Chapter 3

Did he hear that whole conversation? No—before that, I should figure out why this man is even here.

Just then, he waved something in front of my eyes.

“You dropped an earring.”

The space between us suddenly felt smaller. I tried to push him away, but he tilted his head slightly, and the tight, awkward feeling between us eased.

“Ugh.”

When I felt his fingers brush my ear, I winced. His low, pleasant voice tickled my ear.

“Hold still. I’m putting the earring back on.”

His voice was kind—and strangely familiar.

I’m not just saying this. I think I know this man.

“You’d regret it if that one missing earring ruined the look you prepared.”

I also worried he might have heard the ugly rumors about my love life. My reputation was already “villainess,” so maybe it couldn’t get worse—but rumors spread in many directions. I didn’t want to add “pathetic” on top.

I turned my head and firmly refused.

“I don’t need it. You don’t have to.”

I couldn’t punch Whisler here, even if I wanted to. If he got hurt, the nobles would hunt down whoever dared hurt their “angel.” That would be my ruin.

In the end, the right move was to leave.

“Please stop.”

“It’s all right.”

“What is?”

How could he say it was all right, when he didn’t know anything?

His words didn’t explain anything, but the deep look in his eyes made my throat tighten. Why are you discouraged? It’s not your fault. I’m on your side. That’s what it felt like he was saying.

Maybe because he said he disliked Whisler—something I never expected to hear—I felt understood, not mocked.

“You’re the prettiest one here today. And those earrings match your dress perfectly.”

He carefully touched my earlobe. The warmth of his hand faded slowly.

“But it’s no good if you’re missing one.”

He felt oddly familiar. Maybe because he didn’t rush to judge me or offer clumsy advice. Or maybe it was that strange magic where you can talk more easily to someone who isn’t tied to you.

He asked, relaxed and gentle:

“Want to have a drink with me?”

Normally, I would have refused. But tonight, I wanted to answer differently.

“Let’s. Let’s drink.”

“Ho—w long has it been since I had a dri—nk!”

People avoid drinking for all kinds of reasons: they fall asleep, their tongue gets loose, they start swearing.

I wasn’t any of those. I just got a little emotional, a little honest, and my words got a little slurred.

“Whisler, that, that vending machine— I don’t have a hundred coins so you can’t drink your so—da!”

After two bottles of red wine, my body was burning hot. My head was pleasantly foggy. It felt nice not to think about anything complicated.

“I’m gonna go tell on you!”

“Tell on me? Tell who? Go on.”

“Tell on you! To Mooother—!”

“You must be close to your mother.”

“Not from the star—t. I didn’t, um, believe… in her.”

“So there’s a secret to your birth, huh. But I heard she cherished you. Am I wrong?”

“She did— she did!”

If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been put into a count’s daughter’s body. Or… since it was the pre-remake Philena’s body, maybe she didn’t cherish me after all.

“Anyway, we pray to my Mother— We must! We must, or we won’t receive her grace!”

“Wait. By ‘Mother,’ you don’t mean Lady Light. You mean the god, right?”

“Of course! Who else would I call Mother— Cynthia! Should I call your mother instead?”

At that, he burst out laughing. The smile showing a bit of his upper teeth was beautiful.

Maybe it was the moonlight, but his heavy, sleepy gaze felt like it would pull me in.

“Huh? That’s not it. I was talking about something more important before. What was it?”

He smirked, turned his head away, then looked back at me.

“You said you hate Whisler. That you never want to see him again. That he cheated on you.”

Huh? Did I say that? I didn’t remember, but it had been a long time since I drank this much—maybe I forgot.

“Rea—lly? I said that?”

“Yeah. You also said you want to date someone else. That you want to get revenge by cheating back.”

“Cheating back? That wasn’t even in the book…”

“What book?”

“A book that encourages tri—cks. It even explains the me—thods. Very, very de—tailed.”

At that, he covered his own mouth and lowered his face, holding back a laugh.

I squinted at him, frowning, and lifted a hand to rub my eyes. Something rough scraped my fingers.

“Ow.”

I’d forgotten I was wearing a mask and had poked at its hard beads and decorations. He chuckled.

“See? I told you to take it off.”

“Hmmm.”

Unlike my swaying body, he calmly took a sip of wine and set the glass down. Resting his chin on his arm, he gazed at me.

Light bloomed behind him as if he owned the moonlight. Beautiful. Even without knowing his face, that’s what I thought.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

“Right. Is dating only one person the only way to live?”

“If you date only one person, that’s not a life.”

“My parents told me! That you’re not supposed to date only one person!”

“Your parents said something wise.”

“Right! And that’s not the only important thing!!”

“What else? What’s more important?”

“My life— if I don’t clear up these rumors, my life—!”

“Mm, your life.”

As we talked, I suddenly noticed how comfortable his posture looked. I wanted to sit like that too, so I lifted my left leg—

—and missed, stepping on the fountain’s edge.

Huh?

Maybe because I was drunk, I couldn’t control my strength and my body pitched forward. I might smash my head on the ground. The awful image made me squeeze my eyes shut.

“Honestly. I can’t relax for a second when I’m with you, can I?”

A big hand wrapped my waist quickly and gently.

I blinked open. He was closer than before, his relieved breath brushing my lips.

“See? Take it off, Philena.”

My eyes widened—he knew my name. Did I blurt it out while rambling? Or did I give some hint? I forced a poker face.

“Don’t bite your lip. You’ll bleed, Philena.”

He spoke my name so warmly that I knew it wasn’t a hallucination. A moment ago I was soaked in wine, but now my nerves sharpened and my mind cleared. And then an image filled my head.

—Nice to meet you.

I remembered who he was.

When I was eighteen, waiting outside for Whisler, a man appeared—totally different from how Whisler had described him.

—Your name’s Philena, right? I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re cuter than I thought.

A careful touch, a cool sensation cupped my cheek. His slender fingers slid up the ribbon and removed my mask.

“…Oh?”

My vision widened, and I saw him smoothly take off his own mask.

“Do you want to date me, Philena?”

He was Herace Gray, heir of the Gray family and older brother of Marquis Whisler Gas—Duke Herace Gray. In short, the male lead’s older brother, Herace.

The window was definitely closed, but the birds sounded extra loud. And today, the noise made my head throb.

These memories… are they the things I forgot because of last night’s alcohol?

Even if I didn’t want to remember, scenes came back one by one, vividly. Yesterday felt fine, but now that I was sober, I realized I had crossed several lines.

It wasn’t just embarrassing. I’d have to apologize when I saw him.

Maybe I kept talking because he had a face like an angel statue. His face really did look like a sculpture.

Herace—“new generation” handsome fit him. A sharp but firm jawline, a refined impression over a solid build. Full lips and a dimple that appeared whenever he smiled.

Handsome. Truly. If I were born again, I’d want that face. A face I’d want to see every day.

“My lady? …My lady?! …My! La—dy!”

Clara pulled back my blanket and brought breakfast. I slowly sat up in bed.

“A sloth like you walked a thousand steps yesterday—unbelievable! And of course you’ll do it again today. You can do it!”

Amid her fussing, I ate breakfast: eggs, cornbread, and a warm cup of tea.

As the dishes emptied and I was nearly done, I clattered—dropped my spoon.

“Huh?”

A memory scene popped out clearly.

—Do you want to date me?

If I’d been in my right mind, I would have refused. Yes. But that day, I was especially sad and angry.

And Herace was handsome, warm, and holding out his hand. Like that angel statue I mentioned—like the son of my Mother.

—Mm, okay!! Let’s date!!