Chapter 1

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 1

Chapter Title: No Thanks, I'll Stay Home

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"Princess... don't you have any plans to go outside?"

At that calm voice, I froze solid just as I was about to pop a piece of cake into my mouth.

"...Pardon?"

The one who'd spoken to me was the man sitting across the table—a figure straight out of a masterpiece painting.

His deep green eyes and raven-black hair left a striking impression. A man of timeless beauty. Meeting his gaze somehow made me feel profoundly humbled.

I'd grown somewhat used to it by now, but the intimidating aura he exuded was still a bit much to face head-on.

Not that he cared either way. He'd said his piece.

"How about stepping out for a bit today?"

"Pardon?"

"They say a walk after meals or some light exercise is good for your health."

To an outsider, it might seem like a handsome man offering kind concern. But my thoughts were a little different.

'Here we go again today...'

I swallowed my disappointment and set down my fork.

The man's gaze, which had followed the crystal fork, now fixed squarely on me.

"I'm a criminal, Your Grace. It's already more than I deserve just to be invited to dine like this."

I put on my most troubled expression, then abruptly lowered my eyes and bit my lip.

From past experience, in situations like this, playing pitiful was the way to go.

"So... I think spending the day in quiet reflection is the right call."

If possible, tomorrow too—no, if I had my way, I'd never step outside again, ever.

"Do you know it's already been two weeks of this 'reflection'?"

But the man—the Duke of Brail—replied with an utterly cold expression.

"And it started because the weather was 'too hot,' wasn't it?"

"Ah... haha."

To be fair, if I went wandering around in this sweltering heat, the people assigned to watch me would suffer too.

Though, as the duke put it, that was just an excuse. Truth was, I simply had no desire to go out.

The duke knew it well enough and pressed on with his questioning.

"The time before that, it was because you'd lain on your comics. You said you felt sorry for the artists who'd made them?"

"Erm..."

Please, no more brutal facts. I beg you.

Whether my pleading eyes worked or not, the duke now fell silent, assaulting me with his piercing stare instead.

'So persistent...'

An awkward silence settled between us. I turned my head to escape his stabbing gaze.

But then I shoved forth a lame excuse.

"...I crushed the comics Your Grace so kindly provided with my enormous backside in my room. I deserve punishment for that, don't I?"

A twitch. The duke's rigidly set lips finally quirked.

"Anyone hearing that would think I was being cruel to you."

"Misunderstanding! Ha, haha."

This back-and-forth of spear and shield had dragged on for days, but I had no intention of yielding this time either.

"Weeeell... truth is, I'm the type with an incredibly high moral compass. I can't feel at ease unless I'm properly punished."

"And?"

"So, as a criminal like me... weeeell... even breathing the same air as Your Grace feels sinful."

"Keep going."

The duke had even crossed his arms now, savoring my excuses.

I could sense from that odd firmness that he was dead set on dragging me out.

'Why does he keep trying to send me outside?'

Calling me a useless slacker and all!

When did he ever tell me to stay cooped up in my room like a good girl?

Now he was bringing up health and urging me to go out—nothing like the man I'd first met.

Why on earth did the cold-blooded duke's eyes now radiate the nagging vibe of a mom pushing her kid outdoors?

Unable to dodge the mounting pressure, I swallowed tears inwardly.

"Th-that's why... um."

Scraaape.

I pushed back my chair and lifted my hips. His relentless gaze clung to my every move.

"I was already choking on guilt anyway. So, this criminal April Salt will now retreat to her room."

Before he could react, I bolted up.

In times like these, fleeing was the best policy. He wouldn't follow me all the way to my peaceful, cozy prison cell.

"Wait..."

I heard him call from behind but pretended not to and kept walking.

Clutching a slice of sweet cream cake in my hands.

'He won't complain about me taking food, right?'

Cake's high in calories.

So, if I devoured this, I could last without eating until lunch tomorrow—and hole up in my room. That was my grand plan.

Lying in bed burns hardly any calories, so no dizziness either?

In case the duke followed, I dashed into my room.

"Phew..."

Once inside my snug sanctuary, with its blackout curtains custom-made from rare Poletan leather, my mind and body finally relaxed.

Sure enough, I was a hopeless homebody.

I'd been a pitiful twenty-something K-office worker, slaving away until overwork claimed me.

Long story short: after my anticlimactic death, I woke up possessed into the novel I'd been reading on my morning commute that day. Standard fare up to there.

The problem? The novel I possessed was Forced Empress, a twisted romance of obsessive madness where a deranged crown prince wants to taxidermy his beloved and the tragic princess suffers.

'Come on, shouldn't possessors get some protagonist protection or something?!'

I was so wronged, tears welled up.

The heroine of this tale was Remeia Salt, the jewel of Salt Kingdom—a stunning flower praised as fit to be king had she been born male. She was the ill-fated princess ardently courted by the iron-blooded Crown Prince Raiden.

But unlike what the novel showed, all her feats were built on some unknown person's sacrifices.

Her half-sister, the illegitimate child barely treated as royalty: the true tragic princess, April.

'And if I'm that April...?'

One word: screwed.

Remeia—touted as kind, wise, chaste, and every virtue under the sun—was actually heartless as they come.

She'd locked me in her office, starving me until I cleared mountains of paperwork!

And finishing the papers didn't end the day.

"April, I've been so tired lately—my body's falling apart. Could you give me a massage tonight?"

Brain labor by day, personal service by night—that's how my grueling days finally ended.

Novel possessors usually got dramatic heroine buffs, but not me.

I'd slaved away as a literal slave for three whole months in an environment identical to—no, arguably worse than—my pre-death life.

But then.

But then...?

Escape came at an unexpected moment. Or maybe it wasn't escape at all.

"Shh. Make a sound, and your pretty face gets scarred."

One late night, stuck reviewing backlog paperwork in her office in Remeia's stead, my mouth was suddenly clamped shut before I could react to the ambush.

"Mmph! Mmph! Mmmph—!"

"Remeia princess secured."

Even in my panic, I clearly heard the presumed kidnapper's voice.

'Remeia?'

Whatever was happening, that wasn't me!

I widened my eyes and looked up at the man.

The real Remeia was lazing in her bed while working me like a slave!

I was Remeia's slave, not Remeia!

"Mmmph!"

This was insane!

Whether from solid training or not, the kidnappers moved silently through the dark.

Who were these people? Rivals jealous of the heroine Remeia? Or after ransom?

As tears threatened, the man covering my mouth whispered.

"Stay quiet now, or that flawless skin crumbles, Princess."

I'm going crazy—I’m innocent!

I writhed to signal somehow, but it only backfired.

"An unruly princess, eh? Knock her out!"

Just before a sturdy hand chopped my nape, a lightning bolt of realization flashed through my mind like a life review.

Until moments ago, I'd assumed my possessed character was some unmentioned extra.

But illegitimate princess April Salt was briefly referenced mid-novel.

The kidnapping scene substituting for Remeia was so curt, it'd slipped my memory.

'Ah, April...'

Her fate remained unknown even as the novel raced to its end.

99.9% chance she was an extra who met a meaningless demise.

And that was the destiny awaiting me from here on.