Chapter 8
Someone stepped out from behind the bookshelf and looked down at me with a bored expression.
“W-W-Who are you?!”
The person stared at me, who had fallen, and spoke dryly.
“That’s what I want to ask you.”
His tone was so dry it was almost cold. Between the gray strands of hair falling over his forehead, his tired-looking eyes peeked out.
I froze in confusion, and he tilted his head, muttering.
“Ah… Could it be… Princess Celine?”
“…….”
“…Or maybe not Celine.”
I gasped and slowly got to my feet. My butt ached where I had hit the floor.
I glanced at the man while brushing the dust off my skirt, and he kept muttering to himself.
“…Selvia? Cellophane? Cellulina? Celestina?”
How could he get so close every time but never get it right? I finally spoke up.
“…It’s Selenia.”
“Oh, right. Princess Cecilia.”
I let out a short sigh, staring at him.
The man slowly set the book he was holding on the floor and took a step toward me.
I instinctively stepped back, eyes wary.
For some reason, he looked intensely interested, his dark eyes contrasting sharply against his very pale skin.
Then a slight smile curled on his lips.
“This… is surprisingly nice. I didn’t expect to run into you in a place like this. We saw each other at the welcome ceremony, didn’t we?”
His speech was slow and languid, enough to make a impatient person bang their chest in frustration.
“Oh. Don’t you remember? You laughed so hard when I showed you that fire trick back then.”
What is he even talking about?
I widened my eyes in disbelief, and he shrugged.
“Why are you giving me that disappointed look? You were the one who walked into someone else’s room without permission, Princess.”
I furrowed my brows in disbelief.
“Excuse me? This is a library.”
Even though my voice was a bit sharp, he didn’t look surprised.
Instead, he let out a mischievous laugh.
“Oh, right. A library. But I’ve been using it as a bedroom, so it’s technically my bedroom.”
“What… nonsense are you talking about?”
His eyes curved as if he found it amusing. Then, grinning slightly, he continued.
“Why nonsense? Haven’t you realized… thanks to your father, who clearly knows nothing about employee welfare, I’ve been rotting away here for a week?”
“R-Rot…?”
“Yes. I joined expecting the noble knights to be skilled, and it turns out the workload is the same as some mediocre mercenary group in the countryside.”
I flinched, staring at him as his eyes burned toward the void.
But soon, he returned to his usual languid expression and muttered lazily, as if annoyed.
“I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Ansen. As you can see, I’ve been overworked, so I look a bit scruffy, forgive me.”
I instinctively stepped back, staring at his pale hand extended toward me.
A few minutes later.
“Princess, what do you think is the most important thing when working?”
Startled by the sudden question, I leaned against the bookshelf and looked at Ansen. He had been focused on something since our first meeting.
…What is this, some kind of interview?
I started counting on my fingers and muttered,
“If it’s about working… I’d say… work-life balance is the most important.”
Ansen narrowed his eyes.
“Work-life… what?”
I quickly added,
“Oh, work-life balance… you know, maintaining your personal life while working. Keeping a balance between work and life.”
The work-life balance I could never expect in my past life.
Ansen made a sound of understanding, “Ah,” then slowly turned to me.
“That’s perfect.”
“…Perfect for what?”
“Perfect as something to bring up when you escape from here later, against your father.”
I stared at Ansen, dumbfounded.
…This guy’s kind of crazy.
Judging by his manner, I assumed he worked under her father. Looking closer, his appearance was peculiar too.
Especially with his messy gray hair and scruffy robe, he looked almost like…
“A pine caterpillar…”
The words slipped out before I could stop myself, and I quickly covered my mouth.
But Ansen had already turned from his book to look at me.
“What did you just say…?”
“Ah, nothing.”
I muttered something vague, embarrassed, and picked up a random book beside me.
A few seconds later, I looked up again.
I had been curious about something regarding Ansen.
“…Ansen, you’re a Manifestor, right?”
He tilted his head. I quickly continued.
“Back at the welcome ceremony… you showed me that fire trick. That… that’s a manifestation power, right?”
He paused, then shrugged indifferently.
“Well… calling it a manifestation power might be a bit grand. Everyone just calls it a weird trick or some annoying stunt.”
“Huh?”
“Manifestation is a term more suitable for nobles. For someone like me, a commoner, it’s too much…”
He gave a self-deprecating smile. I shook my head quickly.
“No, that’s not true. A manifestation is a manifestation. You’re a Manifestor, Ansen, and you control fire!”
I had read in the books that while many Manifestors could control elements, very few could control fire.
Meaning Ansen was a remarkable person.
He looked at me with a strange expression, then reluctantly nodded.
“Technically, yes. And yes, I control fire.”
I swallowed. Now I understood his reaction.
The book said manifestation powers passed down through royal bloodlines.
It was a privilege of the elite, not something commoners or minor nobles could easily have.
But what if a commoner became a Manifestor?
It would make the royal family look ridiculous.
So commoner Manifestors couldn’t really call their powers manifestation powers.
Ah… so that’s why.
The scruffy man in front of me looked a bit pitiful for the first time.
Noticing my gaze, he responded casually.
“I don’t really care. My powers aren’t that grand anyway. But perhaps…”
I looked at him, puzzled, as he trailed off.
“But what?”
He shook his head as if dismissing it.
“…It’s nothing.”
What? Why stop in the middle of a sentence?
“Why? Tell me if it’s nothing.”
Ansen looked at me with bright eyes, then sighed.
“Indeed… you inherited your father’s obsessive streak.”
“What?”
I raised my eyebrows, staring at him. He reluctantly answered lazily.
“It’s really nothing. I was just preparing something, but I lost it a few days ago.”
“Lost it? What?”
He stared at me, then raised one hand, gesturing at it.
I leaned closer, staring at his hand. In an instant, red flames shot up right in front of me.
“Ahhh!”
I quickly leaned back away from him.
“What are you doing! Stop!! What if this starts a fire!!”
Seeing my terrified face, Ansen calmly closed his hand, and the flames vanished instantly.
The fire had been so strong it left faint scorch marks on the ceiling.
Frozen in shock, I heard Ansen speak calmly.
“This is what my skill—or manifestation power—can do.”
I clenched my jaw, holding back all complaints, and nodded.
“But your father wants… something more impressive.”
“Something more impressive, like what?”
He slowly raised his hand in the air.
I shrank back, expecting more fire, but he calmly slammed his hand to the floor with a whoosh.
I was briefly startled by his strange action. Then he said,
“Something like these fireballs falling, exploding—things your father likes… things useful in war.”
“…?”
“To kill people in battle.”
My eyes widened. Ansen didn’t seem to care.
“So, I thought of something interesting.”
I leaned forward, curious.
“What if there was a potion that could instantly amplify manifestation powers?”
I jumped to my feet. Ansen looked at me, puzzled.
“Was my idea that impressive?”
“C-Continue.”
“Well, it’s not that impressive. I just roughly calculated it. I happen to know a bit about mixing potions.”
He shrugged. “Thanks to that, I managed to get here.”
“Anyway, by mixing things, I got something usable…”
“You actually made it?!”
“…Yes. I succeeded. In theory, even a tiny amount can amplify manifestation powers…”
“How tiny?!”
Ansen looked at me oddly, then explained.
“Well, assuming 100% concentration, just a drop or two. More than that would be extremely dangerous.”
I practically shouted in my head.
The potion Ansen created was exactly the God’s Tears I had been looking for.
