

Feeling awkward about my bluntness, I looked away and returned to the shelves — only for Jereon to reach out and brush the corner of my lips. The same spot his lips had nearly touched yesterday.

Startled, I covered my mouth, dropping the book I held.

“Why are you suddenly doing this?”

“You had a raccoon hair on your cheek. Must’ve come from my hat.”

Indeed, he was holding a fine hair between his fingers.

“You could’ve just told me to brush it off myself. Your hat seems to be shedding a lot — you’ve even got some by your mouth.”

“Where? Here?”

“No, your upper left lip.”

“Here?”

“A bit higher… no, lower.”

His fumbling annoyed me, so I reached to remove it myself — but the hair was too close to his lips.

“Your Highness, just hold your fingers straight like this.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Pardon me for a moment.”

I took his wrist and shook his hand lightly around the area like a feather duster.

“There, it’s gone.”

“You could’ve just used your hand.”

“I can’t touch the royal body so freely. But honestly, that hat’s going to shed again.”

“I’d like to take it off, but it exposes too much of my face. Before, people didn’t recognize me much when I went out — I didn’t even need a hat for inspections. But ever since your novel made me famous, people spot me instantly.”

Though he spoke like it was a nuisance, there was a trace of pride in his expression.

Not wanting to risk more stray hairs, I shuffled sideways to another shelf, putting some space between us. That gave me a chance to slip a pocket watch from my bag and check the time.

Oh no! The performance must’ve started already! What do I do?

I expected Jereon to give up and leave, but he was still beside me, utterly absorbed in his book — swatting the raccoon tail from his face now and then.

Is his real hobby reading, not hunting?

Just then, a boy came walking toward us. The aisle was narrow, so I stepped aside to let him pass — and as I glanced back at Jereon, I saw the boy’s hand dart out to snatch the coin pouch from the snake-skin belt at his waist.

“Hey! Pickpocket! He’s a pickpocket!”

Jereon looked up from his book and dashed after the boy, who was already fleeing toward the back exit. I hurried too — I knew the store layout well, and the front entrance was blocked by the shopkeeper, so the thief would surely head for the back door.

I reached it just as the boy opened it.

“Stop right there!”

He tried to dart into the alley, but I grabbed his sleeve. With a swift motion, he drew a small knife, slashed his own sleeve free, and nicked the back of my hand.

“Ow!”

For a split second, his eyes flashed with something like regret — and that’s when I noticed them.

Different colors… one black, one gold.

It was unmistakable. Still, in a city this diverse, it was easy to dismiss him as an immigrant.

Before I could react further, he was gone. Blood dripped between my clenched fingers.

Jereon’s hurried footsteps approached from behind.

“Shanael! You’re bleeding! How bad is it?”

“Just a cut on my hand. I’m fine.”

“Go to Hasell right now and have it treated. I’ll go after him.”

“If it’s just for the money, forget it. The back alleys are lawless — it’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”

“He hurt you. I can’t let him get away. Shanael, go to Hasell.”

“Your Highness! I said you can’t—”

But he was already gone, disappearing into the dim maze of alleys.

“Where is he going…? He doesn’t know this area.”

The back streets were full of undocumented immigrants, and crime was rampant. I’d once considered renting here — the rent was cheap — but I’d given up after learning that people were killed here almost daily. The alleys sprawled like a spiderweb, easy for outsiders to get lost in.

“Not even the city guards patrol here… Ugh, where did he go?”

Afraid of wandering too far in, I retraced my steps toward the main road.

I need to tell Hasell the Crown Prince went into the back alleys — fast!

Even though it was just behind the marketplace, the place felt shadowed, as if sunlight never reached it. My shoes splashed through the damp ground as I ran toward the bookstore building.

Near the fountain in front, Hasell was dozing with a bundle of wolf pelts in his arms.