I was an orphan. Yet, my childhood and teenage years weren’t entirely unhappy. By balancing demanding part-time jobs with my studies, I built a solid resume and eventually landed a competitive job in a major corporation’s secretarial office. It was there that I crossed paths with my ex-husband, Director Han Hyuntaek, who had just returned to Korea after an overseas business trip.
Serving a man born not just with a silver spoon, but a diamond one, was no walk in the park. However, my own tenacity matched his unyielding drive. While he was infamous for cycling through secretaries at a rapid pace, I managed to hold my ground and stay by his side for five years. The very year he was promoted to vice president, I handed in my resignation—though I didn’t dramatically throw it at him.
The odd thing was that Director Han, normally known for his sharp tongue and cold arrogance, wore a deeply twisted expression when he read it.
“Why are you quitting?”
“…”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that my lifelong dream was simply to travel the world. Expecting him to dismiss me without a second thought as he usually did, I watched him stare at the letter in silence before he finally motioned for me to leave and accepted my departure.
The ending felt strangely unresolved, but I pushed it aside to dive headfirst into planning my dream global tour. When the day of my departure finally arrived, I ran into him at the airport departure gate, surrounded by an entourage of aides and looking immaculate in a tailored suit.
What good is any of that now? I didn’t want to see his face ever again. Even inside the haze of my dream, I forcefully turned my head away—and snapped back to reality.
I sprang up, immediately scanning the window. There were no bright city lights outside, hammering home the terrifying truth that I was stranded in an archaic world devoid of electricity and cell phones. Though the sun hadn’t fully risen, old habits died hard, and I sat down at the desk. Instead of my travel bucket list, I began drafting a terrifying timeline leading straight to my execution.
Claire is 16, and the branding hasn’t happened yet. At 17, she gets engaged to the Crown Prince of the Empire. At 18, her older sister, Celine, returns…
I really should have read that novel more thoroughly.
Quitting my job due to my mother-in-law’s interference had sparked a new hobby in romance fantasy novels. As a two-year veteran of the genre, I had developed the terrible habit of skimming or outright skipping the slow parts where the main characters weren’t present. Consequently, my memory of the plot’s finer details was a mess.
Did Claire get kicked out just for bullying her sister, or was there more? Either way, she gets cast out. All her malicious deeds are eventually brought to light, landing her in a much darker place. And right there, at age twenty, she meets a gruesome end at Adrian’s hands.
But since Adrian isn’t branded this time around, I won’t be killed by a branded man.
“My Lady?”
Ugh. She just walked right in without knocking.
“What?”
“You’re awake?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my, I think this is the earliest I’ve seen you up since I got here.”
The reason this maid felt so comfortable around the notoriously vicious villainess was simple: they grew up in the same orphanage. When Claire was brought into the Count’s household, she deliberately demanded that Sally be brought along, too. While every other servant in the estate despised and feared Claire, Sally maintained a somewhat human connection with her.
Of course, even Sally would eventually turn her back on Claire after meeting the angelic female lead, Celine.
Poor, misguided Claire…
I quickly dressed for the morning and headed down to the dining room for breakfast with the Count. My heart hammered against my ribs. A father I had never known in either of my lives…
The moment I stepped inside and looked at him, I realized the father-daughter relationship was completely unsalvageable. Not a single shred of warmth flickered in his eyes. Claire had been brought in merely as a replacement for the missing Celine, and the Count routinely projected his grief and bitterness onto her. Starved for affection, Claire had desperately tried to act like a lovely daughter, only to be repeatedly pushed away.
“Let’s eat,” the Count muttered flatly as he sat down, refusing to spare me a single glance.
“Yes…”
Is this supposed to be family bonding? What’s the point of this freezing-cold breakfast?
Having grown up as an orphan, I knew all too well that begging for love only breeds contempt. I made up my mind right then and there.
“Um… Father?”
“What is it?” His voice dripped with blatant annoyance, practically asking what mischief I was cooking up now.
Sigh. She really was pitiful.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to start having a simple breakfast alone in my room starting tomorrow.”
“Hmm, is that so?”
Wait. Is that a subtle smile? It’s deeply unsettling. Even when he’s just breathing, he looks right through me.
“Yes, I’d like to do some morning exercise and eat afterward.”
Finally, the man I was forced to call father put down his cutlery and met my gaze, his eyes narrowing with harsh disapproval.
“What kind of trouble are you plotting now?”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t care how you deal with the household slaves as you please. But do not do anything that brings shame to this family. What if rumors reach the imperial family?”
“Yes! I understand.”
