The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds with a blinding intensity, typical of this unpredictable coastal town. The conditions here were as grim and desolate as everywhere else in this realm. I made my way toward the bustling docks, seeking out the man directing the loading of the vessels.
“Are you the captain of this ship?” I asked.
“And if I am?” the man replied brusquely.
Having slept outdoors at our campsite the night before, my clothes were rumpled, and my hair was a tangled mess. Without any outward sign of wealth, the burly sailor had no inkling that he was speaking to a high-ranking aristocrat.
“This is the daughter of the Count of Ianster. Show some respect,” Cedric stepped forward, correcting his tone.
“Oh, please… Cedric.”
I winced inwardly. I could never quite get used to throwing around my status. It felt entirely too much like shouting, “Do you know who I am?” Yet, in this harsh society, those few words carried immense weight. Instantly, the captain’s demeanor shifted from indifferent to deferential; he bowed low and answered my inquiries with absolute obedience.
“Do you have a vessel scheduled to depart after September fifteenth?”
“Yes, My Lady. A ship sets sail every odd-numbered day.”
“May I examine the passenger manifest?”
The roster was a crude, hastily assembled document listing little more than names and ages, with surnames frequently omitted. But as I flipped through the frayed parchment, a familiar name caught my eye. The ship was slated to depart on September twenty-fifth.
“I hear the seas around here turn quite perilous from mid-September through October…” I noted.
“Indeed, My Lady. Throughout the rest of the year, accidents are virtually unheard of, but that brief window is notorious for swallowing ships whole.”
His casual acceptance of the danger piqued my curiosity. “If it’s that hazardous, why not simply suspend all sailings during September?”
The captain let out a dry, humorless chuckle, as though my suggestion were the height of naivety. “My Lady, if we halted operations, every man who works these docks would starve to death. Death by drowning or death by starvation—either way, the end is the same. We merely choose the path with the slimmest chance of survival.”
His grim pragmatism left me entirely speechless. What right did I have to interfere? I certainly wasn’t some heroic protagonist destined to save this fictional world from its tragedies.
Yet, my cursed mouth had a mind of its own. Ever since my orphanage days, my peers had warned me that my chronic meddling would lead me straight into trouble.
“In that case, I will purchase every single ticket for that voyage,” I declared.
It was, in essence, a dramatic dockside “Golden Bell” moment.
“Pardon?” the captain blinked, stunned.
“My condition is simple: the ship must not leave port on that day. Calculate the cost for me.”
He looked me up and down, then stared back at my face in sheer disbelief. “One hundred tickets will cost thirty thousand Sat.”
The price of a single ticket was steep enough to purchase a human slave. At that moment, reality hit me: I was acting precisely like an overpowered heroine in an action flick. I was a reincarnator tampering with destiny—what else could I call myself if not Claire Stranger? Just like that, half of the funds I had painstakingly saved for my eventual escape vanished into thin air.
On our journey back from the Eastern Continent, Owen kept casting sideways glances at my face. I knew exactly why. How could a loyal knight not be baffled when a noble lady suddenly dashes to the harbor and buys out an entire ship’s passenger list on a whim?
“Owen,” I said, turning to him.
“Yes, My Lady?”
“Stop staring at me.”
Since Sally and Cedric were sharing a single mount, they had lagged slightly behind since yesterday. Owen and Adrian flanked me closely like an honor guard, while our primary carriage rumbled far out of sight down the winding road.
“I apologize, but…”
“I know. You’re bursting with curiosity.”
“Extremely curious, yes.”
Seeing how deeply unsettled he was, I decided to feed him a plausible truth wrapped in a convenient fabrication.
“I had a strange premonition. You know Glenn Doherty, the Count’s primary aide, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I dreamt that he boarded that exact ship and perished at sea. It was terrifyingly vivid. Then, as if fate were mocking me, I heard him mention planning a sea voyage. That’s why I took matters into my own hands.”
Owen blinked, slowly processing the explanation before nodding in acceptance.
Wait, is he really buying this that easily? I thought.
“So, you purchased every ticket just to prevent that?”
“Precisely. But keep it between us. He’s not the sort of man who puts any stock in dreams.”
“Understood, My Lady. I shall keep my silence.”
As Owen replied in a solemn tone, I caught the faint, unmistakable sound of Adrian stifling a chuckle beside me.
Wait… Adrian just laughed?
Startled, I whipped my head around to look at him, but his face was a mask of cold indifference, leaving me to wonder if I had simply hallucinated the sound.
