I groggily fluttered my eyes open to the unfamiliar, rhythmic bouncing of my body.
“Miss, wake up!”
“Mmm…?”
“We’ve arrived at the manor.”
At the maid’s prompt, I snapped awake and pushed myself up from where I had slumped over.
We’re finally here!
Any lingering despair over realizing this wasn’t just a weird dream vanished instantly. The brutal ride quality of the carriage had given me severe motion sickness, and my absolute number one priority was getting out of that moving box immediately.
As someone whose daily commute relied strictly on modern, engine-powered vehicles, a wooden carriage pulled by actual, living animals was pure torture. My tailbone had violently slammed against the wooden bench the entire journey, forcing me to keep my eyes squeezed shut just to survive the nausea. I must have blacked out from pure misery.
Is the manor actually this close?
I reached out to pull back the carriage curtain, but the vehicle rolled to a complete stop. I carefully pushed open the door and stepped out, looking up at the estate before me. Perhaps because the luxury hotel-like ballroom from last night had spoiled me, this grey brick manor felt surprisingly modest and humble.
“Miss.”
I turned my head at the warm voice to find an elderly gentleman in a crisp grey suit waiting for me.
Who’s that?
The older man gave me a gentle, reassuring smile.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when you didn’t return?”
“That’s what I said! Mr. Norman, the butler, was pacing a hole in the floor.”
The maid, Winnie, who had followed me out of the carriage, chimed in with a grin.
“Ahem. Winnie, when on earth did I do that?”
“I saw you with my own eyes yesterday!”
I watched their easy banter with mild fascination. Then, Norman narrowed his eyes, looked me up and down, and asked:
“However, Miss…”
“Yes…?”
I flinched, shrinking back under his sharp, analytical gaze.
“You look rather disheveled, as though you thoroughly enjoyed the banquet all night long.”
Even though Winnie had hastily fixed my clothes before we left, Norman’s decades of experience as a head butler meant he spotted my slight wardrobe chaos instantly. I darted my eyes away.
“Is it really that obvious?”
“Indeed. It seems you couldn’t fool my eyes. The Baron will be returning shortly, so I strongly advise you to freshen up before then.”
Norman turned to Winnie and gave a swift instruction.
“Winnie, go upstairs and draw a warm bath immediately.”
“Right away! Miss, please, hurry inside.”
Led firmly by Winnie’s hand, I hurried into the manor.
The bathroom was a sanctuary of pristine white marble. A magnificent, polished bathtub was filled to the brim with steaming water sprinkled with floating red rose petals. The rich, intoxicating scent of roses hung heavily in the air.
As I stared at the tub, Winnie reached out to help me untie my dress, and I instinctively jumped back. Winnie blinked in confusion.
“Miss, you need to change out of that dress.”
“Wait, wait, Winnie! I can do it myself!”
Winnie tilted her head, her expression entirely baffled.
“You’ll undress yourself?”
“Yes! And I want to take a bath all by myself, too.”
“You don’t want any bathing assistance either?”
Under Winnie’s deeply suspicious stare, I frantically avoided eye contact.
“You’ve never once bathed without assistance.”
“Haven’t I? Well… a girl has to grow up. I can’t rely on you forever, Winnie.”
“Well, unlacing a formal dress by yourself is quite a chore. Let me at least help you with the back, and then I’ll leave. Sound fair?”
Is unlacing a dress really that hard? Recalling last night’s events, it didn’t seem particularly difficult.
If it were hard, he wouldn’t have slipped my clothes off so effortlessly!
Realizing what I was thinking, a hot flush rushed to my face. I crossed my arms defensively over my chest and backed toward the door.
“No, it’s fine! I’m a grown-up now. I should try doing it myself!”
Winnie looked at me as if I had grown a second head. Finally, she lowered her outstretched hand with a resigned sigh.
“If you insist, Miss… As you wish.”
“Yes! Thank you, Winnie.”
“If you need anything at all, just call out.”
I flashed a bright, reassuring smile as Winnie stepped out and closed the door. The second the lock clicked, I let out a massive, trembling sigh of relief and turned to face the grand mirror.
Long, shimmering lemon-blonde hair. Amethyst-like violet eyes. A peach-flushed face with naturally plump cheeks.
No matter how many times I looked, none of my original features were there. In my past life, I was just an ordinary office worker with straight black hair and dark eyes. Yet, reality had forced me to accept the undeniable truth: I had transmigrated into a novel.
“At least it’s a miracle I didn’t drop dead from corporate overwork.”
The crushing mountain of translation quotas had been brutal for a junior employee. I had genuinely believed I was just finally getting some deep, uninterrupted rest after pulling consecutive all-nighters.
Instead, it seemed my body had simply given out from acute fatigue. Since I had lived a painfully lonely life in the real world anyway, I didn’t have many regrets.
So, I’m Lilithia now…
During the carriage ride here, I had racked my brain trying to remember a character named Lilithia. Since the name didn’t ring any bells as a frequent reader of The Duke’s Daughter Has Returned, she was clearly an insignificant background extra.
With trembling fingers, I unzipped and slipped off my dress. My ivory skin was covered in a constellation of undeniable red marks.
