Episode 2. Dozens of Wounds on My Heart
The office was a wreck after Lady Roze and Ryan stormed out, like a cannonball had exploded in there.
The maids crept inside, nervously cleaning around my desk. The head maid carefully asked if I wanted tea.
“No tea. Just check how Jaive is doing.”
She bowed and hurried out.
I stayed seated, watching the maids fuss around, and my thoughts wandered.
Who decided that the higher your status, the happier your life is supposed to be?
From the outside, nobles look glamorous—pretty dresses, fancy meals, endless parties.
But the truth? To look that way, you have to fight through endless exhaustion and make ugly, irrational choices, all while pretending it’s “noble.”
I was tired of it all. Barely hanging on. And the bitterness in me boiled up so much I thought it might spill out as tears.
“My lady, the young master is awake. The nanny asks if you’d like him to visit.”
The head maid had returned, and behind her was Jaive, bright-eyed in his nanny’s arms.
“My sweet boy…”
With my silver hair and golden amber eyes reflected in him, he was my perfect little blessing. Just looking at him made me smile.
He reached out tiny arms, wanting to come to me.
I gathered him into my embrace, his warmth melting me instantly. Tears slipped down my cheeks before I even noticed.
“I missed you so much, Jaive.”
He babbled back like he understood. I tickled his little palm and hugged him tighter.
Then I caught my reflection in the wall mirror.
Tears rolling down, but smiling as if I were the happiest woman alive. A contradiction.
‘…I’ll endure. I’ll keep enduring.’
I had to. So Jaive wouldn’t ever get hurt by the people in this house.
If I had to burn and break to shield him, so be it. That was the reason I kept living.
Meanwhile…
“Noona… cough… do you really have to go out today?”
Sola gently laid her younger brother Morant back down.
He was so thin and sickly, his black hair greasy and clumped with sweat. She almost reached out to stroke it, but stopped halfway.
“I’m sorry. But today’s important. I really need to go.”
“I… don’t feel good. cough cough”
She poured him a cup of water. His frail hand trembled as he struggled to drink just one sip.
“Just hang on, Morant. Soon, your medicine will get better, and you’ll meet a really good doctor, I promise.”
Her teeth pressed into her lip as she looked at him.
‘Because this is where the story starts.’
Yes—that story.
A novel she’d once read, about a servant disguised as a man who captured the duke’s love, became duchess, and lived a life filled with affection.
Her name was the same as the heroine, Sola. It had been her only escape from a miserable real life.
The day she ran from her drunken, violent father and her brother, who gambled away even her little brother’s tuition money, it had rained heavily.
Blinded by rage and despair, she hadn’t even checked the traffic light.
The last thing she saw was the horrified face of a driver who couldn’t brake in time.
And then—she woke up here.
In the world of that very novel.
At first, she couldn’t accept it. But slowly, she realized something: this world’s heroine was her.
If the story went as written, nothing bad would happen.
‘I… I’m going to be loved by everyone.’
All her life, she had craved love. And now, in this new world, she finally had a chance to live it.
‘Yes. From now on, I’ll live a life full of love.’
Her tangled haircut, her plain reflection in the mirror—none of it mattered anymore.
Because the future promised her a rosy, happy life.
“I’ll be back, Morant,” she said brightly, dressing in her shabby servant clothes.
It was time to go meet the novel’s male lead—the Duke of Stroud—in the slums.
Back at the duchy…
Ryan suddenly declared he’d move up his slum inspection, which had originally been scheduled two days later.
And of course, the announcement came late in the day, leaving me scrambling.
“Is security arranged? Escort routes ready?” I asked.
Baron Christie looked guilty. “…No, my lady.”
“Has the city official we’re supposed to meet been informed?”
“…Not yet. I came to tell you first.”
Of course.
Ryan knew perfectly well that official outings involved a whole entourage.
Yet he deliberately ignored procedure just to cause trouble.
“Send word to the official now. Pull together a minimal escort team. We’ll make do.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Delay the departure by at least an hour. Give people time to prepare.”
“Yes.”
“And notify the relief workers, too.”
He bowed and rushed off.
The maids, meanwhile, buzzed around me like bees, rushing to get me dressed and made-up in time.
I stared into the mirror, suddenly hating what I saw.
I was tired. So tired of this.
The carriage ride was silent. Ryan and I didn’t exchange a single word; the tension was so thick that even the knights outside were on edge.
When we arrived, the official was waiting and bowed deeply.
“Thank you for the effort, despite the sudden change.”
Considering the chaos, the inspection wasn’t too badly prepared.
Escorts, supplies, officials—they were all in place. We could manage the relief camp just fine.
As I directed the distribution of aid, Ryan finally spoke, sidling up beside me.
“You’re impressive. Always competent. Never make mistakes.”
I almost laughed. He’s the one who messed up the schedule, and now he talks about competence?
“Did you want me to slip up? Is that why you moved the inspection without warning?”
“Of course not.”
“This is an official duty, not your private plaything. You can’t just—”
“Enough.”
His voice was low, quiet—but sharp enough to cut.
“You don’t need me here anyway. You’ve always managed well on your own.”
“….”
“I’ll be back when it’s over.”
And just like that, he lit a cigar and walked off, leaving me standing in the camp alone.
I forced myself to keep smiling so no one else would notice.
But inside, another scar had been carved across my already battered heart.
Dozens of wounds layered on top of each other, so many that one more hardly made a difference anymore.
‘He should be showing up soon.’
Sola stood in the slum square, scanning the makeshift camp.
She wanted to see the male lead with her own eyes.
She knew she was in the novel, but nothing felt real yet. Until now.
According to the story, she was supposed to be attacked by thugs here—then saved by the Duke himself.
But what if no one came?
‘No. Don’t panic. I’m the heroine. The story will unfold as written.’
Muttering her own reassurance, she wandered into a narrow alley away from the camp.
“Oh? A boy? Or… no, that’s a girl?”
A group of ragged men whistled at her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and stepped deeper in.
“Doesn’t she know it’s dangerous to wander here? Guess we’ll have to teach her a lesson.”
The beggars stood up one by one, circling her. Her heart hammered as she clutched her chest.
Surrounded. No escape.
“What the hell is this?”
The rough laughter stopped when a calm, deep voice cut through.
Sola’s legs gave out, and she collapsed in relief.
Between the thugs’ legs, she saw him—Duke Stroud, a cigar pinched between his fingers.
‘It’s real.’
Her body buzzed with thrill. One thought filled her head:
‘I’m going to be loved. From now on, I’ll live as the true heroine of this world.’
Her lips twitched into a smile. One of the beggars shuddered at the sight of her eerie excitement.
