In the end, I’d decided to open up about my worries and ask for advice. I’d ended up receiving a very surprising answer.
“My lady, would you consider implementing that ‘name usage fee’ you mentioned the other day?” Daniil Legall, who looked strangely worn out, asked me.
Daniil had the air of an intellectual thanks to his gray hair, memorable jade-green eyes, and silver-rimmed spectacles. As the son of the president of the Supreme Court, he was practically royalty in the legal world. When we were in the duchy, he’d been instrumental in destroying Novadain’s hopes of marrying his daughter Kira to Alexei.
Today, however, even his silver-rimmed spectacles appeared clouded.
“Did something happen, Lord Daniil?”
“I carelessly let this matter come to my father’s attention. He believes the law must evolve to improve the lives of the people. Ever since, he’s been pressing me to urge the Yulnova to conduct a trial to examine the practicality and necessity of new legislation protecting rights to names. I’m afraid there is not a shred of common sense in my father’s head, only thousands of laws and judicial precedents from all ages and places... He has spent the last few days talking my ears off about every law and precedent related to this he could think of. I can’t take it anymore.”
Well, Daniil’s father was the highest legal authority in the empire.
Did he really just say that such an illustrious man doesn’t have “a shred of common sense”?
Daniil seemed to notice my shock, and he cleared his throat. Then, he gave me a few of the examples his father had been discussing and helped me put together clear arguments in favor of implementing a name usage fee.
When we were done, I asked him about Kira Novadain. She was currently working as a maid at his estate. She was apparently doing fine.
“She’s full of energy and always has interesting reactions. My father never grows tired of teasing her, which has been a great help.”
I didn’t see how that could be any help to anyone, but I gave up on asking for an explanation. Instead, my thoughts flowed in another direction entirely. I couldn’t help but think about how interesting it was that history always seemed to follow the same principles.
My previous world and this one had similar pasts. Somewhere, within these shared experiences, the idea of a licensing fee had been born. In my previous world, it had grown and developed until it had reached a point where everyone thought it was common sense. In this world too, the seed had started to sprout. Surely, it would be accepted by all someday.
Maybe I’m not an outlier.
Lev gazed at me, taken aback by the distant look in my eyes as I reminisced. I snapped out of it and smiled for him.
“Could you show me the pens you made for Duke Yulsein? I’ve been looking forward to seeing them,” I said.
“Of course. Please take a look, my lady.”
The velvet box Lev presented to me was teal. I’d never met the duke of Yulsein, but I could only assume his hair was the color of the beautiful water above coral reefs, just like that of his younger sister, Magdalena.
I opened the box to find three glass pens neatly lined up inside it. Like the empress’s, their main color was teal. The impression they gave off, however, was very different.
The first pen was made up of two filaments twisted around one another, one teal and the other jet-black. I’d heard the duke of Yulsein’s wife was a princess from beyond the Summit of the Gods. She likely was a black-haired beauty. My eyes were drawn to the black glass. It was absolutely fascinating—the dark color was so beautifully deep that I thought I might get lost in it.
The second pen was the most lavish of all the pens Lev had crafted so far. Most of the grip was covered in gold, with stylized plants painted over it with vivid enamel paint. Around the white lilies were gracious green arcs that represented ivy. The precise shapes were so perfectly symmetrical that I couldn’t stop myself from staring at them. I could hardly believe that a human hand had achieved such flawless symmetry on the curved surface of a glass pen. The gold of the lavish pen glowed under the light. Maybe Lev had chosen this design to match the aesthetic sense of the people from beyond the Summit of the Gods. The duke of Yulsein wanted to show off his pen to the foreign merchants he often met with, and this design seemed to fit this goal to perfection.
The last pen was the one dedicated to the Goddess of Beauty. As far as the shape went, it had a bulbous grip that gradually tapered to a slender end. On the bulbous part was a painting of the Goddess of Beauty.
In my previous world, the Greek Goddess of Beauty was said to have been born from sea-foam. In the famous Botticelli painting, she appeared naked, standing atop a large seashell.
Interestingly enough, in this world too, the Goddess of Beauty was said to have been born from sea-foam in the days of the ancient Astra Empire.
