Chapter 5
As if it were the last day in the world, people were drinking and eating to excess, dancing, staggering, and vomiting.
Where the soldiers had gathered, crude curses flew alongside hurled cups of liquor.
Outside, even the servants and maids had forgotten their duties, gathering in groups to dance.
As the night deepened, the castle fell into complete chaos.
At the large dining table where I sat, people were busy flattering the lord.
I kept an eye on the atmosphere and dabbed my forehead with a handkerchief at just the right moments. Seeing me wiping sweat and fanning myself repeatedly, someone asked with concern:
“Madam, are you feeling unwell?”
I shook my head as if I were fine.
“I’m all right. I just feel a little dizzy. I’ve been shivering since morning…”
The red-haired woman who’d been glaring at me for some time seized the moment and spoke with feigned concern.
“You look so pale, it’s like you might collapse any moment. Madam, why don’t you go upstairs and rest? Isn’t that right, my lord?”
She glared sharply at the lord, urging him to agree.
When others nodded in agreement, the lord looked at me with suspicion.
After clearing his throat, he gently took my hand.
“It seems you’ve overexerted yourself today. Everyone is worried—best that you go up and rest now.”
What he meant was: Go upstairs quickly and don’t ruin the mood.
I’d been anxiously waiting all day for him to say those words, and quickly replied—making my voice as delicate as possible:
“Then I’ll head up first. Please, enjoy yourselves without worrying about me.”
Once in my room, I didn’t waste a moment.
I changed into the worn clothes I’d prepared in advance, took the pouch of money I’d saved for my escape, and stuffed pillows under the blanket to make it look like someone was lying there.
Most importantly, I tucked away the letter from Jayden Kirkram.
I had repeated these steps a hundred times in my mind, so my body moved like a machine.
If I can find Jayden and rely on him, the tragic ending will change.
Now, I would step outside the whirlpool of the original story and live comfortably.
Not even a side character—just someone who never existed in the novel at all.
My heart felt like it might burst, but my mind was colder than ever.
Pulling the hood of my ash-gray robe low over my face, I slipped out.
There were a few close calls where I bumped into people, but they were so drunk, and there were so many outsiders around, that no one recognized me.
After several suffocatingly tense moments, I reached the stables.
Finally!
I pushed back my hood to cool my sweat-soaked face, catching my breath.
With little time to spare, I quickly entered the stables and led out a brown horse.
“That’s it… good girl. Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
But then—I felt someone’s presence in the darkness.
The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel drew closer.
“Who’s there… Madam?”
Even in the pitch black, the voice recognized me instantly, and I froze.
Ah, damn it.
It was Tony, the gardener—and my husband’s man.
He was holding a large bottle of liquor, likely here to comfort the injured stableman.
I hadn’t imagined anyone would come here so late at night. The stables were usually deserted.
I ignored him and swiftly mounted the horse.
A lady of the manor, dressed suspiciously and leading a horse from the stables—it didn’t take a genius to guess.
What excuse could possibly work here?
“Madam!”
When I urged the horse into a gallop toward the forest, he must have realized something was wrong. Dropping the liquor, he ran—not after me, but toward the bright, populated areas.
I didn’t look back, only raced madly into the dark forest.
It was thick with fog, the kind that seemed fit for ghosts, but I felt no fear.
Branches scratched my arms, the horse stumbled over rocks several times, but I clung on tightly—this was my lifeline.
Please… just a little farther!
After who knows how long, I glanced back. The castle was now small in the distance.
By now, I should have heard the sound of pursuers, even faintly…
Could it be the gardener pretended not to see me? Yes… maybe. If the lord knew he’d let me escape, he’d punish him.
Clinging to that hopeful thought, I slowed the horse to a stop.
Only the slicing wind echoed through the forest.
It was too quiet—unsettlingly so.
Then—
What’s that?
I squinted toward the castle.
White smoke, like mist, was curling up around the castle walls.
Then, flames began to shoot up into the pitch-black sky.
The sight sent a chilling premonition through me.
No way! That’s impossible!
