Adrian kept trying to pull his foot away, but I held onto his ankle even tighter and began to sob uncontrollably. It wasn’t just a slight scratch; the wound was deep, with torn skin and bone nearly visible. And despite all of that, he was the one who had opened the door for me.
“Please… please don’t forgive me, Adrian.”
My tears fell onto the top of his foot. I couldn’t bring myself to look up at his face.
“Waaah… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I must have cried until I completely passed out. Between the exhaustion from visiting the Imperial Palace and everything else I had been through, my physical limits had finally caught up with me. I still couldn’t understand how my peaceful, comfortable life before the divorce talks had completely unraveled into this mess.
I was dreaming. Or was this even a dream? Familiar voices pierced my ears, sharp and clear. Then came silence. And a moment later…
“See? She should have just died anyway. What is this, getting hit by a car and ending up like a vegetable?”
You… Secretary Choi?
My voice wouldn’t come out. It had to be a terrible nightmare. Then, I heard a door creak open.
“What are you doing in here? Get out right now!”
“Get out!”
The sound of the door sliding open and closing again was so close it made my skin crawl.
Seyoung…
Hyuntaek-ssi?
“Seyoung… please, just stop this. I’ve been punished enough. You know I can’t live without you. Come back. Please, come back.”
What is actually going on? And why is he holding me and crying like this?
“Seyoung, why won’t you open your eyes? Huh?”
Hyuntaek’s hand on my wrist felt freezing cold. Caught somewhere between losing consciousness and slipping back toward reality, the sharp shift in temperature violently yanked me back to the other world.
“Gasp!”
I bolted upright and realized I had fallen asleep leaning directly against Adrian’s shoulder. After I collapsed from crying over his ankle, he must have been too kind—or too bewildered—to push me onto the floor, simply letting me rest against him instead.
I jumped to my feet and, falling back into a panicked habit, blurted out an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
“…”
“I’m going to go now.”
“Who the hell is Hyuntaek?”
“What?”
“You were calling out for someone desperately in your sleep.”
“Oh? Just… someone you don’t know.”
“Do you know someone that I don’t know?”
Exhausted, flustered, and mentally fried, I spat out a line straight out of a cheap melodramatic soap opera.
“Don’t pretend you know everything about me.”
The hallway air was freezing, despite it being the middle of summer.
To be completely honest, that other life still felt vastly more real. I hated that man, yet a broken part of me still wanted closure.
I haven’t actually died, though, have I? Is it possible I can still go back?
I had nowhere left to run, entirely thanks to the curly-haired young man who kept showing up at my doorstep.
I had been swamped with my own survival issues, so I had tried hard to push him out of my mind. I wasn’t some sort of patron saint; what right did I have to meddle in a human’s destiny?
Ever since my conversation in the Count’s office, however, Aide Glenn Doherty had practically made it his mission to consult me about the orphanage project. To be fair, he hadn’t intended to pester me so often at first.
“How many staff members do you think would be ideal?”
“Around five would probably work, considering there are thirty-five children.”
“And who do you think should manage it as director?”
“I haven’t settled on anyone yet. I’d rather secure reliable teachers first.”
“Teachers, you say?”
I found out later that his ultimate retirement goal was to build a combined orphanage and school. That explained why his eyes had sparkled with such relentless enthusiasm that day. I couldn’t wrap my head around why even his personal ambitions were so constructive that they weighed heavily on my conscience.
“Yes. For the time being, it’s best if the teachers are all women. The children are likely terrified of adult men.”
“Brilliant. You’re incredible, Lady Claire. I hadn’t even considered that angle.”
“No, it’s not that I’m amazing, it’s just—”
“So, history, ancient languages, and basic politics would form a solid curriculum, wouldn’t they?”
“Pardon? Why would orphans need to learn politics? I’d prefer teachers who can teach cooking, sewing, and practical trade skills like animal care. Music and art would be nice, too…”
“…”
“Though I suppose that’s way too ambitious for our current budget, right? But later on, when the kids grow up, those practical skills will actually help them survive.”
Glenn Doherty stared at me as if he had just witnessed an alien landing. Practical vocational education was standard common sense back in the 21st century, but in this feudal world, it sounded revolutionary.
“Lady Claire, why have you kept your brilliance hidden all this time? I genuinely thought you were just a superficial noblewoman who only cared about dresses and jewelry.”
