Chapter 3

　　It was a youthful voice, yet something in it made my shoulders hunch instinctively. The world seemed to fall silent. I wondered if this was the “murderous aura” I’d only ever read about in novels.

　　“Huh.”

　　With an irritated sweep of his hand, the figure ran his fingers through his black hair. The profile I glimpsed was that of a boy about my age, but he stood a head taller than the others, his presence far more intimidating.

　　At his slightest movement, the market boys flinched.

　　What was this tension?

　　I was only standing behind him, yet my heart hammered against my ribs like a warning drum.

　　It made sense for them to be scared—they were the ones causing trouble. But why did I feel so afraid?

　　The sensation was foreign.

　　Worse, a faint pain twisted in my stomach, as sharp as a blade, accompanying the fear. He was standing between me and them—nothing had even touched me.

　　This was strange.

　　The boy jutted his chin toward the bullies.

　　“What are you staring at?”

　　“W-Who are you?”

　　“And what would change if you knew?”

　　At his retort, the market boys gritted their teeth, bracing themselves to use their makeshift weapons again.

　　Then, a blurred motion, followed by a sharp thud.

　　“Argh!”

　　“Whoa, that’s blood!”

　　With a single flick of the boy’s wrist, a dagger had grazed the leader’s neck and embedded itself in the wooden plank behind him. The color drained from the boys’ faces.

　　“Get lost.”

　　“Aaaargh!”

　　Before he’d even finished speaking, they scrambled away.

　　What in the world was that? That was incredibly dangerous.

　　I’d been dropped into a fantasy world, and now fantastical things were happening right before my eyes. Does everyone in this world have skills like that?

　　My own terror was just as real as theirs, but I managed to find my voice to thank him.

　　“Thank you for helpi—”

　　“Why are you still here?”

　　He brushed at the hem of his clothes where I’d grabbed him, a gesture radiating pure annoyance. At the cold motion, my hand fell away, and my gratitude vanished right along with it.

　　“Dragging others into your business is a nuisance. If it’s your problem, don’t hide—face it yourself. Especially against pathetic brats like that.”

　　He clicked his tongue in disgust. The boy’s words were shards of ice as he walked past me.

　　So he hadn’t helped me because he wanted to. He was just annoyed that I’d dragged him into it.

　　Feeling awkward, I muttered to the back of his dark head, more to myself than to him.

　　“And I almost thanked him. The nerve.”

　　Then, I bolted.

　　“Seriously, what was that about? He didn’t have to be such a jerk.”

　　After finally finishing my errand, I returned to my room and replayed the memory.

　　Was there a scene like this in ‘The Suspicious Duchess’? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall a moment or a character like that terrifying boy.

　　“I only saw him from behind, but he had such a commanding presence. I guess he was just some random passerby. Still, anyone watching would have thought he was a main character.”

　　I tried to shake off my thoughts about him.

　　But one thing he said clung to my mind, rattling my resolve.

　　If you have a problem, don’t hide. Face it yourself.

　　It felt like he was telling me not to run from my current situation, even though his words had nothing to do with the circumstances I was facing.

　　“Maybe adoption is my chance to become the protagonist of this world. Am I just trying to run away from it?”

　　The thought struck me, completely out of the blue. It felt fated, though it came from nowhere.

　　I’d never been the main character in my life.

　　If you lined people up in groups from A to D based on how much of the spotlight they got, I’d be at the very tail end of Group C.

　　The only reason I wasn’t in Group D was because I’d mastered every part-time job under the sun and was adored by my bosses. I was a reliable worker, worth every single penny.

　　“I’m used to being noticed as a slave to capitalism, but the protagonist of an entire world… how could I be that?”

　　No, wait. Maybe God felt so sorry for me that this possession was my chance to be a protagonist. Or at the very least, a chance to live as a rich man’s daughter.

　　“That has to be it…!”

　　Intoxicated by this wild interpretation, I started to feel like adoption was my destiny. Whose destiny? Mine, of course.

　　Besides, Fredia’s face was already well-known, so finding a way to run away now was a long shot anyway.

　　“I’ll go to the Duke’s estate, enjoy a life of luxury, and be loved by a handsome male lead! When else would I get a chance to experience something like that?”

　　Plans are made to be broken.

　　“First step: become a noble.”

　　Little did I know then that the boy was less a messenger from God and more a devil in disguise.

* * *

　　A few days later, the orphanage was in an uproar. The Imperial Palace had sent word of an impending visit.

　　“Ma’am! I want to meet the prince, too!”

　　“It’s not fair that Fredia gets to meet royalty!”

　　“Me! Pick me! I’ll meet Her Majesty the Empress instead of Fredia!”

