Chapter 10.5

There is a feeling.

‘Wow, I can write now. I have to write this. If I just keep going like this, it will be perfect!’

Unable to sleep in the dawn, after a couple of cheap moonshines, Jane felt it. The rare inspiration that comes maybe once a month had descended upon her. She had to write now. That was why she clung to the battered bar, scribbling furiously with her pen until Rick finally kicked her out.

By the time she was thrown out, it was four in the morning. She should have been tired after drinking and writing all night, but instead, her mind was flooded with scenes she hadn’t even written yet.

To feel scenes she hadn’t written yet flash by in the dim dawn sky—such a miraculous thing might happen only once a year. Miracles had struck twice in just a few hours.

Really, what could be more exciting for a writer?

Jane, forgetting why she couldn’t sleep, raced madly back to Hixston Manor. She tossed off her robe carelessly, dragged a chair under the big wooden board hanging on the wall. The board, layered with large parchment, was as white as a snowfield. If she’d seen it when she had writer’s block, she’d have suffocated.

But not now.

‘So this is why people drink!’ 

Jane, excited, kept laughing and moving her arms without rest. She kept going until her arm hurt so much she had to throw down her pen. Wobbling, she sat at her desk, gazed with satisfaction at the wooden board right in front of her…

And then.

And then what happened?

“Umm…”

Jane slowly surfaced from sleep. She shivered lightly, feeling cold, and lifted her eyelids blankly. Her stomach felt off. On top of that, her whole body ached.

‘Ah, d*mn. This damned alcohol. If I drink again, I’m Rick’s daughter.’

With a hollow vow, Jane gritted her teeth and got up.

“Oh.”

It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t alone. Jane frowned at the broad back sitting at her desk, then realized it was Ian.

“If you came in, why didn’t you wake me?”

Grabbing her aching stomach, she asked, and Ian’s stiff shoulders flinched. His head turned toward her slowly. Why was he like that? Just as Jane wondered, Ian frowned. As if remembering something he’d forgotten, he stood up and brought Jane the blanket lying on the sofa, asking,

“Did you really write all that overnight?”

Jane, now wrapped in the blanket, nodded with a yawn.

“Not all night, but I did go hard at it in the early morning. I was struck by inspiration yesterday.”

“…What?”

“There’s something only writers understand. Anyway. If you’ve read it all, give me your feedback, Mr. Editor.”

Jane didn’t look very happy as she said it. She’d slept less than an hour and had drunk at least two glasses through the night. Ian, seeing her, sighed quietly and pushed a glass of water her way.

“If you were going to write about time travel for that reason, you should have told me. Then I wouldn’t have objected.”

“Oh… That would’ve been nice, but unfortunately, it hit me at dawn. Still, isn’t it good? Izabelua, who comes from a future without theology classes, can’t understand why she has to study theology.”

“Not bad. If you develop it well, it could be…”

It would be more useful than he expected. The protagonist who questions why she must take mandatory theology classes at the academy, which requires theological interpretation and memorization. It could cause resistance, but the time travel element would be enough to smooth that over.

Ian followed Jane’s gaze as she stood up.

“Three years ago, nobody thought the High Priest would fall.”

“Right?”

Jane, finished with her water, set the glass on the table and stood before the board. Her eyes swiftly scanned the work she’d scribbled through the night.

‘Not bad.’

There were things to fix, but the big framework was there. That was a relief. If she hadn’t been able to figure out how to keep the story going, it would have been a lie. She felt as if a huge burden she couldn’t ask anyone for help with had been lifted.

Her body, which had felt so heavy just moments before, now seemed light. Jane excitedly looked back at Ian. Her golden hair rippled as she turned her head.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. I met Richard at the academy yesterday.”

Just then, Ian’s fleeting expression was…

“Is that so surprising?”

It was like hearing an unexpected bombshell.

Jane, puzzled, added,

“Why, you told me to squeeze as much money as I could from the Ports family. You said they’d approach me. Don’t you remember?”

“…I did…”

Of course he remembered. How could he forget? Ian was tense as he replied. What he couldn’t understand was why Jane was telling him about her meeting with Richard. He’d naturally believed Jane would keep it secret. He thought she’d weigh Ports and Hixston on the scales. Of course. If he were Jane, he’d have done the same.

Jane had no loyalty or reason to keep the contract with Hixston. Ports could easily break a contract made under duress and had the wealth to promise her as much as Hixston. Yet Jane’s voice, telling him about Richard’s approach, was light.

“It’s a shame, but I think I’ll have to give up. The price he asked was too random and it’s not something I can do.”

She sighed sincerely.

Ian studied her closely. Was she lying? But Jane was serious. She dug in her pocket, pulled out a man’s brooch, and handed it to Ian.

“Well, I’m ending it with this. He tried to use me, so he should pay a price.”