“It really happened… the evidence is right here.”
The physical proof of the night I spent with Freyer was plastered all over Lilithia’s body—no, my body now. This was the exact reason I couldn’t let Winnie undress me. If she had seen these kisses and bruises, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the scandal.
I buried my face in my hands. Why on earth did an accidental extra like me end up spending the night with the male lead’s tragic rival? I tried to retrace the fragmented memories of yesterday.
“I just wanted to hug Freyer at the banquet.”
As stray puzzle pieces of memory clicked into place, I winced in sheer mortification.
“And then?”
When I tried to recall what happened next, I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling every drop of blood rush straight to my ears.
“Oh gosh… wait, right there…”
“Why are those the only memories coming in crystal clear?!”
After hugging him, my recollection got wonderfully, embarrassingly blurry. While reading the novel, I had never once viewed Freyer through a romantic lens; I just pitied his tragic narrative and wanted to give my favorite character a comforting hug. So why did things escalate like that?!
“I must have completely lost my mind! Why did I have to chug sweet alcohol?!”
There was no other logical explanation. Some alternative, highly confident version of me had taken the wheel the moment I got buzzed.
“If I hadn’t touched that wine, none of this would have happened.”
An overwhelming wave of guilt crashed over me. Did I just permanently derail the storyline of a beloved character because of my own drunken impulses? I pressed my palms together, looking up through the small bathroom window toward the pale blue sky.
“Dear Author, I swear I will never appear in front of Freyer again. I’ll live out this new life in quiet, pious repentance. Please forgive me just this once!”
A silver-haired, green-eyed boy dressed in threadbare rags stepped out of a dark, suffocating corridor. A bright, hopeful smile spread across his face as he spotted a warm, distant light.
Thump, thump—
Only the rapid patter of his small footsteps echoed through the void. As he drew close to the light, he called out eagerly,
“Mother!”
There, a gentle woman with honey-blonde hair and soft blue eyes welcomed him with open arms, a tender smile gracing her lips.
“My little sun, come here.”
The boy ran straight into her embrace. The woman tenderly stroked his tangled silver hair. Looking up, the boy beamed at her happily.
Cough, cough—
“Mother, are you feeling sick again?”
The boy tilted his head, his young face instantly clouding with worry as he checked her complexion.
Suddenly, a thick, dark-red liquid spewed from the woman’s mouth, splattering directly across the boy’s face. The woman’s eyes widened in horror, her hands scrambling frantically to wipe the blood away. But her violent coughing fits only worsened, coating the boy’s face and clothes in a horrific crimson stain. The boy froze, his expression draining of all color.
“M-Mother?”
Terrified and trembling, the boy tried to pull away. But with unnatural strength, the woman gripped his arm tightly, anchoring him in place.
“It hurts so much…”
Her grip tightened painfully. Flinching, the boy tried to wrench his arm free.
“Fr—Freyer…”
In a sudden, frantic motion, the woman yanked him back into a crushing embrace. Enveloped in the metallic, suffocating stench of iron, the boy squeezed his eyes shut as his entire world shook—
—and absolute darkness swallowed him whole.
Gasp—!
Freyer bolted upright in bed, sucking in ragged, desperate breaths. His face deathly pale, he dragged a trembling hand through his damp silver hair.
“So much for getting actual sleep.”
His hollow, raspy voice echoed in the silent chamber. Freyer wrapped his arms tightly around his sweat-soaked torso, staring out the window where the first pale hues of dawn were breaking. The lingering shadows made his reflection look hauntingly fragile.
“When will this hellish nightmare finally end.”
The visceral pain of his mother’s desperate grip in the dream still burned against his skin. The image of her coughing up blood was so vivid it made him squeeze his eyes shut to keep from breaking.
“Is my subconscious trying to tell me it was all my fault?”
The inescapable nightmare of his mother dying right in front of his child self had tortured him every single day of his life. To cope, he forced himself to stay awake, terrified of what awaited him in the dark.
He drove himself to the brink with brutal, punishing sword training, hoping pure physical exhaustion would grant him a dreamless sleep. Yet, all he ever earned was a blinding headache from sheer sleep deprivation.
“If these nightmares would just stop, I’d gladly sell my soul to the devil.”
Freyer let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. The torment never ceased. Had some higher power finally taken pity on him and tossed him a single lifeline?
The blonde woman he had spent last night with. Just thinking of her sent a strange, hollow ache through his chest, like watching a rare bird fly away. Her striking violet eyes looking straight into his soul, and her lemon-blonde hair spread across the white sheets, were etched permanently into his mind.
“Freyer, I hope you’ll be happy.”
The lingering warmth of her arms, her gentle well-wishes, the soft cadence of her voice—it all felt terrifyingly real.
“How can a memory be this painfully clear?”
If he hadn’t found the embroidered ribbon bearing her name left behind in the room, he might have dismissed the whole thing as a cruel hallucination.
He still couldn’t be entirely sure if she was truly the miracle cure for his nightmares.
“Even so, if she can really make me feel this way, maybe it wouldn’t even matter if the nightmares stayed.”