Adrianne’s mansion was truly magnificent.

The interior was grand, the furniture elegant, and the decorations lavish.

It seemed this was Adrianne’s taste.

When I arrived at the dining room, the attendants swung both doors wide open.

As I stepped inside, the child I saw this morning was already seated.

“Y-your Grace! Y-you’re here!”

A child who looked about four or five years old jumped up and bowed.

Pink hair tied in pigtails swayed back and forth.

‘Oh my, she’s so cute with her hair tied like that.’

I sat down, suppressing the urge to stomp my feet in excitement.

“Sit down.”

“Yes!”

As the child sat, the meal began to be served.

There were so many things I wanted to ask.

If she slept well last night, what foods she likes. But since I knew nothing about the child, I couldn’t utter a word.

What is my relationship with her?

‘S-surely she’s not my daughter?’

No, no matter how bad Adrianne’s personality was, she wouldn’t make her own daughter call her ‘Your Grace.’

…Right?

‘If you’re going to make me possess someone, at least give me information on the surrounding characters, you damn author.’

While I was staring at the table with nothing else to do, the child asked cautiously.

“But, Your Grace.”

“Speak.”

“A-are you not sick anymore?”

“…Was I sick?”

“I h-h-heard you saying you were h-h-hurting lately. L-last time.”

“Ah…”

So that’s why she came to my bedroom this morning. She was worried because I was sick.

‘What a sweet child.’

The child seemed to genuinely like Adrianne.

Even though Adrianne probably never treated her warmly.

“You…”

Before I could say ‘You have such a beautiful heart,’ a command appeared.

[Level 1: (With a cold expression) Fiache.]

‘Her name is Fiache? Oh, how cute…’

[Level 2: (Firmly) Are you bragging about eavesdropping right now? Go back to your bedroom immediately and reflect on your actions.]

‘You crazy bastard, you must let the kid eat breakfast! This is abuse!’

When I was the protagonist, I was strong enough that I could withstand the penalty even if it left me as a corpse.

However, it was difficult to act recklessly in this body.

Adrianne’s body was so weak that if penalties stacked up, I could die from shock.

Since this lousy author kills off even the protagonist, there’s no way they’d guarantee a supporting character’s life.

‘I’ll play it safe. It’s over if I die before the ending.’

I swallowed my anger and put on a cold expression. The corners of my mouth trembled.

“Fiache, eavesdropping is nothing to brag about. Go back to your bedroom and reflect.”

“I-I’m sorry…”

Fiache stood up from her chair with a crestfallen expression.

Perhaps she had been kicked out during meals more than once or twice, because Fiache didn’t resist at all.

“Fiache, where are you going?”

“U-uh… to the bedroom, the bedroom.”

“Who told you to go now? Finish your meal slowly, take a walk in the garden, and go back when it’s time for your nap.”

“…What?”

Fiache’s eyes widened.

The maids waiting to serve us were also all wearing surprised expressions.

‘Why are they reacting like that?’

I just told her to take a walk to digest her food; is that something to be so surprised about?

‘Is her personality so bad that she wouldn’t even say something like this to a child… Adrianne is truly something else.’

She probably never felt moved by beauty or had her heart ache from cuteness. I wonder if she’s ever laughed out loud.

‘I wonder what she lived for.’

I spoke in a voice that held not a shred of warmth.

“Sit back down.”

“Yes…”

Fiache tilted her head in confusion and returned to the table, sitting quietly.

“Let’s eat.”

“I-I will eat well.”

While eating, I stole glances at Fiache without anyone noticing.

‘She’s wearing a yellow dress. She looks like a chick.’

Fiache was ridiculously cute.

Polite and kind-hearted.

Looking at her, the corners of my mouth were about to soften without me realizing it.

‘She eats so neatly. Eat more, eat more. Don’t be a picky eater. That’s a good girl.’

Fiache didn’t make a sound with her utensils, nor did she spill any food.

‘How strictly was she educated that a mere four or five-year-old eats cleaner than I do… huh?’

Wait, come to think of it, Fiache’s complexion seems a bit poor.

Is she sick somewhere? She seems to be stuttering quite badly too…

I steadied my suddenly anxious heart and asked in a cold tone.

“Fiache, are you sick?”

“N-no? F-Fiache is s-strong!”

Fiache waved her two fern-like hands frantically.

‘Ugh, so cute. Did I just see wrong?’

