Chapter 114 Library Showdown
After a whole day of being the butt of Gisella's jokes, I finally decided to run away from home. My head was pounding. If I kept locking myself in my room, staring at the pile of threatening letters from Claus's fans, I was definitely going to end up with a real stomach ulcer.
That afternoon, I chose to escape to the National Library.
It was quiet there, and most importantly, no one would think to look for me among stacks of colonial law archives.
I thought, if I hid in the corner of the third floor, I'd be safe, maybe I could read some ancient economic history and calm my nerves.
Turns out, I was dead wrong. There's no such thing as peace for a side character like me in this ridiculous novel world.
I'd barely been sitting at the long wooden table for half an hour, jotting down wheat import tax data from centuries ago, when I heard the sound of boots echoing through the quiet.
The steps were relaxed, totally ignoring the library's unspoken rule about walking softly.
I glanced up lazily from behind a pile of encyclopedias.
And just as I suspected, Prince Kurt appeared with messy blond hair, an unbuttoned royal jacket, and a casual, lazy expression.
He strolled right into the research reading area and dropped down in the chair next to me without even asking, grinning widely.
His smug face made me want to throw my Latin dictionary at him.
"Found you," he said, leaning back. "I've been searching all day, but you weren't anywhere. Turns out, the little princess was hiding in the mouse hole of the national library."
I swallowed my annoyance, closed my notebook, and looked at him with the flattest face I could muster.
"What do you want now, Your Highness?" I whispered sharply, making sure to keep my voice down. "If the royal stables are closed, why don't you just go home and bother all those noble girls lining up for your cheap charms?"
Kurt only laughed, clearly delighted by my irritation.
"Wow, so fierce," he muttered, fiddling with the paper bookmark at my fingertips. "Honestly, I came here with good intentions. I wanted to learn."
I rolled my eyes. "Learn what? How to cause trouble at royal events?"
He leaned in, closing the distance between our faces. "Last night, you mentioned fiscal restructuring and distribution monopolies. I'll admit it, I'm curious. Other nobles only think about dresses and gossip. You're the only one who talks about trade balances during a dance party."
Because I'd slipped into corporate-speak last night, now I was being stalked by this troublemaking prince.
"That was just the rambling of a stressed-out person," I replied, pretending to be busy straightening my pens. "I don't have time to teach some foreign prince about economics. Go ask the finance minister."
Kurt pouted. "What do old ministers know? They just nod and smile in front of the king. That's why I came to you. I want to learn straight from the expert."
I put on my best bureaucrat face. "Sorry, Your Highness Prince Kurt Thurn, the Varannes region is managed by local nobility and subject to central law. All transactions, tariffs, and logistics are governed by Trade Law Articles 45 to 89. If you need written data,
please submit a formal request to the administrative office."
I stared at him expressionlessly, hoping he'd get bored and leave. But instead, Kurt's face only lit up. Rather than backing off, his grin grew wider. "You know, Ilse..." he whispered, voice low, "...the way you talk like that just makes you even cuter."
My face felt hot, not from embarrassment, but from sheer annoyance.
"Who's cute?! I'm talking about legal codes, not cracking jokes!" I hissed.
Kurt laughed, covering his mouth so the librarian wouldn't throw him out. "Okay, okay, I surrender. Please don't kill me with that glare."
I looked away. Just as I was about to pack up my books, a shadow blocked the light from the hallway. The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
I knew who was coming. Whenever he showed up, the atmosphere always went cold. Why do all novels have to be like this? I turned slowly. There he was, in his dark military cloak, General Claus, staring at us both with those piercing blue eyes, as if ready to skin someone alive.