The heavy wooden doors of the book room creaked open, exhaling a scent that Rozemyne found more intoxicating than the finest floral perfumes of the Sovereignty: the earthy, slightly sweet aroma of aged parchment and magical ink. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, dancing with the dust motes that guarded her sanctuary. Here, the political maneuverings of the duchy and the relentless demands of her noble education faded into a muffled hum.
This short story captures a quiet moment of bibliophilic bliss for Rozemyne within the walls of the Ehrenfest Temple library. The Fragrance of Old Parchment Honzuki no Gekokujou: Shisho ni Naru Tame ni wa...
She climbed her specialized stool, her small fingers trembling slightly with anticipation as she reached for a leather-bound volume she hadn’t yet devoured. To any other noble, this was a repository of records and dry history; to her, it was a gateway. As she opened the cover, the texture of the paper—smooth, yet possessing a soul that only handmade things carry—sent a jolt of pure electricity through her. The heavy wooden doors of the book room
For a few precious bells, she wasn't a Saint, a High Bishop, or a candidate for Archduke. She was simply a girl with a book, finally home. The weight of her responsibilities felt lighter with every turned page, anchored by the simple, profound realization that in this world of magic and stone, she had successfully built a cathedral of stories. This short story captures a quiet moment of
"Ah, this is the life," she whispered to the empty room, her amber eyes widening as she traced the first line of text.