Percival let out a short laugh.
"Really? Miss Redfield, the pale girl who loves books? She doesn't even look like she has the energy to dance."
"She's surprisingly resilient. At the last hunting competition… No, let's get back to the meeting minutes."
"You're offering an interesting appetizer and hiding the main dish? What happened during the hunting competition?"
Oh, damn. Percival seemed to have found an excuse to delay the meeting. His fish-like eyes sparkled. Tristan briefly summarized the event.
"She slipped on a slippery path, got hurt, but still managed to walk just fine."
"She fell right in front of you?"
"No. I noticed her clothes were dirty, so I questioned her and heard about it."
Well, even though he interrogated her, he never got the full truth.
She kept what happened completely to herself, leaving Tristan to investigate and handle it. Alex would have to live on porridge for another year because of it.
Just as a faint smile was about to cross Tristan's face, remembering the incident, Percival sipped his brandy and spoke.
"Oh dear, I guess she doesn't find you reliable."
"Pardon?"
"Imagine how distressing it must be for an adult to fall like that. She would have sought comfort or help from a friend or partner. But instead, she hid the fact that she even fell? She must not—oh, oops."
Percival dramatically pretended to be flustered and shut his mouth.
"Oh, look at the time. We should start the meeting."
"Brother."
"Is today's topic the renovation of the training ground? It is old. There are still training dummies from 20 years ago."
Percival finished his brandy in one gulp and picked up the meeting documents. Damn it, since when had he been this interested in meetings?
Tristan wanted to retort or make a sarcastic comment, but too much time had already been wasted. For the sake of the other participants, he had to start the discussion while his brother was still pretending to care.
In the end, Tristan picked up his documents as well.
"Yes. Recently, there's been an increase in young nobles requesting to tour or participate in sparring at the training ground, raising concerns about the facilities…"
But in one corner of Tristan's mind, a more pressing issue was taking root.
'Could it be that she hid it because she didn't find me reliable?'
There are no computers in this world. Naturally, there's no overseas journal search or even a library catalog system.
The fortunate thing is that this library was organized based on the Dewey Decimal Classification system. The librarian, who served as a substitute for a PC, was cooperative and diligent.
Of course, expecting anything beyond book searches was out of the question, as concepts like reference services or Ranganathan's Five Laws of Library Science hadn't even been created yet.
"Books related to the development of local parishes? One moment, I'm sure I saw some."
A few days later, I successfully presented the Crown Princess with resources relevant to her work.
"These three are research books on local autonomous organizations. These two discuss the impact of parishes on local communities over the past 80 years. And these…"
Of course, I mentioned that I had marked the key sections in the table of contents, as it would be hard for her to read everything.
The Crown Princess's mouth fell open.
"You found all this? In the library?"
"I had help from the librarian. Also, here's a list of materials available for viewing at each parish. They said these couldn't be checked out, but let me know which ones you're interested in, and I'll request copies."
Even in a world without photocopiers, there was always a way. Transcription for the win.
The Crown Princess nodded as she read through the list.
"Got it. Thank you so much."
"If my skills were of any help, that's all I could ask for."
"They were more than helpful. You've saved me a lot of time. But hasn't this disrupted your own work?"
"I've already found the materials I needed. However…"
I sighed deeply, a mix of performance and genuine feeling.
"I'm not sure if these resources will be enough to truly support the ladies."
"Support the ladies? What's going on?"
"It's not a major issue, but during the preparation for the charity concert…"
Note when talking to a superior:
Never directly mention a middle manager or imply blame.
There's no guarantee the superior is antagonistic toward the middle manager, and badmouthing them could backfire:
'If she talks like this about her boss, she might criticize me in front of others. I can't trust her.'
I got straight to the point.
Unlike previous years:
1) Difficult opera pieces.
2) Too many of them.
3) Even ones that have already concluded their runs were chosen.
"The songs we received carry context within a single play. Singing them without understanding that context is like pretending to have a ten-year friendship with someone you met today."
"Fair enough. So, how did Miss Redfield plan to handle it? Did you think the royal library would have the opera's script?"
