Chapter 5 (Part 1)

“Are you saying you can’t show me the manuscript?”

Visiting William today was not, by any means, to read the script. She sincerely wanted to express her gratitude. When she handed him the handkerchief she had prepared beforehand, William smiled shyly. Seeing him cherish the handkerchief by tucking it into his chest pocket made her blush awkwardly.

After that, her request to see the manuscript was purely incidental, almost habitual. She never imagined William would respond with “It’s difficult.”

“I think I’m in a bit of a slump these days. I’m embarrassed to show it.”

William answered awkwardly, unable to meet her eyes. It was suspicious, no matter who looked at it.

“Well, it can’t be helped then.”

She decided to give up easily here. Since reading the manuscript wasn’t her goal, there was nothing specific she wanted to confirm today. Given William’s suspicious reaction, a check would be necessary at some point, but pressing him without any plan would only heighten his wariness.

William seemed relieved by her straightforward reaction, visibly relaxing. Yet, his lingering unease piqued her curiosity. 

What on earth could be in that manuscript to make him wear such an expression? 

She forced herself to let go of her lingering curiosity and stepped out of the Shakespeare residence.

It felt like having a thorn stuck in her hand. It wasn’t painful, but it was bothersome enough to keep her attention. That was exactly the situation now. She couldn’t tell if the content William wrote would negatively affect her.

Considering that his perfect writing would mean her death, perhaps the manuscript he was embarrassed to show depicted her happy life. Well, if William found her happiness embarrassing, that would be unsettling in its own way. In any case, there wasn’t an immediate reason to check his writing.

The story had already returned to the original. This meant she could roughly predict what would happen next. Even if she couldn’t read the script now, she was confident that if she planned and visited again soon, he wouldn’t refuse again. He couldn’t use the slump excuse forever. There were plenty of opportunities.

It was just that she was bothered. The strange unease kept urging her to check the content immediately. She looked back at the door of the Shakespeare residence with lingering eyes. It was firmly closed. She had no suitable excuse to go back to where she had just come from. Reluctantly, she headed home. Her steps felt endlessly heavy.

“Where have you been?”

As soon as she returned to the mansion, her mother asked. It was a question she often heard when she went out alone, but she could sense the sharpness hidden within. Her father must have hinted something to her mother.

“I went to see William.”

“William? Do you mean William Shakespeare?”

Her mother’s remark made her realize her mistake. She had been too comfortable and forgot even the minimum courtesy.

“I’m sorry for being so uncouth. Yes, it’s William Shakespeare.”

“Are you close enough to call him by his first name? I didn’t even know you two were acquainted.”

She hadn’t deliberately tried to hide it, but upon reflection, she hadn’t mentioned it either. She nodded and spoke.

“Mr. Shakespeare is writing a script inspired by me. He requested interviews, so I’ve been visiting to help.”

She couldn’t very well explain that she was trying to prevent William from killing her, so she made up a plausible story. Her mother widened her eyes and grabbed both her arms.

“Mr. Shakespeare is writing a story based on you? My goodness, it’s a great honor to be the protagonist of a play that might become a Masterpiece!”

Yes, Mother, the play is indeed a Masterpiece. If it’s completed successfully, it’s a Masterpiece so great that it will kill me. Isn’t that amazing? 

She bit the inside of her cheek in frustration, unable to reveal the truth, and forced a vague smile. Seeing her mother’s excited expression, she feared the news might spread throughout the social circle by tomorrow.

“Still, it’s fortunate you already know each other.”

“Fortunate?”

Her mother’s words were oddly concerning, prompting her to ask. Her mother hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“He’s a renowned playwright, isn’t he? Having a reputation close to the arts is a good thing.”

It was an impeccable answer. Yet, something felt off, like she was missing something. It was the same feeling she had when she left William’s house.

“Your father said he’ll join us for dinner tonight. Go change and come down.”

Before she could inquire further, her mother changed the subject. She had no choice but to go up to her room. After changing clothes and coming down to the dining room, her parents were already seated at the table. She bowed lightly and took her seat.

Her father still wore an unreadable expression. The affection he showed her that day felt like an illusion. Her father cleared his throat lightly under her observant gaze. Only then did she regain her senses and turn her gaze away from him.

As always when with her father, mealtime was exceptionally quiet. In fact, meals with just her and her mother seemed more lively.

Amidst the sounds of forks and knives, her mother offered something to her father, who responded with short answers. Her mother then poured water or wine with a gentle smile. Her father slightly lifted the corners of his lips in gratitude, barely noticeable.

It was a quiet and gentle evening. The affection she received was neither false nor an illusion. She quietly enjoyed the warmth.

After the meal, the servants brought dessert. The soft cheese soufflé melted in her mouth. She genuinely enjoyed this evening, filled with quietness, gentleness, warmth, and sweetness.

It was a small peace she hadn’t felt since Shakespeare appeared. Although she would soon have to continue fighting to survive, she decided to forget everything and enjoy this moment.

As she took another spoonful of soufflé, her father suddenly cleared his throat. Her and her mother’s eyes turned to him.

“Your fiancé candidate has been decided. If the other party doesn’t refuse, he will be brought to this house soon.”

Her father declared in a decisive voice. The story, which had found its course again, was rolling quickly.

“Understood.”

She replied calmly. Even if she resisted here, nothing would change. Only William could change the story that was flowing according to the original.

“Aren’t you going to ask who the other party is?”

“What does it matter who it is?”

If things continued like this, all that awaited her was death. Besides, she already knew who her fiancé was. Count Paris. If it was Juliet’s fiancé, it could only be him.

“Even if you dislike it, it’s already decided.”

But her father seemed to interpret her words differently. Finishing with a voice that brooked no dissent, her father said no more.

Only then did she realize her words could be interpreted as ‘Anyone but Romeo doesn’t matter.’ It was a disgusting misunderstanding. She took another spoonful of soufflé. It was no longer as sweet as before.

Tomorrow would mark a week since she last visited William’s house. It was also the day she decided to visit him again.

A week seemed short to recover from a slump, but she wasn’t free enough to wait indefinitely. She needed to confirm if it was truly a slump.

However, she didn’t have a suitable excuse. She had just heard him say he didn’t want to show his writing because of a slump. Visiting with ‘I came to read your writing’ was rude. Fortunately, this problem was easily solved. Her father had dropped the huge hint of her engagement.

William was the only guest who attended her engagement ceremony with Romeo. If she said she wanted to consult about an unwanted engagement, visiting would seem natural. Moreover, saying something like ‘I want to see the happy ending of Romeo and me in your writing’ would make it difficult for William to refuse her request to see the manuscript. She went to the dressing room to choose an outfit for tomorrow.

“Are you going somewhere?”

While she was choosing clothes, her mother found her. Her mother frowned slightly, looking troubled, and asked.

“No, I was just looking.”

When she denied it, her mother brightened.

“Oh, thank goodness. Then keep your evening free.”

“Yes. But why?”

Her mother hesitated briefly before speaking.

“Your father is bringing your fiancé.”

It hadn’t even been a week since the engagement talk, yet things were progressing too quickly.

Well, originally ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was a story where everything, from love to death, happened in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t entirely unexpected.