Chapter 3
Woke Up Inside a Tragedy Novel (3)
If romantic fantasy is a genre where joy comes from watching the female and male leads fall in love and find happiness, then tragedy novels derive their appeal from the obsessive, unrealistic, and destructive devotion of dangerously charming male leads who ruin the heroine.
Readers of such novels can safely enjoy them from outside the story. Their bodies are safe—even if their hearts flutter in response to the drama. It’s a vicarious thrill with no real danger.
But what if I were the female lead exposed to those twisted obsessions and violent affections?
What if it wasn’t just a sexy and deadly fantasy, but my reality—to be completely destroyed by a male lead whose mind was fundamentally broken?
What if I was the one being subjected to acts that no one should ever forgive, no matter how sweetly they’re framed with the word “love”?
“…I’m getting really pissed off.”
I brushed back my wet hair and sank into the bath. The blood that had coated my entire body had long since been washed away.
Still, the sensation of that blood clinging to my skin refused to fade. Every time I scrubbed a bloodstain off with hot water, every time the warmth of the bath left my body, the memories came surging back.
There had to have been a way to stop it…
I splashed some water on my face, trying to shake the gloom, and stepped out of the tub.
“But at least I feel refreshed now.”
I rubbed my hair dry with a thick towel and looked into the mirror. Even after crying, Odelia’s face—slightly mischievous now—was still beautiful.
After towel-drying my hair, I slipped on one of the white dresses that served as pajamas. Honestly, this mansion seemed to have nothing but pajamas and white dresses.
“I really need to go buy some clothes…”
As I opened the bathroom door, I spotted a large figure lying on Odelia’s bed.
Of course. It was Baizen.
Hadn’t even been half a day since I last saw him—was he really that impatient?
The moment I saw his face, a wave of fatigue crashed over me. I’d had enough today. Why did it feel like more was still piling on?
“What now?”
“…Ha.”
A low sigh escaped Baizen’s lips, muffled in the dark.
I wanted to snap, “Who do you think you’re sighing in front of?” but I held it in and glared at him.
“What do you want? If you have nothing to say, then get out.”
But instead of responding, Baizen stood up and walked toward me.
That was when his face, dimly lit by the moonlight, became visible.
“Odelia… My…”
Crap. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of me. His large hand reached for my face.
Outside, the sky was pitch black. Baizen stood at the brink between instinct and reason, and he looked like he was about to give in to the former.
But I wasn’t alarmed. I’d already expected this.
In the original story, Baizen often visited Odelia’s room at night whenever he felt bored.
As he approached, I knocked over a large vase beside me.
The crash was loud enough to make my ears ring, and porcelain shards scattered everywhere between us.
Despite the noise, nothing was damaged—except Baizen’s composure. He froze in place, startled.
“Was that expensive? Oh well. Doesn’t matter.”
He blinked in confusion, clearly not understanding what had just happened.
Fortunately, his expression no longer looked dangerous. He was probably just shocked by Odelia’s uncharacteristic behavior. That meant it worked—I’d disrupted his flow just enough to gain the upper hand.
“Looks like you were really surprised. That’s it for tonight. Get some rest in your own room. And don’t come back. Got it?”
Before he could say anything else, I shoved him out the door and locked it behind him.
He didn’t resist. In fact, he stood there dazed, staring at the closed door like a statue.
Obsession? Not a deal-breaker.
A passionate display of love? Sure, I wasn’t completely averse to desire.
But those things only count as love when they’re consensual. Without consent, it’s just depraved lust and violence.
I threw on a light shawl and rang the bell on the table.
Two maids entered immediately. One was a girl with orange hair who looked rather young, and the other had straw-colored hair and a cold demeanor.
They seemed frightened, but I smiled sweetly.
“Sorry, but could you bring me some paper and a pen? I’m feeling very serious right now.”
The straw-haired one, who seemed to be the newer maid, quickly left the room.
Through the open door, I saw Baizen still clutching his chest like it was his most precious possession. He looked completely out of it.
Rather than standing frozen outside my door like a grieving widow, I wished he’d go back to his own room and protect his own chest.
“What’s your name?”
“A-Aenie. And I’m actually younger than you, miss.”
“Oh, really? Then Aenie, could you help dry my hair?”
Odelia’s tone really did suit polite speech. I removed the towel from my head.
Black hair fell in a waterfall over my shoulders. I gently combed it with my fingers while staring into the mirror.
In the reflection, the female lead seemed to glare at me.
If I looked closely, it was really just a blank expression. But it felt like she was angry.
Maybe Odelia resented me. The thought suddenly hit me.
She probably believed she’d live a happy life, showered with love from the male leads, unaware of her tragic fate. So to her, what I was doing might look like I was taking away her chance to be loved.