"I didn't expect the script, but I assumed the library would have theater review journals as they are deposited copies. I planned to gather information about the opera through them."
"Oh, theater reviews! I hadn't thought of that. That's a clever idea. Are those materials enough?"
"No. Even after understanding the overall context, there might be parts that are hard to grasp. In such cases, I'll need to research the cultural background those scenes demand. Some moments are undoubtedly designed for seasoned opera enthusiasts."
It's like literature. Take 'The Sorrows of Young Werther', for instance.
When the protagonists fall in love, the heroine utters the word "Klopstock" and the hero immediately understands her feelings.
Without a footnote explaining that Klopstock refers to Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock, a poet whose odes were widely recited by young aristocrats of the time, one might be completely lost and ask, "What is this? A spell?"
Even web novels have these elements.
For example, in romance-fantasy novels, you might see the classic 'morning tweet'. Suddenly it's morning, birds chirp outside, the heroine denies reality as she gets out of bed, and she clutches her back in pain before collapsing. Readers know exactly what happened.
These kinds of things are hard to grasp without familiarity with the medium.
"Whether it's opera, theater, or literature, I'm researching works popular in the same era to get a sense of context."
"Impressive."
"But… there are clear limits."
After all, I'm no opera expert.
As a modern person, I know famous works like 'The Marriage of Figaro' or 'Turandot'. But that's it.
This piece, with its indeterminate nationality and era, is entirely unknown.
In short, I'm diving headfirst into uncharted territory.
"I won't be able to fully grasp the songs, lyrics, and context, but I'll do what I can—"
"Just hearing about it sounds daunting. Hmm… would it help if something, anything, could be changed?"
The Crown Princess said something I hadn't expected. My eyes widened.
"Changed? Are you talking about the songs…?"
"Changing the songs now would be impossible. The musicians are likely deep into rehearsals already."
Darn.
But the Crown Princess offered another lifeline.
"However, I can alter the lyrics and direction without their interference. You can omit difficult parts or even hum through them if necessary."
"Ah…"
"If a picky audience member complains that it's different from the original, I'll handle it myself."
"Thank you, Your Highness!"
"But decide how you'll modify it and come to me for approval first."
"Of course! But I hope our work doesn't place any burden on you…"
Percival had taken on this task to lighten his sister-in-law's load, yet here I was, making her deal with it again.
Thankfully, the Crown Princess shook her head.
"Not at all. The resources you provided have saved me more time than you can imagine."
Naturally. I wasn't about to feign humility, so I smiled warmly. At that, the Crown Princess let out a soft laugh.
"You're a far more interesting lady than I had imagined."
"I hope what I bring next will make Your Highness smile even more."
I roughly understood the original opera's story.
To summarize, it felt like a slightly sanitized knockoff of 'La Traviata'.
The heroine's occupation was changed to an actress, but the tragic, impossible love story with a nobleman remained intact.
'So that's why this wretched couple chose this piece.'
It's painfully obvious which characters they're projecting onto and how they're romanticizing their love.
'At least Pearl Snow isn't responsible for the climax of the tragic romance.'
There didn't seem to be much pressure to edit the earlier parts, but I couldn't recklessly alter things without knowing the theatrical style of this era.
So, I decided to watch a few plays for reference…
Outside the theater.
"Dory, thank you so much for inviting me!"
"Don't mention it, Maria. I'm the one glad to enjoy the play with—uh…"
I had sent Maria a single ticket. It was for a box seat reserved for the Redfield family, where she would sit with me.
But standing next to Maria was an uninvited guest, smiling.
Rick Rey. The original sub-male lead who despised my family.
He was wearing a rather fine suit, clearly dressed for the opera.
Maria hurriedly explained.
"Rick wanted to see this performance too, so he's sitting in the general seating and will leave right after. Don't worry! He's just here to say hello."
Rick Rey removed his hat and greeted us with practiced elegance.
"Please, pretend I'm not here. I truly, truly just wanted to see this opera. I have no intention of intruding on your time together."
Who's going to believe that, sub-male lead?
'You're just here to spend even a second longer with Maria.'