Fake Princess
CHAPTER 113
I nodded again, but luckily there was no need to tell her the details about her aunt when the stables manager whistled to her. I slipped out into the sunlight, thinking. It seems that most of the villagers are around here, either haggling with the traveling sculptors or exchanging gossip. And if word of the arrival of the traveling sculptor had already spread, there was a chance that Diana would also come to see him. Maybe all I need to do to find Diana is wait.
So, I waited. There was a bench adjoining one of the taverns, and I sat there, trying to look like I was waiting for my turn to approach the roving sculptor, glancing around slowly, trying to look just curious about all the new people who were passing by on the street, I watched them closely. My heart briefly soared into my esophagus, but sped up again when I realized that the girl I saw was too old to be Diana. The sun moved across the sky until I was forced to shift on the bench to stay in the shade, but I saw no one who might just be the lost princess.
For a while, I tried to concern myself with thinking about what Diana looked like. I imagined her to look like Riana, with elegance and confidence in her movements, looking classy despite wearing ordinary girl clothes that she definitely wore. After all, they have a kinship, so I guess it makes sense that I should look for someone similar.
However, imagining what Diana looked like didn't take long, so eventually my thoughts turned to what I would do when—and if—Diana finally showed up. I spent too much time worrying about how to sneak out of the city unnoticed and arrive at Saremarch uninterrupted to not think too much about how, exactly, I would ask Diana to come with me.
The plan was fixed in my mind, so I sat back on the bench and continued my observation. However, had I assumed somehow Diana would appear after I got a plan, then I was wrong.
This didn't work, my inner self as the shadows generated by the buildings in the village began to look elongated. The crowd around the traveling sculptor had already dwindled as people started to move home for dinner. One of my legs was already drooping, and my stomach was rumbling loudly asking for food. What am I supposed to do? I wondered in my heart as I stood up and, for no reason other than curious, walked over to the traveling sculptor's carriage.
Seriate