Chapter 2.1 – Librarian, Librarian

The scent of flowers carried by the wind brushed past Marianne’s nose. The red flowers, with their soft-looking petals, smelled as lovely as their beautiful appearance.

‘Pretty flowers seem to smell nice too.’ 

Marianne thought absent-mindedly. However, contrary to her leisurely thoughts, her face had gone pale, as if she were someone standing in the middle of winter without a coat.

“You don’t look well. Perhaps…”

A deep, mellow voice pierced her ears. Startled, Marianne quickly raised her head to meet the owner of the voice.

“Oh, oh, no. I’m fine. I mean, probably.”

The man’s eyes were filled with concern. That tender emotion was so overwhelming that Marianne found herself stuttering without realizing it.

“Um, but, Marquis…”

Marianne pushed up her thick-rimmed glasses and spoke slowly.

“Why are you giving this to me…?”

Her gaze shifted from the man’s face to the bouquet in his hands.

“I learned that when asking someone out on a date, it’s proper to bring flowers.”  

The man once again extended the bouquet toward Marianne and gave her a small smile. It was a shy smile, oddly out of place.

Marianne looked up at the man. His platinum blonde hair and mysterious gray-blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Although she and everyone else in the area were standing under the same sun, it strangely seemed as though only he was glowing.

Someone as beautiful, as handsome as this man, could only be one of three people in the entire Arvid Empire. One was the Emperor, the other was the Emperor’s sister, the Grand Duchess, and the last was the Marquis Velarc.

And the man standing before Marianne, holding the bouquet, was none other than Marquis Sylvester Velarc—one of those three. A man she had only seen from a distance, stealing glances every now and then, or occasionally encountering near the back gate of the Knight Order. He was a famous mage and the commander of the Second Knight Order.

“…You’re asking me on a date?” 

Marianne asked, her senses returning a bit late.

“Yes.”

“I’m not very quick on the uptake, so I don’t always understand things right away. Is there someone else I should deliver this bouquet to? Come to think of it, among the librarians…”

Marianne spoke as if she had made a great discovery, her expression resembling that of a scholar who had just unearthed something significant. Sylvester, who had been silently listening, displayed a subtle expression on his handsome face. It looked as though he were wondering, ‘What on earth did I just hear?’

“No. I brought this to ask you, Marianne Lane, on a date.” 

Sylvester said, emphasizing her name clearly after regaining his composure.

“What?” 

Marianne’s eyes darted between the man and the bouquet he held.

“I wanted to make a good impression on you.” 

Sylvester added, his handsome face lighting up with another shy smile. That smile was so dazzling that it made the bouquet he held seem invisible in comparison.

Marianne was flustered. First, she was bewildered as to why Sylvester Amadeus knew her name. Second, she couldn’t understand why he was acting this way toward her. And lastly, she was overwhelmed because the man was simply too handsome.

“Oh, I see.” 

“…”

“…”

“But why would someone like you, Marquis, ask me out on a date…?”  

Marianne looked at Sylvester with an expression that was neither a smile nor a frown. Her words trailed off, as she didn’t know what else to say.

‘You don’t even know who I am!’

What on earth was going on? 

Marianne’s vision began to spin.

“If I’ve offended you, I apologize. However… I’d like to know why it’s not okay for me to ask you on a date.”

Sylvester said, his face now showing a hint of confusion similar to Marianne’s. Words failed her. She could only wonder if she were dreaming.

‘Stay calm. Think.’

First, Marianne decided to consider why a man might ask a woman on a date. 

It must be because he wanted to spend time with her and get to know her better, right? Then, what qualities would a woman need to have for someone to want to spend time with her? Family background, wealth, occupation, beauty, intelligence…?

Marianne started with family and wealth.

She was born the second daughter of a poor farming family in a tiny village that didn’t even appear on maps. Like her parents, she had grown up in poverty. Her ancestors, too, had been poor farmers for generations. Her family had never come close to being wealthy landowners.