I cut him off mid-lecture with a breezy, unapologetic tone. The Count looked genuinely startled by my sudden spine, but thankfully, he didn’t press the matter further.
And just like that, my first breakfast with my father came to a close. As I grabbed a final bite and stood up to leave, a well-built knight with light blonde hair hurried into the dining room, looking as though he had an urgent report to deliver.
Instead of speaking, however, his eyes locked onto me, burning with undisguised hatred.
What kind of knight glares directly at a Count’s daughter like that? Is class structure just a joke here?
“What is it, Cedric?”
Cedric? Wait… that name sounds familiar. Oh, no.
Memory struck me like a physical blow. Cedric. He was the fiercely loyal subordinate who would later help Adrian track down the fugitive Claire, holding a bottomless grudge against her for a very specific reason: the tragic death of his younger sister.
My brain raced, frantically burning through the calories of my breakfast as I tried to claw back memories of the book’s background lore.
“…ire? Claire!”
“Yes?”
Lost in my internal panic, I hadn’t heard the Count call my name. Annoyed by my delayed response, the Count raised his voice.
“What is it, Your Excellency?”
“Your Excellency?”
“Yes.”
The Count’s brow twitched violently. Apparently, addressing a Count as a Count was crossing a line.
“Never mind. If you’re finished eating, get back to your room.”
“Yes!”
I bolted from the table before he could change his mind, acutely aware of Cedric’s murderous glare burning into my back.
Once safely locked inside my room, I began pacing frantically. I had just stumbled onto another ticking time bomb.
What on earth did Claire do to Cedric’s sister?
Cedric’s sister was a sweet, freckled girl with brown hair. Naturally, she had taken pity on the imprisoned Adrian, sneaking food to him when he was left to starve. Claire had known about it and allowed it at first—until she caught Adrian actually smiling at the girl.
Blinded by jealous fury, Claire had viciously beaten the innocent girl and shipped her off to a brutal labor camp.
Oh, sweet mercy.
At the labor camp, the poor girl had been trafficked, violated, and ultimately died of a neglected illness.
When did Claire send her away? Was it already—
The door clicked open, and Sally poked her head in.
“Sally!”
“Ow, my ears! Yes, My Lady?”
“Do I know how to ride a horse?”
“What did you say?”
“Do I know how to ride a horse?”
“Yes, of course. You’re an excellent equestrian. It’s only natural for a descendant of the Ianster family…”
“What about you?”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then tell Owen to saddle two horses at the front gate and wait for me.”
“Sigh… I have no idea what scheme you’re cooking up now. My Lady, please stop. We haven’t even cleaned up the disaster you caused yesterday.”
“No, Sally. I’m going to fix it this time. Just do as I say.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
She didn’t look convinced in the slightest, but thankfully, she hurried off to obey.
When I stepped outside into the courtyard, a stable hand named Owen stood holding the reins of two restless horses.
Ah, Owen. I finally remember his last name… wait, no, I completely forgot it.
“Owen!”
He blinked in genuine surprise at my casual tone.
What? Am I not allowed to call my own employee by name?
“Yes, My Lady,” he replied quickly, smoothing his expression into an icy mask of indifference.
“Listen. Cedric’s sister—the one I had sent away. Do you know where she is right now?”
“…”
Owen stared at me, his eyes flashing with a potent mix of suspicion and venom. It was the exact same hostile look everyone in this mansion gave me. I realized with chilling clarity that I needed to dismantle these ticking time bombs and bolt from this estate before my past caught up with me. I refused to die a pathetic, preventable death twice.
“Do you know where she is or not? If you don’t, I’ll ask someone else.”
“I know,” Owen ground out, his voice tight. “But why ask? She’s already trapped in that hellhole.”
“Right,” I replied evenly. “I’ve thought about it, and I realize I went way too far. I’m going to go bring her back.”
“…”
“Seriously! If she wants to work here again, I’ll let her. If not, I’ll help her go somewhere else.”
Cedric was a noble by birth, but he was perpetually broke. That harsh financial reality was the only reason he hadn’t been able to stop his younger sister from taking a job as a maid at the Count’s sprawling estate. Even as a maid, though, she was never meant to endure the crushing, brutal physical labor of the lower-tier servants.
Naturally, once Cedric secured permission from Count Ianster, he rushed to rescue her. But by the time he reached the labor camp, she had already been caught up in human trafficking. According to Owen, she had been dragged to this hellish site just three days ago. Panic gripped my chest; time was running out.
After a grueling day of riding, we finally arrived at the labor camp. Thankfully, the girl was still there. Spotting Owen and me from a distance, she didn’t even attempt to run—she simply froze, trembling violently.
