Atoning for sins I never personally committed was proving to be an exhausting, uphill battle. And thus, my second day in this strange world came to an end with my eyes completely bloodshot from crying and exhaustion.
The next morning, the moment I opened my eyes, I dove right back into my “Surviving This World” project. The absolute key to staying alive was making sure Adrian dropped his deep-seated hatred for me. From what I witnessed last night, his condition was far more critical than I’d realized.
Since I hadn’t branded his face this time around, there was a chance Celine—who would eventually return—might fall for Adrian. But the true male lead of this world was the Crown Prince, no matter how you sliced it. If things didn’t work out between Celine and Adrian, all of Adrian’s murderous rage would inevitably land squarely on Claire.
Back in my past life as a wealthy divorcee, I would have spent my mornings dodging reporters. But with my neck literally on the line, paparazzi were the least of my concerns.
Sally barged into my room without knocking yet again.
“Why do you always walk in without a warning?”
“Oh? What’s with the sudden change of heart? Weren’t you the one who said you hated the sound of knocking and told me to just walk right in?”
Sally had lost her parents in a devastating fire and ended up in that same bleak orphanage. She and Claire had survived those miserable years clinging to each other; it was an ordeal they only endured because they had mutual support.
That memory suddenly made me think of Adrian’s dagger. Since he kept it close right up until his death, it had to be deeply precious to him.
“Sally…” I called out cautiously.
“Yes?” She was busy smoothing out the bedsheets.
“That orphanage we grew up in…”
Sally’s hands froze mid-motion. She spun around, her eyes wide with shock. “Why are you suddenly bringing up that hellhole? You aren’t planning on sending me back there, are you? I only have one year left until I’m legally an adult. If you want to kick me out, just throw me out on the streets instead!”
“No, don’t talk like that. Why would I ever kick you out?”
I had always found it bizarre that the notoriously wicked Claire had left the orphanage behind alone, but Sally’s defensive reaction finally shed some light on the truth. Claire had been terrified, too—the psychological trauma of her childhood was something even a villainess couldn’t simply shake off.
“Then why bring it up?”
“Don’t you want to get back at them?”
“Pardon?”
“Well, not just revenge, but we can’t let other kids go through what we did. Plus… there’s something I left behind that I need to retrieve.”
“So, you’re actually going back there?”
I brought it up hoping Sally might accompany me, but judging by her pale expression, that wasn’t happening.
“Yes. But first, let’s head down to the training grounds.”
When I arrived at the training grounds, the first person my eyes locked onto was Adrian, standing quietly in the corner. Perhaps because I was trapped in Claire’s body, every sight of him made my heart race—though never with pleasant flutters.
In the center of the yard, Owen was busy barking corrections at the knights. Spotting me, he strode over immediately. And though it might have just been my imagination, I could feel Adrian’s eyes tracking my movements, too.
“What is it this time, My Lady?”
“Owen, are you busy today?”
“My Lady’s commands take absolute priority, busy or not. Speak your mind.” Owen still couldn’t resist a subtle jab.
“Is that so? Well… I need to visit that orphanage.”
“Which orphanage?”
“The one where I grew up.”
“You mean St. Vincent Orphanage?”
The moment I named it, a dark cloud passed over Owen’s face, jogging my memory of the novel’s plot. The Count absolutely despised any mention of that place. To him, my very existence was a shameful family secret, and talking about the orphanage only dragged up more dirty history.
“Why on earth are you looking to go back there?”
“There’s an item I need to recover, and also… the director…”
“…”
“He abuses the children.”
The words tasted like ash in my mouth. A deep wave of shame crashed over me. As an adult mind trapped in this world, checking on those children should have been the very first thing I did.
The sharp-witted Owen read the raw emotion in my eyes, bowed his head without another word, and accepted my command.
“I will make preparations immediately.”
Watching Claire head back toward her chambers to prep, Owen stood in silence for a moment before Cedric walked up beside him.
“What now? Did that eccentric noblewoman hand down another bizarre order?”
“No, it’s nothing like that, Cedric. My Lady wishes to visit the orphanage she stayed at before coming to the Count’s estate, so you’ll need to prep your gear as well.”
