Editor 80

The Steadfast Gardener (2)

Melchior’s hands were covered with gardening gloves stained with soil.

‘Wow, what is this sense of incongruity…’

Melchior, after returning the pruning shears to the tool box, gestured toward a humble wooden bench by the pond.

“Sit. This is just the right time.”

When he sat down, Kleio could see the roses, with most of their leaves fallen. Up close, the leaves were insect-eaten, the vines yellow and withered, and the flowers were limp.

On the outdoor folding table, a tin kettle wrapped to keep the contents warm and a carelessly crumpled tin cup were placed haphazardly.

The crown prince took off his gardening gloves. Under those, he wore thin cotton gloves, not bare hands.

Kleio glanced at the back of Melchior’s hands and was dumbfounded.

‘The stigmata aren’t even visible unless you put ether into them, so this is so over the top.’

Who would dare grab the crown prince’s hand and pump ether into it to check? He couldn’t imagine the fuss.

‘Well, whatever. Is there anything about this man I can really understand? No, there isn’t.’

No matter how Kleio felt, Melchior, always elegant and today even more relaxed than usual, poured tea into the cup.

Trickle—

And then, as if possessed by a ghost, he slid the cup in front of the dumbfounded Kleio.

Snapping back to his senses belatedly, Kleio reflexively glanced around. He was looking for a photographer or illustrator. He suspected this was all for a propaganda picture.

A crown prince with humble taste tending a garden.

It would make a good picture, wouldn’t it? Even the infamous Margaret Thatcher had garden photos taken; why not the crown prince?

There was no way Melchior missed Kleio’s nervousness.

“What are you looking for?”

“I was just checking if there might be a journalist present again.”

“Haha, you must have been quite surprised at the decoration ceremony last time, Sir Kleio.”

“I suppose I’m just not used to such things.”

“Today’s a holiday with no schedule. This is my private space. I don’t let pen-wielding ruffians in here.”

‘He says that, but he seemed pretty friendly with those ruffians…’

Everything about this meeting made Kleio uncomfortable, but the honorific “Sir” from the crown prince’s lips was the most unsettling.

Despite having only a formal title from a loyalty oath without a [Pact], somehow, when that man used the honorific, Kleio felt like he was being treated as a subordinate, and it rubbed him the wrong way.

“If so, would you please refrain from calling me your knight here and use a title more appropriate for my age and position?”

“Hmm, most people are so eager to use an honorific that they’ll keep it on until they book a train ticket, but you really don’t like it, do you?”

“It feels like wearing clothes that don’t fit me.”

“Very well, I’ll do so, Kleio. The weather’s too good to refuse. Still, my hobby seems to surprise you.”

“If it didn’t, I’d be lying. But a cottage garden in the middle of the palace—it has its own charm.”

“A third of the rose vines are rotten, and it’s too late to dig up the anemone bulbs, but thank you for saying so. Frost came early this year, yet somehow flowers are still blooming.”

Wearing humble, soil-stained clothes and slowly drinking tea from a tin cup, Melchior gazed at the garden, half wild, half tended.

When he focused only on the garden, a pure smile rose on his face.

Knowing he was not a man suited to such expressions, Kleio nevertheless found his gaze involuntarily drawn in these moments.

What did a man who knew the world was being rewritten feel as he tended flowers that bloomed anew each year?

Kleio couldn’t even guess.

‘For someone who knows everything is predetermined, the blooming and withering of those flowers might not feel much different from the passing of human lives.’

He even thought Melchior might grieve the former more.

“Skilled gardeners say they can understand the signals sent by each plant, but I can’t grasp the intentions of anything growing in the garden. I’m a hopeless gardener.”

In Melchior’s words, satisfaction seemed to outweigh regret.

Plants, after all, were probably the only beings with whom that crown prince could be at peace.

If you could read the hearts of everyone in the world, it would be hell.

His unstable origins, excessive beauty, and overwhelming power—none of it seemed likely to bring happiness to any person.

‘Of course, it’s not my problem. Whatever happens, right now he’s the crown prince of Albion.’

“You must be busy with state affairs, so it’s only natural you don’t have much time for your hobby. In fact, I’d like to know where you learned landscaping.”

“When I was young, there was a quiet gardener who tended this place. No one here knew how to keep a simple cottage garden, so my mother had a worker brought up from her hometown. I learned by following him around.”

“Ah, then this place is…?”

“Yes. It was my late mother’s residence. She was a commoner by birth and couldn’t settle in the cold palace, always longing for her hometown. His Majesty had this place built in the image of her home.”

“It still has a beautiful and humble air.”

“So you know how to say pleasing things when you want a favor.”

Kleio froze, cup in hand.

“…I can’t hide my thoughts from Your Highness.”

To hide his twitching mouth, he sipped the tea. In truth, he couldn’t even sense what aroma it had.

“Haha, isn’t this the first time you’ve contacted me first? But young Lord Aser is an important contract partner for me, so if it’s a favor I can grant, I will. Go ahead.”

Should he be glad the conversation was moving quickly, or scared?

Of course, Kleio didn’t miss the opportunity, weighing the risks.

“Could you grant me access to the King’s Library?”

“As much as you like.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said you can enter as much as you want. Shall we go now?”

“…Without even asking why?”

“Would I understand anything about magic if I asked? Most of the royal library’s books are indecipherable ancient texts, miracles and mysteries, forbidden magic—things you couldn’t realize even if you read them.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Curiosity is a good trait. Besides, this is truly a first for me, so I find it interesting.”

It was a relief how easily he agreed, but Kleio still felt a lingering unease, as if something were about to hit him from behind.

