“Haha.”
“…….”
“…… You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not.”
“I’m sorry. But why… did you name the rabbit like that?”
“What should I name it, then? Have you raised rabbits, Sir Taylor? Have you named one?”
“No.”
“Then don’t criticize it.”
“You’re right, my apologies.”
As Laila glanced at Taylor, who was apologizing sincerely, she noticed a subtle relaxation in Sion’s lips, and their eyes met.
“Hmm.”
Sion cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with Laila.
…What was that? Was he trying to hold his laugh, or what?
Was “Torizabeth” such a laughable name that even Sion joined in?
Laila didn’t think Torizabeth was such a remarkable name to boast about. But still…
Laila fell silent in disbelief. A quietness fell over the table.
After a while, the servers arrived with the ordered food.
The wide table was filled with delicious dishes, including the carrot pie Laila had ordered.
“Enjoy your meal.”
The servers bowed and stepped back.
Laila scooped up a portion of the noodle dish near her and glanced at Sion as she took a bite.
Sion, among the array of dishes, cut into the carrot pie first.
As the small slice entered Sion’s mouth, Laila, without thinking, asked,
“How is it?”
Sion glanced at her as if asking what she meant. Laila lowered her voice and asked again.
“……which tastes better?”
She didn’t say exactly what she was comparing, but he understood. He glanced at Laila briefly before moving his hand again.
Then…
‘Ah.’
Sion said it with his mouth.
Laila froze. A fork with a piece of pie stuck on it was wavering in front of her face, and she couldn’t immediately grasp the situation.
Then, in a voice audible only to Laila, Sion said,
“Open your mouth.”
Following his precise instructions, Laila’s mouth automatically opened, and the pie was placed inside.
The fork, now empty of pie, retreated. Laila reflexively chewed the pie that had entered her mouth.
Gulp. As Laila swallowed the pie, Sion, who had been supporting his chin with his hand, whispered,
“Which one do you think tastes better?”
“The …… one I made.”
“Me too.”
Sion lowered the hand that had been propping up his chin. His eyes narrowed faintly, then seemed to return to their normal color.
Laila, after briefly observing Sion, who resumed his meal with his usual expressionless face, turned her head.
“……Sir Taylor, do you have something to say to me?”
“Miss, I’m Sion’s teacher, no matter what anyone says.”
“What?”
“And I’m the closest knight to you in the Marquisate.”
It was true, but Laila felt uneasy being pointed out about their narrow, almost needle-threading relationship. Without noticing her reaction, Taylor continued.
“That’s why you should definitely invite me.”
“……?”
“I mean it, really. I’ll definitely attend, so please send me an invitation.”
What was all this about? But instead of probing further, Laila cut Taylor off by telling her to eat.
Something felt off. She kept replaying the moment the carrot pie entered her mouth.
She couldn’t taste the food.
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
After a sumptuous dinner and a stroll through the streets, the moon had brightened.
Laila and her party returned to their lodgings.
The accommodation had two bedrooms. Laila, who is of a different gender, had one for herself.
Before entering her room, Laila stopped in the corridor and turned to Taylor.
“Sir Taylor, lend me that book for the night.”
Laila pointed to the book Taylor was holding, which he had checked out of the library during the day.
“Yes? Why?”
“I’ll read it first and then quiz you. I want to know if you read the book properly or not.”
Taylor’s face lost color.
‘Hmph, it’s revenge for mocking Torizabeth.’
There was another person who had laughed at her, but…
She decided to think about how to get revenge on that person later.
First things first. Laila gently took the book from Taylor’s tired hands and entered the bedroom.
After washing up and changing clothes, Laila finally sat on the edge of the bed with the book in her hand.
“My Amazing Adventures… Is this a travel memoir?”
Laila checked the classification sticker attached to the bottom of the book. It was indeed a travel memoir.
“It could be a travel memoir. Or a travel novel.”
Muttering to herself, Laila unfolded the book.
And after reading the first chapter, she confirmed it. It was a novel.
The author of the book was embarking on a fantasy adventure disguised as a travel story. Was the travel destination a dream world?
Thanks to that, it wasn’t boring. To put it more bluntly, it was fun.
She read with concentration, and the pages quickly turned. Before she knew it, Laila found herself starting to read a section in the middle of the book.
[This is a story from a time when I was much younger. I had just started traveling, and I was climbing the famously rugged Kakpala mountain range…….
(Omitted)
I pulled him up with all my might. He thanked me profusely, but I was astonished when I looked at his face.
His eyes held two different worlds. One eye contained the sea, while the other had the sun…
(Omitted)
I listened to his story without noticing the passage of time. He was eager to share numerous tales with the individual who had saved his life.
(Omitted)
He said the stone his ancestors made had the power to turn back time.]
Laila paused. She reread the sentence.
A stone that could turn back time.
Laila hastily scanned the following sentence:
[But the stone came with a caveat. It should not be swallowed before the age of twenty.
The stone would drain vital energy from a person’s body to prepare to manipulate time, but a body that has not yet reached the age of twenty would have its energy drained and shatter into pieces instead.
He described the phenomenon as being eaten by the stone.]
Laila searched her memory hastily. When did she swallow the Stone of Regression?
It was about six days after my twentieth birthday, right?
Goosebumps rose along her spine.
Laila swallowed hard and resumed reading.
[Why did you create such a stone? I teased him, and he snapped in anger.
Then he sighed and explained. He claimed he didn’t create it; it was made by his ancestors.
In truth, he was searching for that stone on behalf of his tribe. But he couldn’t find it.
He further stated that the gods must have hidden it, intending to use it themselves. When I asked him what he meant, he said that the gods in this world were lazy and preferred to use objects created by mortals to solve problems rather than using their own powers.
I brushed aside his blasphemous words about the gods and asked why he was searching for the stone.
He answered that he intended to destroy it. Then he got angry again. Why are we descendants… I won’t include the next expression here for the sake of readers.
Anyway, after lamenting his situation of having to clean up his ancestors’ mess, he said he had to leave.
I bid him farewell. But at that moment, he showed me an unbelievable sight.]
The following text contained a story about a person with heterochromia resurrecting withered flowers.
After that story ended, a completely different story began.
Laila set the book down on the bed and took a moment to gather her thoughts.
If, just if, this were true…
‘I almost turned into dust.’
The Stone of Regression could have devoured her. It was truly terrifying.
“Anyway, it’s obviously just a novel. But still, it’s quite well-written. What an imagination!”
Hahaha.
Laila awkwardly chuckled as she stared at the book on the bed.
It was late at night, but sleep still eluded her.
Laila hesitated for a moment before picking up the book again.
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
This is all because of that damn book.
As she ran a hand through her throbbing head, Laila thought.
