It's been almost three weeks since we returned from Homonhon Palace, where we historians were dragged into copying ancient writings. Why couldn't we have done that after the war? If this was just another whim of the prince, I'd love to punch him for it! As soon as we got back, the others dove into translating the scrolls, their doubts about the order growing with every symbol they copied. They're doing their best, cross-referencing every line, trying to make sense of the ancient text. The problem is, they don't have what I do—a secret advantage I never expected. Who would've thought that my knowledge of Jejemon text from my world would actually help here? It turns out the scrolls are just as bizarre, almost like Egyptian hieroglyphics. Some read top-to-bottom, while others start on the left or the right, making everything ten times harder. But where they struggle, I thrive. These symbols feel oddly familiar to me, and that gives me a huge edge—one I plan to keep to myself. Jejemon might've been a joke back home, but here, it might just unlock unimaginable power. I glance around at my fellow historians, their faces tense with focus. The final scroll is now in our hands, and all eleven before it are arranged in the order they were found, waiting for full translation. They have no idea I've already figured out the true arrangement and their proper order—long before we even returned to the empire of Marceau. But here's the problem: I have the knowledge, but not the means to act on it. And where on earth is the princess? I don't even know how to reach her again. For now, all I can do is listen in on the prince's warriors and gather whatever information I can. Maybe being "selfishly appointed" as an advisor isn't such a bad thing after all, even if I had no choice in the matter. At least I'll have a chance to watch and learn what the prince knows. But being near him? That's another problem. I still remember his cold, indifferent face as he killed those knights during the war. A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about it. Prince Richard might have faked his death as we planned, but of course, he had to do it his way—not mine. Whatever. As long as it worked, I don't care. I'm not getting involved in politics. My life is messy enough without adding that. At least my biggest fear didn't come true—he didn't sense any power in the Homonhon prince. That confirms my theory: he can only detect power tied to the scrolls and their rightful owner. How he does it, I still don't know. If he'd sensed the key in the princess, he wouldn't have let her escape in the first place. Now, with the prince of Marceau convinced that love is the missing piece, it's going to be even harder for them to see the truth. "Pfft! These men are so clueless about love. It's almost funny," I mutter to myself, recalling past conversations. "I should thank whatever bitter old king banned the word 'love' in this world. He must've been hurt bad to make such a stupid law. Tsk, money and power really can do anything, huh." "Hey, everyone, what will happen to us once we've finished decoding these scrolls?" I ask absentmindedly, my chin propped on my hand as my quill scratches erratically across the paper. A cloud of uncertainty seems to hover over us. I press on, "Are we going to be... disposed of? I mean, once we're no longer needed." The atmosphere shifts, tension creeping in as Leon and the others exchange uneasy glances. It's Leon who finally speaks, his brow creased as he meets my gaze. "Do you really think the prince is like that?" he asks, disbelief coloring his voice. 'Yes, Well, he did say something like that to me not too long ago. And he scratched at the grape stem, remember?' I think sarcastically but keep it to myself. Leon continues, his voice steady. "I don't know what impression you have of the prince, but we all know what he's really like when it comes to his people." I notice nods of agreement from the others. 'Masochists,' I think, slightly exasperated. "He may seem cold and harsh as a leader, but in times of uncertainty, people do not seek kindness or softness—they seek stability, someone who can make the difficult decisions, who commands respect both within and beyond the empire, and we see that in His Highness." "But the prince considers betrayal utterly intolerable. Those who betrayed His Highness in the past all wished that they would die instead," Rowell interjects, sending a chill down my spine. "They may still be alive till now." "W...what do you mean? Where are they now?" I ask, trying to mask the fear gnawing at me. "Somewhere in the shadows? The prince doesn't want them to die easily. He'd rather see the full extent of their failure, stripped of everything they hoped for, including dying. So I'm sure they are barely alive somewhere—but not from here." The blood drains from my face. If the prince found out about my recent actions at Homonhon Palace... I can't let him know what I did. I absolutely can't!