The Sentimentality of the Reincarnated Princess

The Sentimentality of the Reincarnated Princess

On one particular day, I’d spent the whole afternoon in my room. I ceased stitching on the embroidery pattern that I’d been working on, and raised my head to the window.

Black clouds had, at some point, blanketed the sky, which had been relatively clear until just past noon. Although it was only a little after three o’clock, the area was as dim as dusk, and the air felt heavy with humidity.

I let out a sigh, expressing my melancholy at the impending promise of a storm. I liked the sound of rain, but the humidity wasn’t a welcome guest. I found the air unpleasant when it clung to my skin, but the worst part was that it made a frizzy mess of my hair. Hairstyle worries during the rainy season might just be the inescapable fate of women with curls.

I placed the embroidery frame, which held a handkerchief in place for needlework, down on the table, and used my hand to smooth the frizzy expansion of my hair.

Embroidery was one of the essential skills in the education of girls from royal and noble families. It wasn’t exactly my forte though; if I were to continue my practice in this dark room, the stitches destined for the handkerchief would become pinpricks on my fingers instead.

I think I’ll call it quits for today and find something else to do.

I got up from the sofa where I had been sitting and approached the bookcase, which stood in the corner of the room. Unlike the bookcase in my older brother’s room, which was large and practical, the one in my room was a small and ostentatious thing, with carvings of plants decorating all sides of the frame.

Since I was still petite at nine years old, I appreciated that the bookcase was short enough for me to reach any shelf by just stretching my arms. However, I really wanted a set of shelves that I could stuff many more books onto. Besides, I didn’t see the need for a bookcase to be designed so gaudily.

If I were to take up an entire wall, how many bookcases, which were each roughly six square feet, could I add to the space? I would want the volumes of books to be split up by category, so I’d need at least two, no, three bookcases.

While I was thinking, I reached out my hand to the shelf. The book that I pulled by chance was a fairy tale, with a cover in faded red. In its center was a depiction of two young children, a boy and a girl, holding hands. The paper was discolored, and the corners of the cover were worn. It looked a little damaged.

This book had come in handy when I’d been learning to read and write, and when I was younger, I’d often read it to Johan.

I opened the book with a sense of nostalgia. The story was a little tale of adventure undertaken by a young girl and her little brother as they traveled home after losing their way. At one point, the two characters gave candy to a hungry fairy so that it would guide their way. There was also a game of riddles with a talking cat, and a search for a bride for a monstrous frog.

The story was written more for girls’ interests, and since he was a boy, I’d thought that Johan might’ve not been receptive. But this was the book that Johan always chose before his afternoon nap. Whenever the sister in the story found herself in a pinch, Johan’s little hands would grip the sleeves of my clothes. I’d found it ever so cute.

“Don’t worry, sister. I’ll protect you,” Johan would call out to me desperately, with his sweet, lispy voice. I could have mistaken him for an angel.

Johan veered into becoming a yandere at some point along the way. I’ve been so wrapped up with measures to counter his obsessive behavior that I almost forgot about my own strong feelings of affection for him, as well as my brocon tendencies.

The memory brought a self-deprecating smile to my lips.

Johan was growing up splendidly and I was certain that entrusting him to Chris wasn’t a mistake. I’d also understood that once his education began in earnest and he left my side, we would have few opportunities to meet, even though we lived in the same palace. Henceforth, the gulf between us would only grow larger—both the physical gulf and the emotional one.

I chose to walk this path and I have no regrets. Even so, I have an ever-so-slight feeling of loneliness. I’m just feeling selfish.

“Lady Rosemary,” Klaus called out to me. His voice dragged me back to reality, away from the solemn thoughts that I’d become caught in.

I closed the fairy tale book and looked over to the entrance of the room.

“You have a visitor,” he said.

“Who is it?” I asked, confused. I hadn’t expected any visitors. Moreover, I could only imagine that it was someone who knew me well. After all, they’d come straight to my bedroom rather than my living room.

