Lausanne was writing a novel at Demimore’s request. No, she was trying to write.
She couldn’t think of anything, so she put the quill down on her desk and stared at the blank paper.
It was harder since she had specific elements she needed to include and wasn’t starting from scratch.
Demimore’s characters were two male gods and a woman.
Well, was it fair to say two male gods? Lausanne vaguely thought so. A God of death, a son of a god, and a saint.
She hadn’t seen Mary, the only reader of her novels, lately, and the Emperor didn’t like her writing novels, so she naturally stopped writing.
‘Oh, it’s hard.’
It had been a while since she had written anything, and she lacked confidence.
She tried to refuse Demimore’s offer, but he said it was for Mary’s sake, so she reluctantly accepted.
Lausanne had been waiting for an opportunity to make amends with Mary. Fortunately, she’d been behaving well in front of the Emperor lately, so he let his guard down a bit.
In addition, the emperor’s mood was at its peak these days. Cameron, who had been plagued by an unexplained illness, was gradually improving.
‘It’s all thanks to Demimore.’
It was an unusually tumultuous night in the palace.
Unable to sleep due to an unexplained chill, Lausanne wrapped herself in a shawl and stepped outside, earning a troubled look from the knight guarding her chambers.
The knight at the front of the room gave her a puzzled look, and the maidservant hurried to her side.
The chaotic atmosphere sent a shiver down Lausanne’s spine. Maybe something happened to Cameron?
She was shocked to hear that Demimore had been in Cameron’s bedroom and that the floor was covered in blood.
The knights had subdued Demimore, who seemed to be in a daze, and the palace physician who rushed in quickly said Cameron’s breathing had become much steadier.
Everyone asked what had happened, but Demimore said nothing.
He had become a hero within the palace for saving the life of his half-brother who had tormented him so much.
And it was talked about that he had even managed to gather magic power through his efforts.
Such power was only possible in the Grand Duchy of Conler. The nobles, excluding the Grand Duke, praised the emperor’s son, saying that he may soon no longer need the Grand Duke.
Lausanne knew for the first time that her father’s mouth could be torn open like that.
Ironically, only Cameron, whom he had saved, was treating him with contempt.
‘Why did he make me write this?’
No matter how many times she asked Demimore what happened, he wouldn’t give her an answer, so she didn’t bother asking.
Lausanne was so curious that the empress advised him to stop being curious about everything, but looking at Demimore’s pale face she thought something must have happened.
But to have him suddenly come to her and ask her to write a novel about this.
Remembering Demimore’s face as he pleaded, like trying to grasp at straws**, Lausanne sighed.
(TL/N: making desperate but futile attempts to escape from a problem.)
She took out a poem that Mary had told her to refer to when her writing was stuck.
It was a poem that was popular five years ago. Now that she has thought about it, she wonders why it was so popular when nothing was so special about it.
Yeah, she remembered that Mary had gotten pretty serious when she talked about it in the salon. It was her first visit to the salon.
Smiling slightly at the memory of Mary, Lausanne began to read the poem, remembering what Mary had said at that time.
She could almost feel the emotions of the man in the story. Feeling like she needed to write something, she picked up her pen again.
‘But what is the name of the God of Death?’
Demimore had said that if she found a hole in her writing, she could make it up as she went along, but somehow she felt like they were real people.
So it bothered her to name them however she wanted.
“Hello, Princess.”
In the midst of her deliberations, a man burst into the room.
At first she was a little surprised, she didn’t like this cocky guy who dared to show up in the princess’ room on his own terms.
Now that she was used to it, she wasn’t surprised anymore, but she still couldn’t get used to his voice and demeanor, which seemed both polite and impolite.
“You’ve been writing, haven’t you?”
It was Arsene, whom Demimore had introduced to Lausanne, saying he would help her write a novel.
He was the one who had helped Demimore heal Cameron’s illness with his magic.
Even though she wanted to treat someone who had helped her family kindly, her eyebrows involuntarily furrowed.
“No, princess, you asked me to be polite, so I used honorifics, but why do you have that look on your face?”
Just using honorifics, that’s all?
Sighing in disbelief, Lausanne laughed and thought she should ask him the questions she was curious about and then send him away. She didn’t have the energy to deal with him anymore.
“I have a question.”
“I’m just in time.”
“I’m curious about the name of the God of Death.”
“His name?”
Arsene’s expression changed strangely. Not wanting to put him in a tight spot, Lausanne quickly waved her hand.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, it’s not that… It’s just…”
“Just?”
“It’s just that I suddenly can’t remember the name. It’s also the first time someone has asked for his name.”
Yes, he had a name too. Arsene murmured to himself as if he had made a remarkable discovery.
Looking at his puzzled face, Lausanne began tapping her fingers on the desk.
“Hey, aren’t you going to tell me? Don’t you remember?”
“Just give me a moment. You’re quite impatient.”
Sorting through the myriad memories and thoughts in his head, he finally recalled the name of the god of death.
And he remembered why his name hadn’t been commonly used for a while.
The reason was that he didn’t want to be called by the name his mother gave him.
