The Novel and the Misfortune
"Lately, the Seventh Prince has been acting a bit strange, hasn't he?"
The youngest maid, who was washing laundry by the old well, spoke up cautiously.
For a mere maid to speak of royalty was an offense that would normally cost her head. However, in the Seventh Prince's Palace—where servants were scarce and no one paid much attention—no one bothered to enforce such strict rules of etiquette.
"He doesn't throw fits as much as before, and he's throwing fewer things, too."
Especially at people... the maid added in a barely audible whisper.
"Maybe he finally realized that no one else is willing to come work here?"
Another maid, who had been listening listlessly, offered a plausible opinion in an equally indifferent tone.
The Seventh Prince's Palace was treated like a cold shoulder, and because no one wanted to come, it was always short-staffed. The Seventh Prince had either killed, half-killed, or threatened the original staff so much that they had all fled.
Since they were already too busy with the lack of hands, they didn't have the mental energy to dwell on it, and the topic quickly drifted out of the servants' interest.
"No. Something is definitely strange..."
Only Anna, the youngest maid who had brought up the topic, tilted her head, unconvinced.
And this clever girl was right.
Well, half-right.
Because the body currently sitting on a tree branch outside the window of the dilapidated Seventh Prince's Palace, listening to the laundry maids' gossip, belonged to the Seventh Prince, Ran Abaran.
Though the soul inside was that of a perfectly ordinary twenty-eight-year-old South Korean man, Lee.
To add to that, there was no way of knowing where the original owner of this body had gone.
But it didn't really matter. It felt a bit wrong to say, but the guy was absolute trash anyway, and he was scheduled to have his throat ripped open and die within three years.
If you were to ask how I could be so sure, the answer was quite simple.
I read all about it.
To put it simply, this was the world inside a novel, and I had somehow ended up inside it.
The day it happened had been exceptionally exhausting.
Office life is generally the same day in and day out, but it was one of those days that made you crave a cigarette more than usual.
In the morning, out of nowhere, my shoelaces came undone on the stairs, causing me to miss my train. Just when I thought I had barely avoided being late, the section chief—who had uncharacteristically arrived early—gave me a tongue-lashing. I wanted to point out that he only arrived on time about once a month, but since he held the purse strings to my livelihood, I simply nodded my head.
Work wasn't smooth sailing either. The new hires made basic mistakes over and over, and I was the one who had to clean up after them. To top off a draining day, a tedious company dinner was waiting for me.
They say the culture of forcing people to attend company dinners has disappeared these days, but our tiny, booger-sized company seemed to have been flung out of the orbit of modern progress, stubbornly clinging to old habits.
Dragging my exhausted body, I had to enter the pork belly restaurant behind our office building, our usual spot.
Sitting in a spot neither too far nor too close to the boss, I let the section chief's meaningless boasts go in one ear and out the other while stuffing my face with pork belly. If I wasn't going to get anything else out of this, I might as well replenish my protein.
"What do you usually do on your days off, Assistant Manager?"
A female employee with sparkling eyes had asked me. She was the new hire from the neighboring team who had made so many mistakes today. She was a complete greenhorn, whimpering while answering phone calls. She didn't seem to lack brains, so I had wondered why she was struggling so much, but then I remembered her mentor and it all made sense.
Assistant Manager Kim Dae-ri, the ultimate salary thief.
I recalled hearing something about him trading stocks, but even during work hours, he kept his eyes glued to his phone, dragging down everyone else's productivity.
It had been frustrating to watch her hesitate because her mentor hadn't taught her a single thing, so I had stepped in to handle the calls for her. She seemed deeply grateful for that and was clearly trying to get closer to me.
Though I had absolutely no intention of reciprocating.
I was sorry, but I didn't want to take over her mentor's job of teaching her every little thing, and to begin with, I didn't make friends at work.
"I don't do anything."
"Ah! So you're a homebody too, Assistant Manager! Me too... Home is where I feel most at peace. Even when I'm out, once I get back home, I feel like my batteries are recharging."
Whether she was just highly social or simply pitying my blunt response, she tried to keep the conversation going. Feeling a bit bad but wanting to escape, I was about to excuse myself to go to the restroom when—
"Homebody, my foot. Assistant Manager Lee isn't a homebody; he's practically a monk. A monk."
The voice belonged to her mentor—the salary thief, Assistant Manager Kim Dae-ri.
His chubby face was flushed red from alcohol as he glared at me with clear discontent.
Startled by the sudden intrusion, the new hire blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Even when the department manager invites him for a weekend hike, he never shows up. He doesn't play golf either. He doesn't even have any hobbies, does he? He never misses a chance to rack up overtime pay, but it's not like he uses that money to dress up nicely..."
As he spoke, Kim openly scanned me from head to toe. My clothes weren't dirty or worn out, but they certainly contrasted with Kim, who was decked out in luxury brands.
He toyed with his designer wallet on the table and continued.
"Don't you think you should invest a bit more in self-improvement, Assistant Manager Lee?"
"Right?" he added, turning his head to seek agreement from those around him, but his colleagues only offered awkward smiles.
His judgment clouded by alcohol, he seemed to take their awkward reluctance to get involved as silent agreement.
"Even when his father passed away, he showed up to work the very next day like nothing happened. How can a person be like that?"
As he dragged my personal life into the conversation, my brow furrowed slightly.