“Sister, it’s me.”

I held my breath and my eyes shot wide open. The voice from beyond the doorway sounded more mature than the one I remembered. His relaxed tone was elegant and just a little deeper. Even so, there was no way that I could mistake my little brother’s voice.

“Johan.”

You couldn’t have been more timely.

What were the chances that the person who I’d been reminiscing about would turn up at this exact moment?

“May I come in?” he asked inquisitively.

“Please do,” I responded after a moment of hesitation.

The door swung wide open.

I gazed at him in wonder once again. I’d expected to see my tiny little brother, with red chubby cheeks, staring up at me with his big round eyes, but that wasn’t quite what I found.

He had golden hair which was like an angel’s halo, and deep-blue eyes that showed glimmers of his intelligence. The plumpness of his cheeks had subsided, giving way to sharp, defined features. While he’d grown taller, he hadn’t grown wider to the same extent. He looked thin, but his upright posture possessed a beautiful dignity nonetheless.

I’d heard that growing boys would change dramatically if you went a little while without seeing them, and now I believed it. There was some resemblance to the old Johan, but the impression he made had changed so much. I didn’t see a single shred left of my spoiled, selfish little brother.

Who is this guy?

“Big sister.”

Gently, his sweet, attractive face opened up into a smile. My mind hadn’t accepted the reality of his new demeanor when I’d first seen him, but there was only one person in this world who called me “big sister.”

“It’s been some time, Johan.” I looked up at him while putting on a faint smile.

His height had overtaken mine during his time away, but the cheerful smile on his face was exactly the same as when he’d been younger, back when he would chase after me and call out, “Big sister! Big sister!”

“There’s something that I’d like to discuss with you. Are you free at the moment?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Come on in.” I beckoned. “Klaus, could you have the maids fetch some tea for—”

“That’s quite all right, Rosie.”

I’d turned to Klaus, and was about to ask him to tell the maids to prepare tea for us, but Johan didn’t let me finish. I looked up to find a rather serious expression on his face.

“Klaus, I’d like you to leave too,” my brother said. “I want to be alone with my sister for a little while.”

Klaus squinted his eyes and creased his eyebrows. His expression beat his voice to the refusal. “With all due respect, I am Lady Rosemary’s personal guard. My duties forbid me from leaving her side.”

This guy won’t even budge for a prince, huh. Not pandering to the powerful has a nice ring to it, but God, talk about being reckless. Also, a little bit of me wishes that Klaus would read the room.

My head started to ache just watching Johan and Klaus glare at each other.

“Klaus.” Exasperated, I signaled with my eyes for Klaus to make himself scarce. Even so, he scrunched up his face in a silent expression of discontent. However, when I voiced the word “please,” he reluctantly retreated.

I offered for Johan to sit on the sofa so as to clear out the odd mood that hung in the air. Johan seated himself opposite to me and hung his head for some time in silence. The room fell quiet, except for the sound of rain and the distant claps of thunder.

Now that I think about it, didn’t Johan and I used to sleep together on stormy nights? Neither of us could handle thunder, so we’d pull the blankets over our heads and wait for morning in each other’s arms.

I wonder if he can handle thunder now? I thought, looking over to check on him. Johan wore a nostalgic smile as he watched the storm outside.

“Days with thunder are special to me.”

“What?” I tilted my head, unsure what to make of his whisper. Seeing that, Johan turned his gaze to me.

“They are special days when I can sleep next to my big sister,” he continued in a hushed tone, as though letting me in on a secret.

I realized that we’d been reminiscing about the same memory. Maybe this was just a misunderstanding on my part, but it felt like there was a sort of discrepancy in our perception of it.

Sensing my confusion, Johan drooped his eyebrows in a troubled look.

“Back then, for 365 days of the year, the only thought in my mind was how to draw your attention.”

Whoa now, too clingy for me.

