Chapter 13
“Whyyyyyy!”
A roar, like that of some monstrous beast, echoed through the aides’ dormitory. The aides who were getting ready for work, and even the aides of those aides, all jumped in fright. Someone dropped a teacup, and another burned her hand while curling her hair with a hot iron.
But not a single person came out into the hallway. After all, this was the imperial palace’s aides’ dormitory. If someone was howling like a beast in the morning, wasn’t the reason obvious?
“Aaaaargh!”
And if that was followed by the sound of someone banging their head against the wall out of self-loathing, then it was a hundred percent certain.
Thud! Thud!
Thud! Thud!
“Die! Just die already, Marienne Didi, that would be better!”
Ah, so something must have happened over at the Chancellor’s office again. Everyone simply mourned for the poor soul in the next room and went back to what they were doing.
But Marienne herself couldn’t calm down. No matter how much she yanked at her hair or beat up her pillow, the rage inside her wouldn’t subside.
Stupid Marienne Didi! Are you already suffering memory loss? Why even bother carrying that head around!
“Uuugh… how could I only remember something so important just now?”
At last, it came back to her.
A hidden card that could completely overturn the board.
She had remembered only that such a card existed but not the actual content, and that had nearly driven her insane. She had flailed and raged, until earlier, when her eyes happened to fall on today’s newspaper advertisement:
“Worried about thinning hair? Now you too can have fullness and volume. After just 12 weeks of use, 85% of participants saw improvement! Abrams Hair Growth Tonic, made with carefully selected ingredients and a unique formula!”
The man in the illustration was grinning happily as he flaunted long black hair that cascaded down past his waist. Beside him, bold letters read: “Boost your charm! Raise your confidence!”
Hair? Fullness? Boost?
She had been about to scoff at the exaggerated ad and flip the page when—like a lightning bolt—the realization slammed into the back of her skull.
“Oh my God.”
The source of Grim Reaper Cain Blackwood’s monstrous strength…
It was none other than his long, luxuriant black hair. The very black hair Marienne loathed. The hair she had always thought was disgusting—if cut off—would also strip him of the power to smash carriages and rip pillars from the ground.
And the only person who knew this secret in the novel Alliance Marriage was Cain Blackwood himself. Not even the heroine Odette learned of it until midway through the story.
“Ahh, stupid Marienne Didi. Why only remember this now…”
All her wasted efforts flashed before her eyes. Obsessing over color, she had bullied poor Baileon into dyeing his lovely brown hair pitch black. That wasn’t all—she had drilled him in rude northern manners.
Worst of all, she had personally debased herself with humiliating tricks to try seducing the northern brute. It had been mortifying then, but thinking back on it now nearly killed her.
“My fingers and toes still haven’t uncurled from the cringe!”
Why did that lunatic only know such idiotic ways to seduce someone? How much had she clawed at the floor in anguish afterward?
It had all been meaningless.
Marienne slumped against the wall, then slid down to the floor. After the rage came a crushing emptiness. And after the emptiness came…
“Shiiiine… shiiiine… bald head… beautifully gleaming…”
Madness.
A bald, gleaming madness, bright as the sun rising in the east.
Marienne gazed out the window and softly sang, from the east sky, the west sky, the south sky, the north sky, and even over the capital where he himself had come—
“Shiny shiny bald head… beautifully gleaming…”
She knew she couldn’t just kill the Northern Guardian. That was absolutely forbidden, whether or not it was possible.
As humiliating as it was, the empire’s survival depended on Cain Blackwood. No one could replace him. If he died, the empire, Odette, and even Baileon would all collapse like dominoes.
So even if he loses his immortality, I mustn’t kill him.
But she could threaten him into leaving Odette. She could demand he break off the engagement before she announced to the world that “shiny, shiny bald Cain” was now nothing but a soft-bodied weakling who could be stabbed like anyone else.
Marienne smiled with all the menace of a shadowy villain.
Of course, once he realized she knew the truth, Cain would surely try to eliminate her. She would have to make sure he understood—his secret could only be kept as long as she lived.
“No… wait. I almost got ahead of myself again. If I can just succeed in making him bald, I won’t even need to threaten him, will I?”
Think about it. Has there ever been a bald male lead in romance fantasy? Not a single one. This was a foundational law of the genre, inviolable and absolute.
Too young? Raise him up, then devour him.
Ugly? It’s just magic disguise or a curse—shower him with love and he’ll transform into a stunning beauty.
Low-born? Don’t worry—he’ll rise in rank and become filthy rich.
Even if he’s short, wears glasses, or is fat—this is romance fantasy! Just bask him in the heroine’s sunshine for a few years and he’ll return as a dazzling man.
