It had been two days since Julian last mentioned the Kingdom of Elyndor—the place where the original Lily had attended school at the age of fourteen. The name lingered in my thoughts like a faint echo, brushing against half-formed memories that didn't quite belong to me.
A soft clink of porcelain drew my attention. A young maid had just set a small tray of sweets on the table, her movements careful, practiced. I recognized her from before—she was the one who had opened the door during my first period in this body. She couldn't have been older than sixteen, with soft brown hair tucked neatly behind her ears. I caught a glimpse of a thin book tucked beneath her arm as she quietly made her way toward the library.
"Excuse me," I called, more from boredom than curiosity, my finger resting between the pages of a dull book. "May I ask your name?"
She paused, then offered a modest curtsy. "My name is Emily, my lady."
Emily. She had the look of someone used to going unnoticed—quiet, polite, almost too careful.
I recalled what I had read in the novel: here in the Kingdom of Lysoria, only nobles were granted proper education. Noble children learned to read and write by the time they were eight, but no such opportunities were given to commoners. Elyndor, however, was different. There, every citizen, regardless of their birth, was taught to read, write, and handle basic arithmetic.
I studied Emily's face, wondering.
"Are you free?" I asked, already forming a plan to teach her, at least the basics of reading and writing.
Every word spoken, every letter written in this world made perfect sense to me. As if the language had been quietly translated, tailored just for my understanding. It all felt like general knowledge, instinctive, as natural as breathing.
"Yes, my lady?" Emily replied, a hint of curiosity in her tone. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well…" I hesitated, watching her carefully. "How about I teach you to read and write?"
I spoke with a quiet hope that she might accept. It would give me something to do—something useful. More than that, it could offer me a window into the lives of both nobles and commoners in the Kingdom of Lysoria. And if Emily learned, perhaps it would help her in the future. A small gift, in a world where most people like her weren't given much of anything.
Emily blinked, visibly taken aback. "Are you sure, my lady? You won't charge me?"
Her disappointment felt too rehearsed, like a line spoken too many times in a play she no longer believed in. It was in the way her shoulders sank just before I spoke, as though she'd already assumed the answer would be yes—that kindness, like everything else, would come with a price.
"No, I won't charge you anything," I said softly, offering a small smile. "I have all the time in the world. And frankly... I'm bored."
Emily's lips curled into a lighthearted chuckle, her eyes sparkling with the delight of a child permitted to dream. "Okay," she said, beaming.
I reached for a blank sheet of paper and a pen from the table, then patted the empty seat beside me. "Let's begin."
But she hesitated, taking a cautious step back. "Miss, I can't possibly sit beside you."
"It's alright," I assured her, my voice gentle. "No one will notice. It's just us right now—no one will disturb us."
I gestured again, and after a moment's pause, she nodded and slipped into the chair at my side.
"Let's start with something simple," I said, drawing the first letter onto the page. "The alphabet."
Time slipped by as we moved from letters to numbers, her brow furrowing in concentration, then brightening with each small triumph. I was mid-sentence, tracing the loop of a lowercase 'g,' when I noticed the golden light stretching across the floor.
The sun was setting.
I hadn't even realized how late it had gotten.
Back in my room, I moved with quiet purpose. Hidden among the other volumes on my shelf was a book that didn't look like much—small, plain, and worn at the edges, deliberately disguised to resemble an ordinary notebook. I kept it tucked away carefully. No one could find it. I wouldn't let them.
Inside was a detailed summary of the novel A Crown Prince and His Wife—a quiet lifeline to the world I had somehow become part of. The notebook listed every character and their role in the story. Names, relationships, fates. I flipped through the familiar pages, eyes scanning for anything I might have missed.
There was no mention of a maid named Emily.
That could only mean one thing—Emily was a background character, someone barely worth noting in the grand plot. In the novel, the real story began when Lily turned eighteen. That gave me eight years—eight years of freedom before the wheel of fate began turning in earnest.
Still, the novel had made one thing very clear: maids were far from insignificant. In this world, they were vital to the web of information that spun between both commoners and nobles. Their role as spies, informants, and messengers was well-established, especially in the case of Seraphina Althera.
Seraphina, once intended to be the crown prince's wife, had been spurned when Alistair rejected the arranged marriage. Instead, he chose Lily. The fallout was sharp and dangerous. From her kingdom across the border, Seraphina had relied on her maid to gather information in secret—intel that eventually led her to uncover the engagement between Lily and Alistair.
It was a reminder, stark and sobering: even background characters could become weapons in the right hands.
And sometimes, knowing who fades into the scenery... is the most dangerous knowledge of all.
Now, Emily could read, write, and perform simple calculations—skills that might seem trivial in any other world. But here, they held weight. They had power. Quiet. Unassuming. Unnoticed.
And that power would serve me.
This was the next step in my plan—to find a noblewoman willing to take my place as the crown prince's wife.