This Isn't How It Was Supposed to Go (Part 3)
Everything about my novel was supposed to be perfect.
Granted, its actual commercial performance was an unmitigated disaster, but that was beside the point. What few comments trickled in were almost entirely venomous hate comments.
There was even that complete lunatic. The moment I laid eyes on that final remark, every lingering shred of motivation to write withered away. And if memory served, the day I transmigrated into this very novel was the exact day those comments had landed.
At first, I had been utterly bewildered. Yet the architecture of the sprawling mansion and the face staring back at me in the mirror were unmistakably familiar. When every maid and footman bowed low, addressing me reverently as "Lady Iris," the reality of my situation finally crystallized.
I was overjoyed. How could I not be? Iris, the protagonist of my story, was destined to be cherished by every dashing bachelor in high society—including the Crown Prince himself. And now, I had become that very noble lady!
Yet reality had cruelly subverted my expectations. The Crown Prince, who was supposed to fall head over heels for me at first sight, had married another woman before I ever even set eyes on him. The other noble scions refused to spare me so much as a passing glance, driven away by vicious rumors claiming the duke's daughter possessed an intolerable, rotten temper. Unbelievable. What absolute nonsense.
Fine. I could accept that much. But what in the world was the deal with this man sprawled out in front of me, sleeping like a dead log with his eyes half-open?
Even as the original author, I couldn't possibly have personally crafted every single inhabitant of this world. It wasn't as if I could assign a unique name and an elaborate backstory to every scullery maid in the Empire. Even so... a filthy vagabond like him had no business existing here!
"Haaah..."
I couldn't fathom where—or why—things had gone so horribly astray. It was bad enough that I was swallowing my pride to travel down to a rural barony, an indignity that left me feeling miserable and on edge. Now, this lunatic who had rolled in from the middle of nowhere had thoroughly ruined whatever fragile composure I had left.
A barony, of all things. To think that the esteemed daughter of an imperial ducal house would personally travel this far just to court a lowly baron.
"..."
Just how did my life end up in such a pathetic state?
Yet what truly gnawed at my mind wasn't petty pride; it was sheer, creeping anxiety. The suffocating terror that even this backwater heir might turn me away.
"Pheeew..."
"Hnngh... zzz..."
"..."
Whether this mysterious vagrant snored or ground his teeth, I could only chew anxiously on my fingernails and stare out the carriage window.
Before long, the sky was dyed a deep, burning crimson by the twilight.
"...A jest?" the man muttered, stirring from his slumber as he stared out the window.
Reflecting the sunset, his pitch-black irises trembled with turbulent agitation.
"What is?"
"Wh-Where... is this place...?" His voice wavered with an extreme, rattling tremor.
He had been sleeping like a baby mere moments ago, so what was with the sudden hysterics?
"This is Rupert."
Only then did the man turn his head toward me.
"Ru... Ru-what...?"
"The Rupert Baron Territory. Well, if you've spent your entire life in the capital, it's only natural you wouldn't recognize it. It's quite a small province, after all."
"..." A hollow sigh escaped his lips.
"More to the point, who are you? What's your name, and where do you come from?"
"..."
No answer came. He was sitting directly across from me, so there was no way he hadn't heard. Just as I opened my mouth to press him once more—
"Wh-What of the taverns...? The Murim Alliance...? Then what of the Unorthodox Faction...?"
The man began muttering in a daze, his tone eerie and disjointed.
"...Excuse me?"
"The Demonic Cult...? C-Could the Heavenly Demon be...? No... th-that cannot be..."
A sudden chill crept down my spine at the sheer vacancy in his eyes.
"Hey!!"
Clap!!
I slammed my hands together directly in front of his nose. Only then did his eyes roll slowly toward me.
"...?"
"Who on earth are you?!"
"Ah..."
He merely parted and closed his lips repeatedly like a beached fish, utterly speechless.
"Ugh, fine. Keep it to yourself if you don't want to tell me." I leaned back against the cushions and crossed my arms. It wasn't as if I needed to know the name of someone I'd never see again anyway. Sure, shattering my barrier magic and hoisting a carriage with his bare hands had been astonishing, but this world had no shortage of bizarre drifters. I would simply dump him on the side of the road and go on with my life.