‘A first… So he’s letting it slide because this didn’t happen in the previous manuscript? Would he permit any change to the script? There’s no way he’d let it go so easily.’

“Besides, I have a request for you as well, so don’t think of this as a debt.”

As expected.

Kleio felt a chill, like a blade of ice grazing his neck.

A vague request from Melchior—scarier than a blank check to be signed.

“What would Your Highness ask of me?”

“A short-term guide.”

“Are you planning a trip? But I was born and raised in Colpos and don’t even know Lundain city that well, so I’m not sure where I could guide you.”

“Why wouldn’t there be a place? You have the Stigma of ‘Foresight.’”

“I can’t imagine a destination where I’d need to use even my Stigma.”

“I too will one day enter a remembered world. I’ll need a guide then.”

Melchior’s situation differed from Aslan’s. The crown prince had control over royal assets, so he wouldn’t lack for magic stones or artifacts. He was a level 4 swordsman, but no one said he sought martial power.

‘Did the crown prince show any interest in dungeons in the previous manuscript?’

Searching the manuscript through [Memory], Kleio found a recollection from Isiel, who had accompanied the crown prince into a dungeon.

The “City of Pearls”—the safest of all dungeons. It was the one breather in a manuscript otherwise packed with incident after incident.

When the gate to the “City of Pearls” opened, the crown prince had joined Arthur’s party at a perfect moment.

Arthur and Isiel tried to stop him, but he countered, “Events in the remembered world are matters of my realm too; I cannot back down from protecting my land and people,” defeating their objections with logic.

Thus, the real reason the crown prince entered the dungeon was never revealed. It may have been just for popular appeal.

‘But if he remembers the previous script so well, why does he need a guide? If he knows that much, he should be able to look after himself.’

“Why would Your Highness wish to be somewhere so dangerous?”

“Dear Kleio, I have no obligation to explain my reasons to you.”

Even as he said something reproachful, Melchior’s eyes held a subtle loneliness.

The most frightening character so far was acting out of character, and Kleio felt as if the tide had drawn back before a tsunami.

Kleio barely managed a polite reply.

“My apologies.”

“So I’ll rely on you in the future.”

.

.

.

After that, he was busy following the crown prince.

They passed the corridor where the king slept, turned perhaps nine corners, and climbed and descended five staircases.

Finally, Melchior stopped in front of a long corridor with not a single painting.

The crown prince carefully examined the wall and took off his left glove. Kleio noticed that his hand was just pale and clean, with no need for all that wrapping.

‘Anyway, the stigmata are only on the right hand.’

Then, placing his left hand on a corner of the wall, a complex magic circle began to unfold in reverse from that spot.

‘He’s breaking the seal!’

With [Perception], it was clear.

Several magic circles, such as [Defense] and [Concealment], were simultaneously inscribed inside the wall. The seal must have only been breakable by someone meeting certain conditions.

A few seconds later.

A square, handleless door appeared on the white wall as if a line had been drawn.

“Go on in.”

Despite the grand seal, the library was only the size of a personal study in a large mansion.

On both sides, bookshelves two stories high; opposite the door, a narrow window in the style of Absalom II’s era; at the end of the wall by the door, a magic stone heater and a desk.

Melchior promptly sat in the single armchair by the heater. He took off his straw hat and placed it on the table. He didn’t look like he would be getting up soon.

No wonder he’d so readily opened the library—he meant to keep a close watch on Kleio the entire time.

“Does Your Highness have to remain there the whole time I’m reading?”

“That’s the rule.”

“I may be here for quite a while—is it alright to impose on you so?”

“I’ve heard that mages dislike distractions while studying, but what can I do? Hmm, if it were the queen’s era, there might have been a way, but now there’s no hope.”

“What do you mean?”

“The spouse of the king, if a [Pact] is made, holds equal rights to the king. My grandmother was a queen. Her husband, the king, was said to be interested in books and magic as well.”

Kleio thought, ‘This guy… is he just messing with me?’ but stored the rare information in his head.

‘Not every marriage involves a [Pact]. So could Queen Zuleika come in here or not…’

“It seems there have been few visitors since then.”

Melchior flipped through the nearly blank guestbook Kleio had just signed.

As the crown prince said, there was more than a thirty-year gap between Kleio and the previous visitor.

‘There’s no way Melchior wouldn’t notice a prominent variable like Zuleika. Besides, if his own mother could come in, Aslan wouldn’t have needed Melchior’s permission to enter. Ah—damn, I don’t know.’

“The library is spotless for a place so rarely visited.”

“Do you recognize those tiny patterns on the floor?”

“Pardon?”

“They’re all magic stone platinum. They form a [Preservation] magic circle. This place never gets dirty even without human hands.”

‘I knew the Riognan royal family was wealthy even for the Dernier continent, but this is just…’

For a while, Kleio’s gaze went to the floor rather than the bookshelves, and he had to work to regain his concentration.

“Now that I think of it, there’s one more person who can enter without a companion. The Archbishop of Lundain holds the same authority as the head of the House of Lords.”

“I heard he’s been bedridden for a long time.”

“After decades, the archbishop’s health has improved, and they say I’ll soon receive an audience.”

Through the conversation, the cathedral’s bells tolled.

Dong— Dong—

Kleio had arrived at the palace just after noon, and it was already past 2 p.m.

“Let’s end the preamble here. For today, explore the magical secrets to your heart’s content.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

“By the way, a word of warning. No copying or note-taking. Banned books can’t be taken out—that’s what that means.”

“I understand. Then…”

Worried Melchior might read something in his expression, Kleio hurriedly turned away. He couldn’t help but smile.

‘Copying? Why would I need that when I have [Memory]?’