Her injuries were raw and unheeded, her appearance heartbreaking to witness. A sharp spike of agony pierced my chest.
You absolute lunatic, Claire. Why on earth did you do this?
I dismounted and approached her with slow, unthreatening steps. Before I could reach her, the girl dropped to her knees in terror. In that exact moment, a brutish, menacing man lunged toward her, his hand clamping around her throat as his other arm cocked back to strike.
“Why the hell are you sitting around instead of working, you little bitch?”
Shock froze my blood, but my body moved on instinct. I threw myself forward.
SLAP!
Before I could even register the motion, the man’s fist slammed into my face. Flashing stars erupted in my vision.
“Ugh!”
“My Lady!”
“What? My Lady?!”
In a flash of motion, Owen kicked the man squarely in the shin, sending him crashing into the dirt.
“This is Lady Claire of Count Ianster’s household,” Owen barked, his voice dripping with lethal intent.
The trembling man dropped flat to the ground right beside my boots, shaking like a leaf. Ignoring the pain, I immediately dropped to my knees to check on the young girl.
“My Lady, are you—are you alright?”
“Are you alright? I’m so sorry… have you been taking beatings like this the whole time?”
My face burned with a dull, throbbing ache, but the overwhelming wave of misplaced guilt made tears spring to my eyes.
“If you’ll grant me your grace, please forgive me,” I choked out.
“Pardon?”
“Hailey…”
Owen spoke her name softly. As it turned out, Owen had been carrying a heavy burden of guilt, agonizing over his inability to rescue his closest friend and subordinate’s sister. He had already begged Count Ianster to let him bring Hailey home.
However, the Count had flatly refused his initial pleas. In this rigid social hierarchy, the authority over household servants and maids belonged exclusively to the mistress of the house or her daughters. If Owen had tried to snatch her away unilaterally, it would have inevitably provoked Claire into another destructive rampage.
“Owen… sir, and My Lady, please stand up. Your clothes will get dirty,” Hailey whispered.
Even while shaking with fear, the pitiful girl tried to speak clearly. Her wide, round eyes held only stark terror rather than malice, twisting the knife of my guilt even deeper.
Damn it. She’s too pitiful. Claire, I take back every nice thing I ever thought about you.
“If you can ever forgive me, I want to make it up to you with everything I have. Will you let me?”
Hailey’s eyes wavered, filled with desperate uncertainty.
“R-really… will you actually get me out of this place?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
Without wasting another second, I ordered Owen to pull Hailey out of the labor camp once and for all. This absurd, class-obsessed world truly only bent to the whims of power—a convenient perk of living inside a novel’s plot.
As we settled the fees for her release, Hailey limped out through the doorway, clutching a meager bundle of belongings to her chest. My stomach dropped.
“Hailey, what happened to your leg…?”
“Oh… I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for that! Let’s find a doctor immediately.”
Fortunately, a local physician assured us that Hailey’s leg injuries, while severe, would heal completely with proper care and rest. The doctor then turned his critical gaze toward me.
“Your face is in far worse condition than this maid’s, My Lady.”
“I’m fine. This is nothing.”
My lips were split and swollen, and my eyes were heavily bloodshot from the blow, but knowing Hailey’s leg wasn’t permanently ruined made my heart feel as light as a feather.
Once her wounds were carefully dressed, I took Hailey back to the humble home she shared with Cedric just outside the Count’s castle. While she freshened up, I headed straight for the small kitchen to whip up something nourishing.
“Wh-what on earth are you doing?” Owen asked, staring at me in utter bewilderment as I expertly chopped mushrooms and set a pot of porridge on the stove.
“Hailey hasn’t eaten a proper meal in days.”
“Stop hovering, Owen.”
“Pardon? I wasn’t—”
“What do you mean you weren’t? You’re staring because you’re convinced I’m about to poison the food.”
“Ahem…”
Just as I finished tasting the finished porridge and ladling it into a bowl, Hailey stepped out of the washroom. Bathed and treated, she looked significantly better. I handed her a spoon before turning around with a determined glint in my eye to tackle the rest of the house.
The rooms were an absolute disaster, cluttered with heaps of empty liquor bottles—a heartbreaking reflection of Cedric’s quiet suffering. The moment I grabbed a broom and started sweeping, Owen’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.
“What… what are you doing?”
“Shh, keep your voice down. She’s eating.”
Lowering his voice to a nervous whisper, Owen demanded, “So what are you doing right now?”
“Extending my lifespan.”
“Pardon?”
“If you’re not going to help me clean, get out of the way. You’re blocking my light.”
Channeling the ruthless efficiency I once used to satisfy the impossible demands of a third-generation chaebol heir, I tore through the mess, tidying the entire house in record time.