Owen rubbed his face with a dry hand. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the ‘new’ Claire—the woman who once stared blankly with empty, cruel eyes now wore her heart entirely on her sleeve, shifting through a dozen genuine expressions.
Dismissing the knights back to their posts, Owen hurried off to organize the horses.
Cedric walked over to Adrian and handed him the polished sword he had left behind. “Adrian, you mentioned being from that same St. Vincent Orphanage as Lady Claire, didn’t you?”
Adrian took the blade without a word. Cedric hadn’t expected an answer anyway.
“Lady Claire has been acting completely out of her mind lately. Can’t fathom why she’d want to revisit that wretched place,” Cedric muttered casually while inspecting the steel. As he turned to walk away, Adrian suddenly reached out and clamped a hand around his wrist.
“I’m going to that orphanage, too.”
“What?”
Cedric stared at him, stunned. It was the first time Adrian had ever spoken a complete, unprompted sentence instead of a monosyllabic “yes” or “no.”
To Cedric, Adrian was little more than a breathing corpse—a sentiment likely shared by every knight on the estate. Strikingly handsome with an aura of quiet dignity, he was nonetheless just an amnesiac slave.
Yet, seeing such sudden, fierce agency in Adrian’s eyes, Cedric found himself nodding in agreement.
When I walked out fully dressed for the ride and saw Adrian standing by the horses, I nearly dropped my jaw.
“Oh… is Adrian coming with us, too?”
“Yes, he insisted on joining, so I brought him along,” Owen replied smoothly.
This threw a wrench into my plans. My original scheme—to sneak in, find his precious dagger, and surprise him with it—was completely ruined. But with everyone saddled up, there was no turning back. I set off toward St. Vincent Orphanage flanked by three formidable men.
Owen and I rode side by side, while Adrian shared a horse with Cedric. It took less than two hours to cross the distance from the estate to the orphanage grounds.
“To catch them in the act of child abuse, we should slip in quietly,” I suggested.
“Understood.”
“Um… My Lady?” Owen asked carefully from his saddle.
“Yes?”
When you were an inmate at that orphanage… did those things… happen to you, too?”
“Those things?”
“What you mentioned earlier about the abuse.”
I finally caught his drift; he was treading as lightly as possible around my trauma.
“Ah… that. Yes. Not a single child there escaped it.” I gave him the exact truth as written in the novel. Owen reined in his horse for a second, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Are you alright?”
“What do you mean?”
It wasn’t until I saw the deep worry etched across Owen’s face that I realized what he assumed: because I suffered abuse there, returning must be terrifying for me.
“I’m fine,” I said softly, letting my true feelings slip out. “I’m just… ashamed that I ignored those kids for so long.”
We soon reached the iron gates of St. Vincent Orphanage. All along the ride, I had kept glancing back at Adrian, wondering what drove him to tag along. Maybe stepping back onto familiar ground would help jog his lost memories.
Whether an awakened Adrian would spell doom or salvation for me, however, remained to be seen. His expression remained entirely unreadable.
Passing through the gates, the sight that met us was gut-wrenching. Emaciated, filthy children sat huddled in the dirt yard. It could hardly be called a playground—large muddy potholes dotted the grounds, and overgrown weeds swallowed the space, making the entire property look like a decaying haunted house.
As our group approached, the kids scattered in terror. Leaving my three intimidatingly large escorts behind, I walked forward slowly and knelt in front of a tiny little girl.
“Hey there. I used to live here a long time ago. What’s your name?” I offered her the gentlest, most harmless smile I could muster. Thankfully, the little girl held her ground.
“I’m… Amy. I’m six.”
“Amy. That’s a lovely name. Do you happen to know where Director Vincent is right now?”
The child’s face instantly pinched with dread at the mention of his name.
“The director… is in the ‘Room of Peace.’ With Hailey.”
The Room of Peace?!
I remembered that name vividly. The novel described it as the absolute chamber of horrors that the children feared above all else. Anxiety squeezed my heart. The director always put on a pious, gentle facade whenever outside visitors or imperial inspectors were around, masking the nightmare within.
Urgency flared in my chest. I bolted toward the main building, leaving the little girl behind, and the three men broke into a sprint right behind me. The moment I pushed through the front doors, a sharp, chemical stench stung my nostrils, making me cough.