So, what about my occupation?

Marianne was a trainee librarian at the Imperial Library. Having passed a special rural recruitment exam, she had been hired as a trainee librarian. She would need to work diligently for a year before she could officially become a librarian.

Marianne liked her job. There was nothing happier than being surrounded by books and printed words. But she couldn’t be sure that being a librarian was a profession that would attract someone like the Marquis, who was also a knight commander and an exceptional mage. Probably not.

Then, my appearance? 

On this point, Marianne could confidently answer.

‘Absolutely not.’

Marianne had never been told she was pretty—not even by her family. Not even as a polite lie.

What about intelligence?

Marianne was realistic about herself. She wasn’t stupid, but she wasn’t exceptionally smart either.

Then, perhaps… my personality?

‘No way.’

Marianne knew she had a dull personality. Not only dull but frustratingly so. Occasionally, she heard people say she was kind and gentle, but she knew those were words people used when they couldn’t think of anything else to compliment. Moreover, the Marquis couldn’t possibly know her personality—they had never even spoken before.

After thinking and thinking, Marianne arrived at only one conclusion. There was no reason for Sylvester to ask her on a date.

‘Then, this must be a dream.’

Yes, it had to be a dream. 

Relieved, Marianne pinched her cheek. Hard, without hesitation.

Ah. If this were a dream, it wouldn’t hurt this much. 

A silent scream escaped Marianne’s lips. 

What on earth was happening? 

Her pale face, which had been white with shock, began to flush red with embarrassment.

“Librarian!”

Sylvester closed the distance between them in an instant, alarmed by the red mark left on Marianne’s cheek. The fragrance from the bouquet he held wafted toward her, making her cheeks burn even more.

“I’ll heal you right away.”

Sylvester’s elegant hand gently cupped Marianne’s cheek. She could only stand there, dumbfounded, staring at him. The sunlight still seemed to shine only on Sylvester. Of course, the sun couldn’t possibly shine on just one person, but to Marianne, it felt that way.

Healing mages were usually employed by the Imperial Knight Order or high-ranking nobles. Ordinary people like Marianne would likely never receive healing magic in their lifetime unless they were on a battlefield. But now, Sylvester was using that precious magic on her, just because she had pinched her cheek.

Amid her confusion and astonishment, Marianne instinctively closed her eyes to avoid the dazzling white light Sylvester created. Soon, the sharp pain she had inflicted on herself began to disappear as if it had been a lie. It was truly amazing.

Shortly after the pain completely vanished, Sylvester’s hand carefully withdrew from her cheek. When Marianne opened her eyes, her vision was filled with Sylvester. He sighed in relief as he looked at her now-healed cheek. Even that sigh seemed tender. Strangely enough… the man before her looked as though he genuinely cared about her.

“I really…”

Marianne hesitated, unable to finish her sentence. Sylvester waited calmly for her to speak again.

“I don’t understand why… you’re asking me on a date.”

“Because I have feelings for you.” 

Sylvester replied without a moment’s hesitation, then continued.

“And I want to learn more about you and get to know you better.”

“…You have feelings for me?” 

Marianne repeated, unable to process his last words. A sense of déjà vu washed over her, and her expression involuntarily darkened. A bad memory surfaced, strong enough to overshadow the kindness she had just felt from Sylvester.

‘Could it be… that they’re making a bet about me?’

The memory of her time at a small school with fewer than ten students flitted through Marianne’s mind. The boys at the school would take every opportunity to tease her in countless ways.

Marianne had tried hard to forget those memories from that period. However, one memory refused to leave her mind—the time when her feelings became the subject of a bet. The bet was about who could get Marianne to confess her love to them first. The winner of that vile bet would be the one to whom Marianne confessed.

Of course, since she had no reason to like someone who bullied her, Marianne didn’t give victory to anyone. Furious at not receiving her confession, the boys openly bragged about the bet they had made, leaving Marianne deeply shocked.