Philomel the Fake
Chapter 5

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The next day, when Philomel woke, the nanny asked her if anything had happened the previous night while wearing a deep frown.

“Last night? No. Why do you ask? Did something happen?”

“Never mind... It doesn’t matter.”

Is something going on? Philomel stared at her with suspicion, but the nanny changed the subject.

“By the way, His Majesty has sent you some World Tree fruit, which is said to be good for recovering energy.”

“His Majesty did?” Philomel asked, her eyes wide.

“Yes. You should thank him the next time you see him. Why did he waste something so precious on a mere cold?”

The World Tree was a sacred tree said to grow in the center of the continent. Its fruit was extremely effective at aiding in the recovery of one’s strength. Such an expensive cure, said to be capable of restoring energy to even an eighty-year-old man, was apparently nothing more than a cough remedy to the emperor.

It wasn’t all that surprising, given that more than ten of these fruits were offered to him in tribute every year, but it was completely unexpected that he’d given one to Philomel. Had she still been ignorant of the truth, she’d have been elated, assuming that he was finally showing her some fatherly love.

Now, however, she just assumed that Polan had sent it on behalf of the emperor. While she appreciated the gesture from the count, he was not trying to be nice to Philomel—but to the emperor’s daughter.

She responded dutifully, “All right. Please tell him I am extremely grateful for the remedy, which I know I don’t deserve. Bring the fruit to me with my medicine.”

“Huh? That’s all you have to say?”

“What? Should I say more?”

“No... It’s nothing.” The nanny seemed taken aback by her lukewarm response but quickly moved on to the next topic. “Oh, and Lord Nasar has asked for permission to come and see you, after hearing that you fell ill.”

She was speaking of Nasar Abridon, Philomel’s fiancé.

“Is that so?”

“He says he’ll visit at a time convenient to you. When would you like him to come?”

Philomel was feeling a lot better since she’d rested the entire day yesterday. Her symptoms had improved quite a bit as well. “Can you request that he come in the afternoon, if possible? If that doesn’t work for him, he’ll have to come tomorrow,” she replied, thinking of the boy who’d stared at her as she stood in the rain.

It wasn’t long before a reply arrived from the duke’s mansion, informing her that he’d be by in the afternoon. Philomel twisted her hands in the sheets, thinking of Nasar Abridon’s handsome face. This was her chance to learn his true feelings. He’d always been nothing but affectionate toward her.

Philomel had seethed with anger upon learning that Nasar was fated to marry Ellensia in the novel. Not only had the girl taken her father and title from her, but she’d even stolen her fiancé.

In the book, Nasar had been romantic, expressive, and devoted, just as the male protagonist in a romantic novel ought to be. There was one caveat—he was only like this with Ellensia. This had not sounded at all like the Nasar that Philomel knew.

But he was never mine to begin with... If she was going to eventually learn the bitter truth anyway, it was better to get it over with quickly. Delaying the inevitable would only make things worse. She made her way to where she’d agreed to meet him.

“Nasar, I need you to smile. Are you going to frown like that when Her Highness arrives?” came a voice from within the drawing room, and Philomel paused outside the door.

She gestured for the maid who’d been about to announce her to stop, silencing the girl. Nasar and the duke were talking, probably assuming that Philomel would be late, as usual.

I was always late because I wanted to look my best for him... But that was no longer necessary, so she was dressed in a simple outfit today.

“But Father, today I—”

“I understand you’re upset you couldn’t meet your friends today because of this visit. But you have a duty. Have you forgotten who you are?” the duke chided quietly.

“No...” said Nasar, unable to complain anymore.

Philomel counted to ten in her head, then entered the drawing room.

“Nice to see you again, Your Highness. How do you feel?” the duke asked.

Nasar, now no longer whining like a child, stood to greet her as well. “We were very worried to hear that you were ill.”

“Hello, Duke Abridon, and... Nasar. I’ve almost made a full recovery now. Thank you for your concern.”

The formalities out of the way, the duke excused himself first, saying he had a meeting to attend. He didn’t forget to lock eyes with his son before he left, sending him a meaningful look that was a silent warning to not cross her. The duke, as one might expect from a man of his meticulous character, was being careful even though he knew Philomel was head over heels in love with his son.