Ever since that day, he popped up whenever he had a spare moment. Today, I was heading toward the training grounds simply to kill time when I spotted his curly hair in the distance. He immediately jogged over.
“Where are you headed, My Lady?”
“Just out for a stroll. Are you here to see the Count?”
“Indeed. But before that, I had a burning question and wanted to catch you first.”
“Another question…”
“I’ve been pondering your suggestion about rainwater collection systems. By any chance, do you have any structural concepts for accelerating mail delivery? I thought I heard you drop a hint about it previously.”
He practically mined my casual remarks for gold. While other people let my stray comments fade into background noise, he treated every word like a blueprint. From my perspective, though, explaining basic infrastructure wasn’t difficult at all.
“That’s a massive logistical problem.”
I watched his face light up with eager anticipation.
“Is it? Do you truly believe there’s a superior method to messenger birds?”
“Good grief, messenger birds? That means you need a brand-new bird every single time you send a letter, and commoners can’t even afford them.”
“Then what—?”
Since we were standing right near the path to the training grounds, I crouched down and picked up a stray stick, sketching lines in the dirt.
“Look here. What does this layout resemble to you?”
“Did you draw the Count’s estate?”
“Yes. And if you follow this main road, you’ll see houses lined up in rows. Imagine if we assigned a unique number to every single house. We call that an address.”
This world had banking systems, but postal networks didn’t exist yet, let alone standardized addresses. If you wanted to send mail to a prominent noble house like the Iansters, the whole area was simply referred to as Ianster Village.
“It’s not a simple problem,” I muttered.
“Tell me a little more.”
I drew a larger rectangle, scribbling the names of a few neighboring territories to illustrate the concept of a centralized mail depot and post offices.
He listened with the breathless fascination of a child hearing a fairy tale. Suddenly, Glenn reached down and grabbed the hand I was using to draw in the dirt.
“You are an absolute genius, My Lady. May I copy this diagram into my ledger?”
“Go right ahead.”
While he was absorbed in transcribing my crude sketches, I casually pivoted the conversation.
“By the way, Sir Doherty.”
“Yes, My Lady?”
“Are you still scheduled to sail for the Eastern Continent next month? Oh, wait, it’s technically this month now.”
“Yes. A reliable report placed Lady Celine Ianster somewhere in the Eastern Territories, so I’m booked on the next voyage.” He didn’t look up from his ledger.
“Um… are you aware of the maritime forecasts?”
“Forecasts, My Lady?”
“The sea route to the Eastern Continent is notorious for brutal storms in September.”
“Is that so?”
There were two primary routes from the Western Continent of Quinze-Nouais to the East: a northern land bridge or the southern sea lane. The overland journey took ten days by horse and carriage, whereas a ship could cross in five.
“Yes. So if you aren’t in a desperate rush, why don’t you take the overland route? Or at least push your departure to October.”
“That’s impossible. There’s a major royal event in October that requires my presence in the capital. I must take the ship as planned.”
“Hmm… if you say so.”
His stubbornness tested my patience. I hadn’t expected him to blindly follow my advice right out of the gate, anyway. As I watched him head toward the Count’s office, I hardened my resolve. If I wanted to ensure this world developed a proper postal system—and keep this guy alive—I had to intervene.
After Glenn disappeared, my aimless walk toward the training grounds suddenly gained a clear objective.
“Owen, I need you to accompany me somewhere.”
When I reached the training ground, the knights were deep into their drills. They used to react with shock or open hostility whenever I showed up, but my frequent visits had normalized my presence. A few even offered awkward nods of greeting, making me feel like my rehabilitation plan was slowly working.
“Where to, My Lady?”
“The eastern port.”
“Understood. The eastern port… Pardon?”
“Yes, the docks where the ships depart for the Eastern Continent.”
“We can’t make a round trip there in a single day from here, My Lady.”
“That’s precisely why I need you to come with me, Owen.”
A knight’s primary duty was to obey without question, but Owen’s confusion cracked his discipline. “Why on earth do you need to go out there?”
“To save someone’s life.”
I was only sixteen, and Celine still had plenty of time before her canonical return, but I was determined to keep Glenn Doherty off a sinking ship.
Knowing it was an absurdly unreasonable demand, Owen quietly fell in line. Under the guise of an overnight camping trip for royal errands, he not only brought himself and Cedric along, but also Sally and Adrian.
