“Or if not, you can just call me Hari.”
“Hari?”
Enrique’s voice rose slightly at the end as he repeated it.
It was a name that didn’t seem to be derived from any part of Eugenia’s actual name, like it had simply fallen from the sky.
Just like with Joshua before, Enrique tried pronouncing it a few times—“Hari, Hari”—and then wrinkled his face slightly as he spoke.
“Isn’t it kind of out of nowhere? Since there’s not a single syllable from your real name, I feel like you might not respond in time if needed.”
Albery seemed to agree with Enrique’s opinion, nodding silently with a concerned look.
But Eugenia was confident.
‘Saying I wouldn’t recognize that name…’
There was no way that would happen.
To refute their concerns, Eugenia immediately shook her head.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
It’s not that she couldn’t respond—just that she hadn’t been called that name in a while. But if someone did call her that, she’d turn around instinctively.
After all, it was the name she’d been called for over twenty years in Korea. There’s no way she wouldn’t recognize it.
Just as she was feeling confident about that in her own head, she paused.
‘Wait a second.’
Twenty… how many years?
How long had she actually lived?
Eugenia’s brow furrowed slowly and subtly.
She couldn’t remember the exact age at which she had died.
She was about to think more deeply when—
“Hari.”
Enrique’s voice called out.
“Ah, yes!”
Eugenia reflexively responded before she realized and quickly turned to look at Enrique.
He must have been watching her closely—because their eyes met immediately.
The tension in his tightly pressed lips faded, and a gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
“You really do respond right away.”
“Ah…”
Eugenia blinked a few times.
She understood the situation a beat too late and, though she didn’t show it, was quietly astonished by Enrique’s actions.
It had happened in the blink of an eye.
He’d noticed she was distracted for just a moment and used that opportunity to test her—to see how quickly she’d react to the name ‘Hari.’
And Eugenia could easily tell she had passed his test.
Uncrossing his legs, Enrique continued speaking.
“Alright. I’ll call you Hari in front of the checkpoint. Come to think of it, this might be better. Since it’s so unrelated to your real name, no one would suspect anything.”
“Yes. Please don’t worry about that,” Eugenia nodded, clearly showing she had no issue with being called that name.
“It’s easy to pronounce, and it’s not memorable—so it won’t stick in anyone’s mind.”
Even as she nodded, Eugenia felt strangely unsettled.
‘But that’s… my real name…’
Hearing it called common or forgettable gave her an odd feeling.
“I’ll be disguised as a noble lady anyway. People don’t usually call noblewomen by name, so it should be safer. Shall we go ahead and make the ID with that name?”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
Eugenia nodded at Albery’s words.
“That’s weird.”
Joshua muttered with a sulky expression, quietly voicing his disagreement.
“Eugenia is Eugenia.”
It was obvious he was grumbling because the name Hari felt unfamiliar to him.
Eugenia felt like she understood exactly how he was feeling.
She gently wrapped her arm around Joshua’s shoulders.
“You’re right. I’m still me.”
She explained calmly, reassuring him that being called another name for a little while didn’t mean anything was truly changing.
That soothed Joshua’s pouting expression a bit.
Selmia, who had been listening quietly, suddenly chimed in.
“That’s right! You’re still you, sis. Shushu just overthinks everything. If you keep thinking too much, your head will get huge! Then every time you walk, you’ll fall over from the weight and bonk your head—thud, thud!”
At the ridiculous thought, Eugenia and Albery stifled their laughter.
Even Joshua muttered in a deflated tone,
“Just curse me instead, Sherry.”
Eugenia let out a quiet laugh and added one more thing.
“But you both know you can’t call me Hari, right? It’s fine in here, but outside, you must call me Mom or Mother.”
“Yup! Don’t worry! Sherry can do it!”
“I’ll try my best too.”
Unlike with Enrique, the kids obediently nodded, which was a bit surprising.
As the conversation wrapped up, Albery stood from his seat.
He straightened his vest by tugging it down with a few firm pats and spoke.
“Then I have a lot to prepare. First, I’ll need to get the identity tag.”
Eugenia tilted her head slightly.
‘Is that something you can just… get?’
An identity tag in this world was like a formal ID.
It was only issued to those who had gone through official citizenship registration—meaning you’d need connections with a high-ranking official or get it forged through shady channels.
‘If these guys say they’re going to get it… I guess it’s the latter.’
She was slightly curious how they planned to acquire one, but Eugenia chose not to ask.
Don’t ask, don’t wonder.
That was the unspoken agreement between Enrique and Eugenia.
‘Well, if it can be done, then it should be.’
She held back her rising curiosity.
But at that moment, Albery, perhaps wanting some recognition from his master Enrique, began to elaborate on his plans unprompted.
“First, I’ll make a request—”
But he couldn’t finish his sentence.
Knock knock.
A knock sounded from outside the door.
All three adults—Enrique, Eugenia, and Albery—locked eyes instantly.
Because they all knew: no one else was supposed to come to this room.
Eugenia held her breath.
She reacted instinctively, remembering the ambush from earlier.
Two attackers she’d encountered in the rain popped into her mind.
‘Did they come to their senses and follow us here?’
What if they hadn’t attacked on the street but had instead quietly tailed them?
Such dark thoughts tangled in her mind like roots, and cold sweat formed on her back.
Just in case something happened, she reached out to shield Selmia and Joshua.
Even without being told, the children sensed something was wrong from the adults’ tension and wisely stayed silent.
Joshua, in particular, had visibly tensed up.
Enrique jerked his chin toward the door, signaling Albery to check.
Albery gave a slight nod and moved quietly toward the door.
His steps were utterly silent—stealthy and careful.
Knock knock.
Another knock followed, as if the person outside couldn’t wait.
Then, Albery spoke in a very low and cautious voice.
“Who is it?”
His tone was clearly laced with suspicion.
But the voice that responded didn’t match the room’s tense atmosphere at all.
“Ah! I knew you were in this room. Albery, it’s me!”
An elderly woman’s voice.
Eugenia blinked quickly. It was so different from what she expected that she was momentarily thrown off.
Albery also froze briefly.
But he was the first to recognize the voice.
Scratching his cheek awkwardly, he reported to Enrique.
“Uh… it seems to be the innkeeper.”
The sharp tension eased slightly, but no one fully let their guard down.
They had made it very clear to the innkeeper from the start that no one was to come up to the third floor.
So why break that rule now?
It was certainly suspicious.
Only after Enrique gave the signal did Albery cautiously reach for the doorknob and open it just a crack.
The innkeeper’s voice continued.
“Goodness, you’re all in here? No wonder the second floor was empty.”
Albery spoke with a troubled tone.
“Ma’am, we clearly asked you not to come up to the third floor when we made the arrangement.”
Even as he spoke, he glanced around quickly.
Trying to see if the innkeeper had brought anyone with her.
But since the door was barely open, checking the hallway wasn’t easy.
“Yes, yes, I know! But what could I do? No one was on the second floor, so I had no choice but to come up.”
The innkeeper was just as nosy as she was talkative.
She kept trying to peek into the room through the narrow opening, her head tilting this way and that.
Albery made every effort to block her view and asked with open irritation,
“So you’ve got some business with us, then. Please, tell us what it is.”
Only then did the innkeeper stop fidgeting.
“Well, you see…”
The torrent of chatter she seemed ready to unleash suddenly stopped.
Her eyebrows drooped slightly as she looked around nervously.
After a long pause, she finally managed to speak.
“There’s been… a small problem.”
