As I sat there, with my hands trembling, the prince silently scanned the few translated words I’d managed to piece together. The room was so quiet, I could hear the sand slipping through the hourglass, each grain marking a second that stretched into eternity.

My pulse thundered in my ears, a frantic rhythm against the oppressive silence. The prince’s gaze was unrelenting, his expression unreadable as he dissected every detail. The silence grew thicker, like a weight pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

“Hmm…” he finally muttered, a soft, contemplative noise that seemed almost deafening in the stillness, amplifying the tension inside the room.

‘Great,’ I thought, stealing a nervous glance at the intimidating figure beside him. ‘He’s probably brought that warrior to finish me off. No use fretting now—I did what I could. Decoding those ancient symbols felt like trying to untangle a mess of angry snakes.’

If I must die, at least let it be after I’ve had a chance to wear my new shoes…and don't make it painful as well. I silently cried.

“Life, Deep Sleep, and Overcome. Is this everything?” the prince’s voice cut through my thoughts with a sharp and demanding tone.

“Uh, I apologize, sir— I mean, your highness. I had...limited time,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray the fear creeping up my spine.

“How long would it take you to decode all the symbols?” he asked, cutting straight to the point.

“Well, it actually depends on—” I began, but he wasn’t interested in the details or elaborated explanation.

“I need an exact answer.”

The sudden clink of his sword against the chair made me jump. “A week?” I blurted out in a panic.

His brow shot up, eyes flashing dangerously. "A week? That fast?"

‘Wait, that’s fast? I almost said two or three days. Can I stretch this out?’

“Sorry, I misspoke—a year,” I quickly amended, praying he’d buy it.

“A year, hm? Perfect… for your head to be displayed at the gate.” He unsheathed his sword, laying it on the table with a metallic clink that chilled me to the core.

‘Asshole.’

“I can sacrifice my sleep and decode the scripture in a month, Your Highness!” I stammered, my corporate survival instincts kicking in, and I can't help it “I promise!”

The prince chuckled, low and chilling. “Now we’re talking. My historians have spent months on mere fragments, but you’ve done more in a matter of hour. Impressive.”

“Uh… thank you?” I squeaked, trying to grasp what he’d just implied.

“Ethan, guide this little lark to the historians. They’ll be thrilled to have another head.” The prince waved me off like a bored tyrant, dismissing me as if I were nothing more than an amusing diversion. As Ethan led me out, I showered the prince with hollow thanks, all the while feeling dread coil tighter in my stomach.

As soon as the door closed behind me, reality hit like a wave, and I nearly collapsed, sliding to the cold floor, overwhelmed by rage and desperation. ‘That prince just made a fool of me, didn’t he?’ My fists clenched, and for a wild second, I imagined storming back in there and wiping that smug smirk off his face.

But reality bit hard—I know for a fact that a single act of rebellion here wouldn’t end with anything but my head rolling. I silently taking my time to calm and contain the rage inside me, leaving only a bitter taste, and I clenched my teeth, feeling the weight of my own stupidity.

‘What kind of mess have I gotten myself into? I should have said a month or two!’ I want to slap myself. I’m such an idiot! I got so scared with those blades that I can't think straight.

“Are you alright, sire?” Ethan’s voice pulled me back, and I looked up at his concerned face.

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‘Do I look alright? I’m stuck here, with my brand-new shoes lost, my belongings gone, and now I’m pretending to be some servant-scholar in a world I don’t even know where!’ I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to breathe as I wrestled down the frustration boiling up inside me that I barely contained.

That prince started this, and I’d see to it that he’d regret it in time. If this world wants to play a game with me, bring it on! I’m not the type to back down without a fight.

With a shaky breath, I lifted my head and met Ethan’s gaze. “I’ll be fine,” I fibbed through clenched teeth, tasting the sharp bitterness of my own words. Just wait—I’ll find a way out of this and make you cry a river!

Inside the historians’ office, Ethan guided me in, and I was immediately greeted by the most cheerful man. “So, you’re the one? We’ve heard you can read and write ancient scripts. That’s extraordinary!”

'Wow, news travels fast!' I marveled as I was greeted enthusiastically by a man who introduced himself as Leon, shortly after Ethan left me this pretty man. As I stepped further inside, something unusual caught my attention: all the men in the room were of slight build, much like my own. No wonder they weren't suspicious of me. Effeminacy was common here, I realized with relief. But...aren't they too pretty than me, and these are men? I silently cried as bitterness with the unfair genes crept inside my head.

“Ah, no, not quite. I can only read and write a few languages, but not those ancient characters…” I quickly corrected him, trying to avoid confusion.

Leon only smile that didn’t quite match the cold precision I expected from someone who’d been decoding texts for years. He was striking, sure, with those emerald green bright eyes and pink hair that caught the light—but it was his calm confidence that unnerved me more than anything else. I had the feeling this was a guy who rarely missed a detail.

I was staring at eight historian men before me, fresh from my unsettling encounter with the prince. However, only a few of them truly stood out to me, thanks to their striking looks—the rest were, well, just normal. Thank god! Like a schoolgirl on her first day at a new school, I instinctively scanned the room for any dashing men, completely forgetting that I’d narrowly escaped disaster in the prince’s office earlier.

