So I Was the Persecuted Grand Duchess Destined to Die? Chapter 22

Chapter 22

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“I really think you should rest again today.”

“What?! Again today?!”

“You’re not fully over your cold yet, are you?”

“I’m getting itchy—what about leveling the soil in the garden?”

I was a born homebody.

And honestly, homebodies split into two types:

the kind who’s always fiddling with something—reading, journaling, tidying, doing chores… always busy inside the house,

and the kind who lies there like a corpse and does absolutely nothing.

I was definitely the first type.

Back in grad school, though—research, fieldwork, papers, being dragged around by professors—I’d been ground down so thoroughly I was forced into the second type of life.

But here?

Eating well. Sleeping well. Resting well.

My “busy little homebody” nature had revived.

“That’s what the maids will do.”

“No! That’s my fun! If you’re going to do it, do it with me. Yeah? Please?”

“…Fine. But only after you’re fully recovered. This kind of weather is exactly how you catch a cold again.”

“Ugh, I’m so bored. Then… should we clean the storage room? That’s indoors, at least.”

“My laaaady…”

Betty was definitely starting to think I was hopeless.

But I couldn’t help it.

This world didn’t have smartphones, obviously.

I’d been bedridden for days, but I didn’t regret going to the festival—because I felt in my bones how much a single event could revive you.

For now, I’d avoid meeting people, sure…

But if my body worked, I had a whole new category of “events” called housework.

And once I started farming, there’d be even more.

I want to farm already. The moment it gets warm—watch me. I’ll plant everything.

“Hmm…”

Betty tilted her head, looking troubled, as if she’d finally read the desperation in my eyes.

I was so close. One more push—

“Good heavens, my lady!”

“Huh?”

Suddenly, Betty called out with a pale face.

I blinked, confused—and then felt something trickling down my chin.

Startled, I looked down.

Dark red drops splattered onto the blanket.

Damn it. Why a nosebleed now?!

Betty, nearly fainting, rushed to clamp a handkerchief over my nose.

With one nostril blocked, I spoke in a nasal voice.

“S-so… should we wash the blanket?”

Betty’s expression turned downright vicious.

Betty—who rarely ever bared her teeth at me.

I was shocked.

…and immediately deflated.

Even if it was a long shot, I’d thought Betty was soft on me. I figured if I acted cute, she’d fold—

“No chance. Sleep. Now.”

Sorry, Betty.

But “no chance” applies to you too.

“I’ve slept so much I can’t even fall asleep.”

Counting sheep, spiraling into fantasies—everything was tapped out.

After seeing me bleed, Betty had force-fed me a spoonful of syrupy medicine, sighed, and even kindly put an eye mask on me.

Then she sat by my bed until I “fell asleep.”

I understood her worry. She thought I’d run around again and get worse.

So I behaved—made my breathing slow and steady like I was out cold.

My eyes were wide open under the mask, but hey.

How would she know?

Once she’d decided I was asleep, I felt her lean close to check me.

Then—rustle of fabric.

Click.

The door closed.

I waited about ten minutes, just in case.

Then I slid the mask up.

As expected, Betty was completely gone.

“Heh.”

A wicked little laugh escaped me.

“Slip out quietly like a shadow. If nobody notices, it doesn’t count, right? That means it never happened.”

It was broad daylight, but whatever.

I threw on some clothes and stepped outside.

With the nosebleed, yeah—there was probably still some cold left.

So heavy movement was a no-go.

“I’ll go to the library and grab a ton of books.”

If I had nothing to do, shouldn’t I return to the basics?

I practically skipped toward the main building.

Sure, I’d once gotten caught sneaking a bath and got scolded…

But—

We built some kind of rapport at the festival, didn’t we? He’ll let a quick trip slide… And if he doesn’t catch me, who cares?

Since I didn’t want to talk to anyone outside the Ga-Na-Da maid squad, I moved fast and stuck to blind spots.

And it worked.

Heh. Nobody spotted me all the way here.

Maybe I had the talent of an assassin.

Not that I wanted to kill anyone.

Anyway—since I’d come a few times before, I arrived quickly.

But the moment I rounded the corner, I froze.

“Huh?!”

The library doors, once eaten alive by bluish rust, were now restored to their original shine—glittering like new.

I carefully pushed them open.

Before, they hadn’t budged for me at all.

Now, with the lightest shove, they opened smoothly.

And because it was still daytime, sunlight streamed through the tall windows.

“Oh…”

The library that had once made me dizzy just imagining cleaning it…

was now not just clean—it was polished to a gleam.

Did the girls do all of this? And they didn’t even brag once?

Knowing how much work it must’ve taken made my guilt twice as heavy.

Anyone else would’ve ended up sick in my place.

Along with the guilt, a soft excitement bubbled up too.

I’d always loved libraries in my old life.

(For the record, my favorite place is still my house.)

The scent of books—stronger now that the dust was gone—made my heart thump.

“This much effort… I should at least read a little before I go.”

It would be rude not to use it.

Betty… I could probably smooth her over with some strategic pathetic-face acting.

And the Grand Duke…?

Eh. It’ll be fine. Worst case, I get yelled at. Whatever.

With my self-justification complete, I stepped in.

The massive library still held countless old volumes, sleeping quietly on their shelves.

Just looking at them made me giddy.

I’d always had an odd love for old things.

“Hmm…”

As I scanned the nearest shelves, a thought struck me.

Have I been… too carefree?

I got isekai’d, sure—but after that, I’d basically just lived.

Hadn’t I been way too indifferent about this world?

To be fair, I’d always been the “if it’s fine, it’s fine” type…

Still—

I know this is the Celeste territory in the northern Rembrandt Empire… but that’s literally all I know. Isn’t that kind of insane?

But come on.

It’s not like I’m studying geography.

How was I supposed to memorize every place name in a romance fantasy novel?

I never even had the habit of memorizing character names and locations.

I was addicted to reading—the act itself was enough to satisfy me.

And most of what I read was web fiction, so I’d inhale it between tasks, on the move.

If I can’t remember anything at all… then it probably wasn’t a novel that stuck with me.

The tragedy of being a grad student—my brain had been too full of “important information.”

If I’d known I’d die and get isekai’d like this, I would’ve studied romance fantasy instead of a PhD.

But, well. Too late.

Whatever. If I keep living, maybe I’ll remember something eventually.

Back to my usual comforting mindset.

With no better plan, I pulled a random book off the shelf.

For now, I wanted to focus on the page in front of me.

I walked to the long wooden table in the center of the library, picked the sunniest spot, and opened the book.

Silence settled.

A lazy afternoon with nothing but the soft flutter of turning pages.

And just like that, I sank into words.

Meanwhile, at the same time—

Xavier sat in his study with a pen in hand.

His eyes were on the paperwork, but his head was a mess of tangled thoughts.

For days now, the festival kept replaying in his mind—over and over again.