The following morning, back within the Eastern Continent’s estate, Sally greeted me with a much brighter expression and some intriguing news.
“I hear Hailey is down at the training grounds today,” Sally said cheerfully.
“Really? Let’s go visit her. I brought a gift.”
“Yes, My Lady!”
Sally’s smile no longer carried the forced awkwardness of the past; it was radiant and genuine, warming my chest and quickening my pace.
Thump!
“Ugh!”
My feet suddenly tangled beneath me, sending me sprawling forward. Gasps of shock echoed across the training yard. I lifted my gaze to find a young knight nearby, whistling innocently and trying to look as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
Instantly, several other knights rushed forward to help me up. The culprit, realizing how badly he miscalculated, slowly began backing away with a pale, terrified expression.
Strong hands gently hoisted me to my feet. It had rained heavily the night before, and my face was smeared with dark mud. Though the fall hadn’t hurt physically, the humiliation was scorching. Instinctively, my eyes searched the crowd for Adrian.
Oh, damn it.
Our eyes locked immediately.
“Are you all right, My Lady?” someone asked.
“Yes, perfectly fine! I simply tripped over my own clumsy feet. Ha-ha-ha! Pay me no mind, carry on with your drills—er, your training!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Cedric already dragging the guilty young knight by the collar toward a secluded corner, barking fierce reprimands.
“Hailey!” I called out, dusting myself off.
“My Lady, are you hurt?” Hailey rushed over, looking panicked.
“Not at all. But look—there’s a smudge of dirt on your bag.”
I used the hem of my already ruined skirt to frantically wipe at her satchel. “See? I even embroidered Hailey’s name right here. Isn’t it lovely?”
“Oh… thank you so much, My Lady. But are you sure you’re alright? You have a bit of blood on your nose…”
“Huh?”
At her words, Sally immediately drew a handkerchief from her apron pocket and gently dabbed at my face. Thankfully, it was only a minor scratch.
“By the way, what brings you out here today? Were you visiting?” Hailey asked.
“Actually… I want to return to work, if you’ll have me back, My Lady.”
I grabbed both of Hailey’s hands impulsively. “Of course! Please, resume your duties as before. Poor Sally has been run ragged managing everything alone.”
Hailey’s cheeks flushed pink and she nodded eagerly. For the first time since my arrival in this strange world, a profound sense of relief washed over me, as if I had finally restored a vital piece of order. I happily linked arms with her, intending to bring her back to my quarters, when Owen’s stern voice cut through the air.
“You must punish him for this.”
I groaned internally. Eager to escape the scene, I found my path blocked by my steadfast knight.
“Why go so far as to demand a punishment?” I asked, flashing a tight, gritted-tooth smile.
“He caused his master to bleed. Oversight or not, discipline must be maintained.”
Owen possessed a terrifying inflexibility. I pulled him aside, lowering my voice to a sharp whisper.
“If we start handing out punishments for that reason, nobody here would survive. Let’s be honest, you all despised me until recently. Don’t pick on the poor boy; he simply didn’t know.”
Owen leaned down, whispering back with equal intensity, “This is entirely different, My Lady. An example must be set.”
“Different? There was a time a guard literally spat in my direction—anyway, I get your point, fine!”
I turned and summoned the young knight, who was now trembling with a chalk-white face.
“What is your name?”
“Chris Curtis, My Lady.”
“Very well, Chris. Effective immediately, you are assigned as my personal sword-training instructor. One hour every single day at the training yard—before or after your regular garrison duties.”
“Pardon?”
“What? Do you object? Shall I have your family line blotted out for three generations instead?”
“O-oh, no, My Lady! Absolutely not!”
“Splendid. Is that sufficient for you, Owen?”
Owen gave a stiff nod of approval. At that moment, Chris looked up at me with tears welling in his eyes.
Oh, please, spare me the waterworks, I thought.
“Thank you, My Lady! And I am profoundly sorry!”
I later discovered that Chris had been away on an extended leave. While the rest of the garrison’s attitude toward me had shifted dramatically in recent weeks, he had been entirely out of the loop and had acted out of misplaced loyalty regarding the Hailey incident.
Regardless, this mishap inadvertently provided me with a bulletproof excuse to visit the training grounds every single day. I had grown thoroughly exhausted of pacing the perimeter with fabricated pretexts, so this worked out wonderfully. I instinctively glanced toward Adrian once more, but he had already turned and walked off into the distance.