“Still, I believe you’ll be a great asset to us. I heard you decoded words from a scroll in mere hours. That’s remarkable!”

If only you knew the pressure I was under. My thoughts flashed back to the prince’s sword, gleaming far too close. I almost wanted to strangle the man for bringing it all up again. But I only smiled back as he started to lead me the way.

All I wanted was a moment to rest, but Leon was so enthusiastic I didn’t even have a chance to sit. It feels like just hours ago, I’d been in the throes of war, and now I was meeting historians who were apparently thrilled to have me. I tried to remember their names, but they flew right past me. I’m terrible at names anyway.

And then Leon introduced me to Rowell, even more timid than I was. With violet eyes and hair, he looked like a prince from a fairytale—almost too otherworldly for this grim reality.

Then there was Marco, dark and sharp-eyed, not the sort of man who’d lose sleep over a duel. Out of the eight historians, these three stood out. Whether that was a good thing or not, I hadn’t decided—especially with the memory of the prince’s gleaming sword still fresh in my mind. Sometimes looks can be deceiving.

Just when I thought I could rest, the door opened again, and a group of warriors entered, led by a man who immediately commanded attention. His ash-blue hair was neatly combed, contrasting with his light eyes, which held a stern, icy gaze. His features were sharp, and the glasses perched on his nose only added to his no-nonsense air. With two warriors flanking him, it was clear he was someone who demanded respect without uttering a word. All the historians lined up and bowed their heads, and I quickly followed suit, still haunted by the prince’s unsettling smile, it was not charming at all!

The announcement of an expedition to retrieve an ancient text rolled off his tongue with the precision of someone who left no room for questions or doubts.

“Since we have acquired new talent capable of reading ancient texts more quickly, His Highness the Crown Prince wishes to seize this opportunity to retrieve the last ancient script. He expects the selected historians to decode the Arcanographica at a significantly faster rate. In return, he will assign a warrior to each historian for training and protection during the upcoming war.”

Is the prince obsessed with war or something? I thought bitterly. I just got off the battlefield, and now he’s all, ‘Let’s do another war, guys!’ I’m not your go-to warrior right now—I need a massage or spa, not another round of war!

"The historians chosen are... the little lark?"

“…”

I met the assistant’s eyes as he puzzled over the paper. “It seems this refers to you, new guy.”

That bastard. I felt my stomach drop. He picked me of all people. And what’s with that creepy nickname?

“State your name, young man.”

"Uh, fuck." I was too flustered to respond right away.

What is wrong with that prince? Is he really the lord of the underworld? Realizing everyone was staring at me, I quickly snapped out of it.

“What?” I asked, realizing the assistant was still waiting. "Uh...Tuck. You can call me Tuck," I said, forcing a smile that definitely didn't make me look happy at all.

"Alright, Tuk it is."

I blinked. "No, no, it's Tuck—T-U-C-K." I tried again, as if the universe had somehow skipped over that important detail.

“Right, Tuk it is.”

What the—what is wrong with this guy's tongue? Am I being tricked right now? Fine. Whatever. It’s not like Tuck is even my real name, anyway.

“Along with Tuk, Leon, Rowell, and Marco will have assigned warriors and will accompany His Highness to retrieve the secret scroll. Be grateful for this honor and opportunity bestowed upon you by His Highness."

‘Grateful, my ass. Just let me rest!’

When the assistant closed the paper, I hesitantly raised my hand.

“Sorry, but… why do we have to join the war? Couldn’t we follow up when things are safer?”

“Are you questioning His Highness’s decision, historian?” The assistant’s tone cut through the air, sharp with irritation and authority.

“No, that’s not what I mean—”

“I’ll let this slide since it’s your first day, and His Highness seems to take a liking to you. But understand this—such impertinent questions are not tolerated in this Empire. I hope you understand, Historian Tuk.” I clasped my hands, gritting my teeth. I barely survived today, so I had to be patient and just go with it.

‘So basically, we don’t have a choice but to do whatever the prince commands?!’

"Apologies, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind," I muttered.

"Good. Historian Eleonor, I’ll leave the task of educating our new historian on the nature of your work to you."

"It will be an honor, my lord," Leon responded, as composed as ever, like a true noble.

As the assistant droned on about the prince's expectations and updates for Sire Leon, I ignored their conversation that I couldn't really understand and found myself tuning out around me. The room was filled with papers, scrolls, and books, resembling a chaotic library. It was the kind of room that screamed "genius"—the type of place I usually avoided at all costs.

Why? Because genius types always have endless questions buzzing around in their heads, and they'll sacrifice sleep to chase down every last answer. That’s the complete opposite of me—I’d rather catch up on sleep than anything else. Being surrounded by all these bright people made me feel like I’d wandered into the wrong place. All I could think about now was how much I’d rather be curled up in bed with a snack in my hand while watching movies than stuck in a room that smells like books and papers.

I can't help but to wonder if I will be able to maintain this lie and access the Arcanographica that even this so called historian can't do, or will my deception lead to my downfall?