I couldn’t even remember how I got back home.
The moment I returned, I locked my door—keeping even Michelle out. There was no way I could hide this from her, not someone as perceptive as Michelle.
I buried my face under the pillow to keep my sobs from leaking out. The warmth and dampness soaking through the pillowcase did nothing to stop the endless flow of tears.
Something that had started with the smallest, most innocent intentions had triggered a butterfly effect—one that spiraled completely out of control.
I was horrified by Prince Zeta, who spoke of Sasha’s and Armin’s lives so casually, with a face that looked so much like Armin’s.
He was smiling, but he meant every word. He had been dead serious when he said that if I didn’t keep quiet and behave until the Crown Princess selection, there’d be no guarantee for their safety.
Knock knock. Caught off guard by the locked door, Michelle knocked anxiously.
“Young Lady! Why did you lock the door all of a sudden? Hm? Please open the door.”
“I’m sleepy, Michelle. Later, okay?”
“Young Lady! Miss?”
“I said later! We’ll talk later!”
The knocking stopped at my shouting. But I didn’t hear footsteps walking away. I knew Michelle was lingering just outside the door, so I swallowed my tears down and forced my voice to sound normal.
“I’m really just tired. Let’s talk a little later, okay?”
“…Yes, Young Lady. Please rest, then.”
Thud, thud. Michelle’s footsteps grew faint in my ears as she finally walked away.
The sky was clear and the weather sunny. The sun hadn’t shifted much from where it had been when I met Prince Zeta.
Is this what hell feels like? A single small stone had tumbled into my world and triggered an avalanche, and yet the world outside went on peacefully. I didn’t even know who to direct my grief at, and the rage swelled inside me.
“What am I supposed to do…?”
No matter how hard I tried to think—pushing my brain to its limits—there was only one path left to take.
“What do I do… Brother… Armin…”
The sunlight pouring into the room blurred as my vision clouded. I thought I’d cried everything out, but it was as if all the moisture in my body had turned to tears.
Time passed. And passed. No matter how much I thought, I found no answer.
By the time the sun began to set, its crimson glow casting long streaks into the room, Michelle knocked on my door again.
“Young Lady, you should have some dinner.”
“I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”
“Young Lady, are you feeling very unwell?”
Smart as always, Michelle must’ve already guessed something had happened after I met Prince Zeta. But she was trying not to overstep. Asking if I was feeling unwell… when just that morning I’d been perfectly fine.
Her consideration touched me.
“No, I think I’ll be okay after some rest.”
“Young Lady…”
I heard her call out to me again.
“Then what should I do about your promised visit to the Duke’s residence tomorrow?”
The Duke’s residence.
The words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t answer. Michelle seemed to mistake my silence as forgetfulness and gently reminded me of the telegram from Duchess Grey.
“You remember the Duchess invited you for dinner last week, don’t you?”
“Ah… right. But…”
I bit my lip hard. The taste of blood filled my mouth, but I needed that physical pain to drown out the agony in my chest, to maintain any semblance of calm.
“But I’m not feeling well… I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”
“Young Lady, are you feeling unwell? Could you please open the door, just for a moment?”
“No. I’ll be fine after I rest a bit.”
If I opened the door now, she’d see my ragged nails and torn-up lips and be horrified. Just imagining Michelle’s reaction made me give a bitter laugh.
“Michelle, I’m really okay… I’ll just rest now, alright?”
“…Yes, Young Lady. I’ll be nearby, so call me anytime if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
I could already picture Michelle sighing deeply, even without seeing her.
Even though I hadn’t eaten anything, I didn’t feel hungry. Still in my outdoor clothes, I lay in bed and pulled the blanket over my head.
I’d seen this situation far too often in romance novels—an obsessive prince threatening a woman into marriage.
“Back then, I used to think it was so romantic.”
But now, all those obsessive male leads I’d once stayed up all night reading about felt completely different. From a distance, it looked like love—but experiencing it firsthand, it was nothing but violence.
“Romance novels are fine because you know they end in a happily-ever-after.”
You go in knowing the keywords, knowing that no matter how messy it gets, the couple will be happy in the end—and that makes it easy to read.
