Princess Reincarnation
"Reading"
"Faster than I expected," said the king with a characteristic lack of expression.
Just as night fell, I showed my face inside the king's room. I was ready to be scolded for not being a hindrance, but my hope was betrayed when he spoke to me disinterestedly.
"Is that so?" I muttered, feeling tired.
I expected him to make fun of me for being late, so I wasn't sure how to respond. Actually, he might make fun of me, but I had no desire to fight.
"Then I made you wait. ”
"Waiting, I didn't. ”
I'm stopping. "Is that so?"
This time the words came out of my mouth.
I'm this close to a bluff. I want to go back. I want to turn around and walk out, BAD.
Not caring about the dead eyes in my eyes, Dad took a candlestick and started walking at a fast pace.
Inside a spacious room with reddish patterns drawn in intricate detail with white gold in Renaissance style, there was a plain incompatible door.
He pulled the antique key from his breast pocket, and put it in, looking at me once. He did not speak, but I felt his eyes telling me to hurry.
Pushing my desire to walk back, I followed behind.
The dim light illuminated the room, which was without any ornamentation, in contrast to the luxuries outside. It was a quarter of the size of the previous room, and as the walls were lined with bookshelves, it felt even smaller. There are no windows, but the air is not stagnant.
With the exception of shelves, the only furniture is the table and sofa
Without hesitation, father took a book off the shelf and stretched it out to me like he forced it on me.
Not seeing the puzzled expression on my face, she placed the candlestick on the low table and lay down on the sofa next to each other.
While pulling the wine bottle close, he poured a glass of himself in a careless motion and dried the cup as if it were water. After doing so, Dad extracted a bookmark tucked between a thick book and began reading.
He really made himself at home.
Who is this guy? My papa? No, not at all. Maybe it was a double, I thought.
I stood expressionless, confused.
This man in front of me, Randolf von Wervard, is my real father, but he is a private man and I have nothing to do with him.
So even though his personal life is a mystery to me, I assume he might work even on holidays.
I mean, what would my dad be like if he didn't work? Other than basic activities like sleeping, eating and the like, I cannot imagine him as an ordinary person. Actually, is he sleeping? That's all I can think of.
“…………”
He really made himself at home.
His body slumped onto a high-quality leather sofa as he immersed himself in the reading while sipping a second cup of wine. Without standards anywhere would be considered manners the way he lay.
Illuminated by candlelight, the features softened and my father really looked like an ordinary human being.
"No reading?" Ask.
"I will" I automatically replied.
"Then sit. When do you intend to stand? "
“…………”
Where's er?
The book under my arm, I quietly turned around and looked at the inside of the room. As I mentioned earlier, there are only tables and chairs. That was the end of my hopes for the second seat.
Even if he told me to sit down, there was nowhere for me to do it.
Don't tell me he meant for me to sit on the floor? I stared at the dark carpet placed on the floor.
"Come on. ”
I raised my head to look at my father who was gesturing. Sit here, he said, patting the sofa on which he lay.
“Uh. ”
I mean, of course, it's a big sofa and there's enough room for someone like me to sit on it too.
I understand, but my mind is screaming NO. What kind of punishment was this, that I should read while sitting so close to my father?
"I can't let you get it out. If you want to read, do it here. ”
I should have brought a chair, I thought. In the end, I swallowed my dissatisfaction and all I said was, “Yes, dad. ”
It is impolite to have a subordinate push him out of the way. Sorry, I said, sitting in a not-so-crowded room next to his stomach.
If I get this far, then I can be serious about it. As for dad, let's think of him as a rather new seatback.
I put the book on my knee.
As you would expect from an antique, the color of the page has changed and the letters on the cover are worn out and gone.
I took a deep breath to calm my heartbeat from holding the antiques in my hands. I gave a dark indigo blue stroke a stroke and opened it.
“…………”
Turning to the inside of the cover, one page was enough to get me into trouble.
You must be kidding . NO . Is this gonna be a problem? Did this really happen? I thought, dumbfounded.
Actually, to be honest, this should be the first thing I worry about. I was stupid not to think about it. Why didn't I solve this problem before visiting my father?
Even if I regretted my mistake, there was nothing I could do now.