"...myeong," the man mumbled.
"What?"
"Mu... myeong..."
"Mumyeong? What kind of nonsense is... W-Wait, is that your name?!"
The man offered no response.
What kind of name was that? Why would anyone possess a Sino-derived name in a romance-fantasy world? Just... who in the world was this guy?
"This will not do."
Mumyeong surged to his feet.
And then—
Bang!!
Without warning, he kicked the carriage door wide open. A furious gust rushed inside, whipping his absurdly long hair across my face.
"What—pfft! What do you think you're doing all of a sudden?! Are you insane?!"
Without sparing me so much as a glance, he leaped straight out of the speeding carriage.
"Hey, wait—!"
Startled, I scrambled up and poked my head through the opening. The rushing wind whipped against my face so violently that my eyes squeezed shut of their own accord.
"...Huh?"
Strange.
Mumyeong was nowhere to be seen on the road.
"M-My Lady! Did that beggar just jump out—?!"
"..."
I hadn't heard the dull thud of a body hitting dirt. Nor the sound of someone tumbling across gravel. Not even the faintest yelp of pain. Where in the world could he have vanished to in that brief fraction of a second?
"My Lady?"
"Never mind him. It's nothing."
"Pardon?"
Ignoring Heath's bewildered inquiry, I slammed the carriage door firmly shut.
"Mumyeong... Mumyeong, is it...?"
Yet for reasons unknown, my tongue continued to roll over the peculiar syllables. A name practically reeking of foreign characters. I was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had never written such a moniker into my novel. Could there have been some Eastern-inspired setting hidden away in the world that I had entirely forgotten? Or was he an outlander hailing from some distant frontier tribe?
"Aaargh, whatever! Who cares?!"
What was the use of agonizing over a riddle with no answer? We would never cross paths again anyway. Dismissing the matter entirely, I rested my chin in my hand and quietly closed my eyes against the windowpane.
Only after pitch darkness had completely swallowed the landscape did the carriage gradually slow to a crawl.
"My Lady, we have arrived," Heath announced, pulling open the door and bowing low.
The moment I stepped down from the carriage, my eyes were greeted by a long, pristine line of maids and footmen stretching all the way to the estate's grand entrance. Flanked on either side by retainers bowing in unison, an involuntary smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.
Yes. This was how things were supposed to be. Even if many details had gone off course, I remained the daughter of an imperial ducal house. Receiving this caliber of reverence was only my due.
"This way, My Lady."
Guided by Heath, I puffed out my chest and walked toward the entrance with renewed poise.
Creak.
Presently, the massive double doors swung wide open. From within stepped a tall, dashing gentleman with silver hair falling gently over his shoulders, offering a suave smile as he bowed.
"It is a tremendous honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Iris. I am the young lord of House Rupert, Vala Rupert."
Vala Rupert.
In my original novel, he was merely an offhand name mentioned in passing back when Iris had been revelling in her reverse harem. Because he held no narrative importance whatsoever, I hadn't even bothered designing his facial features. Who could have known the world would render him so strikingly handsome?
"A pleasure to meet you, Vala." Suppressing my slight surprise, I returned his greeting with a graceful smile.
"You must be exhausted after such an arduous journey. Shall we proceed with dinner first? Or if you prefer, a warm bath has already been prepared."
"Dinner first, please. I happen to be quite famished."
Vala offered an eye-smile of pure charm as he extended his arm to escort me inside. "Shall we?"
The meal was reasonably lavish. Naturally so, given that an imperial duke's daughter was gracing their halls. Yet it wasn't spectacularly delicious either. Not that I had any real reason to complain; for a provincial barony, rolling out this level of hospitality was already a massive expenditure. If anything, failing to provide at least this much for a ducal lady would have been scandalous.
As I lightly prodded a slice of roasted meat with my fork, lost in idle critique, Vala continued his endless chatter across the table.
"Which brings me to the recent uproar regarding the Southern Grain Tax reform..."
To be perfectly frank, I couldn't care less.
"Furthermore, your breathtaking beauty is renowned throughout the entire south..."
There it was again. Whether dealing with a marquess, an earl, or now this baron's heir, why did every single one of them vacillate between dry political maneuvers and fawning compliments about my face?
"My Lady?"
"Ah, yes. I'm listening."
