Fragments of a dazzling dream drifted through my mind. Though still groggy and half-asleep, a small smile played on my lips. But my good mood vanished the second I registered that my entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck.
Ugh… I have to go to work…
Was this the glorious price of surviving several days of brutal overtime, dragging myself home, chugging a beer, and passing out? My poor circulation must be working overtime to keep me swollen head-to-toe.
Should I actually start working out?
No way. I barely have enough free time to breathe. Shaking my head, I forced my heavy, exhausted eyelids open.
I stared blankly at the unfamiliar bedroom around me. My eyes darted across the room before snapping wide open. A silver-haired man lay sleeping soundly right next to me, his upper body bare, a faint, contented smile on his lips.
“Wait, am I still dreaming?”
I slowly sat up, and the pristine white blanket covering my body slid down, exposing my bare skin.
“Whoa!”
I scrambled to yank the blanket back up over my chest, casting a nervous glance at Freyer. Thankfully, he didn’t stir. I let out a massive sigh of relief.
“Phew, thank goodness.”
The accumulated exhaustion from those consecutive night shifts definitely felt real. A dream this elaborate surely meant I had simply crashed hard.
What if I wake up and I’m actually late for work?
The terrifying image of Manager Kim—a chronic micro-manager who would chew me out for being one minute late—flashed across my mind. I winced and shook my head violently.
“I really don’t want to go to work.”
Regret washing over me, I gazed down at Freyer, who was still fast asleep.
“No! I have to earn a living. I need money to buy novel merchandise so the author keeps writing side stories. Only then can I see you again…”
Eyes shining with absolute devotion, I clenched my fist.
“I don’t know when I’ll ever have another dream this vivid. But this unnie is going to make bank and buy a giant poster of your gorgeous face!”
Having settled my priorities, I gently pinched my cheek. When nothing changed, I pinched it a lot harder.
“Ow, that actually hurts!”
Far from waking up, the sharp sting made me rub my cheek frantically. I had pinched myself hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. If it were a normal dream, I would have snapped awake instantly.
“Wait… does this mean it’s not a dream? Did I actually transmigrate into the novel I was reading before bed?!”
It was an utterly absurd thought, yet the crazy notion refused to go away.
“Mmmn…”
“Hmph.”
Freyer shifted beside me. Startled by the sudden movement, I gasped and made a split-second executive decision.
First things first: run away.
I would figure out the rest later.
Carefully sliding out of bed so as not to wake him, I grabbed my scattered clothes and shoes from the floor. As I frantically dressed, I kept glancing back, but Freyer remained dead to the world.
I tiptoed out the door, navigated a long, winding corridor, and finally spotted what looked like an exit. Steeling my resolve, I shoved the heavy door open.
The scenery outside—pure, unadulterated medieval European aristocracy—made me freeze in absolute horror, prompting me to bury my face in my hands.
Why won’t this dream end?!
Nothing made sense from start to finish.
“Miss!”
A voice broke through my panic. I lifted my head to see a young maid leaning frantically out of a carriage window, waving her arms.
“Miss Lilithia!”
At the name, I looked around in a daze. There was no one else here.
I guess my name is Lilithia now…
“Miss! Do you have any idea how terrified I was? If you’re going to wander off, you at least need to tell someone!”
The maid’s sharp reprimand made me flinch.
“Ah… about that?”
I stammered, entirely at a loss for words. Seemingly unfazed by my dazed expression, the maid let out a dramatic sigh.
“Phew, it’s a miracle the Baron isn’t currently at the estate.”
I swallowed hard, wincing under her wide, alarmed stare.
“Miss, why on earth are you dressed like this?”
Did I actually transmigrate into this body? Or is this still a prolonged dream? I thought it was a dream, so I spent the night with Freyer. And now I’ve bolted out of his room, but what do I do?! Also, my clothes look like this because it’s my first time wearing an actual high-society dress.
A whole dictionary of excuses jammed my throat, but realizing how crazy I’d sound, I just silently mouthed gibberish.
“You really are a heavy sleeper.”
With a sigh, the maid started smoothing out my rumpled dress. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Can she just assume I have terrible sleeping habits?
My relief was tragically short-lived. The maid’s face suddenly drained of color.
“The Baron is due back at any moment! How could I forget?!”
Before I could process a single thought, she shoved me forcefully into the carriage.
“This is no time to be spacing out! Get in, Miss!”
She scrambled in right behind me and barked an order to the driver:
“Coachman! Hurry back to the manor, now!”
A sharp ray of sunlight pierced through the window, landing directly on Freyer’s closed eyes. He shifted uncomfortably before blinking awake.