After that awkward episode where I had literally clung to Adrian’s ankles and wept, approaching him felt considerably more daunting. I wasn’t sure if it was wise to thrust myself back into his space without warning, especially given the deep-seated trauma I had originally caused him.
The Adrian depicted in the original novel was profoundly emotional-blind—incapable of deciphering his own feelings or empathizing with others, a fatal flaw that ultimately sealed his doom. Yet, during our night at the campsite, I had witnessed a genuine flicker of warmth. I had begun to hope that Adrian was slowly opening his heart and viewing me as a trusted companion.
Even as Chris put me through my paces during sword drills, my eyes constantly wandered across the training yard.
“You performed admirably today, My Lady,” Chris said, wiping his brow.
“Really? That’s entirely due to your rigorous coaching, Chris.”
As it turned out, Chris was fundamentally a naive, earnest young man beneath his brash exterior. I offered him an encouraging smile while continuing to track Adrian’s movements.
He sat quietly in a shadowed corner of the yard, meticulously cleaning and organizing equipment entirely on his own, without sparing me a single glance. It felt as though the tender expression he had worn at the campsite was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. Adrian remained as cold and distant as ever—perhaps even harboring lingering resentment.
With training concluded, I retreated to my room. Chris had been so enthusiastic during the lesson that his voice seemed to echo in my head. Once Sally helped me clean up and change, I sat at my mahogany desk and unrolled a massive topographical map. The layout of the Count’s territory was meticulously charted out in clean, geometric, Lego-like districts.
Back in my past life, whenever Han Hyuntaek brainstormed a new corporate venture, he would unbutton the top three buttons of his crisp shirt, roll his sleeves up to his elbows, and stare intently at a sprawling world map for hours. I could still picture the way he would rake both hands through his jet-black hair, his dark eyes sparkling with ambition… Yes, I had adored that trait of his. He always insisted that success required cultivating a macroscopic perspective.
Following his example, I spread out the parchment map and sat tall, though it quickly became apparent that a former commoner like me lacked any innate grand-scale vision. Debating whether I should go inspect the typewriter workshop to check its production progress, my plans were abruptly derailed by a summons to the Count’s study.
“The Crown Prince’s carriage will be arriving again tomorrow,” my father announced without preamble.
“Yes…”
As he droned on, I let his words drift through one ear and out the other, my hands instinctively drifting across the top of his desk to tidy the clutter. It was as though my subconscious had taken the wheel. Organizing chaotic paperwork was an occupational reflex, a deeply ingrained obsessive-compulsive habit from my past career.
First, I flipped several upside-down documents right-side up, sorted the entire stack into strict alphabetical order, and inserted distinct colored markers into pages flagged as critical high-priority items. On the very first page, I even jotted down a concise executive summary for each file. It was pure, instinctive administrative curation.
“What… exactly do you think you’re doing?” a cold voice cut in.
“Pardon?”
Startled out of my trance, I yanked my hands away from the Count’s private documents as if they were burning coals.
“Ah, my apologies! Did I cross a line? It’s simply an old habit of mine…”
The Count had stopped speaking entirely, watching my frantic organizing with a bewildered expression until he could no longer contain his disbelief.
“Please, do continue with what you were saying,” I stammered, smoothing my skirt.
“Hrm… Very well. I was informed that you requested the Crown Prince to delay our formal engagement.”
“Well, what if Celine returns?” I countered smoothly, having rehearsed this narrative. “That rightful position belongs to her, after all.”
I used the opening to carefully phrase my defense. “If my sister reappears, any engagement between the Crown Prince and myself would inevitably collapse in scandal anyway. There is no sense in forging an alliance bound to be stained by controversy.”
I knew from the plot that the Count would soon discover Celine was alive. Of course, true to novel tropes, she would remain elusive for some time yet… I desperately wanted to drop subtle hints to guide him, but raising unnecessary suspicion was a risk I couldn’t afford. I would leave all those explosive secrets unsaid until the day of my final departure. Besides, Adrian needed to remain at the estate a little longer so he would cross paths with Celine when she finally arrived.
Since Adrian doesn’t bear the cursed branded mark on his face in this timeline, I wonder if Celine will fall for him too…
The Count sat in heavy, brooding silence, processing my words.
“If that is all, I have errands to attend to elsewhere. May I be excused?” I asked softly.
“…You may leave,” he muttered, waving a tired hand.