“…What does that have to do with a brooch?”

“I got it from Richard. It’s real, right? I don’t know jewels, but I didn’t think a Ports heir would wear fakes, so I took it.”

What. Ian was speechless as he looked at the brooch in her hand. The sapphire sparkled brilliantly. Whether real or fake, it was top grade. The gold setting was pure and finely crafted, obviously worth a lot.

Ian looked back and forth between the brooch and Jane. Until now, he’d thought of Jane as a child left by the water. He couldn’t help it. Having once scammed her, Ian had worried she’d meet someone as bad as him out there. But now—

“Very well done, Jane.”

“…No, I’m not asking for praise. I want you to check if it’s real.”

“I’ll stake Hixston on it—top-grade sapphire, and the gold is pure.”

“You could go bankrupt that way, Ian. Betting everything you have is foolish.”

Ian smiled at her sincere advice. Jane worrying about him—about going broke. Why did that feel so pleasant? Was he really that worrisome?

“Sorry, Jane. I can’t agree that Hixston is all I have. Hixston is the least impressive thing I own.”

And Jane just stared at Ian, who was boasting for no reason. Why was he bragging now? “I’m great”? Ha. Jane shook her head, thinking he was truly an incomprehensible man.

“You know, Ian? Sometimes you’re kind of annoying. Anyway. If it’s real, can you sell it for me?”

“This?”

“Yes. There’s no point in me keeping jewels, and if I sell them myself, I’ll lose a lot. But I’ll make sure to pay a hefty commission. How about it?”

Ian smiled at Jane’s generous offer. Commission? She must have forgotten he was Duke Hixston. But since it didn’t bother him, Ian answered with a solemn face to match hers.

“I’m expensive, Jane.”

“I’m not cheap either. So, will you do it?”

“Of course. I’ll price it and bring it back by evening.”

“Don’t forget the receipt. Anyway, if Olivia says she won’t work with the Ports family, this issue will be resolved.”

“You seem disappointed.”

“Of course! Top-grade sapphire with gold decoration. If they’d asked me to write a novel like you did, I might have considered.”

“Considered? Sounds to me like you’d sign easily.”

“That’s how I got it easily. They approached so suspiciously, so meanly, so irritatingly—did they think I’d just say thank you and welcome them with open arms?”

“…That’s not it.”

Unlike Ian’s expectations, Jane’s reason for deciding to tell him about her meeting with Richard was simple. She chose Ian. Of course, Jane’s opinion hadn’t changed. Like Richard, Ian was also someone who would use her. That wouldn’t change. What had changed was that she chose to work with Ian anyway.

‘I’m not going to work with the Ports family. This way, Ian has no reason to use drugs on me. If he ever does… it’ll serve as a warning.’

And Leo. She felt uneasy letting his connection to the Ports family remain hidden. Since he was doing the illustrations for “Lady Elizabeth,” this issue had to be resolved. As the fireplace crackled and the air warmed, Jane continued.

“By the way, do all Dukes try to trick and threaten people into contracts with ridiculous stuff?”

“Of course not. Usually they use more normal methods. Usually.”

Even as he answered, Ian chose his words carefully. He wanted to ask what the Ports family had offered, how they’d tried to tempt her, what they wanted—but he couldn’t. If he was too impatient, he might ruin everything.

Jane, seeing Ian say to sit down for breakfast, watched him closely. He didn’t seem ready to bring it up first. So Jane shrugged and continued.

“But why does everyone use such dirty tricks on me?”

“Dirty?”

“It’s not wrong. You used my debt to threaten me, and the Ports… claim you use drugs to break artists.”

“Drugs? Hixston? They said that?”

“They did. They said you’d use drugs on me.”

Technically, on Olivia, but it was the same thing. Jane tossed out the words lightly and watched Ian’s reaction. He looked a bit dumbfounded, then put his hand to his forehead and sighed.

“Never. Jane, drugs? If you want, I’ll stake Hixston—no, Her Majesty the Queen—on it. Drugs, really…”

He muttered as if he meant it. At least, that’s how Jane saw it.

“And as for loan-sharking… as I said, I only used it because normal methods didn’t work.”

“Normal methods? When did you ever use methods I didn’t know?”

Ian looked at Jane across from him and laughed helplessly.

—The publisher. A new publisher must have approached you, offering the best deal to publish your book.

And only after he said it again did Jane recall the bastard she’d buried in her memory. Goodness gracious. Jane let out a hopeless sigh.

“You sent the greatest con artist to me and call that normal? Are you kidding, Ian Hixston?”

Just remembering that bastard made her grind her teeth, I swear!

As Jane stomped her feet, Ian finally realized. Maybe Jane didn’t refuse the publisher’s offer because she was picky, but because the publisher was a total bastard.

To be continued in Volume 3.