Eleanor returned home and waited anxiously for a message from Jonathan.But even after a week, there was still no word from the Duke of Valentine's household.
She spent her days lying on the bed, rolling from side to side, restless.To her family, she had said she was taking some long-overdue rest — but her mind hadn't rested for a single moment.
'Could it be that there's still no message today either?'
Her brows drooped sadly. Her chest burned with impatience.
'Nothing bad happened… right?'
She fretted, then suddenly grew angry.
'No, but really — isn't it too much to go this long without a single word? He could at least say he's busy!'
That's it. I'm done waiting.
Eleanor buried her face into her pillow with a long sigh.Her emotions swung wildly, changing several times a day — from worry to frustration, to sadness, and then guilt.
The last image of Kaidel's face pricked her mind like a fishbone caught in her throat —it stung when she ate, when she slept, when she talked with her family. She couldn't shake it off.
"Lady Eleanor, you've got a letter."
Just then, Emily entered the room holding an envelope.Eleanor, who had been sprawled on her bed all day, sat bolt upright.
"A letter? Is it from the Duke of Valentine's estate?"
Emily shook her head."No, miss. It's from the Imperial Palace."
"Ah…"
"Shall I put it on your desk?"
"No, I'll read it now. Give it here."
Eleanor reached out her hand — and upon spotting the small signature on the envelope, the corners of her lips lifted slightly.
It was from Ismel.
"To Eleanor,
The students' exams should be over by now, so I thought you might finally have some time to spare for me.
A week should be enough rest for at least one cup of tea, don't you think?Or have you already started a new project without taking a breath?
I've often urged you to work harder — but I don't think I've ever begged you not to work before. You really are fascinating.
If all nobles were half as diligent as you, I'd have nothing to worry about.
The wind's getting chilly. Be sure to keep your windows shut.
I'll await your reply.
Ismel Biden Pontius de Bellium.
P.S. I just remembered after writing all this — I once told your brother something similar.I told him to take things slow.Do twins even share traits like that?"
"To His Imperial Highness, Prince Ismel Biden Pontius de Bellium,
I'm writing this letter in the little time I've carved out for a reply.
Contrary to your worries, I've been truly resting for the past week.I've practically merged with my bed, idling the days away.
You're not the type to ever be lazy, are you?Did you know that lying down too long actually makes you more tired?
It's true. I've never slept this much in my life, and instead of feeling refreshed, I just feel sore and stiff.I think I should start moving again — before my spine melts away.
It seems I'm not very gifted at taking long breaks.
Actually, after the Academy exams, there's something I'd been planning to start.It's a project I've been meaning to do for a while, so I'll be putting my time and energy into that for now.
So… whether I'll have time to share a leisurely cup of tea with Your Highness — we'll have to wait and see.
Please take care in this cool weather.
Eleanor Everett"
"To Eleanor,
It suddenly struck me how absurdly long my full name is.Don't you think it's time you just called me Ismel?
I'm getting a little too used to being rejected by you. Not a good sign.
Still, I can't help but wonder — what is this project you speak of?Just what kind of grand excuse could it be?
Don't misunderstand me — I'm not angry.Please read this letter in a soft voice, with only the faintest touch of hurt in it.
And truly, I do want to hear more about your idea.Your thoughts never fail to surprise me.
So surprise me again, Eleanor Everett.
Yours, equally unskilled at resting,Ismel Biden Pontius de Bellium."
"To His Imperial Highness, Prince Ismel (abridged),
I can't promise I'll surprise you, but I'll tell you about it.I think it's something you'll find interesting, too.
I called it a business, but it's not really for profit.It's more about doing something I've always wanted to do.
So, Your Highness — will you have tea with me?It's a long story to fit in a letter.
Does it sound like I'm suggesting it just because I'm too lazy to write? You're right.
I admit I've rejected many of your invitations.This time, I'll give you the chance to refuse me.
Eleanor Everett"
"To Eleanor (abridged),
I refuse.
Ismel Biden Pontius de Bellium."
"To Eleanor,
Just kidding.As if I could ever refuse your invitation.