I wasn't listening at all. Toying with my fork, debating whether or not to set it down, I swallowed back a tedious yawn.
"Which is why, once I succeed as head of the household..."
God. This is so excruciatingly boring.
Clatter!!
The sharp ring of silver striking fine porcelain echoed loudly across the dining hall. Without realizing it, I had put far too much force into my hand.
"M-My Lady? Is something to your displeasure...?"
"Everything! All of it!!"
"Pardon...?"
"Every single bit of this situation is unbearable! Just tell me straight—are you going to marry me or not?! Because that's the only reason I bothered coming all the way down here!!"
Vala's expression went completely blank. A dull, hollow look that carried a profoundly ominous edge.
"M-Marriage? Isn't marriage a bit sudden...?"
"Haaah..."
Just as I thought. Right. Now, even a backwater baron's heir was giving me the cold shoulder.
Their playbook was always the exact same: drone on about politics, praise my looks, and the second marriage entered the conversation, quietly pull back. What did I do? What on earth did I do wrong to end up walking such a wretchedly different path from the original Iris?
"My Lady?"
Crash!!
I kicked back my chair and bolted to my feet. The heavy wooden chair toppled onto the floorboards with a violent racket.
"I'm leaving—"
I dabbed at my lips with the linen napkin and turned on my heel. In that very instant—
"Uh...?"
A sudden, vicious wave of dizziness struck me, causing my balance to shatter. My vision spun in sickening spirals, and my chest seized up, desperately gasping for air.
What is this? Did that beggar get on my nerves so badly earlier that my body is giving out?
I clamped my teeth down hard on my lower lip.
"My Lady? Are you feeling unwell?" Vala inquired.
For some reason, a smile lingered on his face.
"I'm just... a little dizzy all of a sudden. It's nothing."
"Hmm. Well, it's about that time, isn't it?"
"...What?"
About that time? What does that mean?
I tried to demand an answer, but my tongue felt like a slab of lead.
"I took the liberty of seasoning your food with a little something. Your muscles will gradually petrify now."
"Wh-What are you... Why on earth...?"
Vala rolled his eyes in a languid circle before curling his lips into a sinister sneer. "A butcher hardly needs to explain his motives to cattle or swine before the slaughter, does he?"
Pure horror seized my core.
"You're... going to... e-eat me?"
"Not me. My Master will."
"You... c-could you be...?"
Don't tell me... a heretic cultist?!
I had indeed written demon-worshipping cultists into the background lore of my novel, but never had I imagined facing one in the flesh—right before my very eyes!
Thud!!
My paralyzed legs gave out beneath me, sending me crashing hard against the floor. My hands shook violently, and I could feel a frothy sickness pooling at the edges of my lips.
"Phew—catering to your petulant whims really was exhausting," Vala muttered, rising smoothly from his seat.
Crack.
Snapping his neck at a grotesque, impossible angle, he advanced toward me, step by deliberate step.
Ah. So this is how I die. What a goddamn joke of a life.
"Do not grieve so bitterly. This is a blessing. A magnificent blessing."
A dry scoff tore past my teeth, flecks of white foam spraying from my mouth. "Blessing... my... ass... you... deranged... bastard..."
With his head cocked sideways, Vala's lips stretched into an unsettling grin. "The rumors about your temper were certainly well-founded..."
He came to a halt right before me. Heavy shadows shrouded his features, and beneath the darkness, a sickening crimson gleam flared within his eyes, freezing the blood in my veins.
"I will make certain to season and prepare you quite deliciously—"
In that fraction of a second—
BOOOOOM!!!
A deafening roar ripped through the estate, shaking the entire stone structure to its very foundations.
An earth-splitting surge of absolute martial force.
CRACK—!!
"Gaaagh!!"
SLAM!!
A dark blur erupted into the room with terrifying speed, launching Vala straight through the banquet hall like a ragdoll.
"...?"
A voice I had heard before.
Long black hair swirling amidst a cloud of pulverized stone.
Clothing that barely passed for a tattered rag.
And a clenched, calloused fist bulging with veins that looked ready to burst from raw power.
"Mu... Mu..."
"Found you, Demonic Cult."
It was Mumyeong, grinning from ear to ear with pure, unadulterated delight.