Fwoosh. 

With a strike of the match, Rasputina lit the small candle that served as a permanent fixture on the dressing table and extinguished the burning matchstick with a deft wave of her hand. 

“Do you want some tea?” she asked Anastasia, who was running her fingers up and down her bed to feel the soft and silky covers. “The maid who left just now gave us a teapot, courtesy of the Queen…” 

“Ooh, really?” Anastasia looked up in her direction and tilted her head to the side curiously. “What kind of tea?” 

“Er, I’m not too familiar with the different types of tea, sorry.” Of course not, she thought quietly to herself, tea is something only enjoyed by the nobility, after all. 

“Well, let’s drink it together and find out what it is then.” She scooted over for Rasputina to sit on her bed and gingerly poured two cups of tea from the teapot. Moments later a fragrant aroma filled the air, brought by the translucent silvery-white steam; Anastasia took a whiff of the tea and a hint of recognition flashed in her soft lilac eyes. 

“Wait…I know, this is Earl Grey tea!” she exclaimed. “Rasputina, why don’t you give it a try?” 

“Hmm?” Rasputina lifted up her own cup and breathed in the pleasant rich fragrance of freshly-brewed tea leaves; it was strangely stimulating, yet unexpectedly relaxing at the same time, and it filled her heart with a sense of serendipitous peace. She pressed her lips against the edge of the cup and drank a sip; the warmth was soothing and she relished the light lingering aftertaste of bergamot in her mouth. 

“How is it?” Anastasia asked expectantly, having already finished savouring her cup of tea. 

Rasputina licked her lips and smiled. “This certainly is the finest tea I have ever had in my entire lifetime.” 

“I know, right?” She nodded her head eagerly. “It tastes a hundred more times better than the instant tea they sell at the Aeon mall!” 

“Aeon mall…?” 

“Oh, I keep forgetting this is an isekai world, of course you wouldn’t have heard of it.” Anastasia reached her hand over to the nightstand and grabbed the two brown paper-wrapped books they bought earlier in the day at the bookstore. “It should be…this one!”

Rasputina raised an eyebrow. “The one with the insanely long title?” 

“Yep, yep, give me a moment to open this…” She undid the small bow knot on the twine string and carefully unwrapped the book as if it was some kind of national treasure. “There we go, now it’s time to see what is written on its mysterious pages!” 

Rasputina had initially thought nothing much of the book except for its unusual title, but Anastasia’s anxious and anticipative attitude towards it made her begin to wonder if there was truly something special about the story contained within. 

Anastasia squinted her eyes and shook her head. “Ah, it’s too dark to see anything from here…” 

She gestured at the hearth, where there was a small fire burning to keep them warm throughout the night. “Let’s move to the fireplace, shall we?” 

Under the reddish-orange glow of the fire, Rasputina began to read the preface aloud for Anastasia. 

“This story came into being on the still night of Solis 1st, Cetheri Year 592, when I received an epiphanic inspiration from a self-proclaimed angel in a perpetual dream of an otherworldly mystical world…” 

Hearing this, Anastasia pursed her lips in thought. “As I had guessed, the author of this book had also come across an angel, most likely the man that I had met before transmigrating here. Perhaps they wrote this story after returning back to this world, and published it in line with the unique title style they saw in my world.” 

“If that’s indeed the case,” Rasputina said quietly to mask her excitement. “Then, I think we should find the author and find out more about our mystery angel, don’t you think so too?” 

She gave her a knowing look. “Are you perhaps trying to meet with the angel and find a way to send me back to my world early?” 

“Surely you jest.” Rasputina shifted her gaze to the bottom of the preface. “The author’s name should be mentioned in the last paragraph…ah, this should be it—” she began to read the paragraph “—lastly, this story is dedicated to my beloved servant and head maid of the palace, Cecilla. Signed, Princess Anastasia de Cetheri…wait a minute, isn’t that you?” 

“Hmm, me?” Anastasia tilted her head. 

Rasputina flipped over the page and frowned. “What’s this? Looks like a dictionary of some sorts, but I can’t make heads or tails of the characters…”

Anastasia took a quick glance at the page and gasped. “That’s written in Japanese! H-how?” 

“Japanese?” 

“It’s my native language,” she explained, grabbing the book to read the page clearer. “Oh my, isn’t this a bilingual dictionary? Look, there’s various common phrases translated to your language!” 

“Really? That means we don’t have to rely on the hairpin all the time,” Rasputina remarked in surprise. “How did Her Highness know all this?” 

“Maybe the original Anastasia was also a transmigrator, and she transmigrated to my world before,” she murmured as she studied the handwritten dictionary. “But I’m curious as to how she knew someone from my world would also transmigrate into her body and prepared this beforehand…no, rather, was it really a coincidence to find this book in a random bookstore? Who was the person who sold it to the bookseller, and how did they get this book in the first place?”

Rasputina thought for a moment before saying, “could it be this Cecilla person mentioned here that sold the book? After all, if she’s the head maid, she would have no problems obtaining this from Her Highness without suspicion.” 

“I guess you’re right, we can start from looking for Cecilla.” Anastasia stifled a yawn and closed the book in her hands. “It’s getting late, let’s go to bed…” 

“I’ll extinguish the fire here, you can go on first.” 

“Thanks, Rasputina…mm, good night.” 

The Saintess glanced up at the wraithlike figure in a floating nightgown, her gentle smile half-illuminated by the soft, crackling fire; she hesitated momentarily before returning her smile. “Good night, Anastasia.”