Philomel only spoke after she had settled into the seat opposite the boy. “Nasar.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

She remembered the first time she’d seen him. She’d fallen in love at first sight with the mature-looking, beautiful boy. His precocious personality and rare platinum blond hair had made him seem so mysterious, an aura that she’d found irresistible. Even his red eyes, which others found to be creepy, were perfectly suited to her taste.

She’d been extremely happy to have Nasar as her fiancé.

“Your Highness.”

Philomel remained lost in thought.

“Your Highness? Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

Nasar looked at her with worry. She realized she’d been lost in memories.

“I think you need to get some more rest,” suggested the ever-friendly Nasar.

In the past, she hadn’t doubted that his kindness was motivated by the same feelings she had for him. Nasar was more considerate and sympathetic than anyone else Philomel knew. But after reading Ellensia, the Imperial Princess, her faith had been shaken.

She called his name again.

“Yes, Your Highness, please speak.”

“When I recover fully, would you like to go on a picnic with me?”

On sunny days, they’d sometimes head outside with baskets of food prepared by the maids. The most they ever did was climb one of the hills on the palace grounds, a large retinue of servants trailing behind them, but it was one of Philomel’s favorite pastimes.

“Of course,” he said with a nod.

“Where should we have our picnic?” she asked.

“Wherever you wish.”

“Isn’t there somewhere you wish to go, Nasar?”

“Anywhere is fine, as long as we go together, Your Highness.”

His attitude and every response was impeccable.

“Or perhaps a picnic isn’t really a good idea in this weather. Even the Founding Day celebration was postponed only two days ago because of the rain. What do you think, Nasar?”

“No matter how I look at it, I think you’re right.”

“We could just eat some treats indoors and pretend we’re on a picnic.”

“Yes. That sounds wonderful as well.”

“My maid told me that there’s a pianist who’s all the rage in high society these days. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we invited the pianist and listened to music together?”

“I think I’ve heard of them. That sounds great.”

He was just as pleasant as ever, but his responses were identical for every question.

Nasar doesn’t actually want to spend time with me, Philomel realized. He hadn’t brought up a single thing that he wanted to do, simply responding pleasantly to her wishes.

In the past, she’d believed that this agreeable behavior stemmed from his love for her, but in the novel, Nasar had behaved differently. He’d been eager to do anything and everything he could to please Ellensia before she’d even said a word. He’d been a doting lover, helplessly in love. If he was always calm and polite around her, that could mean only one thing.

He wasn’t in love with her, not even close.

It was probably the duke’s idea to come and visit me today, not his. The past few days had opened her eyes to the truth, and the world looked so different to her now.

“I’ll arrange for the pianist to visit. Please let me know when you’re feeling better, Your Highness, and I’ll—”

“No.” Philomel cut him off and stood up.

“I’m sorry?” Nasar said, startled.

“Forget everything I said. Thank you for coming by. I still need time to recover and am feeling a little under the weather. You may leave, Lord Nasar,” she said, doing her best to mimic his polite smile and quickly delivering the words she’d rehearsed.

“Oh, and you don’t have to come twice every week to the palace just to amuse me.”

“I don’t understand—”

“I apologize for taking up your time. You must have plans of your own, after all. From now on, please feel free to spend time with your friends instead of coming here.”

“One moment. Have I displeased you in some way, Your Highness? If that’s the case, I apologize. Please don’t be angry—”

“Not at all. You’ve done nothing wrong, my lord.”

Nasar seemed bewildered by Philomel’s smile.

“We may be engaged, but we meet too often. I don’t have any time to make friends of my own. Don’t you agree that I’ll need female friends of my own someday?” she asked.

“I see. I understand...” Nasar agreed reluctantly.

“Goodbye, then.” She left the drawing room.

Back in her room, Philomel glanced in the mirror and checked her face. Had she managed a good imitation of Nasar’s smile?

She practiced a few times, remembering to scrunch her eyes a little, and she was satisfied with the result. This was the mask that Philomel would wear from now on. She would do as Nasar did, being kind to everyone, but letting no one in.

That way, I won’t become attached to anyone when I’m only going to run away.

The girl in the mirror gave a wry grimace.