To evoke this theme, the bulbous end of the pen was clear like foam or perhaps nacre. It was surrounded by surging teal waves. The white crests foaming at their edges were outlined in enamel. They reminded me of a hanging curtain protecting the goddess, like a membrane protecting a pearl.
The goddess had black hair—a request from the duke of Yulsein. Her pale and voluptuous body was hidden by a thin piece of white fabric and her jet-black hair as she rested, using her arms as a pillow. She appeared comfortably asleep.
The painting was no bigger than the tip of a finger, and the teal waves obscured some of the details, making it impossible to properly see the features of the goddess’s face. Despite the missing features, she was gorgeous. The lines of her cheeks, her full lips, and the curves of her body shone with womanly charm. If anything, obscuring her face made her all the more beautiful, since everyone could picture their own personal version of the most beautiful woman in the world.
The goddess slept, protected inside a pearl, enshrouded in teal waters—an unspoiled and innocent beauty, yet to be born into the world.
To write with this pen, one would need to wrap their hand around her, further shielding her from view, all the while holding her in the palm of their hand.
I let out a deep, impressed sigh. After a long pause, I declared, “You’ve done wonderful work once more, Lev.”
In Japan, we had a saying about how a woman was the most beautiful in the dark, from a distance, or hidden under her umbrella. Not being able to see someone’s face well often made them appear more beautiful. After worrying for so long about how to draw the Goddess of Beauty, Lev had thought of obscuring her features. And he’d found such a creative, artistic way to do so.
You’re amazing!
“The duke of Yulsein must love his wife very much. I’m sure he’ll be pleased at the idea of holding the goddess in his palm,” I said. “I met the former emperor a few weeks ago. He knew of the glass pens and told me he’d like one for himself. I’m sure we’ll receive a formal order before long. When the time comes, I’ll be counting on you again, Lev.”
“His Former Majesty truly said that?! Thank you!”
Lev’s face flushed red, and he bowed respectfully.
This was my first time visiting the white-walled residence of the duke of Yulsein. The outside was stylish and looked like it had been inspired by foreign design. Our carriage from the House of Yulnova passed through the massive gold-accented steel gates, which stood wide open to signal the duke’s intention to welcome us warmly.
As we neared the residence, I realized that the walls were not white but in fact covered with delicate light-blue tiles. It brought Mediterranean and Indian architecture to mind—the Taj Mahal in particular.
I sighed in appreciation. “What a beautiful mansion,” I said to Alexei, who was at my side. “Despite being in the capital, it has an exotic air.”
He smiled. “If you like it, I’ll have our residence remodeled in this style.”
“Oh, brother!” I chided playfully.
I had laughed, but I was sweating on the inside. If anyone else in the world had said these words, I would have assumed they were joking. Alexei, however, was definitely serious.
You can’t just rebuild our residence, brother! It’ll cost billions of yen! No! More! I remembered reading that building the State Guest House of Akasaka had cost over 100 billion yen. Please don’t be ready to toss around such amounts whenever I like something!
It would have been a very Alexei thing to do, though.
“However wonderful this place is, I like our residence the best,” I said. “I couldn’t bear to see the room in which you held my hand for the first time disappear.”
“I see... I’m glad that moment is still so dear to you. It’s also a precious memory to me—one that shines radiantly.”
I smiled at him, just as the carriage came to a stop.
When we got off the carriage, a man I assumed was the Yulseins’ butler was waiting for us. He bowed respectfully.
“Welcome, Your Grace, Lady Ekaterina.” He offered us a friendly smile.
I returned the expression.
Unlike Graham, whose bearing screamed “dignified butler of a prestigious noble house” at a glance, this man didn’t quite look the part. He was stout and not very tall, his nose was large and sharp, and his jet-black hair sat atop a wide forehead with bushy eyebrows. However, I felt like his smile had the ability to draw people in, and he immediately made us feel right at home. Since he served as the butler for the House of Yulsein, I had no doubt he was a very talented man.
Alexei escorted me as we followed the butler inside.
Many of the objects that decorated the corridors had come from outside the Yulgran Empire. There was even a life-sized camel statue that I couldn’t help but stare at in astonishment. While the shape mirrored a camel exactly, it was set with agate and quartz, making the work of art worthy of display at a grand duke’s house.