But this isn’t a romance novel, and Prince Zeta isn’t the male lead of my story. If this were a romance, I’d be praying to rewind time right about now. But no matter how long I closed my eyes, the view around me remained the same, and my hands were still those of an adult.
Even I knew how foolish I had been.
And still, no matter how much I thought about it, there was only one conclusion: Don’t provoke Prince Zeta.
Miracles like the ones in romance novels didn’t happen in real life. I knew from history what happened to those who didn’t play along with the powerful in situations like this. Even in a world that resembled a fantasy romance, my life was nothing more than a documentary.
I took out some paper and started to organize my thoughts.
Plan A: Flee into the night and find Armin.
Underneath that, I listed the pros and cons.
Pro 1: I get to be with Armin again.
That was it. That was the only benefit I could come up with. The cons, on the other hand, were endless.
Con 1: I can’t guarantee the safety of my brother and Armin.
Con 2: Our family could be branded traitors and executed.
Con 3: We’d live as fugitives.
By the time I reached the tenth con, I’d had enough—I tore the paper to shreds. Then I grabbed a fresh sheet and started over.
Next, I wrote down another plan and stared at the pen in my hand for a long while. Even just thinking about Plan B made me feel sick. But eventually, I lifted the pen and began to write.
Plan B: Do as the prince says.
Pro 1: The safety of the Duke’s family and my own can be ensured.
Pro 2: Armin and Sasha might return from the border sooner.
Pro 3: It’ll buy me time to come up with another plan while keeping that lunatic prince calm.
There were clearly more pros than Plan A. But even so, I tore that page up too.
There’s a saying: Even a worm will squirm when stepped on. No matter how weak something looks, if you keep pressing it past its limits, it will fight back eventually.
As I continued writing, the tears finally stopped. In the place where sorrow had been, fury now surged.
Was he treating me like some rag doll just because I stayed quiet? I knew the right answer was to appease that revolting prince who pretended to be such a kind soul—but the thought made my blood boil. I grabbed the pen again and scrawled across the page.
Plan C: Find a way to get Armin and Sasha back as soon as possible.
Lying on the soft bed, the letters came out messily since there was no firm surface underneath—but of all the plans I’d written, this one felt the most right.
“Even a worm will squirm when stepped on.”
I repeated the Korean proverb in my head.
I’ve been called a ‘recluse Lü Bu’ in my time—so how could I just sit here and cry like this?
* * *
The next day, Michelle carefully turned the doorknob to her lady’s room.
Ever since her young lady had returned from her outing around lunchtime the day before, she had locked herself in and hadn’t come out once. No matter how you looked at it, something had clearly gone wrong during her meeting with the Prince.
Worry for her lady weighed heavily between Michelle’s furrowed brows. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d only made things worse with her suggestion. From the night before, her heart had been anything but at ease.
What if the door was still locked? Her lady hadn’t eaten a single thing since yesterday afternoon—she must be starving by now. Michelle was determined to get the door open and make sure her lady ate something.
But to her surprise, the door opened without resistance.
“My lady?”
Michelle stepped cautiously into the room. She had fully expected to find Vivian crying in bed, but the bed was empty—and already neatly made.
No way…
Fear shot through Michelle. She ran toward the window, a cold dread creeping up her spine. What if Vivian had done something terrible?
But outside the open window, there was nothing out of place. Michelle exhaled a shaky breath of relief—only to be startled by a voice behind her.
“Michelle? Why are you opening the window and letting in the cold air?”
“Eek!”
A chill ran down Michelle’s back. She had seen no sign of her lady anywhere in the room—but when she turned around, there was Vivian, standing in a bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her head.
“My lady! You scared me!”
“Sorry.”
“Did you bathe by yourself?”
It was earlier than usual. Normally, Vivian would still be asleep at this hour—especially after crying so much the night before. Michelle had been certain she’d sleep in today.
Something was off. Vivian’s sudden change put her on edge. She eyed her lady suspiciously, but Vivian merely gave her a small smile.
“There’s something I need to do this morning.”
“Something you need to do?”
“Yeah.”
Vivian nodded. Michelle recognized that expression well.
It was the exact same one her lady wore right before doing something reckless.
