SHC20_C20: A LESSON IN LEARNING...?

20. A Lesson in Learning?

After dinner, during our usual study session, Professor Romanov rubbed his chin with a knowing grin and said something that made me freeze.

His gaze was fixed on Regulus, who was wide awake after his long nap, happily flipping through the cloth picture book I'd made.

At dinner, thanks to the head chef’s hard work, we’d had a savory pudding—basically chawanmushi. That somehow led to a conversation about the picture book.

“If there are no textbooks, then make some yourself! That’s the spirit. As expected from the one blessed with the 'Blue Hand.'”

“It’s not exactly a textbook. I just wasn’t sure what to teach a three-year-old, so I stitched together something basic.”

“Don’t be modest. Rottenmeier-san told me that you’re trying to use Regulus’ education as a model to spread learning among the villagers. She was moved, saying how admirable it was that you're thinking about the people’s future.”

Hmm. That’s not quite right.

It wasn’t so noble. I just hoped that the decline of House Kikunoi was due to a lack of human resources—something I could maybe fix. Honestly, I was running from reality.

If people are nurtured properly, they grow. A shortage in talent can be overcome with enough time and education. But if the land or culture is the root problem, then there’s little I can do.

Still, if we can raise people capable of diagnosing and treating the rot, maybe—just maybe—we have a fighting chance.

I think that’s what the “Hundred Sacks of Rice” story was about. Probably.

When I explained this, Professor Romanov turned serious.

“So in other words, you want to raise capable people before you become the next lord… You plan to make Regulus your right-hand man?”

“No way! That’s way too grand. I don’t have the power to change anything for the villagers. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the resources. But within the house… I can do a little for Regulus. That’s all.”

Because Regulus is the one who will inherit Kikunoi.

He’ll be the one who kills me.

Not that I want to die. But the vision I saw when I fell down the stairs—that moment in the future—I know it’s going to happen. Somehow, I’m sure of it.

So before we reach that day, I want to do what I can.

Saying, “Oh well, I died. Not my problem anymore,” would be way too irresponsible.

“Still, if things go well, wouldn’t you want to use this as a prototype for a more structured early education system?”

“If possible. But I’d need funding… That part is up to Father.”

“True. But do you think your father would fund a system like that for the commoners?”

“Well… uh… If I can just get Regulus to understand how important education is now...!”

“That’s hopeful thinking.”

Ugh, point taken.

Regulus sat on the fluffy carpet in the middle of the room, using his tiny fingers to button felt animal plushies—foxes and raccoons. Such fine motor control. So young, yet so focused.

Raising even one child properly is hard.

So, the days passed. Well—on the third day after the princess told me to “wait.”

Regulus had packed the cloth picture book into a handmade shoulder tote bag I stitched together. I had my usual waist pouch and headed to our daily singing lesson.

They say repeating the same thing every day helps build patience. Consistency is power.

The peonies, swaying gently in the summer breeze, never failed to move me. They seemed eternally fresh, blooming differently every day—yesterday’s subtle elegance giving way to today’s bold fragrance.

“Good morning.”
“G’morning!”
“Mmm, well done.”

With a graceful flick of her silk fan, the princess beckoned us closer.

“Come here,” she said gently.

Taking Regulus by the hand, we approached. She gestured for me to hold out my hands, and when I did, she let fall some brilliantly patterned paper—floral prints, butterflies, and geometric shapes.

“Origami paper!? Or… maybe chiyogami!?”
“Hmph. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes! Incredibly!”

Regulus clapped excitedly. “So pretty!” he squealed, his face lighting up with joy. Children are so honest in moments like this. I love these things too.

“Wow, this is amazing...!”
“Of course. I had Igor make it.”

Wait—what!?

Igor, as in… the god of medicine, wind, and commerce? The one Professor Romanov talked about!?

“Wha—!? A god made this!?”

“You claim not to know me, yet you know him?”

“A-after our last meeting, I studied a lot!”

“Hmph. Well, fine.”

She raised an eyebrow, just a little displeased, but seemed willing to overlook it.

Then, with a flutter of her fan:

“Now, hurry up.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t just gape. Make me something. You did say you’d offer me something beautiful if I gave you fine paper.”

Did I!?

Okay, I might have said something like, “This would look even better in prettier paper…” but I didn’t mean it as a promise.

Still, she did give me this. Might as well.

I pulled a cloth mat from my waist pouch. Regulus sat immediately, eyes sparkling. From the bundle of paper, he chose a sheet with an intricate geometric design.

We folded the paper square into a rectangle, then into smaller sections, then diagonally into triangles, again and again—crease after crease.

We pinched, folded, twisted—

And out came a delicate, three-dimensional butterfly.

“Butterfly!”
“Oh, how skillful!”

The princess gently picked up the butterfly and set it on her fan.

“Exquisite. I’ll keep this. In return, the rest of the paper is yours. Make something for the chick as well.”

“Thank you!”
“Thank you~!”

She seemed pleased.

As I admired the exquisite patterns again before storing them in my pouch, the princess laughed with delight.

“You’re quite taken with it, aren’t you?”
“Yes… It’s beautiful!”

“Then I’ll pass your compliments to Igor.”

“Please do! And thank him for such lovely paper!”

“Mhm.”

Feeling warm inside, I tucked the paper away.

But something still bugged me.

“By the way… how was this paper made?”

“Hmm? That was Igor’s job. I don’t know. But he did go on and on about something called ‘hangī’...”

“Hangī… wait, hanga? You mean woodblock printing!?”

“Oh? You know it?”

“Sort of…”

I remembered it from my previous life—block printing, and later, movable type.

As I explained, the princess narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

“So… your world had other printing methods besides woodblocks.”

“I don’t know the mechanics, but yes. And if books become easier to produce, it could have great benefits.”

“Such as?”

Knowledge sharing, I said. That’s the first thing that came to mind.

She snorted, unimpressed.

“So humans benefit. But what’s in it for me?”

Yikes.

If I can’t give her a good answer now, this whole idea might be dead on arrival.

I glanced over—and there was Regulus, playing with the fox and raccoon plushies like he was putting on a puppet show.

Then—lightning bolt.

“Princess! If books become widespread, maybe… just maybe… we could recreate the play from 'The Violet Garden'!”

“WHAT!?”

“Well, maybe not exactly—but we could do musicals!”

“Explain. In detail.”

I cleared my throat.

“A play follows a script. The script contains dialogue, story beats, everything. In my world, actors performed according to these scripts. Even if the original performer dies, the script lets others recreate the same show.”

“So it’s a record…”

“Exactly! And the audience can enjoy the same story again and again.”

“But…”

“The big problem is literacy.”

“Ah.”

“No point printing scripts if no one can read them! Which is why education is necessary. Reading lets you enjoy plays, understand lyrics, and appreciate nuance. And appreciation leads to value—value leads to money! If actors aren’t paid, the art dies!”

“I… see. So making theater profitable fosters better talent. Competition follows. Improvement follows.”

“Exactly. It won’t be easy. But without education, without books, we’ll never get there.”

Phew.

I was out of breath.

My five-year-old brain had officially overheated.

The room tilted. I saw the princess watching me closely—and then…

The world went dark.

Eunie: I'm dead tired. My right eye is twitching so bad. Gotta rest. I'll at least update 5 more chapters  tomorrow!! Thanks for reading~

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