I’d known that he was obsessed with me, but learning that I’d been the only thing on his mind all year forced me to accept that I’d underestimated the extent of his obsession.

Johan pursed his lips in a look of self-deprecation. I wasn’t sure whether he’d noticed that beneath my expressionless face, I was secretly shuddering.

“I never for a second doubted that, if I could just keep hold of your hand, I would be able to stay forever by your side. What a spoiled and hopelessly foolish child I was.”

“Johan?” I asked tentatively.

“I was beyond help because, in my failure to understand my own tininess, I’d mistakenly believed that everything would turn out the way that I’d hoped.”

“But that’s nothing to fret over,” I said. “You were so young.”

In response to Johan’s argument, which was unusually cynical for his age, I found myself trying to reassure him. Instead of accepting my words, he shook his head with a strained smile.

“When I said ‘tiny,’ I wasn’t only referring to my stature,” stated Johan.

“Then what are you talking about?” I asked.

“Influence,” he responded. “I have no power of my own. I couldn’t even compel your guard to move, let alone a country.”

I fell into an inadvertent silence.

Uhh, Klaus, you’d better apologize to him.

“If the unthinkable were to happen right now, there’d be nothing I could do to stop it,” Johan continued.

“The unthinkable?” I wondered. “Like what?”

“Like...” Johan murmured in a voice too quiet for me to make out.

“Sorry?” I asked him to repeat himself, but he only returned a smile.

“No, it’s nothing. There’s a limit to what I can achieve on my own. That’s why I want to become someone who can support Christoph. Support our country.”

His dignified gaze compelled me to stand up straight, almost gasping.

He’s grown up so wonderfully in the short time that we’ve been apart.

His progress pleased me so much that my expression naturally softened. But what he said next made my face go rigid instead.

“And so,” he said, “I have decided that my first step will be to study abroad in our neighboring country, Vint.”

“W-What?” I stood dumbfounded, while Johan smiled at me.

“I don’t expect to become a first-rate prince while I’m there, but I don’t plan on returning until I can learn to be a little more useful.” Johan stated this with a calm expression, and determination shone in his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty to be found in his face.

“Right,” I commented with a quiet tone of voice.

Johan was no longer the little boy who’d opened his heart only to me. He had set forth on a path which he’d chosen under his own initiative. From the looks of things, he hadn’t needed me to act as his guardian for some time now.

I’m proud of Johan for stepping out of my shadow—that certainly deserves praise. But, is it egotistical to feel a little sentimental at the same time? How pathetic of me. After all that time praying that he’d become more independent, I’m struck with worry the moment he does.

“Take care of your health,” I told him.

“I will.”

“Be sure not to work too hard while you’re on your own,” I continued.

“I won’t.”

“And don’t push yourself too hard.”

Johan nodded at each of my requests. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his eyes narrowed, and he let out a hearty laugh.

“I’ll be all right,” he assured me. “You might not know it, but I’m stubborn and can handle things by myself.”

“Really?” I asked.

My strongest mental image of him was as a spoiled crybaby, so I wasn’t sure. I’d inadvertently expressed my doubts, and Johan had nonchalantly replied.

“Really,” Johan asserted. “Though I used to cry a lot when I wanted you to play with me, they were generally crocodile tears.”

His world-rocking confession, presented like it was nothing at all, stole all words from me.

No way.

“Y-You, uhh, they were crocodile tears?” I sputtered.

“That’s right,” he finished with a nice smile, and I missed my chance to reproach him.

Without an outlet, just where in the world do I direct my rage now?

“So don’t worry about me, and wait for my return,” Johan said with a mature look in his eyes.

Was the revelation about his tears just meant to allay my concerns? It’s getting harder to tell which of us is the older one.

“Take care,” I told him. “I’ll be waiting here for you to come back safe and sound.”

I relaxed my shoulders and put on a smile. Johan squinted his eyes joyfully and nodded.