Chapter 221
Did he use magic to throw me out of the shop?
And is the door not opening because of magic, too?
‘No, but is it really that easy to move someone like that?’
As was the case in most worlds where magic existed, spatial teleportation here was considered an extremely high-level feat.
The Emperor from her memories had performed that difficult magic effortlessly, even while carrying Jaha—but then again, he was one of the top five mages on the entire continent.
A random general store owner pulling this off? No way he’s just some ordinary guy.
“Hey? Open the door!”
Jaha knocked, trying to reason with him, but there was only silence.
“I said open the damn door?”
Even if her voice didn’t matter, there was no way he couldn’t hear the rattling and shaking of the door—yet he ignored her completely.
Exhausted and defeated, Jaha gave up and turned away. But the words she had heard just before being kicked out lingered in her mind.
“The Robe of the Vanished World.”
The more she chewed on it, the more profound the name seemed. It could just be a flashy, pretentious label, but given the shop owner’s magical prowess, it probably wasn’t an ordinary item.
A mage skilled enough to teleport someone away in the blink of an eye—what kind of treasure would he cherish so dearly?
If the phrase “Vanished World” wasn’t just a metaphor, then that robe must have come from another world. Just like Jaha herself, who wasn’t originally from this one.
“That ‘Vanished World’…”
It couldn’t possibly be Earth, could it?
What if Earth had been destroyed overnight, and some of the things from there—like her and that robe—had been transferred to this world?
A chill ran down Jaha’s spine, and she rubbed her arms. She didn’t particularly want to go back, but the thought was unsettling.
The idea that the place she once lived might no longer exist…
The mere hypothesis filled her with such an uncanny feeling that she wanted to march back into the shop and demand an explanation for what “Vanished World” really meant. But she had already been unceremoniously kicked out.
Taking a deep breath, Jaha reminded herself of her original purpose for coming into town. She could always visit that mysterious shop another time—for now, she needed to pick out a gift for Rikanan.
Distracted, she browsed through several stores before finally finding something passable. After having it wrapped and stepping back onto the street, she noticed the crowd gathering in one direction, like fans flocking to a concert venue.
Was there some kind of event?
Unable to resist her curiosity, Jaha stopped a passerby.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Pardon my asking, but where is everyone headed?”
“You don’t know? Well… what was it again? Anyway, some royalty from another country is passing through here.”
“A delegation led by the prince of Kyrthan is scheduled to stop by on their way to the capital. They’ve already passed the gate, so they should be arriving soon. That’s why everyone’s going to see,” a sharp-eyed girl—likely the woman’s daughter—cut in with a clear explanation.
The woman nodded approvingly.
“That’s right. I was just on my way to see with my daughter. Would you like to join us, miss?”
“Uh…”
Jaha hesitated briefly. She had already told the coachman she might take a while, and he’d be waiting regardless. But her deliberation didn’t last long.
‘How often in life do you get to see royalty?’
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Oh, nonsense! Come along. If we want a good spot, we’d better hurry.”
The woman flashed a warm smile and urged her forward. Following them, Jaha found a decent spot and glanced around. The crowd buzzed like fans waiting to catch a glimpse of their favorite celebrity. Then again, in a world without TV or the internet, royalty were the celebrities.
The excitement around her was contagious—her own pulse quickened.
What would a royal procession look like in an era without democracy?
Would those at the top of the feudal hierarchy radiate an aura entirely different from commoners?
Lost in anticipation, she waited for the delegation to arrive—until murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“They’re coming!”
“Look over there! They’re here!”
“It’s them!”
Jaha craned her neck, but she couldn’t see anything yet. Apparently, her modern eyes—cursed by screens and artificial light—were no match for the sharp vision of these people.
“There, there! Do you see them, Karin?”
The woman gushed to her daughter. Squinting hard, Jaha strained to make out the approaching figures. Eventually, vague shapes came into view.
They sharpened faster than expected—because the delegation was on horseback and in carriages.
A realization struck her. If the prince is traveling long-distance, he’d likely be in a carriage. So even if we wait, we won’t see his face anyway, right?
“Ma’am, what if the prince’s carriage has curtains?”
“Then, alas, we won’t see him.”
Her tone was eerily serene, as if reciting an old proverb: “Mountains are mountains; rivers are rivers.”
Jaha was speechless.
She’d forgotten. These people were unhurried, unbothered. To someone raised in a cutthroat society obsessed with “quick, quick” and “maximum efficiency,” their attitude was suffocating.
To Jaha, investing this much time and effort only to potentially walk away empty-handed was maddening waste. But to them? “If we see him, great. If not, oh well.” Their entire mindset was different.
‘I should’ve just gone back.’
She was busy longing for her past life—lounging on a couch, snacking, watching the British queen’s pores in high-def—when the vanguard of the delegation appeared.
A young man sat tall on a massive white horse, wearing a dazzling hat visible even from a distance. His striking looks and glittering regalia were more than enough to command attention.
“Is that the prince?”
“No, clearly a knight. He’s wearing a sword.”
“The prince could be armed too!”
Listening to the women’s animated debate, Jaha tried to guess where the prince might be.
‘Probably that carriage.’
Even from afar, the horses’ majestic bearing and the carriage’s polished sheen stood out. But if she couldn’t even glimpse the prince’s hair, was any of this worth it?
Drenched in disbelief, Jaha stared as the carriage drew closer. But—the curtains… were open? Even more, a hand waved from within, and cheers erupted with every passing moment.
The crown prince of the neighboring kingdom, it seemed, was refreshingly dedicated to fan service. Relieved she hadn’t wasted her time, Jaha waited for the carriage to reach her section.
Finally, an opulent carriage—a striking blend of black and gold—rolled into view. Behind its large, panorama-style window sat a man wearing a practiced, diplomatic smile.
Platinum blonde hair, impeccably groomed and exuding nobility. Eyes like still lakes, piercingly blue.
Jaha felt as if a knife had stabbed through her lungs.
The mosaic in her mind shattered. The features of that severed head—the one she could never fully grasp, the one that had rolled at her feet—snapped into horrifying clarity.
“Cedric.”
The name slipped from her tongue, her voice strangled.
That prince—that’s Cedric.
The one who was executed by the Emperor—because of me.
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