There was no way the Grand Duke Shiraz could already know that Lord Willinger had sent a letter of loyalty to General Marcus.
It wasn’t possible, distance-wise.
Did I misremember the original? I thought the clear autumn sky turned black with crows, and the castle became a giant tomb…
My mind spun in confusion.
But staring at the castle, lit bright as day by the flames, I snapped back to reality.
This isn’t the time for that—just keep running!
As I turned the horse to leave, a black wall-like shape blocked my way.
“Aagh!”
They had appeared like ghosts, without a sound—my heart nearly leapt from my throat.
That cold wind I’d heard earlier must have been them approaching.
My meager plan failed right at the finish line.
Like a rabbit cornered by soldiers in black uniforms, I had no escape.
These were nothing like the low-grade soldiers under Lord Willinger.
They were larger, their weapons more deadly, and they didn’t waste breath on crude insults. They radiated the kind of menace that promised a blade to the throat if you disobeyed.
Fearing I’d be killed on the spot if I resisted, I let them drag me away.
The castle I returned to was hell itself.
If hell existed, it would look like this.
Corpses lay scattered, buildings reduced to ashes.
“Ugh!”
Even as I was pulled along, I turned my eyes away from the familiar faces lying dead.
The red-haired woman was there too, collapsed with blood soaking her chest.
Just moments ago, they’d been alive and breathing. The festive castle was now a grave.
Caw, caw.
Crows circled above, when had they gathered?
The thought that I’d soon join the dead made my body go rigid, my legs heavy as if chained.
Was this what all my struggle had been for?
No matter how I tried to avoid it, perhaps fate could not be changed.
Why had I never once been able to live normally, comfortably—either in reality or in the story?
Other reincarnation stories had their heroines become princesses or noble daughters.
In my real life, I’d been a lonely orphan; in this book, I was doomed to die a gruesome death.
Pity for myself, resentment, and all the feelings I’d suppressed surged up.
As I was dragged into the hall, I saw the lord’s back.
He was groveling on the floor before someone.
“We’ve brought the woman.”
The soldiers forced me to kneel roughly.
From my lowered position, all I could see was the lord’s pathetic back and the lower half of a man sitting with legs crossed in a chair—long, solid legs in black leather boots.
It could only be Grand Duke Shiraz.
I wanted to see his face, but the soldiers at my side were too frightening to dare.
The lord turned to look at me, then suddenly shouted like a madman, pointing at me.
“It’s her! She incited me to betray you, Your Grace! I was completely deceived! She must be killed!”
I stared at him in disbelief.
You bastard…
How could someone wearing a human face tell such shameless lies?
“Trying to run off like a rat to save yourself? Look, Your Grace—just look at her, caught after trying to escape!”
He was clearly determined to pin everything on me.
I could only stare at him, dumbfounded, as he raved like a rabid dog, desperately begging for his life—ready to lick the Grand Duke’s boots if it would spare him.
The sight was so pitiful and absurd that I almost laughed.
No wonder the territory’s people died and the castle ended like this with an idiot like you in charge.
I wanted to spit a curse, but remembering I wasn’t much better off at the moment, I just sighed.
After all, I looked exactly like a woman caught trying to run away alone, leaving her husband and the townsfolk behind.
So this is why Garnet killed herself in the original.
Faced with this unbearable scene, maybe her choice made sense.
“A husband telling his wife to die in his place, and a wife trying to sneak off alone to live.”
The low, ominous voice echoed through the hall despite sounding almost like a murmur.
When its owner rose from his seat, the lord immediately flattened himself to the ground again.
“Y-Your Grace! If you spare me, I’ll serve you loyally forever—”
There was a swift sound of air being cut, and the lord’s head rolled across the floor.
It came to a stop right in front of me, his eyes still wide in shock.
My breath caught in my throat.
At that moment, one fact struck me—
Grand Duke Shiraz hated hearing pleas for mercy.
In the original, he killed those who begged first.
Not that sparing someone was guaranteed if they stayed silent, but sniveling cowards always died first.
Dragging a blood-dripping sword, he stepped toward me.
His spotless black boots filled more and more of my narrow field of vision.