Dark and brooding? Perfect. Just act distant—it’ll fuel his obsession and bring him back as a polished, vengeful beauty.
But bald? Impossible!
Do you understand? Those three letters—“bald”—cannot coexist in the same sentence as “male lead.”
No matter how gorgeous the face, no matter if he’s nearly two meters tall, no matter if he’s the icy northern duke—once bald, he is instantly disqualified.
And hair—once gone—is far harder to regrow than to destroy.
Shave him down to a smooth egg, and it’ll take ages before he recovers a presentable state. Have you ever heard of a buzz-cut romance lead? Marienne certainly hadn’t. A romance lead hiding under a wig would be just as absurd.
So if she could just succeed in making Cain Blackwood bald, the unstoppable laws of romance fantasy would handle the rest.
“Ha… hahaha…”
Marienne laughed as she doodled eggs all over the newspaper. Now all she needed was to get her hands on the capital’s strongest hair remover.
Begone, hair, begone!
In the end, all roads didn’t lead to Rome. They led to baldness.
◆ ◇ ◆
Getting a powerful depilatory wasn’t difficult.
Hair was such a peculiar thing that both those who wanted to regrow it and those who wanted to destroy it preferred their transactions done in secrecy.
For the past few days, Marienne had visited shops with her pink hair and face thoroughly concealed.
Pretending to be a young lady struggling with body hair before summer, she found shopkeepers would lower their voices and pull out their secret creams from behind the counter.
Each time, Marienne’s eyes gleamed as she asked again and again:
“Is it strong enough to melt hair too? Not an exaggeration—my hair is really thick, long, and full. It’s like my whole body just grows head-hair.”
Every shopkeeper—from A, B, C, and even D—swore their depilatory was the best. But the fifth shop owner was different.
It was his eyes, glinting with something unusual from behind the counter.
“Whatever grows on your body, it doesn’t matter. With this, in five minutes you’ll be smooth as a peeled egg.”
“The others said it takes ten minutes.”
“Ours is faster, and stronger.”
“Peeled egg…”
“Yes, smooth and shiny.”
Madness recognizes madness. A thrill ran down Marienne’s spine—this was the real deal. She paid nearly double the usual price without complaint.
Back in her room, she tested it immediately. The shopkeeper hadn’t lied. The watery white cream cleanly dissolved the coarse test hairs she had prepared, all within five minutes.
Now came the problem.
“How do I even apply this?”
She frowned at the jar.
She needed a five-minute wait for it to work. She couldn’t just dump it on Cain’s head disguised as whipped cream—he’d never sit still that long.
And there was another catch.
After five minutes, the cream had to be rubbed or scraped off. Only then would the hairs snap and fall away.
“And the northern brute will be extra sensitive about his hair.”
He’d never let her lay a hand on it. Marienne collapsed face-first onto her notebook, its pages filled with egg doodles.
“Ugh, what a headache.”
Should she give up on the shiny bald dream? Maybe she should just hide some scissors and snip away instead. If the real goal was to strip him of his strength, that might be easier.
“But…” she mumbled into the paper.
“The truth is, I don’t even care about his brute strength. So what if he’s strong? In romance fantasy, the male lead is usually the strongest anyway.”
A whiny little sigh escaped her lips.
“My goal is to disqualify him as a male lead.”
If anyone asked her about her ideal ending, she’d say this:
Cain Blackwood, forever excluded from male-lead candidacy, suffers in the north while Odette happily marries her steadfast ally Baileon, and they live joyfully ever after.
And why “forever excluded”?
Because yes, hair does grow back.
But what people forget is: the hair grows back, but the system of romance fantasy never forgives.
Would a world this harsh give a second chance to a fool who dared show up bald like a peeled egg? Never.
Marienne had absolute faith in the sacred, merciless laws of the romance-fantasy system.
So if she could just strip that head once—just once—she’d never have to worry again.
“At first, I was glad I didn’t possess Odette. Power struggles and revenge are only fun to watch, not to live. I thought it was perfect—I only had to focus on supporting my favorite character.”
And yet, look at her now. Climb one mountain and another loomed ahead. She had thought of the perfect plan, even prepared the tool, but once again found herself blocked.
“Nothing ever comes easy, huh.”
Marienne stared at Baileon’s portrait on her desk.
Why is making you happy so difficult?
If a more competent fan had possessed this body, it would have been better for Baileon too. That person wouldn’t have wasted time. They’d have figured out how to get rid of the northern brute’s hair right away.
“Why me? Sure, I’m happy to see you in person, but they didn’t just put me here to stare at your face, did they?”
If only she were as capable as other possessors. For the first time since entering the novel, Marienne felt—just a little—gloomy.
