VDT CH 09

Chapter 9.

If You Ask Who I Am

“There’s so much to get done before sundown, and Raymond showing up out of nowhere wasted so much of my time.”

Diabella grew anxious. She had only three weeks left. There was something she absolutely had to accomplish before the divorce.

“After the divorce, I’ll be standing on my own. But for the first step, I still need the position of the Marquis’ wife.”

Which meant, before the divorce, she had to succeed in this.

“Madam, we’ve arrived at Panopel Square.”

When the carriage stopped, Diabella stepped out with a faint flutter in her chest.

Panopel Square.

The most bustling, splendid center of the Luten Empire. In modern Korean terms, you’d call it a hot place. As expected of the name, the grand square was encircled by gorgeous, majestic buildings.

“So this is what it feels like to take that European trip I could never even dream of?”

In her life as Hajin, she’d never even properly traveled domestically, let alone abroad. Her one and only trip had been to Jeju Island, barely scraped together with sponsorship money during high school.

Whenever she saw friends posting European travel pics on social media, it felt so out of reach it didn’t even spark envy.

Yet now, here she stood in the middle of a city more splendid than any photo she’d seen. Riding in a luxurious carriage, no less.

“If I think of it as a trip, it feels a little nicer.”

Instead of thinking of it as some incomprehensible “possession into a novel,” maybe she should just call it an extravagant trip for herself.

Hajin—no, Diabella—smiled faintly.

Or maybe, a life-reset game starting with 4 billion won in seed money? Either way, she’d take it. This was only the beginning.

***

“Nelie, go have some tea at a café until I’m back.”

Diabella pressed a coin into her maid’s palm.

Life as a noblewoman was comfortable, sure, but this part was inconvenient—always having to bring servants or attendants. She wanted time alone, away from watching eyes, to quietly plan her next steps.

“Madam! How can I let you walk alone in such a crowded street?”

Nelie paled. But when she met her mistress’ slow, heavy-lidded gaze, she sucked in a gasp.

“I wish to walk alone. Quietly.”

How could she dare disobey?

If I let her go and she’s harmed, I’ll be executed. If I disobey her order right now, I’ll die instantly.

The second option was scarier. Better to live a little longer.

“Please… be careful, madam.”

Feeling light, Diabella strolled into the street. She observed the clothes passersby wore, and carefully studied every shop around Panopel Square.

This is where the Empire’s money gathers.

And where its wealthiest spenders came. Where best to invest? She considered.

She’d studied economics at university, learning countless theories—but never had the chance to apply them. She’d been too busy scraping together tuition and living costs. Economics had only meant survival, day to day.

But now—she had capital.

It was time to put theory into practice.

Watch me. I’ll succeed spectacularly. I am Jang Hajin, who never once lost the top spot in economics.

Lifting her chin, she brimmed with confidence. Then froze.

Well… I lost it once.

She smacked her lips bitterly—then turned toward a commotion.

“Please, I beg you, give me more time!”

At the far end of the square, a rough-looking man was tossing goods out of a tiny shop, while a frail shopkeeper clung to his legs, pleading.

“You promised to repay! It’s been months! When are you going to? Didn’t you agree to hand over the building if you couldn’t? If you can’t pay, then get out!”

“My child is sick—medicine has cost so much… please, just a little longer!”

The brute kicked him away and barged inside.

“No! That embroidery is for my child!”

A trembling woman in the corner screamed, clutching at a piece of cloth. The man shoved her aside, threw the fabric to the floor, and raised his filthy boot to stomp on it—

—only for his foot to be flicked aside by a small, glossy green enamel shoe.

“…What the hell?”

“Who dares interfere with me!”

Snarling, he raised his head—

Swish.

Wine-colored hair rippled as Diabella brushed it back with one hand, long lashes fluttering.

“W-who are you?!”

Her bearing and looks made him stammer.

“Whatever your business, trampling helpless women is beneath even you.”

“Beneath me? I’ve already given him three months’ grace! Unless you’re paying his debt, keep out of it.”

“How much?”

“Ten million marks.”

…Yikes. That was steep. Diabella hesitated. Once divorced, she’d have no house and only her departure sum. She couldn’t afford to throw money around rashly.

“See? You’re not paying. So get lost before you get hurt.”

He sneered and started sweeping merchandise off shelves, smashing what he could.

“Sell this junk? You’ll never pay me back with this trash!”

He stomped and smashed even more.

Memories surfaced—of Hajin’s childhood, when loan sharks stormed their home over her father’s gambling debts. They’d ransacked everything, kicked down doors, her father had begged on his knees, and her mother had shielded young Hajin with her body.

Their cruelty wasn’t about repayment, but intimidation. Hajin had watched, trembling—until her cherished toy rabbit was seized and trampled. She’d tried to stop them, but they crushed it underfoot anyway.

Even after her mother washed it, the stains never came out. The scar had lasted for years.

Now, looking at the crying shopkeeper’s wife, she saw herself.

And then—

“No, not that!”

The brute again raised his boot over the embroidery she’d deflected earlier. Diabella lunged and snatched it away.

“Nice catch.”

“Hey, girl. Leave if you don’t want to get hurt.”

“I said I’ll buy this.”

“…Buy it?”

“You’ll buy it?”

The thug and the woman blinked in confusion.

Oops. Wasn’t this for a sick child? She slipped her tongue, but recovered smoothly.

“Yes. I was about to commission one like it. But if you ruin this sample, how will I order more? You wanted something to sell? Fine. I’ll buy it.”

“Tch. That scrap won’t fetch much.”

He kicked aside more goods, shoving the desperate shopkeeper.

Diabella bit her lip, staring at the embroidery in her hand. Then—her eyes lit up.

This is it!

The opportunity she’d been seeking.

Her mind set, she gripped her fan, lifted her chin—and threw it without hesitation.

“Ghhk!”

The fan struck him square in the throat.

Yes!

She’d suspected it back when she’d hit the butler with one—this body was made for throwing fans.

“You little—!”

Clutching his neck, he charged. But Diabella was faster. Her pointed enamel shoe shot upward, slamming straight into his groin.

“Gaaah—!”

He collapsed. Diabella strode up, clicked her heels, and stomped his hand mercilessly.

“My pretty shoes will get dirty. I’ll have to throw them out.”

Whoa, that was actually badass. I sounded just like the real Diabella.

She twisted her foot atop his hand, smiling with satisfaction.

“Ugh… you’ll pay for this! Do you know who I am—?!”

Something fluttered down onto his head.

“There. Ten million marks.”

Coins.

“You terrorized them over ten million? Then I’ve paid ten million—meaning I now have the right to terrorize you, don’t I?”

She pressed harder on his hand.

“And do you know who I am?”

“Wh-who the hell…?”

“Me?”

Slowly, regally, Diabella lifted her chin higher than ever. Her long, fan-like lashes lowered, then flicked up. She cast him a sidelong glance dripping with scorn.

“Diabella de Crimten.”