chapter 02
As soon as I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a strangely antique-looking ceiling.
‘What the…?’
Just a moment ago, I had definitely been lying on the cramped, foldable mattress in my semi-basement studio apartment.
I sat up in bed and hurriedly looked around.
The luxurious four-poster bed was so wide that even if I stretched out both arms, I couldn’t reach the edges.
It didn’t have any patterns, but there was a gently swaying canopy attached to it.
Instead of the stretched-out T-shirt and sweatpants I usually wore as pajamas, I was dressed in sleepwear adorned with elegant lace around the chest.
‘What is going on…?’
Still dazed, I tried to get out of bed and was startled by the soft sensation under my feet—it was a plush rug spread across the floor.
The clean wallpaper, the neatly arranged furniture, and two large windows that let in plenty of sunlight made it a bright, pleasant room.
There was even a small flowerpot on the windowsill, blooming with fresh red flowers.
“Wait a minute, this scene looks really familiar.”
I muttered without thinking—then froze in surprise at the sound of my own voice.
‘Did that really come from my mouth?’
It wasn’t any language I knew, yet I spoke and understood it naturally.
‘No way… it can’t be. It can’t be…’
But my mind had already reached a conclusion.
I took a deep breath.
Of course, I had imagined being reborn as the main character in a new life, having it all.
Back when my life was no better than an orphan’s and I was constantly hopping between part-time jobs, such daydreams brought me comfort.
But for it to actually happen like this…
And the most important issue now—whose body had I ended up in?
I turned my head and spotted a mirror leaning against one wall.
In that moment, I finally understood why so many transmigrators in stories check the mirror first.
The First Rule of Transmigration:
You become the character you last saw—or your favorite character—from a novel.
“Anyone but Olabia. Please, not Olabia…”
Just because you like someone doesn’t mean you want to be them. Those are completely different things.
Let’s be honest—who would want to become the fake female lead who suffers, stumbles around, and ends up with a bad ending?
But I had never been particularly lucky in my life.
When it came to bad premonitions, I could rival any fortune-teller—and I was never wrong.
For the first time ever, I prayed fervently to a god I didn’t even believe in.
And, as expected, that god had no mercy for a one-time atheist like me.
“…”
Wavy golden hair flowing down to my waist, green eyes reminiscent of emeralds, pearly white skin, and long, slender limbs.
In the mirror stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman. But I buried my face in my hands in despair.
Of all people… I had to end up in the body of the younger sister who gets killed and replaced by her villainous older sister?
If I had transmigrated into Karinne instead, I could have gone through a redemption arc and led everyone to a happy ending.
But just like in my previous life, luck wasn’t on my side in this one either.
After clawing at my hair for a while, I suddenly looked up and met my reflection’s gaze.
“Get a grip. I can’t die just because I’m spaced out.”
I had to survive.
I slowly ran through my thoughts, trying to figure out what to do and where to begin.
“First… I need to find out what point in time I’ve landed in.”
Just as I tried to recall the plot of the original novel, a gentle ringing came from outside the door.
“Miss Olabia, it’s Mary.”
‘Hmm?’
I squinted slightly.
Usually, in these situations, the maids storm in shouting loud enough to burst your eardrums.
They’re rude, hostile, and unafraid to harm the heroine.
That’s just how it is in angsty novels—the pitiful female leads are always equipped with ill-mannered maids who torment them in all sorts of ways.
But somehow…
“May I come in if you’re awake?”
The voice outside was unexpectedly polite and gentle.
Still stunned, I blinked, and once again, met my eyes in the mirror.
Just then—clang—a deep reverberation rang through my mind.
Like a dark library slowly lighting up section by section, Olabia’s memories started flowing into me.
The sensation of someone else’s memories layering over my own was… hard to describe. Strange in a way words couldn’t capture.
And then—
‘What the…?’
The flow of memories suddenly stopped, like water cut off from a hose.
I didn’t know why, but one thing was clear: I had only recovered a small portion of Olabia’s memories.
And even those were less her personal memories and more like “information” necessary to live in this world.
It felt like reading through a game’s lore or worldbuilding notes.
Still, it wasn’t a total loss.
According to what I had recovered, this was before the novel’s starting point.
The first event of the story hadn’t happened yet.
“Young Lady, are you still asleep?”
The bell chimed again, and I quickly came to my senses and answered.
“I’m up. You can come in.”
Only then did the door open.
The maid who entered was a young girl with plain brown hair and a freckled face.
I knew her name—Mary, Olabia’s personal maid.
She barely appeared in the original novel.
That’s because, despite being Olabia’s maid, she neglected her duties.
As a result, Olabia suffered through poor meals, unkempt bedding, and countless other inconveniences.
“Good morning, My Lady. You’re up earlier than usual. Did you sleep well?”
I frowned slightly. A glance outside told me the sun was already high in the sky.
‘Now that I think about it, I remember reading somewhere that nobles tend to wake up later than most people.’
I nodded nonchalantly, brushing off her question.
I had to observe my current situation carefully—this wasn’t the time for careless words or attention-seeking behavior.
“I’m glad you seem to be in good spirits today.”
Mary’s politeness was… odd. It felt too polite, to the point of being strange.
In the novel, Olabia had to endure suffering until she was rescued from the Brien household by the crown prince.
Her father, Viscount Brien, abused her. The servants constantly insulted and tormented her in secret.
I had mentally prepared myself for that kind of environment.
‘But this is just… too different.’
I scoured what little I had of Olabia’s memories, but found nothing useful.
‘How could things be so different?’
It was strange.
I hadn’t done anything yet—so it wasn’t like my transmigration had caused the story to change.
At this rate, knowing the original plot was meaningless.
The “cheat” of any transmigrator is supposed to be foreknowledge of the future.
But if even the beginning has changed, then my knowledge was practically useless.
I had an instinctive feeling that this world wasn’t going to treat me kindly.
Just then, Mary spread a white cloth over the table and spoke politely again.
“Then, I’ll bring your meal.”
‘Meal?’
Mary stepped out and returned shortly, pushing a large tray. With practiced hands, she began placing dishes on the table.
The food looked unbelievably abundant.
A light yet savory soup, a fresh salad with seasonal fruits, soft warm bread and cheese, even a juicy steak.
‘It all looks great…’
If I hadn’t transmigrated into Olabia’s world, I might’ve simply basked in the joy and dug in happily.
Joking around, maybe even asking if it tasted like earwax.
But right now, everything was suspicious.
Especially in a situation where the story deviated this much from the original.
“Please, try some.”
Mary said gently, noticing how I just stared at the food.
But with suspicion already planted in my mind, I couldn’t easily lift the spoon. More accurately—I wouldn’t.
She coaxed me again, like she was trying to reassure me.
“You should eat at least a little today. You haven’t eaten properly in days.”
From her words, I picked up on a clue.
‘Was Olabia’s health bad?’
Now that I thought about it, Mary had asked about my condition the moment she saw me.
‘But I feel fine.’
I checked my body just in case, but there was no pain or discomfort anywhere.
Still, I made a mental note of her words and nodded.
“I’m fine now.”
“I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better, My Lady.”
Mary smiled warmly. It was such a gentle, genuine smile that it softened my guard.
If I hadn’t known anything, I might’ve fallen for her kindness right then and there.
