“Lausanne Arstans?”
There’s only one person around me and Demimore who specializes in romance. It was a name that hadn’t been on my lips for a long time.
Although we couldn’t meet often, we used to exchange letters regularly. However, lately, we hadn’t even been able to do that.
“…Is she doing well?”
I asked about Lausanne’s well-being, albeit a little late.
Demimore chuckled softly, as if finding my awkward face amusing.
“She’s doing very well. Well, His Majesty was planning to find her a husband, so she was feeling frustrated and irritated, but thanks to Cameron falling ill, that got postponed.”
“So Cameron has been helpful in some ways.”
“Haha. Well, Cameron does take good care of her, in his own way.”
Taking good care of her, huh?
I wanted to object to Demimore’s words, but when I thought about what Cameron had done to me and Demimore, I could vaguely guess the criteria for “good care.”
Anyway, Demimore just casually mentioned it earlier, but Cameron seemed to be in a more serious condition than I thought.
Still, I was more curious than worried about why he was sick, what his exact condition was.
However, Demimore seemed strangely reluctant to talk about it.
“Is she still writing?”
Instead of bringing up Cameron, which would only make the atmosphere uncomfortable, I asked about Lausanne.
Come to think of it, it has been quite a long time since I read Lausanne’s novel.
There had been many things going on, but I still harbored the hope that Lausanne was still writing. However, Demimore’s failure to answer immediately made me anxious.
“I’m not sure. She hasn’t talked about writing since then. We talked about it once before. She said there was no one to read her work, so the fun of writing disappeared.”
“Oh…….”
Upon hearing Demimore’s response after some contemplation, I felt an inexplicable sense of guilt so lowered my head.
I hesitated in my response because I was worried that it might be because of me. When I thought about it calmly, I couldn’t entirely blame myself.
However, I couldn’t help but feel bothered by the fact that Lausanne had stopped writing because there was no one to read her beloved stories.
“Don’t blame yourself too much. I heard she had taken an interest in flower arrangements recently.”
“…Princess Lausanne?”
Demimore laughed awkwardly. I remembered the time when Lausanne said she was tired of looking at flowers because of His Majesty’s obsession with greenhouses.
I remembered it clearly because Lausanne, who is usually elegant and beautiful to the point where one might think that’s what a true lady looks like, spoke in an unusually rough manner.
“Well, tastes change, you know.”
“I wish Princess Lausanne would continue writing…”
Lausanne seemed happy when she was writing.
She probably became upset when the Emperor brought up the subject of marriage because that meant she wouldn’t have time to write anymore.
After all, no noble would welcome his wife being locked in a room, writing.
It would be better if she ended up with Gilbert, just like in the original story… No, there is no original story. But why did they include the story of Gilbert and Lausanne’s engagement?
“So, Mary, it’s up to you to convince her to start writing again. If her only reader wants it, for sure she’ll try to write again?”
“But…….”
“Besides, Princess Lausanne already feels a subtle sense of guilt towards you. If you make the request, she’ll be genuinely happy.”
Demimore tried to persuade me and it sounded convincing.
If I were to ask Lausanne to write again, it might alleviate the awkwardness and discomfort that lingered between us.
“Do you have any ideas in mind?”
“Write a story about the saint who tried to escape the God of Death.”
Demimore noticed my positive thoughts and spoke with excitement.
“Think about it. The saint who wanted to protect the people who suffered at the hands of the God of Death. If we included the illustration of the saint from the charm my mother had, it would be quite convincing, wouldn’t it?”
“Hmm…….”
“Those who read the story will naturally perceive the saint and Arsene as noble beings, while seeing the God of Death as a creature to be avoided. And then, those who seek the God of Death will naturally disappear.”
“But will people believe the novel?”
“Well, there’s already substantial evidence, isn’t there?”
“Huh?”
“This village itself.”
Demimore’s words made me leap to my feet.
“You mean this village?”
“It’s not as far-fetched as it seems. We can turn it into a resort like Tahata…”
“This is the sanctuary of those people. Think about the wounds they have endured.”
This place was like a sanctuary where people who were almost harmed by the God of Death gathered and lived.
Demimore’s suggestion to turn this place into a resort or tourist attraction made me react with frustration. I caught Arsene’s subtle reaction.
After all, he was the guardian of this village.
As he stared at Demimore without any visible expression, making it hard to determine what he was thinking. He seemed displeased but it’s not as bad as I expected.
“I get it, Mary. Calm down, that was a rash of me. My mother was also from this village.”
Demimore took a step back from my protest. Until now, everything he had said seemed like an answer to the dilemma I had been facing. However, I felt hesitant about exposing the village. Apart from that, it didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“My mother felt the same way. Although she wasn’t born in this village, she still thinks of this as her hometown. But think about it. As long as this village continues to exist, the God of Death can only be seen as a terrifying presence.”
“Although that may be true…”
“I always wished my mother could go outside the palace. But she was too afraid and never ventured out. Mary, will it be the same for the people in this village?”
Demimore began to persuade me earnestly..
Listening to Demimore’s words, I couldn’t help but wonder if keeping the village people confined to this place was truly in their best interest.
It could be seen as protection, but it could also be seen as isolation. I thought of Jenny, who was born in this village and believed it was everything.
Jenny, the young child who happily ate the bread and snacks Arsene brought from outside.
However, if we were to take the village people outside, wouldn’t the outside world become another source of fear for them?
“To do that, we need Arsene’s permission and his help.”
So, I quietly left the decision in Arsene’s hands. It was actually the right thing to do.
Demimore looked at Arsene expectantly. Arsene scratched his cheek with his tongue, appearing deep in thought.
“I told Mary last time too, but I have no desire to resolve my problems through her.”
“It’s not just your problem.”
“I know, I’m aware.”
Arsene abruptly stood up from his seat and walked briskly towards the window.
He leaned against the wall with his arms folded and stared in silence at the sky, where the sun had finally settled, turning it an odd mix of orange and pink.
His face was imbued with an indescribable depth of remorse.
How many times had Arsene witnessed the sunrise and sunset? What unerasable regrets had he held onto all those years?
“Will people truly see her as beautiful?”
After a long silence, Arsene posed a question to us. It was a question that neither Demimore nor I could easily answer.
Arsene didn’t seem to expect a specific answer from us either.
“I, too, was afraid that people would forget her, so I made her face into a charm and had people carry it around. I told her story to people every day, not just to the people in this town but to many others as well. Of course, the majority of those who received her help were the people in this town, so they regarded her as a noble saint. However, in the minds of these wretched individuals, you have no idea how she was changed. She had become a wicked woman possessed by the God of Death. There were even suggestions to exile her for not being a proper saint. And criticisms arose regarding the god she worshipped.”
Arsene hesitated as he spoke his long story. His voice was dull, but his anger towards those people could be felt.
“What worries me is that if her story starts circulating among people, there may be unworthy individuals who will talk about her recklessly.”
Demimore pursed his lips as if he wanted to say something, but then hung his head in resignation.
Arsene, who looked no older than Gilbert, had a gaze towards us that seemed to contain countless emotions we would never fully comprehend in our lifetime.
“So I’m going to think about it some more.”