“Leo.”
“Oh, it’s more normal than I thought.”
“Right…”
The son whom the god of the earth held under him abandoned his name and became the god of death.
Maybe that’s why when people die, they’re buried under the ground. Arsene smiled bitterly, remembering the name from long ago thanks to Lausanne.
“But what happens if the God of Death dies?”
Arsene gazed at the princess before him.
Her eyes, so much like Demimore’s, sparkled with curiosity. He hadn’t thought of that. Arsene rubbed his chin.
“Someone’s going to have to take his place, isn’t he?”
“Who would want to become something like the god of death?”
Death was more an object of fear for humans than something divine.
Gods who needed the faith of mortals to grow in power and strength didn’t ascend to that position easily. Only a perverted bastard like Leo could do that.
“Hmm, is that so…….”
With a puzzled look on her face, Lausanne grabbed her quill again. Arsene continued to gaze at the princess next to him, a mixture of curiosity and longing in his eyes.
***
The pain in my shoulder was excruciating. It felt like something warm and damp was flowing.
Even though the pain was unbearable, I couldn’t scream because I was too shocked by the fact that I had been stabbed with a knife.
He must have thrust the knife in with so much force that the blood splattered from my shoulder onto the face of the god of death.
Yeah, I shot him with an arrow earlier, so it’s 1:1. You can call it a mental victory. I couldn’t just sit here and cry because I was stabbed.
“Argh!”
But why are you screaming?
Although I was also stifling my screams due to the knife wound, the god of death suddenly clutched his face and let out a scream filled with pain.
I took a step back, clutching my bleeding shoulder.
A puff of smoke rose above the God of death’s face. It was the same as the one on his back where I’d pierced him with an arrow earlier.
“Miss!”
Hestia’s voice, which felt only distant earlier, seemed to be heard a little closer now. I took a close look around my shoulder.
“What have you done to me?”
The God of death shouted, squeezing my shoulder.
But he soon pulled his hand away impatiently, as if he had touched something hot. His hands were smoking.
What was that? Was he reacting to my blood?
I clasped my shoulder and grabbed him by the wrist with a bloody hand. Sure enough, the God of Death flinched and backed away from me.
I picked up the dagger that he used to stab me in the shoulder and checked the blood on it. Then, I rushed toward the god of death, who was writhing in pain.
“You crazy…”
The god of death, unable to finish his sentence, doubled over while clutching his abdomen. I, too, felt dizzy and collapsed on the spot.
I thought his violet eyes were stained with blood. We stared at each other silently for a while.
Lausanne was writing a novel at Demimore’s request. No, she was trying to write.
She couldn’t think of anything, so she put the quill down on her desk and stared at the blank paper.
It was harder since she had specific elements she needed to include and wasn’t starting from scratch.
Demimore’s characters were two male gods and a woman.
Well, was it fair to say two male gods? Lausanne vaguely thought so. A God of death, a son of a god, and a saint.
She hadn’t seen Mary, the only reader of her novels, lately, and the Emperor didn’t like her writing novels, so she naturally stopped writing.
‘Oh, it’s hard.’
It had been a while since she had written anything, and she lacked confidence.
She tried to refuse Demimore’s offer, but he said it was for Mary’s sake, so she reluctantly accepted.
Lausanne had been waiting for an opportunity to make amends with Mary. Fortunately, she’d been behaving well in front of the Emperor lately, so he let his guard down a bit.
In addition, the emperor’s mood was at its peak these days. Cameron, who had been plagued by an unexplained illness, was gradually improving.
‘It’s all thanks to Demimore.’
It was an unusually tumultuous night in the palace.
Unable to sleep due to an unexplained chill, Lausanne wrapped herself in a shawl and stepped outside, earning a troubled look from the knight guarding her chambers.
The knight at the front of the room gave her a puzzled look, and the maidservant hurried to her side.
The chaotic atmosphere sent a shiver down Lausanne’s spine. Maybe something happened to Cameron?
She was shocked to hear that Demimore had been in Cameron’s bedroom and that the floor was covered in blood.
The knights had subdued Demimore, who seemed to be in a daze, and the palace physician who rushed in quickly said Cameron’s breathing had become much steadier.
Everyone asked what had happened, but Demimore said nothing.
He had become a hero within the palace for saving the life of his half-brother who had tormented him so much.
And it was talked about that he had even managed to gather magic power through his efforts.
Such power was only possible in the Grand Duchy of Conler. The nobles, excluding the Grand Duke, praised the emperor’s son, saying that he may soon no longer need the Grand Duke.
Lausanne knew for the first time that her father’s mouth could be torn open like that.
Ironically, only Cameron, whom he had saved, was treating him with contempt.
‘Why did he make me write this?’
No matter how many times she asked Demimore what happened, he wouldn’t give her an answer, so she didn’t bother asking.
Lausanne was so curious that the empress advised him to stop being curious about everything, but looking at Demimore’s pale face she thought something must have happened.
But to have him suddenly come to her and ask her to write a novel about this.