I stopped in the foyer for a second, frantically searching my memory. That room… where was it located?
I remembered reading about it with absolute fury because the descriptions were so cruel. It was on the second floor… yes! The very last door at the end of the second-floor hallway!
I dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Right outside the ‘Room of Peace,’ a terrified orphanage maid was walking down the hall pushing a mop bucket. She gasped, opening her mouth to scream at the sight of us bursting up the stairs.
I raised a single finger to my lips, signaling for absolute silence. Then, giving her a brisk thumbs-up, I slid a finger across my throat in a universal gesture of execution. My fierce, unyielding glare locked her tongue in place instantly.
Without a second’s hesitation, I threw the door wide open—and the absolute worst nightmare I could have imagined unfolded before my eyes.
Before I could process it, absolute pitch-black darkness covered my vision.
“Don’t look.”
Adrian’s large hand firmly blocked my eyes. From across the room, Director Vincent roared in outrage at our sudden intrusion. My sight remained trapped behind Adrian’s palm.
“What the hell—who do you think you are?!”
“…”
“Wait… Adrian?”
The director’s arrogant screech cut off abruptly. Owen and Cedric swept past us, tackling the man to the floor with a heavy, bone-rattling thud. Adrian finally lowered his hand from my eyes, and I watched Cedric slowly draw his shining blade.
“Stop!”
Cedric froze, looking back at me in utter bewilderment.
“The child… the child is watching.”
At my command, Cedric roughly yanked the screaming director up by his collar, dragging him out into the hall—still clutching the heavy wooden cane he used for his brutal ‘discipline.’
As soon as they hauled the director away, I stripped off my heavy outer cloak and rushed toward the trembling child huddled in the corner, wrapping her up in the warm fabric.
“I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry I’m late. I’m truly sorry. Hiccup.” Tears streamed down my face as I looked into her hollow, empty eyes. Guilt crushed my lungs.
You should have come straight here first, Cha Seyoung…
Two orphanage maids stood frozen in the hallway. When my men dragged the director out into the yard and threw him face-first into the dirt, the maids collapsed to their knees in the yard, shaking uncontrollably. They were nothing more than cowardly accomplices by omission.
I carried the little girl into the orphanage’s rudimentary medical room and began scouring for supplies. It was primitive, but thankfully I found a bottle of antiseptic. As I carefully dabbed the stinging solution onto her raw skin, the child flinched from the bite. What kind of monstrous sin could an innocent orphan possibly commit to deserve such savagery?
Naturally, her body was a patchwork of trauma. Old injuries had barely faded into jagged scars before fresh lacerations were carved over them.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I know it stings terribly. Just bear with it for a tiny bit longer, okay?” I blew gently over her torn skin before smoothing on an ointment. I finally understood why her gaze was so terrifyingly vacant; I recalled a line from the text noting that the Room of Peace always smelled faintly of old copper and despair.
“Just the last one now. Hang in there, and as soon as we’re done, we’re leaving this awful place forever.”
As I secured the final wrap of gauze around her arm, the little girl softly closed her small hand over mine, communicating a wordless thank you. The deadness in her eyes receded just a fraction. Seeing a flicker of genuine life return to her gaze made fresh tears prick my own eyes.
With my face still bloodshot and swollen, I helped her into clean clothes and stepped out of the room to find Adrian waiting quietly by the door. He held my gaze for a beat before gently scooping the child up into his arms and carrying her outside.
After watching Adrian take the little girl to safety, I walked back out to the yard where the director was securely bound. I waved Owen and Cedric back and stepped directly in front of the groveling man.
“Where is the dagger?”
The director, who had been shivering like a wet dog under Owen and Cedric’s glare, suddenly sneered up at me.
“Well, well. Look how much you’ve grown, Claire. If I had known you’d turn out to be such a clever little schemer, I would have broken your spirit a lot sooner.”
In the original plot, the real Claire would have shrunk away in sheer terror at his voice, haunted by her past abuse. But I wasn’t Claire—I was Cha Seyoung. I leaned down until my face was inches from his and whispered softly.