　　“Now, now, children. Be good. You all know the rule. No one enters the Director’s office unless they’re called, correct?”

　　The orphanage children were causing a scene. The Director smiled kindly as she ushered them out, then turned to fix a ferocious glare on me.

　　“The First Prince wishes to see you. You will be on your absolute best behavior—more polite and quiet than you have ever been in your life.”

　　“Yes, Ma’am.”

　　I flinched at her gaze, which promised to chew me up and swallow me whole if I caused the slightest bit of trouble.

　　How does her expression change so fast? It’s like taking off a mask.

　　Empress Iana, famous for her charitable work, visited the Curtis Orphanage regularly once a year.

　　This time, however, the First Prince was coming along, having begged his mother to bring him after specifically asking to meet me.

　　The kind and benevolent First Prince was an avid reader of The People’s Daily, a newspaper that even the Emperor—the man who was supposed to be looking after his people—didn’t bother with.

　　Claiming that a good leader must understand the lives of his people, he’d been reading it when he saw Fredia’s photo. From there, he learned all about her life in the orphanage, her hopes and dreams, her hobbies, and so on.

　　Of course, it was all fabricated for maximum impact—a sob story crafted to boost the nobles’ image.

　　And the First Prince, to everyone’s surprise, had been completely hooked by a tale designed purely to fish for reader sympathy.

　　Thus, he was visiting Curtis as Fredia’s number one fan.

　　Then, suddenly, the “Female Lead Buff” would activate, and the prince would fall for the heroine at first sight. That was the plot of “The Suspicious Duchess.”

　　Honestly, it was such a forced setup.

　　Originally, in the novel before the heroine’s possession, Fredia was just an extra.

　　The author had dropped a new soul into a minor character’s body but had inexplicably given her a main character buff anyway.

　　As a reader, I’d grumbled about the ridiculous plot, but now that it was my story, I didn’t care how ridiculous it was. I just needed that buff to work so I could get adopted into a wealthy family.

　　A few days later, the Empress and the First Prince finally arrived.

　　I was dressed beautifully for once, standing beside the Director, who was dressed plainly for once, as we welcomed the imperial party. Reporters from the Imperial Press were there as well.

　　“Your Majesty, Your Highness.”

　　I curtsied, greeting them just as I’d been taught. The Empress smiled benevolently and stroked my head as camera flashes popped around us.

　　“What a truly beautiful child.”

　　I glanced up at the Empress, whose hand still rested on my head as she spoke in that gentle voice.

　　To meet someone I’d only ever read about… It was surreal.

　　She was different from the version I’d pictured, of course, but she looked remarkably similar to the novel’s description.

　　The Empress looked like a genuinely good person. Her gently drooping eyes and faint, wistful smile gave her an impression so mild she almost seemed fragile. Her jet-black hair and eyes, which seemed to absorb the light, only added to her composed demeanor.

　　I stared at her, mesmerized.

　　A master actress, indeed. I almost fell for it, even though I knew the truth.

　　Praised as a frugal philanthropist with a merciful and gentle nature, she was, in reality…

　　A thorough opportunist.

　　In the novel, she was a woman who moved solely for her own benefit.

　　She possessed a lust for power stronger than anyone else’s, a woman who wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice her own child to get what she wanted.

　　That’s why she neglects her biological son, the Second Prince, and instead parades around a child who isn’t hers but has a stronger claim to the throne.

　　I subtly shifted my gaze to the First Prince.

　　Harace Allen von Arcell.

　　With his curly silver hair, warm green eyes, and a refreshingly good-natured expression, he was the male lead of the novel.

　　Though only fifteen, he seemed two or three years older, his tall frame and broad, reliable shoulders a stark contrast to his youthful face.

　　Perhaps sensing my gaze, Harace met my eyes. Unlike Iana’s practiced smile, his was utterly genuine.

　　It happened in that instant. The moment I looked into his curious, vibrant green eyes, a strange jolt shot through my heart.

　　Huh?

　　Heat flooded my cheeks.

　　Uh-oh…

　　What was this? Am I falling in love at first sight?

　　It felt as if some invisible force was compelling me to fall for him.

　　Is the novel influencing me? This is weird.

　　Then I remembered… I’d felt something similar before.

　　That foul-tempered boy from the market.

　　The sensation was similar, but back then it had been fear, not this… heart-fluttering feeling.

　　Right, let’s not jump to conclusions. That boy isn’t even a character in the story, so it can’t be the novel’s influence.

　　Fortunately, my heart soon calmed. I looked at Harace again, and he offered me a gentle smile.

　　Was this meeting always supposed to be so sudden, so forward, so… cheesy?