Fish Don't Know About Water - Chapter 29

After several days of not crossing paths due to busy schedules, the second prince and the Little Lady finally reunited in the study of the prince’s residence. The scene where she received the repaired necklace ended blandly.

「—S-so… you really p-plan to become the p-princess?

—Hasn’t that already been decided? His Majesty the King has already sent my father a pearl necklace and diamond brooch as wedding gifts.

The prince’s expression momentarily turned strange. What’s with that half-lidded look? He’s looking at me like I’m some suspicious thief. He really doesn’t know how to trust people.

—What’s with that look?

—W-what… do you mean…

— You look like you just bit into a sour lemon candy.

— D-don’t pinch my cheek.」

Good times. When was the last time I dated…?

The editor scratched her head, which hadn’t been washed in days, as she tried to recall. At least since she joined this newspaper… No, she hadn’t even dreamed of dating since Easton declared war. All the decent men had gone to the battlefield.

“Sir Gallant, I have a request.”

The editor skimmed the first page of the draft and raised her hand. Sir Gallant, still half out of the wall, nodded.

“Speak.”

“Could you tell the typewriter to record the second prince’s lines more concisely from the draft stage? It’s tedious to keep fixing the ellipses…”

“Only the truth must be written in the novel.”

Sir Gallant cut her off coldly.

“It’s one of the principles of the initial draft of the Little Lord’s novel. Are you an idiot who forgets the basics?”

“I know the principles, but… look! Even you acknowledge that the ellipses are overused!”

The editor tapped the request note with her pencil end in protest.

“Didn’t you write this request yourself, Sir Gallant?”

“…To truthfully portray the prince’s slow speech, it’s unavoidable.”

“Then just use the unedited dialogue in the newspaper! Seriously, what’s with this national dignity nonsense!”

Adjusting the length, my foot! If the length was the issue, they should’ve trimmed the Little Lady’s pointless chatter first.

Do they think I don’t know this is just a ploy to maintain royal dignity?

The editor glared at Sir Gallant with squinted eyes. Dignity, my foot, I’m going to die of overwork first. Since the second prince appeared in <Pepe>, the amount of editing had doubled.

She found it fascinating that Sir Gallant still loved and was loyal to his country centuries after his death. As an immigrant, she couldn’t understand such an obsession.

“No wonder the editors responsible for the Little Lord’s novel don’t last more than a few years and keep running away. Please, tell the typewriter to be more flexible!”

“Flexibility… You’re not wrong.”

Sir Gallant nodded as he looked into the air. Then he whispered in a low voice.

“Maybe it’s time to give it a try. Though it’ll only hurt my hand.”

“What? What are you hitting?”

The editor looked up at Sir Gallant in disbelief. This man. No, this ghost… Was his refined speech all just an act?

“Now, focus on the task at hand.”

Sir Gallant slipped out of the wall and stood beside the desk with his hands behind his back. The editor glanced at his shoes, floating about half a foot above the ground. He was standing too close. His posture, bending over to look at the manuscript, was uncomfortable.

“Um… Could you move back a little?”

“Focus.”

Sir Gallant pointed at the manuscript with a nod, showing no intention of moving.

“Y-Yes. I should focus.”

The editor turned the first page of the draft with a face full of dissatisfaction. There were rough red letters written on the corner of the manuscript.

「※Additional Requests: Revise dialogue mentioning Ballern Johanev (refer to the censored artist list)/Delete all content related to high-risk imitation suicides [hereafter marked as (censored)]. Do not disclose Lady Cochrun’s (censored) incident.」

“Suicide?”

The editor gasped and leaned closer to the manuscript. The second page began with the Minister of Magic entering the study.

「Minister Hinler walked straight to the old phonograph as soon as he entered the room. I slowly followed him with my eyes. Ever since our first meeting at the train station yesterday, I’d been thinking that the Minister was the most handsome elderly gentleman I had ever seen. (But strangely, he reminded me of someone…)

— There is some music I would like to play for you both.

The Minister placed a record he had taken from the shelf onto the phonograph. I glanced at the Prince.
The Prince, with his usual expressionless face, sat beside me, staring silently at the record the Minister had taken out.
His cheekbones were slightly flushed. He looked somewhat embarrassed, like he was awkwardly trying to hide his feelings.
At that moment, the Minister played the phonograph. I listened to the soft and somber melody. Ah! The Johanev Nocturne. Mother’s favorite piece. Listening to the nocturne, I suddenly thought of Mother.
Mother, whom I had long forgotten. My mother, Countess Cochrun…
…
Did I ever mention it?
The Countess died a long time ago.
I hate to say it, but she committed suicide.」

At that moment, there was a cough. The editor flinched and looked up. Sir Gallant was staring down at her with his dark eyes.

His opaque face revealed no thoughts, and the cluttered office behind him was faintly visible.

“It’s a brainwashing spell.”

Sir Gallant pointed at the draft with a nod and sighed.

“During exposure to that spell, the novel describes not the actual events the Little Lord experiences, but their deep inner thoughts.”

Brainwashing spell? The editor vaguely remembered the guidelines she had received from her predecessor. Occasionally, government agents would erase specific events from the Little Lord’s memory.

“Is this the work of the Minister of Magic?”

“Most likely. And one more thing. The Little Lady was under the protection of the safe house spell at this time.”

Sir Gallant sighed deeply again.

“The safe house means a space where the Little Lord is free from the typewriter’s surveillance, correct?”

“Yes.”

“But the information on that spell is classified, so access is…”

“Someone of that caliber could easily access such information. If it’s him, he would have already mastered that spell.”

‘Someone of that caliber’ referred to Minister Hinler Heinz. Indeed, Minister Heinz was also present in this space. The editor tilted her head as she flipped through the manuscript.

“If the Little Lord was having a secret conversation with Minister Hinler under the protection of his magic… What could be so important that it needed protection?”

“A political marriage, I suppose.”

Sir Gallant answered indifferently.

“They must have been negotiating the terms of the marriage.”

“What kind of deal was made that it had to be kept secret from the readers…”

“Enough chatter. Keep reading.”

He commanded. The editor hesitated for a moment before lowering her gaze back to the draft.

「Shall I be more honest? She shot herself in front of her husband.
I heard she aimed the gun under her chin.
‘Heard’ means I never actually saw her body in the coffin.

— Her face was severely damaged. Her head shattered, and flesh, brain fragments, and brain matter burst out.

Someone said this as an excuse.
I can’t remember if it was Count Cochrun or some distant relative whose face I don’t even recall.
It’s strange. Noblewomen usually don’t shoot themselves in the head when they commit suicide.
Because it ruins their face. Because they’re afraid the bullet might miss.
Because they’re scared of failing and living as cripples for the rest of their life.
Yet she shot herself under the chin.
Without leaving a will. She vanished from this world so pointlessly.
Maybe the words she shouted at her husband the day before she died were her will.

— I can’t live because I feel so sorry for her!

I didn’t realize that ‘I can’t live’ really meant she wanted to die.
I thought it was just one of those things people say.
I can’t live because it’s so hard. I can’t live because it’s suffocating. I can’t live because I miss her so much.
I thought it was just one of those meaningless things people say. I thought she was the same.
I should have asked who she felt so sorry for.
Was the ‘her’ she shouted about really me? Or was it just my delusion?
I should have held on and questioned her more persistently.
Are you really feeling guilty about me? What are you hiding from me?