Chapter 1 (Part 2)

“Pardon?”

She looked at him with puzzled eyes. She swore she had never seen this man before. How did he know her name? The wariness that had slightly softened at his handsome face began to sharpen again.

“Excuse me, but have we met before, Mr. Shakespeare?”

“Oh, no. I apologize for the suddenness, Miss Capulet.”

The man showed obvious signs of embarrassment. She waited for his next words while looking at the tips of his ears, which had turned bright red.

“I am a playwright. I have recently returned from working abroad and have yet to stage a play here, but I plan to do so soon. I have never met you in person, Miss Capulet, but I have heard numerous poems praising you. However, meeting you in person, you are much more beautiful than those poems.”

Shakespeare said with a sweet smile. She hesitated to say it herself, but at least as Juliet, she was quite a beauty. As Shakespeare said, there were quite a few poems and rumors about her circulating in social circles.

But if he had heard about her that way, he wouldn’t have called her name so familiarly right away. She looked at him without responding. He seemed embarrassed and avoided her gaze. His ears were still red.

“So, I am writing a script inspired by you, Miss Juliet. I have been using your name frequently in writing, and I inadvertently called you by your name in a familiar manner. I apologize.”

“I am honored that you are writing a piece inspired by me.”

In modern times, if the man next door wrote a novel about her, it would be quite creepy. But here, in Vernerk, it was a bit different.

Being the motif of a play was a very honorable thing. It was very rare for someone other than royalty to be the model for a play. Only those recognized for their charm could become the protagonist of a story.

In any case, she was relieved. The fact that Shakespeare living next door was writing about Juliet meant, at least, that the place she lived in was not the one in the story. After all, there was no way a writer and a character could meet and talk in reality.

“Oh, I almost forgot the purpose of my visit due to the enjoyable conversation. We are holding a ball at the Capulet family. My mother wrote an invitation for you, Mr. Shakespeare, but it was accidentally omitted due to my mistake in the sending process. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

She handed over the invitation she had brought. Now that she had figured out that the source of her unease was an illusion, she only had to finish her business and return home.

“Oh, I think it will be difficult for me to attend the ball due to personal reasons on that day. Could you wait a moment?”

Shakespeare called the butler and received a pen and paper, writing a short letter of refusal. The handwriting she glimpsed was quite elegant. She received the completed letter and stood up. And she left a brief remark.

‘I hope the ending of Juliet in your story is not a tragedy, Mr. Shakespeare.’

Or rather, she tried to. It wasn’t something she was serious about saying. It didn’t matter to her how the ending turned out, as long as the Juliet in the story wasn’t her. It was half a joke, and half a matter of sentiment.

But no voice came out. Was it just her imagination? Had she not actually spoken? She opened her mouth again. The words she intended to say still did not come out as sound.

The anxiety that had disappeared enveloped her again.

* * *

[Juliet came to see me. She smiled at me.

I feel like I can write a beautiful story today.]

* * *

She returned home without knowing what had happened. She wanted to look for more clues at the Shakespeare residence, but she had no suitable excuse. In fact, she wasn’t in the right state of mind to do so. It was a miracle that she returned home without any major mistakes.

“Mother, a letter has arrived from the Shakespeare residence.”

She tried hard to pull herself together. Shakespeare had declined the invitation to the ball. Once she delivered this letter properly, she would have no reason to meet him anymore.

“A letter?”

Her mother received the letter with a puzzled look. After quickly reading through the letter, her mother furrowed her brows.

“That’s unfortunate. I was looking forward to meeting Mr. William from the Shakespeare family since he had recently returned.”

“Is he a remarkable person?”

She asked, observing her mother’s evident disappointment. She needed any information about William Shakespeare. Her mother nodded.

“He is a famous playwright in Stratford, though still unknown in Vernerk. I was curious because he plans to stage his next work here, so it’s unfortunate.”

She hadn’t heard of Shakespeare’s name before, so she thought he might still be in his unknown period, but it seemed he was already a famous writer in another country. After all, he was ‘that’ Shakespeare. It was natural for him to be famous if he was already writing plays.

“Although he hasn’t officially appeared in Vernerk yet, he is also famous for being quite handsome. I really wanted to invite him to this ball.”

Her mother said with a face full of regret. Indeed, he had a face that could easily become famous. She found herself nodding unconsciously. Her mother looked at her with curious eyes.

“Have you met Mr. William?”

“Oh, no. If he is such a handsome man, I would love to see him at least once. It’s unfortunate he couldn’t come to this ball.”

Her mother tilted her head for a moment but eventually nodded.

“Then I will go upstairs now.”

There seemed to be no benefit in staying longer. She hurriedly ended the conversation and left the room.

Why hadn’t my voice come out? 

She recalled the events at the Shakespeare residence. She had barely shaken off one anxiety, only for another to grab hold of her.

No matter how much she pondered, no answer came. She needed more clues. But Shakespeare had declined the ball invitation. 

Should I make another excuse to visit him again?

She shook her head. It was a ridiculous thought. She wanted to live peacefully. Not as a fairy tale protagonist, but as a human being. To her, Shakespeare was like a yellow light on a traffic signal. For her peaceful life, she had to stay away from everything that reminded her of the original story.

She had no choice but to bear the names Juliet and Capulet for the rest of her life. She couldn’t sever ties with all the minor characters, so she had to endure that as well. But she had a line she couldn’t compromise on. As proof, she hadn’t exchanged a word with Romeo for five years.

At first, Romeo was very frustrated. If someone who had been exchanging insults with you until yesterday suddenly started ignoring you, anyone would feel the same. Especially if it was someone they had known since childhood.

But she managed it. After ignoring all his persistent provocations and turning her head away for about a year, Romeo began to lose interest in her. It was a natural reaction. Talking to a wooden doll every day was something no one could do. Even the dissatisfied look he gave her when they occasionally met had completely disappeared after he got a lover about three years ago.

It would be the same this time. If she didn’t want to meet someone, she could avoid them as much as she wanted.

What did anxiety matter? Knowing that she was not the Juliet in the play Shakespeare was writing was enough. Surely, she had either spoken and thought she hadn’t, or the opposite. She tried to suppress the rising anxiety.