Chapter 114
Bailon carefully examined the wrapping of the package again.
The sender was Marien Didi. Beneath the name was the address of her aunt’s general store in the Kestania district.
“The handwriting looks strangely different.”
If she hadn’t looked closely, she might have assumed Marien had written it herself.
Bailon immediately called the postal officer. Her main duty was to open all mail that arrived at the Chancellor’s office to check for any potential danger and then return it to its original state.
“I called you because I have a question. Did you receive this package directly from the postman?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“So there’s no chance someone inside the palace slipped it into the pile of mail that had already arrived?”
“No, there isn’t. I always receive it directly from the postman who comes at this hour. I brought the mail log just in case you needed to see it. Would you like to check?”
Bailon examined the log. Next to the sender, recipient, both addresses, the time of receipt, and the contents, the postal officer and postman had signed.
Technically, there was a date stamp on the package itself.
Still, Bailon had called the officer in case the stamp was forged. But now, she had no choice but to abandon that hypothesis.
This package was definitely sent by an outsider from the Kestania district post office.
Why the sender used Marien’s name, why they imitated her round handwriting, and how they knew her family address—those were separate questions. Bailon would have to find out the reasons herself from now on.
“You handle things thoroughly. I just asked to confirm. You may leave now.”
The postal officer left, and Bailon was left alone, deep in thought.
I’ve encountered Marien at the Academy before. I should casually bring it up on the way home—ask if she ever dyed her hair or wore a wig.
Imagining her reaction—it was fun only up to that point.
“Marien became a wealthy marquise overnight, coming from a commoner’s bureaucratic background.”
Since she was fully favored by the new emperor, it was natural that she would become the target of envy and threats.
Bailon’s attention shifted to the phrase at the bottom of the portrait:
A pride of Kestania’s shopping district.
Usually, phrases like this were placed on congratulatory banners made by the merchants’ association.
Bailon could easily imagine the portrait, completed under the association’s direction, proudly displayed on the wall of Marien’s aunt’s shop.
“I need to talk to Marien. Right now.”
Bailon opened her office door and unexpectedly met Marien, who had just come to knock.
“Wow, you notice me before I even knock now?”
“Marien…”
Bailon first pulled his lover into an embrace. Marien’s body was warm and smelled of sunlight.
“Ugh, hugging is fine, but no kissing.”
“I never said I was going to kiss you.”
“Just like last time. Remember dragging me through the secret passage?”
Marien squirmed to free herself from his embrace. She probably feared she’d be pulled into the office again if she stayed in his arms.
“I have something to tell you.”
It was unfortunate, but Bailon had to let go. He released Marien.
“Sir Bailon, if you have time, would you like to come with me to my aunt’s shop?”
“….”
“Do you have time?”
“When…?”
“Now.”
Bailon subconsciously checked his appearance. Was his hair messed up? He was suddenly very conscious of it.
“Are you busy?”
“No, not at all. I’m free.”
These words came from the person recognized as the hardest worker in the palace.
“Marien, what does your aunt like?”
“Huh?”
“Sorry. I should have checked in advance. I didn’t expect to visit so suddenly.”
“Are you buying a gift? You don’t need to. I just need to check something urgently. We’ll just stop by briefly.”
But Bailon’s mind didn’t fully register his lover’s words.
How long would it take to walk to the shop? Could he prepare a gift before arriving? Did he have a change of clothes in the office?
So many thoughts arose at once, leaving him disoriented.
In short—he was broken.
Bailon Bailon, famous for remaining calm in emergencies.
“Maybe my question was too broad. A food gift might be less burdensome, right?”
“Well… actually…”
Marien hesitated, a trace of awkwardness on her face. Bailon thought she would admit she didn’t know her aunt’s preferences.
But in the next moment, Marien’s eyes widened as if receiving a revelation from the heavens.
“…Oranges.”
Bailon caught the faint murmur from his lover.
“Your aunt likes oranges?”
“Yes, fresh oranges. I remember during orange season, the whole house smelled of them. That tangy, sweet scent from the peeled rinds…”
Talking about it made Marien salivate slightly.
“But Sir Bailon, it’s early winter now. Where would you get oranges?”
So today they would go empty-handed, and when the orange season came, she would bring some to her aunt. That must have been Marien’s intention.
“I can get them.”
“Pardon?”
“What does your uncle like?”
Marien tilted her head.
“I think he ate whatever my aunt gave him.”
“Same as my father. Wait a moment.”
Bailon went to the investigator working on another floor. This was the same person who had helped him deliver gourmet items to Marien before.
A few minutes later, the investigator left the Chancellor’s office building promptly to follow Bailon’s instructions.
Bailon abandoned the idea of changing clothes. He noticed Marien waiting quietly in the hallway.
“Marien, your legs aren’t tired, are they?”
“It was really quick. About three minutes? But why the sudden hurry?”
“You’ll know when we get to your aunt’s shop.”
