Chapter 54
For the first time, Riana truly realized it.
Come to think of it, the prince had been like this in the original story too—
Blind, obsessive devotion.
Deborah’s most carefully trained guard dog.
That’s why he never forced marriage on her in the original. Instead, he poured everything he had into her, without asking for anything back.
Even when Deborah chose Killian over him, he stepped back quietly—like a dog told to “wait,” biding his time for the next chance.
When Deborah finally married Killian, that’s when he truly understood he could never be her partner.
Only then did he give up.
And after that, the Kingdom of Diares ended up with the most scandalous king in history—
Because when Troy took the throne, he drowned himself in women to try to forget Deborah.
The history books even noted him as an “interesting example” of someone who was both scandalous and capable, because despite his personal life, he ran the country well.
…Though that original story is ruined now.
Anyway.
Back in her room at the main residence, Riana looked in the mirror.
“Ugh… this is gonna bruise.”
The marks on her neck were shaped exactly like fingers, a dark purplish-red, as if the skin had died. The burst capillaries had spread all the way to her face.
“He calls this a threat? Can’t even control his strength…”
If she hadn’t been a mage, she could have died—no, she definitely would have died.
That wasn’t a threat. That was just an attempt to get rid of her.
Apparently, he wasn’t very experienced with intimidation.
‘What do I do about this?’
She looked like someone who had tried to hang herself.
“Ah…!”
Riana quickly opened her cupboard.
Among all the random things inside was a small glass vial that glittered in the light.
It was medicine Killian had given her back when she’d faked being sick to avoid attending a banquet in the desert kingdom.
Since she hadn’t really been sick, she’d tucked it away unused.
‘Guess it came in handy after all!’
She drank it all in one go, then looked back in the mirror. The bruises and burst vessels on her neck and face had completely disappeared.
“Phew.”
It was already midday.
Only then could Riana finally get some sleep.
“Hah—!”
She shot up in bed, taking a sharp breath.
‘When did I fall asleep?’
She’d been too unsettled to rest at first, tossing and turning for a while.
But in the end, exhaustion had won.
‘I was worried I’d have nightmares…’
Thankfully, her sleep had been peaceful. In fact, she hadn’t dreamed at all.
She remembered Sophia once telling her she slept a lot and chuckled.
She’d always been a good sleeper. At first, when she’d transmigrated into this body, she’d thought it was just because she was young—but now, even at this age, she could sleep deeply without a single dream.
‘It’s one of the best things about being in this body—right after the triple acrobatics.’
She got up and made her bed, then sat at her desk without even eating.
Break up with that knight.
That line—something you’d expect from a mother-in-law in a morning drama—was actually what she’d heard that morning.
And it had come from the second male lead, no less.
‘Gray will never accept Deborah.’
He’d keep his promise.
And the prince would blame Riana for that.
Even if she cleared up the misunderstanding about her and Gray, the fact would remain that Deborah had been rejected “because of her.”
‘But I can’t exactly tell Gray to accept Deborah.’
That would just be another form of suicide for her.
So the next time she faced the prince, she’d have to be prepared to die.
Of course, she wasn’t planning to just let him strangle her to death—she could easily overpower a non-mage prince.
But this wasn’t a primitive world where the stronger person always won.
‘The prince has legal authority.’
And an army.
If he pinned some charge on her and had her executed, there’d be nothing she could do.
No one would protect her.
If Veloci Duke had still mistakenly believed she was his destined duchess, she could’ve relied on him…
“But I made sure to clear up that misunderstanding.”
As for where the duke was now—probably still away after meeting the heroine at Saint Mone Hospital or something. He hadn’t even returned to the capital.
“Killian would happily side with the prince.”
After all, his goal wasn’t to seduce her—it was to drive her out.
If he found a legal way to expel her, he’d be thrilled.
“And Gray…”
Maybe he’d side with her.
But realistically, he was still just a rookie knight with no influence. His story hadn’t even really begun yet.
He didn’t have the status of a male lead yet—just another nameless, low-ranking knight.
In the end, in this story, she was on her own.
“The only one who can protect me is me.”
For a villainess, salvation was always self-made.
Riana dressed for going out and left the ducal estate—it was the first time she’d used the “free outings” clause in her contract.
In her hand, she tightly held a slip of paper she’d written at her desk.
Taking a carriage out toward the edge of the capital, she came across a small street market.
‘It’s narrower than 11th Street…’
And far poorer.
There were no paved roads—just dirt covered here and there with donkey droppings.
The people’s clothes were noticeably shabbier.
Of course—this was the slums.
‘This should be the place.’
Her clean, noble-like appearance drew attention, so she hurried her steps.
‘Here it is.’
Her heeled shoes stopped in front of a boy selling paintings.
His round head was covered in short, silvery hair, no longer than a fingernail. He looked about ten years old.
“What’s your name?”
“…Oliver.”
He squinted one eye at her, scanning her from head to toe.
The other eye was covered by a black patch—he’d sold it to curious nobles who wanted his rare silver eye color.
He’d done it to earn money to support his little sister, after their parents were gone.
Since then, he’d drawn the world he saw with only his left eye.
Until now, the only people who bought his art were a few sympathetic locals with steady jobs.
“I’m here to buy your paintings, Oliver.”
Riana had come all this way to find him—
Because in the future, Deborah would sponsor him, and he’d become a famous artist.
“And you are…?”
Who else? Someone looking to make money off his art.
His early works, sitting here in the slums, would one day skyrocket in value. Right now, they weren’t worth a loaf of bread.
But for Riana, they were the perfect retirement plan.
“My name’s Riana.”
She skipped her family name and introduced herself warmly, kneeling to meet his eyes.
“I want to buy a lot of your paintings.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re worth buying.”
Smiling gently, she handed him the slip of paper.
“Do you know how to send a package?”
Oliver shook his head.
“Is there someone who can teach you?”
“Maybe Grandpa Martin next door.”
“Then from now on, send one painting a week to this address.”
On the paper was the address of Midas Job Agency, 11th Street.
“If you do, I’ll send you the postage and a week’s worth of food.”
Oliver’s eye widened.
She could’ve offered more, but she didn’t want to change his life too much from the original—he still needed to live in the slums to meet Deborah later.
Riana glanced over the works laid out in front of him.
On a shabby easel was a “canvas” so bumpy with layered paint that it was barely usable.
In truth, it wasn’t even a real canvas—just a scrap of cloth nailed to a wooden frame.
Pointing to some paint on the ground, Riana asked,
“Did you make that yourself?”
“Some of it… and some was a birthday gift from Grandpa Martin…”
“…I’ll send you real art supplies too.”
This was a long-term investment. If she was going to wait years for these paintings to go up in value, they needed to survive until then—and for that, he’d need real canvases and proper paints.
She paid for the first painting on the spot.
It was a charcoal landscape sketch on paper.
“This will do for today. I’ll look forward to the rest.”
Oliver beamed—his next week’s meals secured.
And Riana smiled too—her old-age funds secured for life.
Isolation Tower.
Riana dragged her pen across a page of An Introduction to Tea Blending for Professional Maids.
On one of the two calendars drawn there, she marked a big “X.”
“One month to finish.”
That was why she’d suddenly gone to start her retirement savings today—
Because all her plans had been moved up.
