Episode 1.
1. I Transmigrated Into a Novel
At first, I thought I was dreaming.
I had read a novel before going to bed, so I figured I was just having a strange, vivid dream.
A new body, a new environment, new people.
I was excited as if I were on a trip abroad. I wandered around energetically, greeting everyone I met with “Hi, hello!”—and got treated like a crazy person.
Then the orphanage director found me and practically shoved me a rag, telling me to clean the stairs. I just splashed some water around halfheartedly and kept wandering off again.
“I already worked myself to the bone in real life and got housewife’s eczema—why would I work even in a dream?”
But when someone slipped on the wet stairs I had left and I got caned for it, a thought suddenly struck me—this might not be a dream.
“Did I really… transmigrate into a novel?”
It hurt too much. What kind of dream feels this real?
From that point on, things felt a little off. But it was still easier to believe this was a dream than reality.
“If I’m not crazy, then it must be a dream. When I wake up, I should buy a lottery ticket. This dream feels special.”
That evening, as punishment for slacking off, the director locked me in a room without dinner.
It was an attic at the top of the building.
“Wow, an attic! This is the kind of place you only see in rich foreign houses. I’ve always wanted to live in one.”
Inside the room were just a blanket, a set of clothes, and some random junk. I found the name “Fredia” written inside the ragged clothes.
“Isn’t that the name of the novel’s main character I read before bed?”
Sometimes things you read before sleeping show up in dreams. It wasn’t a big deal.
“That’s interesting. In the book too, the story starts when a modern person transmigrates into Fredia’s body.”
*“The Suspicious Young Lady”* is about a modern protagonist who transmigrates into an orphan girl named Fredia and gradually changes the original story.
“I skimmed most of the descriptions, but this dream is so vivid. I really have a great imagination, haha.”
Feeling cozy in the low-ceilinged, narrow space, I lay down. The faint scent of wood from the unfinished walls made me feel strangely at ease.
“When I wake up, that crappy reality will be waiting. I wish I’d never wake up.”
I fell asleep, leaving that regret behind—never imagining those words would come true.
The next day, I didn’t wake up from the dream.
I was still in the body of a stunningly pretty fourteen-year-old blonde girl—Fredia.
“Why am I not waking up? Am I just in a very deep sleep? Or has no time passed in reality?”
Or maybe I had gone insane overnight and was seeing a fictional world. Maybe in reality I was wandering around like a dementia patient.
Still, someone would eventually find me and report it, and since I had no family, a social worker would take care of things. I decided to worry about it later.
But after several days, I still hadn’t woken up—and had no choice but to accept reality.
“So… this is a novel, and just like the protagonist, I’ve transmigrated into it? Then does that mean I’m the main character?”
At that moment, a hymn I once heard echoed in my head with altered lyrics:
*“I am now reborn with Fredia’s new life…!”*
This was a chance.
A chance to abandon my exhausting old life and live a new one!
In reality, I had been an orphan with no one in the world. After leaving the orphanage, I struggled to survive, drifting from place to place.
I worked myself to the bone at a factory after graduating, only to quit and try countless part-time jobs.
At twenty-one, I was living day to day. Recently, I had even been cheated out of my wages and fell behind on rent.
It was a hopeless life. Reading novels and comics at a café job was my only escape.
“And now I’ve transmigrated into a novel! This is the ultimate escape from reality! Great—I’ll just start over in this fantasy world. It seems much better here.”
At that time, my head was still full of naive dreams.
“What should I do first?”
What do protagonists usually do in transmigration novels? Try to survive? Reform the villain male lead? Escape abusive families?
“Whatever—I’ll do something!”
This must be a golden path life given to me by God. After all, I didn’t become an extra—I became the protagonist.
…Or so I thought.
“Fredia, I’ve been watching you for a few days, and I can’t tolerate this anymore.”
The orphanage director, whom I had forgotten about, summoned me with an angry face.
“You know you’re already too old to stay here. I was considering letting you remain as a maid because you helped with chores, but seeing your recent behavior, I think it’s best to send you elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?”
“You’re fourteen—you can work as a maid. Go work at Mr. Hamel’s house.”
“Mr. Hamel…?”
The farm owner who supplied food to the kitchen! A middle-aged man who always bothered me, saying things like “I have a daughter your age” and trying to kiss my cheek or hug me.
Seeing my pale face, the director smiled cruelly.
“They need someone to work and live at the farm. It’s perfect for you. So behave politely toward Mr. Hamel.”
*“She knows exactly what kind of man he is and still wants to send me there!”*
Unable to hold back, I jumped up and shouted—
“Director!”
Then I immediately threw myself flat on the floor.
“I’ll work twice as hard at fundraising from now on. Please just let me stay! Please, I’m begging you!”
Fredia’s current main job: orphanage maid and fundraising prop.
In most transmigration novels, the protagonist tries to change the future.
But me?
I started begging for donations the moment I transmigrated.