Even though we departed at dawn, travel conditions quickly deteriorated. True to the local warnings about September squalls, the closer we got to the coastal cliffs, the more violent the weather became.
A torrential downpour forced us to abandon travel and set up camp early. The coastal village was still a few miles away, but the rain was too heavy to push through.
Pitching tents in miserable weather was traditionally slave labor, but I rolled up my sleeves and waded in to help Adrian.
It wasn’t appropriate for a noble lady to assist with heavy manual labor—especially when I still owed him a mountain of apologies—but old instincts died hard.
Seeing me pitch in, Owen and Cedric stepped up as well. With everyone working together, two sturdy tents were erected in no time.
By the time camp was secured, the downpour had tapered off into a steady drizzle, and night had swallowed the coastline.
Inside the primary tent, Sally had set up two cots and a small writing table. She helped me shed my damp outer layers, wringing them out before hanging them near the brazier. Packing an entire carriage full of supplies had turned out to be a brilliant move.
The five of us gathered around a crackling campfire. Sally started a pot of hearty potato stew, and I quickly chopped extra roots to toss into the iron pot.
I didn’t bother wondering what the knights were thinking as they watched me cook.
After a quiet meal, everyone turned in for the night, but my mind was too restless for sleep. Slipping out of the tent into the cool night air, I spotted Adrian walking alone toward a nearby elevation.
“Where are you going?”
Even though I called out without warning, Adrian didn’t flinch. Sometimes I wondered if he was even human.
He kept walking without a word. Since he didn’t explicitly tell me to buzz off, I quietly trailed behind him.
By the time I began to worry about the safety of following a brooding, dangerous future male lead up a pitch-black mountain path, a stunning view opened up before us.
“Whoa!”
It was breathtaking. While I stood there gasping at the horizon, Adrian found a smooth boulder near the summit and sat down.
“Can I sit here too?” I asked, summoning a bit of courage.
“You already are.”
Startled by his dry tone, I almost bounced back up. But right at that moment, Adrian instinctively reached out and caught my sleeve.
Mortified by his own reflex, he yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned.
Taking it as silent permission, I carefully settled down a safe distance away.
The scenery was magnificent.
Back in Seoul, light pollution made it impossible to see a sky like this—the stars were so sharp and brilliant they looked like crushed diamonds against black velvet. A pang of melancholy hit me; I hadn’t looked up at the stars once since arriving in this novel.
I raised a hand and traced the outline of the Pegasus constellation. Even though this world operated on completely different physical laws, seeing Pegasus glowing in the mid-September sky provided an odd sense of orientation.
“That cluster over there is Pegasus,” I whispered.
“……”
Adrian stayed silent, but since he didn’t tell me to shut up, I kept rambling, noticing his gaze track my fingertip.
“According to myth, Pegasus’s mother was Medusa, and his father was Poseidon. See those four bright points? Those are his wings. A winged horse.”
I could feel Adrian’s eyes shifting slowly from the night sky to my profile.
“Pegasus was notoriously wild and fierce. No one could ever tame him—except for the hero who used Athena’s golden bridle.”
At first, I thought I was imagining things, but no—he really was staring straight at me. Despite his poker face, a strange, electric tension hung between us.
My gaze drifted from the constellations down to his face. His striking blue eyes locked onto mine, sending a ticklish shiver down my spine that made me rush my words.
“That’s pretty much the whole story.”
Even when our eyes collided, Adrian didn’t look away. Ultimately, I was the one who lost my nerve and broke eye contact first.
“What happened to him?” he asked quietly.
“Pardon?”
“The horse—what happened to the horse in the end?”
It was the first time I had ever heard genuine curiosity in Adrian’s voice.
Seeing him actually attempt a real conversation made it impossible to tell him the bleak truth—that the legendary winged horse eventually fell from the heavens out of pride and human folly.
“They say he found peace. And that’s why he became an immortal star, shining up there forever.”
At my words, Adrian slowly pulled his gaze away from me and tilted his head back toward the cosmos.
Only then did I let myself truly look at him. And my thoughts drifted to Celine—the heroine destined by plot armor to slip Athena’s golden bridle over his head.
I just prayed he wouldn’t crash down to earth one day because of someone else’s selfish desires.
Yet, as I sat there in the quiet mountain air, my own heart felt like it was plummeting down into freefall.