Phew… at least he won’t hunt me down for vengeance anytime soon, right?
Dusting off my hands, I took a step back to admire my work just as the front door swung wide open. Cedric stood in the doorway, took one look at me, and instantly drew his sword.
“Gasp! I didn’t clean this whole place just to die right here…”
The panicked thought slipped straight past my lips. Fortunately, Owen stepped in with a crucial assist.
“Cedric! Hailey is inside!”
“Pardon?”
“She’s resting in her room right now.”
Cedric glared daggers at me for a second longer before sheathing his blade and rushing past me toward the bedroom. I grabbed Owen’s wrist, which was still shaking from the adrenaline.
“Let’s get out of here, Owen.”
I practically dragged him out the door before Cedric could change his mind. Owen followed in silence.
With my face throbbing and my eyes bloodshot from the punch, I returned home. Even in the height of summer, the dark, looming shadows made the mansion feel stark and desolate.
Dismounting in the courtyard, I pulled a leftover cob of corn from my pocket and fed it to my horse.
“You worked really hard today, buddy.”
Owen stared at me as if I had lost my mind, watching me press my cheek against the horse’s muzzle and whisper softly while stroking its mane. Yes, I must have looked utterly unhinged today. The real Claire would never do something so tender.
As I turned toward the annex, assuming I’d finally get to crawl into bed, Owen trailed behind me.
“Where are you going?”
“Oh… to check on Adrian. You can go rest, Owen. You must be exhausted.”
Truthfully, I desperately wanted Owen to come with me. There was a strict limit to how much overtime a human being should endure, but even though I was determined to survive, the thought of facing the future murderer all by myself made my knees weak. He wasn’t just any killer—he was the one destined to end my life.
Realizing I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if I went back to my room alone, I forced strength into my shaky legs.
“I will accompany you, My Lady.”
“Really?”
I must have looked entirely too relieved because my face lit up into a wide grin. Owen immediately frowned and looked away, but since a knight wouldn’t dare break his word, I bravely led the way toward Adrian’s quarters.
The annex path was clean and quiet. Owen instinctively reached to shove Adrian’s door open without knocking—naturally, no one bothered to knock on a slave’s door. But I quickly grabbed his hand.
“Wai—wait just a moment.”
Taking a deep breath, I knocked politely on the door before stepping inside. To my relief, my anxiety was unfounded; Adrian was sprawled unconscious on the bed, burning up with a vicious, high fever. He looked so dehydrated he couldn’t even manage a sip of water, let alone eat porridge.
I lit a small lamp to cut through the heavy darkness of the curtained room. Up close, his condition was far worse than I had imagined. Despite previous treatments, his lash wounds were infected, oozing pus through swollen, grotesque scabs that turned my stomach.
In romance fantasy novels, characters usually healed these kinds of injuries instantly with magical lasers or divine grace, but I possessed no such cheat codes.
“Owen, go fetch the physician. Wait—why did everyone let him get this bad in the first place?”
Owen hesitated for a split second, weighing the situation, but the sight of my tear-rimmed, bloodshot eyes prompted him to move instantly.
“Yes, My Lady. Right away.”
As soon as Owen hurried out, I rushed to the washroom, grabbed a basin of cool water, and began gently wiping down Adrian’s burning skin. Tears blurred my vision as an overwhelming wave of sympathy washed over me.
Even if he’s a fictional character, why does he have to suffer like this? And worst of all, Adrian dies in this story—dying entirely unloved and unable to love anyone back…
I slumped down onto the floor right beside his bed.
“Adrian… I’m so sorry. It hurts terribly, doesn’t it? I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner. If I had, you wouldn’t have had to take another beating…”
Just then, Adrian’s eyelids fluttered open. His lips parted. Leaning in close to catch his words, I heard him whisper in a weak, clear voice right against my ear.
“Get lost.”
Hiccup. Hiccup.
The sudden rejection startled me so badly I immediately broke out in hiccups just as the physician arrived. The doctor quickly administered a fever reducer and began dressing the infected wounds.
“Keep treating him properly. Why was he left neglected like this?”
“My Lady, I do not treat common slaves,” the doctor replied smoothly, casting a look of quiet disdain as if wondering how I could possibly not know that. It was a humiliating look I had never experienced in my life.
Panic creeping in, I glanced around until Owen leaned over to murmur in my ear.
“Just issue a direct order, My Lady. That is all it takes.”
That’s right—the doctor had complied instantly the last time I commanded him.
“Is that so? Then consider it an order. Treat him until he makes a full recovery. Thank you for your help and thank you too, Owen.”