Sunlight? So, it’s past dawn.
Usually, he woke up in pitch-black darkness, drenched in cold sweat from his chronic nightmares. Waking up in broad daylight was rare—the last time it had happened was when he was a child who had passed out from sheer exhaustion.
I haven’t blacked out like that since I grew up.
Did he wake up at dawn and faint again? He searched his memory, but came up completely blank.
Did I actually not have a nightmare?
It had been years since his entire body felt this deeply rested and refreshed, and the foreign sensation left him bewildered. When he tried to trace the cause, only one thing stood out:
The night he spent with the blonde lady he met at the banquet after countless sleepless nights.
Freyer vividly recalled the striking violet eyes that had mirrored only him in the dark.
As a hidden prince carrying tainted imperial blood, he had spent his whole life surrounded by opportunists trying to exploit his lineage. Because of that, he was certain of one thing:
She didn’t approach me with an ulterior motive.
Even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. If her presence was the cure for the nightmares that had tormented his entire existence, what wouldn’t he do to keep her? If a single night with her could grant him peace, he had to keep her by his side.
Yet, keeping her close meant exposing her to ruthless political threats. Knowing his dangerous reality, he had always sworn never to let anyone close.
She could lose her life.
Trapped in a swamp of eternal nightmares, he had long believed happiness was something out of his reach. But if she truly was a ray of light in his miserable life, he had no choice left.
First, I need to confirm if she was the one who stopped the nightmares.
Freyer rolled over, reaching out to the spot where she should have been sleeping. It was completely empty. He bolted upright, scanning the room. He was entirely alone. He pressed his hand against the sheets; they were cold, proving she had been gone for hours.
“I didn’t think she’d slip away so easily.”
He felt the fragile hope he’d just grasped slipping through his fingers. Freyer dragged both hands down his face in frustration.
Just then, a faint vibrating sound caught his attention. A communication device on the floor was glowing and pulsing.
That must be Sir Derek.
His escort knight must have panicked when he didn’t return from the banquet, contacting him through the court mage. Freyer stood up and began picking up his clothes from the floor. As he grabbed his coat, a dark strip of fabric fluttered down—the exact black ribbon he had unfastened from the blonde lady’s waist the night before.
A black garter belt ribbon. Freyer draped his coat over his arm and carefully picked up the fabric.
“Did she leave a signature?”
Embroidered neatly along the delicate black lace edge was a name: R. Mary.
A spark of renewed hope ignited in his chest.
“Even if she left it behind on purpose, it’s a welcome clue.”
Freyer tucked the ribbon securely into his pocket and headed out the door.
Whoosh—!
The sharp whistle of a blade slicing through the air echoed endlessly across the training grounds as dusk approached. As the practice session finally halted, a thick cloud of dust and sand slowly settled.
A lingering trace of blue magical aura dissipated into the wind, and Freyer emerged from the center of the training ring, drenched in sweat.
He used the back of his hand to swipe his damp silver hair away from his forehead, breathing heavily. Sweat trickled down, stinging his forest-green eyes, forcing him to squint. Calming his internal mana, he slid his sword smoothly back into its scabbard.
“The sun sets so early these days,” Freyer muttered, looking up at the crimson horizon.
“Your Highness!”
He turned at the familiar, urgent voice. A sturdy, red-haired knight in a sharp black uniform came jogging toward him.
“Do you have any idea how long I searched the entire banquet hall for Your Highness? I was terrified something had happened!”
Freyer crossed his arms, watching Derek vent his anxiety.
“You must have known I contacted you through the court mage. Why didn’t you answer the communicator? And please, Your Highness, where were you all night?”
“…”
Derek cast a wary glance at Freyer’s unreadable expression and instinctively lowered his head.
“I was only worried…”
“Yes, Sir Derek. I appreciate your concern. But I’ve returned safely, so let’s drop the subject.”
Derek nodded with a mournful sigh. Just then, his eyes caught a glimpse of something tied to the hilt of Freyer’s sword.
His Highness despises decorating his weapons.
Derek tilted his head in confusion and pointed at the hilt.
“I’ve never seen that ornament on your sword before, Your Highness. Is that from a foreign delegation?”
Derek squinted at the dark ribbon. Even as a gift, it looked entirely out of place on a battle-ready sword hilt. Suddenly, realization dawned, and Derek’s eyes widened.
“Did someone gift that to you at the banquet yesterday?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
Freyer silently untied the ribbon from the hilt, holding it gently in his palm.
“It is both a clue, and a keepsake she left behind.”