Episode 1 – I’m the heroine’s older sister?
Rain was pouring down so hard it felt like ice water was sinking straight into my bones.
I had no idea how long I’d been standing there like an idiot, but when I finally came to my senses, the scene in front of
me made zero sense.
In the middle of a stormy cemetery stood men and women in fancy old-fashioned black dresses and tuxedos.
The weirdest part?
Me.
I was wearing some frilly Western-style mourning dress I’d never put on in my life, and my usually muscular arms—
built from years of archery were now all thin and delicate like twigs.
Just yesterday, I’d been dragging lazy teenage archery students back to practice, scolding them:
“You think you can make the national team training like that?”
And they’d whined about how hopeless it was being stuck in Korea instead of going to Europe.
I’d understood them after all, I’d spent my whole life being “promising” but never quite making it past the reserve
team before retiring. Still, I’d kept pushing them to train.
I remembered coming home completely drained, finishing a romance novel I’d left half-read for days, and then falling
asleep.
And now…
“I can’t! Oh, Philip! You can’t leave me like this!”
A desperate, heartbroken woman’s sobs cut through the rain.
I turned toward the sound—
‘Whoa… is she a doll or a person?’
A stunning blonde beauty was clinging to a coffin, tears streaming from her golden eyes. Her grief was so raw it
could’ve melted the iciest heart.
“Please calm down, my lady. You’ll collapse like this.”
“Come back to me, Philip Brandon! Please!”
Philip Brandon.
That name rang a bell.
And then it hit me
Philip Brandon and Irene Brandon… weren’t they the leads in that trashy romance novel I’d just finished? “It’s Okay
Even If You’re a Nuisance”—the one where the heroine and hero cause trouble for everyone around them until the
guy dies, leaving both the characters and the readers miserable?
Don’t tell me… I was inside that story?
I looked closer at the blonde woman. Beautiful even drenched in rain, tiny waist, delicate shoulders
She was definitely Irene Brandon, the female lead.
‘So… who am I?’
I glanced down at my outfit and the servant holding an umbrella for me—yep, looked like I was some kind of
noblewoman.
Then a stern middle-aged woman—probably the housekeeper—came over.
“Lady Nora.”
“…Me?”
“Yes. Could you please comfort the madam? I’m worried she’ll collapse.”
Nora? Was there even a “Nora” in the book? I couldn’t remember.
Still, I walked over to Irene.
“Come on, Irene. If you keep crying, even the Duke will be sad in heaven and make it rain like this.”
“…Nora?”
Her sobbing slowed, though she gave me a strange look—guess I was acting nothing like the real Nora.
“Let’s say goodbye to Philip and go home. You need rest so he can rest too.”
To my relief, she agreed, whispered a farewell to Philip, and let the maids lead her away.
When the housekeeper suggested I head back before I caught a cold, I gladly went along because honestly, I needed
time alone to think.
The Brandon mansion was as grand and luxurious as you’d expect from a romance novel crystal chandeliers, silk
curtains, priceless art.
But I couldn’t focus on any of it. I bathed, went straight to bed, and pretended to sleep until the maids left.
From their whispered gossip, I learned that Nora me was Irene’s half-sister, sickly since childhood, and clearly not
close to her.
So… I’d landed in the body of Nora Cornell, half-sister to the heroine, doomed in the original to live quietly in the
countryside as an unmarried old maid until she died.
Honestly? That sounded fine to me. Once this funeral business was over, I could go live peacefully far away from the
drama.
Ten days later, I’d pieced together more.
This was the Morios Kingdom. Irene was 22 when Philip died, making me 24. The Cornell family estate was way
down south in the kingdom’s boondocks.
I decided if I wanted to survive here, step one was to get stronger. So I’d spent the last ten days locked in my room
doing squats, lunges, planks, push-ups… until I was sore everywhere.
While I was mid–stretching attempt (and screaming in pain), a maid came in and mentioned Irene hadn’t been eating.
Feeling a little guilty, I decided to check on her.
On my way upstairs, I passed a giant portrait of Philip and Irene—so gorgeous they looked unreal.
I was so distracted staring at them that I didn’t notice someone had come in until—
“Nora?”
I turned, and there he was. A ridiculously tall, ridiculously handsome man with fiery red hair, sharp green eyes, and
the kind of presence that made your breath catch.
Before I could respond, Irene appeared on the stairs, spotted him, and ran down to throw herself into his arms.
“Enoch! Why did you take so long? I was so scared!”
Enoch… as in Enoch Osmond?
The poor side-character “fish” swimming in the heroine’s love tank?
Oh no.