I might find a solution when I drop by next, but do I really have a second chance?
I clasped my trembling fingers.
Ahh, I'm an idiot. An idiot, a very big one.
No way, don't say …
“…………”
Don't tell me I can't read it!
I feel pain . Books on my knees have long been written in the past.
Why didn't I realize something so obvious?
"Can't read?"
A slight squeak came out of me and I jumped at the sudden sound.
I slowly turned to look at my father lying face down on the sofa, and found that he had stopped reading and watching me.
Cold sweat dripped down my back.
"I…………"
My voice failed because I was nervous.
What now? What am I supposed to do? Am I telling the truth, or making a bluff? I don't know which option is better. However, depending on the answer, I may lose the opportunity to read these books.
My head turned empty. Even if I have a tendency to make counter plans, I know nothing about dad.
The answer I found was:
"I can't ... read .. but I will!"
Before I knew it, I had given him that ridiculous response.
I want to kick myself. Whatwhat the fuck?
"Can't read but will"? What is it, if there's a will, there's a way? Or sheer effort?
"I saw . ”
Hold it, no retort?
Don't tell me he ignored my slip? I'm stumped. No matter how hard I looked at him, Dad showed no expression. Not smiling, not angry. Maybe disgusted, but of course I don't know from his face.
Lifting up half his body, father peeked at the book on my shoulders.
"Can you read modern history books?"
"Yes nih . ”
If we talk about library history books, then I can read most of them. I've been learning since I was five years old, and I believe that alone is an achievement.
“Then there should be a section you can read. Look at this part. ”
Dad reached out and traced a sentence in the book.
"It reads as 'Kingdom of Nebel'. ”
I – I can't see it.
Honestly it looks like a pattern, not words.
“Complicated characters are simply simplified over time. Naturally, there would be many outdated names and geographical expressions. ”
After he explained that, I thought I might be able to see what he meant …?
When I try to replace complicated patterns that mimic things like ivy or feathers with dots and curves, I feel it is similar to our modern language.
The language of my country, the Kingdom of Nebel, is similar to the alphabet and consists of 26 characters.
In other words, if I count the number of patterns, simplified them and applied them to the modern alphabet, will it work?
"Dad, can I borrow some paper?"
Now that I had a clue, I was suddenly pumped with energy, and I excitedly turned to look at my father.
He told me to use whatever I wanted, so I took the paper and pen from the next room and started scratching vigorously.
Behind me, dad had returned to reading, but I no longer cared about him.
“…………?”
All right, everything's copied.
Nodding in satisfaction, I revisited my work. Did I leave something? I counted and stopped, head tilted in confusion.
No matter how many times I count, there are 30. Four is too much?
"Don't you have four too many?" Dad asked with a very beautiful time, as if he could hear my inner monologue.
"?!"
I was too surprised to speak. This man has been trying to shave a few years of my life seriously for some time now, I thought, putting a hand on my heartbeat.
"Forget the rest. Know that the four are always together. ”
"Err. ”
He could have been better about it, but that's still good advice.
When I refer back to that book, sure enough, all four always come in a set.
I excluded them and compared the modern alphabet with twenty-six other characters, finding in the process how different the fourth is from the others.
Other characters are modeled on the basis of nature and living things, but set four is the only one I can't even begin to imagine its origin. However, they filled me restlessly when I saw them.
What are they fighting for?
"They represent the Dark Lord. ”
My father opened his mouth to speak again, as if he had read my mind.
“ Above all, it is forbidden to mention the name of the Dark Lord, so they are only careful to use known characters to refer to him. The set of four characters was created for the purpose of expressing the Dark Lord and prohibited from using any other. I don't know how to read it. The pronunciation does not exist, or even is said to be a person's name from then on, but it is uncertain. ”
I jumped at the words, "Do you mean to say that the Dark Lord is human?"
"Don't I say it's uncertain?" He answered coldly.
Meaning more one theory has been passed down to the end?
“Enough, start reading. As soon as you're done, I'll go to sleep. ”
Dad's yawning. I felt like I saw something very rare the first time.
Before he kicked me out, I had to read what part I could. Following my father's example, I decided to concentrate on the book and start reading as well.
