I’d been asking her that casually, but now I felt like I kind of needed to pay for the lesson.
If Sasha had actually worked as a teacher for her job, I probably would’ve been really grumpy and telling her I didn’t want handouts.
Eventually, the line kept moving, and we got into the store.
That was where the real problems started.
The moment we set foot into the retro-chic atmosphere of the bookstore, Sasha’s entire demeanor changed. She seemed to lose all ability to speak, her shoulders froze, and when I took a look under her hood (without asking), she avoided my eyes.
“You okay?” I whispered to her, and she bobbed her head up and down to say yes.
That was when I realized she was a lost cause.
I couldn’t understand why she was so nervous about meeting somebody. This was just an autograph event. She’d buy a book, meet the author, and have them write their name inside—that was all. Wasn’t like somebody was going to eat her or anything.
“You can hold on to my clothes till we get there. I’ll walk for you,” I said, offering her help.
Even if I didn’t understand why she was so nervous, this whole thing was apparently just that important to her, so I at least owed it to her to be considerate.
If I ever had time, I guess I’d borrow that manga from her. I was starting to get more and more curious about what kind of book had spellbound a princess to this degree.
We got to the second floor, at which point, one of the employees called to us, “Here! Please buy the newest release over here.” The girl under the white hood seemed like she’d lost her bearings entirely as she thrust out her money with a quivering hand.
“I’m beggin’ ya, please don’t faint on me.”
“I—I wouldn’t…! I’m not a child…!”
I caught sight of the manga artist—Rifris, or whatever it was. She was a thirty-something slender woman who wore her hair in a large braid and was dressed in a plain white sweater and a brown cardigan. Her back faced the store’s wall as she sat at a long table. She didn’t seem to look too famous like that.
“Next, please. You may come forward.”
Once the employee next to Rifris nodded at us to go, it was finally Sasha’s turn.
It was my first time at an autographing event, but I gathered that she was drawing a character on the endpaper of the books and also writing a direct note.
I was convinced Sasha would go up by herself—“Wait, me too?”—but she kept a death grip on my sleeve as she headed forward to face Rifris.
In the end…
“Hello. Nice to meet you.” I was the one to greet Rifris when I met her gentle eyes. Sasha still had her hood low over her head, and she’d frozen up stiff as a statue. She didn’t seem like she’d make herself useful at all.
“My little sister is a huge fan of yours,” I said. “Sorry, looks like she’s so nervous, she’s frozen up.”
What kind of sick joke was this? Here I was, the destitute son of a farmer, pretending the Princess Sasha was my little sister.
Then again, if anyone figured out it was Sasha Shidoh Zultania hidden under there, it’d be chaos for sure. That’d create trouble for the author, too—and it was probably why Sasha had put on such a big hood to keep her face and hair hidden in the first place.
“Th-thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Rifris forced a smile. Well, figures. Here was her last fan at an autograph session, and it was a hooded girl with a random guy.
“C’mon, give her the book you bought. Don’t you want her to sign it for you?”
Once I gave her some encouragement, Sasha gingerly offered the book she cradled to Rifris.
The author took it in both hands. Then she asked—not me, the tagalong—but Sasha, “Do you have a favorite character?”
Which character someone got drawn on the endpaper was an important choice. But how low was Sasha gonna stoop her head instead of answering? All she did was deflate even more, like the embarrassment was weighing down on her.
Internally, I was screaming at her to stop messing around, but I didn’t let that break my polite smile. I remembered my talk with Sasha and the main character’s name.
“What was it again—Akasha? Akasha would work, right?”
That seemed to be the right answer. The hood nodded—a whole two times.
“All right. Then I’ll draw you something nice.”
Rifris drew with her brush for just barely a minute. The character started to appear like magic. She looked like a determined girl with short hair. There was a speech bubble that said, “Thank you for your support!”
“And, um, who should I address it to?”
“Sasha, please.”
“Sasha—just like the princess.”
“Yes, that’s right. I wish she could be nearly as composed as Her Highness.”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha. All done. Here you go, Sasha.”
Finally, Rifris closed off with a fluid signature and the words To Sasha, and the only signed book in the world made specifically for Sasha was done.
“C’mon, Sasha. Aren’t ya gonna thank her?”
I felt bad that she’d been silent the whole entire time in front of Rifris.
With that little bit of encouragement, Sasha managed to squeeze out a whisper. “Th-thank you so much…” Quick as a little creature, she bowed real low and deep.
I led Sasha along out of the shop while she continued to cradle her autographed book in her arms.
Outside was overflowing with the normal crowds. I’m finally back. I sighed as though I’d just finished a job. It seemed like Sasha had finally come back to her senses, too, and she sheepishly looked up at me.
“Th-thank you, Feil Fonaf.”
I didn’t say anything—just roughly set a hand on her hooded head and tousled it. Normally, that’d be the equivalent of blasphemy and would’ve gotten me sent to prison, but until that point, this princess had been my little sister.