TRATDA02

Episode 2

To be honest, she wasn’t very happy with this new life she had been given.

Some people might welcome the chance to live a new life in someone else’s body—but she wasn’t one of them.

It was uncomfortable in many ways, and her heart felt uneasy.

Regardless of her feelings, time continued to pass.

It didn’t take many days for her to realize that this world was the very one from the novel she had written.

Familiar place names and character names kept popping up—it was impossible not to notice. This was a world shaped by her own hands, her world.

The novel had only been a hobby. It wasn’t even a well-written one. It was an amateur story filled with clichés and plot holes, written thoughtlessly and without much structure.

Even so, she had loved it deeply.

So much so that she had never shown it to anyone else. She didn’t want feedback or criticism. She had treasured it quietly, all on her own.

For a while, she spent her days comparing the content of her novel to the world around her.

Thankfully, the body’s original owner, Piony, wasn’t close to her family and didn’t have any friends. That meant there weren’t many people she needed to adjust to or be cautious of.

It was as if this character had been created specifically for her to wake up in.

Not long after, she discovered that this world existed 25 years before the events of the original novel.

Maybe that’s why. Although this was a world she had created, it also felt entirely different.

Somehow, the world had filled in all the messy holes in her original setting, making it more real and functional. Because of that, things she knew and things she didn’t were all mixed together.

Even Piony’s family—the prestigious House of Arbore, a major supporter of the Emperor—wasn’t something she had originally included in her novel.

After realizing that, she found herself oddly curious. The parties she had kept turning down, she now began to attend.

Meeting people and hearing their stories made her realize—this was no longer fiction.

The world’s framework may have come from her novel, but the people living inside it weren’t just characters on a page.

They were individuals, each with their own values, clashing and coexisting in what was undeniably a real world.

Watching them laugh and live their lives, she began to think—maybe observing this world unfold naturally wouldn’t be so bad.

Her novel had a happy ending, and if this world followed the same path, it would become a good place to live.

She had nothing to worry about.

That was, until she heard rumors about the Duke of Noir.

Apparently, the Duchess had passed away.

As word spread, people whispered in horror—just like in her original plot—that the Duke had done something terrible.

Dark rumors flooded the capital, saying the demonic Duke had devoured his wife.

Hearing those words, she suddenly felt a jolt of panic.

The Duke of Noir—the villain in her story—had been a poorly developed character. She hadn’t had the skills to write a complex backstory, so she had simply created him as a terrifying, cursed villain who used magic like a demon.

A pure, unredeemable evil designed to make the protagonist shine brighter.

Now, seeing people blindly spew hatred based on a few lines she had scribbled in a notebook, she felt like she’d been struck in the back of the head.

In the novel, simple sentences like “People found him ominous,” or “None dared approach him out of fear,” were now taking on a life of their own in this world.

It was appalling to witness how cruel and cowardly people could be.

And all because of a few careless lines she had written.

Worse yet, even the Duke’s infant son was not spared.

People claimed the child was the spawn of a demon, and that the Duchess must’ve gone mad from giving birth to him.

That baby—condemned as a demon’s child—was none other than the villain in her original story.

It felt like someone had poured ice water over her head.

In the original plot, the Duke of Noir was exiled after attempting to seize the imperial throne. He met a tragic end, dying alone in the Forest of Despair.

If the story played out the same here, that baby’s fate was already sealed. A life marked by loneliness and a predetermined downfall.

And she had been the one to write that story.

She had condemned that baby—given him a life where people cursed him from birth and where he would die young, consumed by ambition and abandoned by the world.

This wasn’t the happy world she had imagined.

But she believed that, eventually, the main characters of the novel would bring everything back to order.

Except the Duke… and his family.

They would remain outcasts, ridiculed and shunned until the end.

And history would remember them as nothing more than defeated villains.

She felt guilty.

When she created the Noir family, she had never considered these consequences.

Then again, who does think about human rights when creating fictional characters?

But this wasn’t fiction anymore. This was real.

And the thought that someone might suffer because of her was unbearable.

At the very least, she didn’t want that child to die alone.

She wished she could change the story, alter his fate—but she didn’t have the power or confidence to do that.

Still, she wanted to be by his side. To hold his hand when he faced despair. To offer comfort when the weight of life crushed him.

From that day forward, she decided to help the villain of the future.

It became her goal—her reason to keep going, after waking up in Piony’s body and struggling to adapt to this world.

A few years later, the chance finally came.

The Emperor was seeking a new bride for the Duke of Noir.

The previous Duchess—who had died—had also been selected by the Emperor.

Desperate to gain influence in the powerful Duke’s household, the Emperor had tried various methods. And when those failed, he turned to what had once worked.

When the Marquis of Arbore hinted at the possibility, Piony was the first to volunteer.

She had already been wondering how she could leave the marquis and enter the Duke’s estate.

Though the idea of marrying a stranger was unsettling, she remembered the backstory she’d given the villain: he was raised without parents.

If her assumptions were correct, the current Duke wouldn’t live much longer.

And that was how Piony ended up here.

Now that she had safely entered the Duke’s household, her true mission was about to begin.

She thought back to the boy she had seen sitting in the front row at the wedding.

He was seven years old, smaller than other children his age, and looked timid.

Just the presence of a few unfamiliar guests had made him freeze up, nervously darting his eyes around.

Remembering that, Piony’s chest tightened.

Maybe he was naturally shy.

But she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that. She knew how hostile the world was toward that child.

There was still time—she would start tomorrow, slowly approaching him.

Just as she made that decision, a knock sounded at the door.

“Madam, it’s me. May I come in?”

It was Leonard Noir—her husband, the Duke.

His voice came politely from outside the door.

Piony was briefly taken aback.

This was his room. He didn’t need her permission to enter.

“…Come in.”

At her reply, Leonard quietly opened the door and stepped inside.

His neatly combed black hair and handsome, cold face greeted her.

“You must be tired. Please get some rest. I still have some work to finish.”

It was clear he had no intention of sharing the bed with her tonight. Piony had expected that.

They were newlyweds in name only. There was no affection, not even the basic courtesy of asking how the other was doing.

On top of that, Leonard believed she was a spy. Of course he didn’t want to share a room with someone he couldn’t trust.

Piony watched him stand awkwardly near the door.

While she had already changed into comfortable nightwear, he was still wearing his ceremonial outfit.

It made sense. His dressing room was connected to this room.

But it made her wonder—where was he planning to sleep?

She felt uneasy.

Leonard Noir—the current Duke—was the father of Ethan Noir, the villain in her novel. And he, too, was a symbol of her guilt.

Because of a few careless lines she had written, Leonard was destined to live under suspicion and die young.

According to the story, Leonard would die when Ethan was still very young.

She hadn’t written exactly when or how, but Ethan was already seven years old.

At best, Leonard only had a few years left.

If she knew how to prevent his death, she would do everything in her power to stop it. But right now, this was still 20 years before the events of her novel.

The timeline she had used as the story’s background wouldn’t come for another two decades.

So for now, the future was uncertain.

The world wouldn’t bend to her wishes.

At the very least, if she couldn’t help Leonard, she didn’t want to make his life harder.

Like stealing his room and leaving him no place to rest.

“…Your Grace, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Piony caught his sleeve, and Leonard looked at her warily.

After a pause, he gave a small nod and entered, taking a seat on the farthest sofa—nowhere near the head of the room where he usually sat.

He didn’t show it, but something about the atmosphere seemed to bother him.

“…Shall I call for tea?” he asked.

But rather than calling a servant, he looked at her.

He was indirectly asking if this conversation would take long.