SWNOVELXO Chapter 7: Mysterious Tomes, Anastasia
[You begin immersing yourself in study, untouched by worldly matters.]
[To you, the grand Kremlin Library, filled with tens of thousands of books, is a great treasure trove waiting to be unearthed. As the saying goes, "Within books lie golden houses and beauties like jade."]
[But you are not hasty in your pursuit. You understand that throughout history, many wise men began as librarians: Laozi in China's Spring and Autumn Period, Aristotle in ancient Greece, and more recently, modern Chinese scholars... You understand that the true dragon rises from the dust.]
[With years of experience in magecraft and your identity as a true master of theology, you are well aware that haste makes waste. So though you spend your days in the library, you do not read for twenty-four hours straight. You receive visits from Emperor Nicholas II, offering him insight and guidance. You never examine Alexei personally, instead providing Nicholas with complete methods to heal his son—something for which the Emperor is extremely grateful. You also converse with other visiting members of the court, helping them solve their troubles.]
[You begin keeping a diary.]
[In your diary, you write—]
['Nicholas II' is a flamboyant yet devoutly contradictory man. He is ostentatious, extravagant, and wasteful. Every one of his outings is accompanied by legions of well-drilled soldiers, flowers, red carpets, and golden adornments to demonstrate his reverence for the divine.]
[In contrast, the Empress who often accompanies Nicholas is an undisputed beauty. A devout believer in God, she has flowing silver-white hair and often wears off-shoulder Victorian gowns. The ruffled skirts accentuate her curvaceous figure—long legs, round hips—altogether enchanting. Occasionally, aside from accompanying Nicholas, she visits alone in the middle of the night to pray for divine guidance.]
[We engage in deep and straightforward conversations—purely verbal, of course.]
[Though it's common in this era for the church to comfort believers, and though the Empress clearly has intentions, I am not Rasputin, and now is not the time.]
[I must endure.]
["I am not named Cao, nor am I a Chancellor," you write at the end, implying your ambitions lie elsewhere.]
[The Empress admires you even more—"what cannot be attained is always the most alluring," you muse.]
[...]
[On your fifty-first day at the Kremlin Library, you hear rumors of a revolutionary tide rising within the Empire.]
[At that moment, you've just finished compiling, organizing, and backing up your gathered mystic knowledge.]
[Just as you're about to place the completed volume among the countless tomes, you hear a crisp girl's voice call out, "Ouch!" from behind the massive bookshelf.]
[At the same time, you see flowing, crystalline silver-white hair.]
The Kremlin Library.
Vast and imposing, filled with hundreds of thousands of books, it is one of the few world-class repositories of knowledge in this era.
The windows high on the walls open to the vast sky above.
Brilliant sunlight filters through sheer curtains, converging into beams like golden ink from the divine, illuminating the air thick with the scent of ink and parchment.
Rows upon rows of bookshelves over ten meters tall arc around the space. The carved redwood structures are tinged with layers of golden light.
Golden bookshelves, golden book covers.
Within this golden world, Lucan's vision captured a flash of silver-white—
"Ouch."
A soft, delicate voice murmured.
Lucan held in one hand the freshly compiled catalog of mystic knowledge. With the other, he adjusted the mystic code in the form of glasses he wore since entering the library—used for aiding in the organization of knowledge.
Through the lenses, he looked at the source of the voice. Aside from the flowing silver-white hair, he saw a charming, adorable face and a graceful figure wrapped in a white, downy angelic gown.
He also saw a toppled ladder and books scattered all around.
Clearly.
She had fallen off the ladder.
"If you're looking for romantic novels, you're in the wrong section," Lucan said, glancing at the book covers. "This is the religion section."
"Mmm..."
The silver-haired girl didn't immediately respond.
She simply sat on the ground, rubbing her ankle.
Her silver hair cascaded over fair skin and sapphire eyes, lightly resting on the soft white mounds on her chest.
She didn't look very old, but her figure was surprisingly well-developed. Her chest, tightly bound, curved alluringly. Her slightly bared shoulders traced a soft, clean silhouette. Her slender waist, supposedly hidden by the dress, was pressed into view by her sitting posture, revealing a round contour and a deep triangle.
Yet despite this mature body, her expression was pure and innocent.
"W-What do you mean, religion section?" she stammered in response.
Lucan pointed to the sign on the nearby bookshelf—boldly labeled "Religion" in standard Russian.
Classifying and organizing the books had been one of his recent projects.
The girl blinked in confusion. "Was there always a sign like that here?"
"Wrong question." She suddenly realized she had been misled. "Who said I was looking for romantic novels in the first place?"
"Weren't you? Or are you here for military strategy and tactics?" Lucan said, feigning puzzlement.
"Y-Yes! Military strategy and tactics!" The girl's face flushed red, but she forced herself upright. Despite her clearly shy personality, she pretended to be calm.
She rubbed her ankle and straightened her back. Unfortunately, the motion didn't give her any more composure—on the contrary, it made her chest wobble slightly, dizzying to the eyes.
She said, "I've resolved to become a female general of the Empire!"
"Then which volume of military strategy are you looking for? I can help you find it." Lucan adjusted his glasses.
The girl immediately froze. She snuck a glance at the sea of books and nearly fainted—she didn't understand military strategy at all. How could she name a specific book?
Seeing her stammer and fail to say a word, Lucan chuckled. "Alright, I'll stop teasing you."
The girl bristled. So he was teasing her!
She was about to respond when Lucan continued, "Princess Anastasia, may I ask what brings you here?"
So... he knew who she was?
The girl, who thought she had perfectly hidden her identity, was stunned.
Lucan, pushing up his glasses, revealed a knowing smile. Of course he recognized her the moment he saw her.
That silver-white hair nearly identical to the Empress's. That figure and face so similar to hers.
Having had plenty of "in-depth, straightforward" conversations with the Empress, how could he not recognize her daughter?
And compared to other royal family members, Anastasia was clearly special—when Nicholas II's reign was toppled, she had yet to fully come of age. Her tragic execution alongside her family stirred much sympathy. She and her younger brother Alexei were considered the only ones who truly didn't deserve to die.
So, Lucan was not at all surprised by her visit.
In fact, given his current identity, it would be perfectly normal for any court member to come seek him out.
Building good relationships with every court member was part of Lucan's natural strategy.
Even though right now, he really wanted to ask… was this princess inflated or something?
If he remembered correctly, Anastasia was the youngest daughter of Nicholas II, born around 1900. That would make her—at most—thirteen or fourteen in 1912.
Lucan glanced at the girl from the corner of his eye.
And this is what you call fourteen?!