In the original story, Odelia interpreted Baizen’s cruelty as a twisted form of love. That’s how the author wrote her. She mourned her father’s death, yes, but also pitied Baizen when she learned about his traumatic past. She even believed she could save him and be happy with him—at least up until the middle of the novel.
But whether she resented me or stoned me, I had to save her. It was the only way for either of us to survive.
I sat at the vanity lost in thought, and soon the straw-haired maid returned.
“That was fast.”
“Here are the paper and pen you requested. Is there anything else you need?”
She placed a stack of paper and a pen in front of me.
“What’s your name?”
“Lucy. Feel free to call me that.”
So Lucy was more mature than Aenie. Her tone, weathered by experience, gave that impression.
People died in this mansion today because of me. Yet Lucy could remain so composed, even after entering my room. She must’ve been through a lot.
“Put the paper on that desk over there. And Lucy, Aenie.”
They both turned toward me, Aenie holding a comb and towel.
“From now on, you’ll be my personal maids. Or should I say, exclusive maids?”
Lucy’s composed expression briefly gave way to shock.
Well, of course. That would be surprising.
I brushed my slightly damp hair with my fingers and smiled faintly.
Odelia’s face combined with a polite office smile? Irresistible, even to other women.
“If my brother ever tries to harm you or threatens you… I’ll kill him.”
It was a brutal line that didn’t match the warm smile on my face, but thanks to Odelia’s beauty, neither maid seemed to find it strange. In fact, they nodded solemnly.
“I’ll make sure he understands.”
“Y-Yes…”
“Then Lucy, please bring me a dress for today. Aenie, help finish my hair.”
“…Understood.”
Both maids, looking slightly dazed like they were drunk, nodded and moved to do as I asked.
There was so much I needed to do—plan a way back to my real body and prepare to escape the clutches of the male leads.
As I organized the writing supplies, Lucy returned and placed a basket on the center table.
“Young miss, the lord has sent you some food.”
I turned to look at the basket. If it was from Baizen, I couldn’t help being suspicious. I didn’t think for a second he’d done it out of genuine concern.
While Aenie went to fetch fresh towels, I peeked inside.
Fresh lettuce, tomatoes, soft cheese, fluffy eggs, crispy bacon. All assembled into a beautifully crafted sandwich with a zesty sauce.
Each piece was cut into bite-sized portions and fastened with a cute decorative pin.
“Who sent this?”
“The Marquis, miss.”
So it was Baizen.
I picked up a sandwich piece secured with a heart-shaped pin and took a bite.
The flavor was perfect for Odelia’s delicate taste.
There was no doubt Baizen sent it—but this felt overly considerate.
Baizen, the #1 obsessive male lead, was the one who trampled Odelia’s heart first in the original story.
Yet this gift, and his puppy-dog behavior earlier… didn’t fit that characterization at all.
Could I possibly maintain that subtle change?
“…It’s good.”
“Shall I bring you a drink?”
“No, I’ll eat outside. Food tastes better in the garden.”
“I’ll prepare everything.”
Lucy bowed and left.
No point overthinking when my brain wasn’t cooperating. Sometimes it’s best to just eat something and clear your head.
While Aenie and Lucy went to pick out a dress and hair accessories for the walk, I was left alone in the room.
Naturally, I began looking around. In one corner was an oddly out-of-place white desk.
It looked clean, but something about it felt… off.
On top were the paper, quill, and ink Lucy had set down.
I walked toward it, planning to jot something down. But the moment I arrived, a strange sensation overtook me.
Red scratch marks stained the desk.
I couldn’t be sure, but I was convinced Odelia left them.
After her father’s death, abandoned in this mansion, she must’ve tried to call for help. But no one came. And here, at this very desk, she must’ve cried tears of blood.
Until her nails broke and bled. Until she collapsed under the weight of her own weakness.
Those desperate cries never reached anyone. They only poisoned her further. Poor girl…
I gently brushed the stained mark, pulled out the chair, and sat down.
Now that I’d seen the reality of her life, I couldn’t just sit here and ignore it anymore.
Even if I lost everything saving her—even if I was left with nothing—I had to try.
She deserved to live like a human being. To be happy.
“This isn’t even my life… and here I am, playing hero.”
I let out a bitter laugh and scribbled on the paper:
“What remains on the palm that crushed a flower.”
Subtitled: PalmFlower.
At the top, I wrote: Plan A.
My first thought was to run. But I quickly discarded that.
There’s a reason they say “leaving home is hell.”
The outside world was a dangerous place, especially for someone like me, unfamiliar with this world, and Odelia, who was entirely naïve.
So if we were going to run, it had to be a last resort.
That meant the best option now was…
The image of Baizen placing his hands on mine like a loyal dog flashed through my mind.
I began to write again under Plan A:
“Plan A. Destroy the Obsessive Male Lead Genre!”