Remembering Demimore’s face as he pleaded, like trying to grasp at straws**, Lausanne sighed.
(TL/N: making desperate but futile attempts to escape from a problem.)
She took out a poem that Mary had told her to refer to when her writing was stuck.
It was a poem that was popular five years ago. Now that she has thought about it, she wonders why it was so popular when nothing was so special about it.
Yeah, she remembered that Mary had gotten pretty serious when she talked about it in the salon. It was her first visit to the salon.
Smiling slightly at the memory of Mary, Lausanne began to read the poem, remembering what Mary had said at that time.
She could almost feel the emotions of the man in the story. Feeling like she needed to write something, she picked up her pen again.
‘But what is the name of the God of Death?’
Demimore had said that if she found a hole in her writing, she could make it up as she went along, but somehow she felt like they were real people.
So it bothered her to name them however she wanted.
“Hello, Princess.”
In the midst of her deliberations, a man burst into the room.
At first she was a little surprised, she didn’t like this cocky guy who dared to show up in the princess’ room on his own terms.
Now that she was used to it, she wasn’t surprised anymore, but she still couldn’t get used to his voice and demeanor, which seemed both polite and impolite.
“You’ve been writing, haven’t you?”
It was Arsene, whom Demimore had introduced to Lausanne, saying he would help her write a novel.
He was the one who had helped Demimore heal Cameron’s illness with his magic.
Even though she wanted to treat someone who had helped her family kindly, her eyebrows involuntarily furrowed.
“No, princess, you asked me to be polite, so I used honorifics, but why do you have that look on your face?”
Just using honorifics, that’s all?
Sighing in disbelief, Lausanne laughed and thought she should ask him the questions she was curious about and then send him away. She didn’t have the energy to deal with him anymore.
“I have a question.”
“I’m just in time.”
“I’m curious about the name of the God of Death.”
“His name?”
Arsene’s expression changed strangely. Not wanting to put him in a tight spot, Lausanne quickly waved her hand.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, it’s not that… It’s just…”
“Just?”
“It’s just that I suddenly can’t remember the name. It’s also the first time someone has asked for his name.”
Yes, he had a name too. Arsene murmured to himself as if he had made a remarkable discovery.
Looking at his puzzled face, Lausanne began tapping her fingers on the desk.
“Hey, aren’t you going to tell me? Don’t you remember?”
“Just give me a moment. You’re quite impatient.”
Sorting through the myriad memories and thoughts in his head, he finally recalled the name of the god of death.
And he remembered why his name hadn’t been commonly used for a while.
The reason was that he didn’t want to be called by the name his mother gave him.
“Leo.”
“Oh, it’s more normal than I thought.”
“Right…”
The son whom the god of the earth held under him abandoned his name and became the god of death.
Maybe that’s why when people die, they’re buried under the ground. Arsene smiled bitterly, remembering the name from long ago thanks to Lausanne.
“But what happens if the God of Death dies?”
Arsene gazed at the princess before him.
Her eyes, so much like Demimore’s, sparkled with curiosity. He hadn’t thought of that. Arsene rubbed his chin.
“Someone’s going to have to take his place, isn’t he?”
“Who would want to become something like the god of death?”
Death was more an object of fear for humans than something divine.
Gods who needed the faith of mortals to grow in power and strength didn’t ascend to that position easily. Only a perverted bastard like Leo could do that.
“Hmm, is that so…….”
With a puzzled look on her face, Lausanne grabbed her quill again. Arsene continued to gaze at the princess next to him, a mixture of curiosity and longing in his eyes.
***
The pain in my shoulder was excruciating. It felt like something warm and damp was flowing.
Even though the pain was unbearable, I couldn’t scream because I was too shocked by the fact that I had been stabbed with a knife.
He must have thrust the knife in with so much force that the blood splattered from my shoulder onto the face of the god of death.
Yeah, I shot him with an arrow earlier, so it’s 1:1. You can call it a mental victory. I couldn’t just sit here and cry because I was stabbed.
“Argh!”
But why are you screaming?
Although I was also stifling my screams due to the knife wound, the god of death suddenly clutched his face and let out a scream filled with pain.
I took a step back, clutching my bleeding shoulder.
A puff of smoke rose above the God of death’s face. It was the same as the one on his back where I’d pierced him with an arrow earlier.
“Miss!”
Hestia’s voice, which felt only distant earlier, seemed to be heard a little closer now. I took a close look around my shoulder.
“What have you done to me?”
The God of death shouted, squeezing my shoulder.
But he soon pulled his hand away impatiently, as if he had touched something hot. His hands were smoking.
What was that? Was he reacting to my blood?
I clasped my shoulder and grabbed him by the wrist with a bloody hand. Sure enough, the God of Death flinched and backed away from me.
I picked up the dagger that he used to stab me in the shoulder and checked the blood on it. Then, I rushed toward the god of death, who was writhing in pain.
“You crazy…”
The god of death, unable to finish his sentence, doubled over while clutching his abdomen. I, too, felt dizzy and collapsed on the spot.
I thought his violet eyes were stained with blood. We stared at each other silently for a while.