Although I have a weakness for small and cute things, I hadn’t dealt with children often.

So, it was difficult to tell if she was sick just by her complexion.

‘Seeing her eat well, she seems fine.’

After the meal, Fiache lingered by my side.

“Do you have something you want to say?”

“Um… Your Grace.”

“Speak.”

“C-can’t you c-c-come with me?”

“Where?”

“A-a walk…”

Fiache slowly reached out her hand, which looked like a cat’s paw.

‘M-my god…’

For a moment, I felt dizzy. The creature before me was lethally cute.

Tearing up, I pushed Fiache’s hand away.

“Do I look that idle to you?”

“N-no… I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Fiache turned away with a look of great disappointment.

I wanted to rub her slumped back, but I couldn’t.

‘Sorry, Fiache. I have a mountain of things I need to find out right now. I’ll definitely play with you later.’

The lousy author only gives instructions at important crossroads; the rest I have to find out myself.

Therefore, it was urgent to gather information on the protagonist and identify the main characters. Only then can I deduce the events that would center the novel.

Then, I’ll collect those events and design the optimal path to the ending. Just thinking about it was a process so boring and complex it made me want to throw up.

I watched Fiache return to her bedroom and then headed to the drawing room.

As soon as I sat on the lavish sofa, a middle-aged man poured tea for me.

He looked to be in his 40s, and his stiff posture revealed a rigid personality. He seemed to be the butler of this mansion.

[Level 1: (Without even giving the butler a glance) What is today’s schedule?]

Oh, he was the butler.

“What is today’s schedule?”

“A noble’s counsel meeting is scheduled for around noon. The location is the Grand Conference Room of the Imperial Palace.”

“What’s the meeting about?”

“It is regarding the creation of a golden statue of the Hero, Adella Helsington.”

The tea flowing smoothly down my throat stopped abruptly.

The tea sprayed right out of my mouth.

“Pffft—”

“Master! Are you alright?”

The butler hurriedly handed me a handkerchief. I wiped the liquid dripping down my chin.

“Wha— cough —they’re making what?”

“A golden statue of the Hero, Adella Helsington.”

“…What do they plan to do with that?”

“To commemorate His Majesty the Emperor’s 56th birthday, the Grand Plaza is planned to be extensively renovated. They say they will create a statue of Adella Helsington and install it in the center of the Grand Plaza.”

“Don’t do that!!”

“Pardon?”

The butler asked, looking bewildered. He seemed a bit intimidated.

I closed and opened my eyes, calming my mind.

“Who proposed this?”

“It was the Third Prince, Leonhart Jenetic Filio.”

“…Prepare to go to the meeting.”

“It has been a long time since you attended a noble’s meeting. Will you be alright? It is a meeting you may absent yourself from without issue.”

“No, I am absolutely attending.”

“…Yes, I understand.”

I left the drawing room and went up to my bedroom. My face felt hot, and at the same time, my insides were boiling.

‘Leonhart! What on earth are you thinking? A statue of me!’

If he’s making a statue thinking I’d like it, that’s the most nonsensical bullshit of all.

Once they erect a statue, I’ll never be able to set foot near the Grand Plaza again ut of sheer embarrassment.

‘I already have a mountain of work to do, and you’re going to be like this too?’

The more I thought about it, the stranger it was. It’s not like Leonhart doesn’t know my personality… why would he try to do such a thing?

‘Could it be… is he trying to get revenge?’

It was understandable for Leonhart to be angry with me. Because I died and left them behind.

‘Right, he must have felt betrayed.’

I knew my comrades would be hurt.

But it was impossible to change the ending.

I also wanted the novel to end quickly so I could return to my original world.

Of course, the time I spent with my comrades was joyful and happy.

I was overwhelmed by the realization that this was what friendship felt like.

But no matter what, I couldn’t erase the fact that this was inside a novel.

Once I became aware of reality, everything became meaningless.

Even when we laughed and chatted, when I felt a deep bond of friendship, or when tears welled up from emotion, my heart would turn cold the moment the thought occurred to me: ‘The author probably wrote this scene, too.’

Because of that, I had to suffer through a grueling loneliness while spending time with them.

I wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Several times a day, I reminded myself that I must go back.

Lest I grow more attached. Lest I start wanting to stay by their side. Lest the guilt and longing I felt for my parents begins to fade.

‘So, please don’t hate me too much.’

Because I am already being punished.

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