"So, what is it you actually want to say?"
At my cold question, he flinched slightly, perhaps realizing he had gone too far. But that brief moment of hesitation seemed to wound his pride.
Emboldened by the alcohol, he began to shout even louder.
"Even a stray dog on the street lives more like a human than you do!"
With his volume control completely gone, the noisy chatter of the restaurant gradually died down.
People who heard him whispered while looking at Kim and me, while those who hadn't heard began to focus on the situation, asking, "What? What's going on?"
I scanned the nearby tables, let out a sigh, and looked straight at Kim.
"Well, it seems pretty clear who the dog is in this room."
I stared at him intently, adding that he should apologize tomorrow once he sobered up. Kim's face flushed with anger, his mouth hanging open as he sputtered.
Since society generally dislikes major scenes, a few of his peers sitting nearby laughed it off, wrapped their arms around him, and dragged him away.
Thanks to that, Kim's "stray dog" comment ended up as just a minor incident.
It really had been an exhausting day. I knew Kim had a passive-aggressive dislike for me, but this was the first time he had shown such blatant hostility, and it didn't leave a pleasant aftertaste.
Afterward, the dinner continued as if nothing had happened, finally ending when the colleagues bundled the drunken department manager into a taxi.
"Um, Assistant Manager..."
As I was trying to wrap things up and leave, the new hire from earlier cautiously called out to me.
"I'm so sorry about earlier. I brought up a useless topic and made you listen to such awful things."
I looked down at the soft-hearted employee and shook my head.
"If you get into the habit of apologizing for things that aren't your fault, you won't last long in corporate life. Besides, he wasn't entirely wrong."
Since blunt remarks were the only thing that suited my personality, I told her to head home, turned around, and walked away.
"Still, I think living like you do, Assistant Manager, is much more human!"
She shouted at my back, forcing me to turn around in surprise.
"Living completely by your instincts and doing whatever you want like Assistant Manager Kim said—that's what makes someone a real dog! A literal beast!"
"Get home safely!" she yelled, before turning around and running toward the bus stop.
Dumbfounded by her aggressive choice of words, I stared in her direction for a moment before resuming my walk.
She's had way too much to drink, too.
Thinking about the drinking habits of fresh graduates and various other trivial matters, I soon arrived in front of the old villa where I lived.
The paint spelling out the villa's name had completely peeled off, making it impossible to read, and the walls that must have been stark white when it was newly built had aged into a dull ivory. It was my long-time sanctuary.
Though it was on the first floor and had only two rooms, it was comfortable enough.
Cradling my throbbing head, I collapsed onto the bed.
The intoxication, which I hadn't felt while walking through the chilly streets, was slowly creeping up on me.
With my head spinning, the events and conversations that had bombarded me at the end of the day drifted to the surface of my mind before sinking back down.
Monk. Stray dog. Beast.
I let out a chuckle at the last word.
The word "beast" lingered in my mind. That young new hire had called me human, but if I had to choose, I thought Kim was much closer to that definition. Living by instinct, doing whatever one wants—I suppose that could be considered human in its own way.
The alcohol is really making me think of the most useless things.
In truth, it had been a few months since the need to maintain my monk-like lifestyle had vanished. My bank loan was almost fully paid off. It wasn't that I had anything specific I wanted to do, so I had simply continued my routine, but perhaps there really was no need to live like a monk anymore. Should I try living like a beast, as they said? No, did I even want to live like that?
My alcohol-addled mind grew even more tangled.
Feeling my mood sink, I rolled over and reached out toward the small bookshelf next to my bed. In my barren, empty room, it was the only piece of furniture besides the bed.
The shelves were packed tightly with books.
When I said Kim wasn't entirely wrong, it meant there was at least some truth to his words. This was my sole hobby. Collecting every single volume of my favorite genre web novel. It had been published when I was in elementary school, and since it wasn't a major hit but rather a mediocre fantasy novel, it was incredibly difficult to find unless you bought the physical paperbacks.
After paying off my loans and saving money, I relieved my stress by setting aside a tiny portion of my living expenses to buy these books one by one, even with the premium markup. Since there was no single place selling the entire series at once, I had a few duplicate volumes, but I actually liked that because it meant I could read them without worrying about damaging the pages.
I had three copies of Volume 1.
I pulled one of them out and opened it. Whenever I felt down, I would re-read these collected books. Could this be called a hobby? Or was it just a habit?
I began to read the first line of the novel, which I had practically memorized by now, even as my eyes grew strangely heavy.
"It was scarlet blood, proving that even the bodies of the divine race ran with the same color of blood as humans. He g...u...s...h...e...d... blood from every single orifice of his body..."
It really had been an exhausting day. Unusually so.
Before I could even finish reading the first sentence of the book, drowsiness washed over me as if someone were dragging me down by the hair. I faintly heard the sound of the book slipping through my fingers and falling onto the bed.
Ah, I shouldn't let the pages get creased.
Through my fading consciousness, it felt like someone's voice was echoing.
I don't know who decided to give me what, but I don't believe in free lunches. So I wanted to reply that I didn't need it, but I lost consciousness completely before I could.
And when I opened my eyes again—
- Caw?
A window frame decorated with designs you'd only see in the Middle Ages, and a crow sitting on top of it, were welcoming me.
"Whoa!!!"