“You’re heading straight to a royal dungeon now. A pitch-black cell remarkably similar to the ones you locked these children in. And I’ll personally ask the guards to place you with the most… enthusiastic inmates who will cherish your company.”
As I pulled back, the arrogant smirk melted off the director’s face, his skin turning a sickly, ghostly gray.
“Claire—wait, let me go! If it wasn’t for me taking you in off the streets, you would have starved to death in a gutter! Have you forgotten that?!”
“Shut your mouth and tell me where the dagger is.”
A frantic desperation flashed in the director’s eyes as he spat, “The gem embedded in that hilt belongs to the imperial family!”
Imperial family? Royalty?
My head snapped up, scanning the courtyard anxiously. Thankfully, Adrian was nowhere in sight. The director caught my worried glance instantly.
“Ah. I saw Adrian with you earlier. You’re hiding something big from him, aren’t you—?!”
“Owen. Cedric. Drag this trash to the constabulary immediately.”
“Yes, My Lady!”
Owen and Cedric hoisted the screaming man off the ground and dragged him toward the gates.
“Noooo! Claire, you’re hiding a royal secret, aren’t you?!” His shrieks faded as he was hauled away to the local guards waiting outside. Since we had four direct witnesses to his crimes, alongside a drawer full of embezzlement records locked in his office, the director of St. Vincent Orphanage was tried on the spot by the local magistrate and hauled off to prison without delay.
I sent a maid into town to purchase cartloads of fresh food and hired a crew of professional cleaners to scrub the entire orphanage from top to bottom. By the time all thirty children had warm meals in their bellies and clean beds to sleep in, the sun had dipped low below the horizon, painting the sky in deep twilight.
All it took to feed, clean, and rescue thirty children was a single ornamental accessory plucked from my hair. It was almost absurdly easy—a reminder that I was living inside the pages of a novel.
With the crisis handled, I slipped back into the director’s old office to search the desk drawers. I found the dagger almost instantly. Perhaps because the blue gem on its hilt was a protected royal artifact that couldn’t easily be fenced or melted down, it had been tossed aside in a lockbox. The clear, deep-blue gemstone shimmered with a mesmerizing aura—remarkably similar to Adrian’s striking eyes.
Pocketing the weapon, I walked outside as the last person preparing to leave the grounds. Hesitating for a moment near the horses, I pulled the dagger out and handed it directly to Adrian.
“Adrian. This belongs to you.”
During the entire ride back, I had debated whether or not I should hand it over. But the conclusion was obvious. Even if I hadn’t fully earned his trust yet, holding onto something so deeply personal to him felt wrong.
For the very first time, a genuine crack appeared in Adrian’s stoic armor. His deep blue eyes wavered, flooded with sudden, overwhelming confusion.
Watching him, my own mind raced. A royal dagger meant royal blood—his origins were high-born. This item was bound to act as a massive psychological catalyst for his recovering memories, and if he remembered everything, I had no way of knowing how it would affect my future.
I pulled myself up into the saddle and reached for the reins, but my hands were shaking violently. My mind kept insisting I was fine, but my body was rebelling against the sheer physical exhaustion of the day.
Noticing my trembling hands, Owen silently mounted the horse right behind me and took hold of the reins. I was far too drained to argue.
“Adrian, take my horse.”
Owen tossed a brief command over his shoulder. Having witnessed Adrian’s skilled horsemanship behind Cedric earlier, Owen knew he could handle a mount on his own.
Adrian stared between Owen and me for a beat before swinging effortlessly into the saddle of Owen’s horse. Cedric looked mildly shocked by a mere slave handling a steed with such effortless grace, but he simply shook his head and mounted his own horse.
Owen gently guided our mount forward.
“Um… Owen?”
“Yes, My Lady?”
“Would it be terribly awkward if I leaned against your arm?”
“…”
“Just… bear with it, even if you hate it.”
Without a single word of complaint, Owen shifted the arm holding the reins closer, creating a steady, comfortable support for my exhausted head.
I had set out on this journey hoping to secure the dagger, win over a dangerous future murderer, and take down a wretched villain. But as the cool night air brushed against my face on the ride home, my heart felt heavier and far more complicated. And far ahead in the lead, I failed to notice the lingering, intensely complex gaze Adrian kept casting back in my direction.