Tell me when you're free.Let's meet at Café Amicidia — that would be the perfect place.
Yours, utterly incapable of denying you,Ismel Biden Pontius de Bellium."
"Right. I can't mope around forever."
Ismel's letters had become the spark that reignited Eleanor's energy.Whenever she felt restless, immersing herself in work always helped.
Eleanor pushed open the door to Café Amicidia, a familiar place.She'd arrived ten minutes early, yet Ismel was already there, deep in thought with his chin resting on his hand.
Eleanor approached quietly and tapped on the table."Your Highness."
Ismel looked up, startled."Ah, Eleanor."
"You're early."
He stood up and pulled out her chair with an easy smile."Of course. The one who wants it more should always be the most punctual."
Eleanor narrowed her eyes slightly.As dazzling as ever, he still looked different today — quieter, more subdued.
"You look tired, Your Highness. Maybe even thinner…"
"I haven't been sleeping much lately."
Eleanor's eyes widened."Then you should rest! We could've postponed this."
"Well, I don't have any engagement more important than this."
Ismel grinned mischievously, shrugging."Besides, I came here to rest. To forget about work for a while and just relax."
"I came here to talk about work, actually."
"And I came here to see you."
He laughed."So, tell me — what is this new project you're up to this time?"
Eleanor paused, then spoke carefully."Your Highness, do you know the literacy rate in Bellium?"
He answered without hesitation."Less than half, as far as I know."
"Right. But do you know the literacy rate among commoners — excluding nobles and merchants?"
Ismel slowly shook his head.
"Out of ten commoners, five or six can't properly read long sentences.And eight out of ten can't write at all."
"Hmm."
"It's been that way for so long that people don't even question it anymore.But I think it's something worth rethinking — something very important."
Ismel leaned back silently in his chair. The playfulness in his eyes gave way to sincerity.
The sudden change in atmosphere made Eleanor swallow hard. Somehow, she felt nervous.
"I don't think everyone needs to study relentlessly," she continued."But knowing how to read can make a tremendous difference in life."
"I know. The Imperial Family's been trying — founding schools in different regions…"
"But only a tiny fraction ever gets to benefit from that," Eleanor interjected.
He nodded in agreement."That's true. It'd be great to distribute textbooks to everyone, but that's not realistic."
"Because printing a proper book costs a lot, right?"
"Exactly."
"But the Imperial Gazette reaches every corner of the Empire. The tabloids too."
"Well, newspapers aren't the same as books…"
He trailed off — realization dawning.
"Ah. You're saying textbooks don't have to be in book form."
"Exactly. Study guides could be printed like newspapers — it'd save costs and effort."
Eleanor began laying out her ideas, one by one.Ismel listened, deeply focused, tapping his fingers lightly against the table as if to calculate something.
Their tea had long gone cold.
"What made you think of this?" he asked at last.
"There are quite a few people around me who can't read.They always seemed so regretful about never having the chance to learn."
Faces of her maids and Madam Clarisse flashed through her mind.
"I just want everyone to have the chance to learn — even those who think they don't have time or need for it.They deserve to have that choice."
"Choice…"
Ismel met her eyes, his emerald gaze glowing with quiet admiration.
He'd always found her fascinating —someone who stood out without trying to, who blushed under praise yet couldn't stay silent before injustice.Meticulous yet careless, gentle yet distant enough to leave him aching.
That's what unrequited love was —worrying alone, longing alone, sulking alone, only to fall deeper all over again.Just like now.
"Your Highness?"
Eleanor tilted her head.
Ismel blinked back to himself and met her gaze."Ah… so, how far along are you?"
"Still in the planning stages," she said."I'm gathering input from maids and printing workers — trying to make something truly practical."
"And once the materials are made?"
"I'm not sure yet. I've saved a bit from my guidebooks and pamphlets, so I might have to invest my own money."
Ismel nodded thoughtfully."Then allow me to make a proposal."
"A… proposal?"
"Yes, a proposal. I'd like you to accept it."
Eleanor swallowed, nervous at the serious look on his face.
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"Eleanor. How about we collaborate on this one?"