Tristan gave up on fleeing to his office.
We had never needed each other as much as we did now.
To confess our fears and, at the same time, to stay by each other's side despite them.
Perhaps it was because he had kept working even after the long carriage ride. I could see Tristan's eyelids growing heavier as we lay facing each other.
I stroked his hair and spoke. There was still one secret I desperately wanted to tell him.
"Tristan. I don't know if you'll believe me, but… I have a confession."
"Hm…?"
"The truth is… I knew a little about this world's future. It's like… I had memories of observing this place one-sidedly, as if reading a book."
"Like watching a theater performance?"
"Something like that. If you've ever felt that Dory has changed… that's why. The audience member—me—suddenly took over the role of Dory Redfield."
"..."
"Now, I've become part of this world. I have a family I love and who loves me… but sometimes, I'm afraid. What if I'm still just an outsider? What if I stole someone else's place…?"
Would Tristan believe this story?
I was equally terrified of either outcome—him dismissing me as delusional, or him believing me but concluding that I had stolen Dory Redfield's life.
But I couldn't keep hiding it forever. So, for the first time, I revealed my secret to the person who had shown me his own vulnerability and wept in my arms.
Tristan responded slowly.
"Hmm… Now I understand why you asked earlier when I 'started liking' you. During the Spring Banquet… you stepped onto the stage you had only been watching from afar."
"Yes. The one who picked up and ate the cookie—well, the one who dropped it—was the new me."
"In that first 'performance' you saw… what was Dory Redfield's life like?"
"She was a quiet, elegant lady. One who remained devoted even while Your Highness chased after Maria for a year. Eventually, she married you and lived happily."
"Until the end?"
"Yes. Definitely, until the end."
"Then it doesn't seem like you 'stole' Dory's life. She's probably living happily with a Tristan even more shameless than me."
"Huh…?"
Was that how it worked?
The book had definitely reached its conclusion. Maria and Arthur had their happy ending, and the original Dory Redfield had found her own happiness.
So then, the me here now—
"No matter who you are… don't leave my stage."
Tristan's arms tightened around my waist, reminding me once again that I was real, that I was here.
"Your Highness…"
"Do you love me?"
"…Yes."
"Then that's enough. As long as we love each other, I'll always exist in your life. So you'll never be an outsider."
"..."
"Trust me."
His firm words resonated in my mind, belatedly.
Earlier, had I said I had observed this world one-sidedly?
No.
I wanted to swallow that word back.
There is no such thing as one-sided reading.
Books can shake people.
You don't even need to search for some grand lesson. People love, laugh, cry, even scoff at the worlds within books.
And isn't it true that every time a book meets a reader, it becomes a completely different world through that reader's interpretation?
The same book can be a heart-fluttering romance to one person and a naive social critique to another.
If a book exists in as many forms as there are readers' interpretations…
The concept of the Library of Babel came to mind.
A vast library from Borges' short story, where every possible book exists—or rather, every possible combination of text.
There's the ordinary Romeo and Juliet, but also versions where Romeo marries Hamlet, or where Juliet uses Romeo as a boat to travel the world in 80 days.
It's less a romanticized idea for bibliophiles and more of a philosophical concept.
Was that library a metaphor for the author's worldview?
The world I had lived in, the book I had read—in that universe, they were just two books of equal value.
The Dory Redfield I first knew—that steadfast, kind woman—had her happy ending with a flawed but redeemed prince.
And in the world I had created while reading that book, the me now, Dory Redfield—
…had gained a world that loved me.
"Dory. Still lost in thought?"
"I just reached a conclusion."
"And that is—?"
"Can I hug you, Tristan?"
It might have been the first time I had called him by name. His cheeks slowly reddened. But even as he grew uncharacteristically flustered, he didn't forget what he needed to do.
Tristan spread his arms. Though I was the one who embraced him first, in no time at all, his arms wrapped tightly around me, as if digging into my back.
Of course, who initiated it didn't matter.
Today, for the first time, our lips met. Our fears intersected.
And now—
"Dory. No matter what happens, I…"
"Yes, Tristan. I love you too."
Our hearts touched once again.
November. A time when people begin reflecting on the year's harvest.
Two men clinked glasses at a club table, exchanging updates.
"You didn't go to the Archduke and Baron Meyer's wedding, did you? The young Duke said he'd welcome even those without invitations—why'd you skip it?"
"That's exactly why I didn't go. The place was probably packed with commoners looking for a free meal and nobles desperate to rub shoulders with the Archduke."
"Ah, right. There was a commoner worker sitting in the family section, and behind him, the Third Prince was chatting him up. The whole thing was as lively as a harvest festival. …Well, it was a good wedding."
On the day of Maria and Arthur's wedding, those who had seen their faces all remarked, "This must be the most beautiful couple of the year."
But those who actually attended the ceremony first shared the impression: "They were the happiest-looking couple of the year."
"Even the Grand Duke of Frosthill and the bride's father, who were so stiff at the start… couldn't help but smile back when they saw their children's joy."
"Why wouldn't they be happy? Their daughter married into the Grand Duke's family."
"Right? Oh, and I heard the third Redfield sibling has set a wedding date. She caught the bouquet too."
"Ah, that couple! Wasn't there a rumor that His Highness Tristan was driving his fiancée mad?"
"From the outside, they looked like a pair who'd been waiting five years to marry. The Countess Redfield even told her daughter to 'smile a little more' at one point."
That day, Maria's orange rose bouquet landed squarely in the arms of Dorys Redfield. Dorys smiled as brightly as if she had caught the sun itself.
"That happy, huh? Marriage is something everyone does eventually. Especially if it's an arranged match—you could do it with your eyes closed—"
"The Redfields are the exception to that."
"Ah, right."
Natalie Redfield, the most dazzling flower of high society.
A lady as famous for her beauty as she was for her scandals—until her engagement to the real wastrel was exposed, ruining her wedding.
"Was Natalie at the wedding? How was she—miserable?"
"Not at all! She looked like she was having fun. …Guess the rumors were true."
Strange news had been circulating in high society.
Normally, if a lady failed to secure a marriage prospect within three years of her debut, she was considered a failure. If even her parents' desperate efforts couldn't find her a match, her final destination was usually a convent.
High society had whispered that Natalie, who had roamed every party for over five years, would surely enter a convent this year…
But the rumors that actually surfaced were that she had inherited part of the Count's fortune and begun learning business.
She was interested in the ornamental tree trade, they said. She'd bought a closed-down salon, they said. She'd attended her father's contract meetings, they said.
"A commoner, maybe, but the conservative Count Redfield is letting his daughter inherit part of his fortune and even helping her with business? How does that make sense?"
"Someone asked Natalie if her father was supporting her business ventures. Before she could answer, the Count cut in and confirmed it himself."
"Guess he's softer on his daughter than expected. But what kind of business is she running?"
"Something about salons or the arts, I think…"
And at the end of November, the remaining members of the Sacred Salon in the capital received letters announcing its grand reopening.
"You've waited long enough. The Sacred Salon is pleased to welcome you to our new location. As always, we will have the talented Lady Witch, our chefs, and musicians—along with new services never before offered. Our new address is…"
***