As far as Bailon knew, Marien hadn’t visited her family for a long time. This was probably her first visit since entering the Chancellor’s office.
His gift was not only for Marien’s aunt but also for Marien herself, returning home after so long.
◇ ◆ ◇
Jingle.
The clear chime of the shop bell rang as they opened the general store door. The scent of oranges welcomed Marien inside.
“Dear, you’re here, you’re here.”
“Hmm?”
“Eat quickly.”
Mrs. Moritz, happily munching on oranges, quickly wiped her mouth with a handkerchief.
“Sir Bailon, why don’t you come in? What are you doing out there?”
“……”
“Bailon?”
“…This is your aunt’s shop?”
“Yes, please come in.”
“Marien, this place…”
For some reason, Bailon couldn’t finish his sentence and slowly entered the shop.
“And you really got them. Where do you even find this many oranges at this time of year? Wow…”
Marien spotted the pile of peeled orange rinds on the tray.
“And my aunt has already eaten this many. She must have liked them?”
“Uh? Yeah… she did.”
“Well… they’re delicious, so she must have eaten a few already.”
He suddenly realized he had spoken casually without thinking.
‘My memories from before aren’t fully back yet.’
Had Marien Didi spent time casually with her aunt and uncle?
Before he could ponder that, memories with the scent of oranges resurfaced.
“I don’t want to get up… just five more minutes…”
“Aunt, if I’m going to be the owner of a general store, do I really need to learn about regular and irregular changes?”
“I won’t cheat, even if I fail. Why? Because people should be honest.”
“Uncle, greet me with a livelier expression. I’m the pride of Kestania’s shopping district.”
The orange scent memories faded. The past Marien had been far too mischievous for such poetic expressions.
Eyes sparkling only when thinking of her next prank.
‘I’ve lived a very consistent life.’
But she mustn’t forget that for the past four years, she had been in the body of the black-haired, gray-haired author. She needed to give the aunt and uncle time to adapt.
‘Excessive cheerfulness forbidden.’
How long she could maintain that was uncertain. Marien was so focused on the aunt and uncle that she didn’t notice Bailon’s strange expression.
“Thank you for the oranges, Chancellor. And Marien, you came to get the trunk from the attic, right?”
“Uh, yes… but…”
Marien Didi had asked to store the trunk at the end of last year. Quite some time had passed, yet Mrs. Moritz remembered her niece’s request as if it had been yesterday.
‘Even in her twenties, her memory is better than mine.’
In any case, it was fortunate that retrieving the trunk went smoothly.
◇ ◆ ◇
The Moritz couple hung an “Out” sign on the shop door.
Bailon told Marien he would wait downstairs, so she could quietly check the attic alone. Judging by their instructions, it must be something important.
“Here’s the key. I don’t know why they entrusted it to us if they said never to open it… Check inside and come down slowly.”
Mr. Moritz paused midway up the attic stairs, then turned back to glance at his niece.
“It’s been a long time, Marien.”
Since she hadn’t come home in almost a year, it wasn’t strange for him to say that.
But Marien noticed the hidden meaning.
Her bright, unreserved, quirky return—without knowing about the possession, the Moritz couple felt as if they were seeing their original niece after five years.
Marien smiled at her uncle.
“I’ll come often from now on.”
“Alright.”
Mr. Moritz descended the stairs with a faint smile, and Marien returned her gaze to the old wooden trunk.
“Phew.”
She let out a sigh. Memories from the past four years outside the book hardly came back.
The only memories she recalled after waking in the hospital post-possession were Odette, the stacks of fantasy romance novels, and that several copies of the same book were lined on the shelves.
And before returning to The Alliance Marriage, she seemed to have been writing something.
Everything beyond that was hazy.
“What a mess.”
But it wasn’t like memories from before age eighteen had returned either. In short, she remembered nothing fully.
When would her scattered memories become whole?
At least she was certain she was Marien Didi from the start.
“Did they leave some potion inside to restore memories?”
Marien took a deep breath. Honestly, she hoped the trunk didn’t contain cursed dolls.
“The black-haired, gray-haired author is an adult. They like arrogant black hair. Look at the pen name. It’s sharp, right? But I ended up in the body of eighteen-year-old Marien Didi, an extra, not even appearing in the main text, rather than the heroine spending passionate nights with black hair.”
No wonder he’d be angry—everything except a clean face had zero abilities.
“Please, I hope they hold no grudge. Please, please, please…”
Now that she knew the truth, she wanted nothing more. Staying with Bailon was enough. So please, even if I open this trunk, let me be safe.
Marien unlocked the trunk and lifted the heavy lid.
“Ah…”
Inside, large enough for Marien to fit if she crouched, there were no potions or cursed dolls.
Instead, it contained countless workbooks, more workbooks, yet more workbooks, wrong-answer notebooks, Empire Academy scrapbooks, and diaries.
Marien reached for the most conspicuous item.
It was a letter written in a language that “people here” could never read.
