Chapter 44
The day after regaining consciousness, Marienne was able to walk without the help of her maid.
She finally ate the green grape sherbet she’d craved for so long, along with pancakes drenched in maple syrup.
She soaked in the bathtub with bubbles, read several books every morning and evening—yet Baileon still hadn’t given her permission to return to work.
People at the Chancellor’s Office probably thought Marienne was terminally ill by now.
“You’re fit to resume normal activities,” the royal physicians said unanimously during their visit to the mansion.
And only after every doctor had declared her fully recovered—plus her own constant pleas to please, let me move around already—did Baileon finally say she could return to work the day after tomorrow.
On the day before her long-awaited return, Marienne slipped out into town while Baileon was away.
Cloise accompanied her. When she heard where Marienne wanted to go, she insisted they go instead to her regular shop.
“You have a regular place for that?”
At Marienne’s question, Cloise replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Romance and superstition are inseparable. When people fall for someone, even those who never believed in that sort of thing suddenly get curious about astrology or flower fortunes.”
At the mention of flower fortunes, Marienne flinched inside.
She had already done it several times—plucking petals from a flower and reciting, He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.
And that wasn’t all. She had tossed coins to divine the outcome, even calculated the compatibility of their names.
If Baileon ever found out, he’d probably ask whether the fate of his confession was being decided by a single coin toss.
“Seriously? Is that what determines it?”
‘No! Of course not—it’s just… I needed something to cling to,’ she grumbled inwardly.
‘And the more I do it, the more restless I get!’
No matter what result came out, she could never be satisfied. Naturally—because she never actually did anything, just imagined it all while plucking petals.
In imagination, anything is possible. And that’s precisely why imagining too much leaves a person exhausted.
Another problem was that all the while she was doing these silly rituals, she couldn’t stop thinking about Baileon.
Sir Beers, I like you too. I want to be your lover.
Just saying that simple line would make his gentle smile and broad chest belong to her alone.
The mere thought of it made her temperature spike—embarrassingly so.
Am I… a pervert?
There were so many things lovers could do together—so why did her imagination always head in that direction first?
Odette would never think things like this. And even if she did, she’d never show it. If Baileon ever realized what I’m thinking…
How would he see her then?
They say Cancer is the sexiest zodiac sign. Who knows—maybe he’d even find this side of me cute.
What nonsense!
Getting confessed to by her favorite character was one thing, but wasn’t she interpreting everything a bit too much in her favor?
Marienne scolded herself harshly—but today, her heart refused to listen.
“This is a world where someone can be both innocent and passionate at once. So if Sir Beers has been a virgin one year longer than that northern bastard, that just means he’s 365 days more skilled, right, Marienne Didi?”
Marienne closed her eyes tightly. She decided to accept everything as her own karma.
“Coming from someone who has a regular fortune-teller, this might sound funny,” Cloise said cheerfully, “but I actually think all of it is nonsense too. I just can’t help enjoying it anyway! The results are fun to hear.”
Her voice brightened.
“And the fortune-teller has such a way with words! You lose track of time just listening.”
“I should learn to take it that lightly too…”
“Hmm? What was that?”
Marienne shook her head quickly.
“Nothing. Let’s just hurry inside!”
Twenty minutes later—
Marienne walked out of the astrologer’s parlor more confused than before. Beside her, Cloise kept exclaiming, “Oh my goodness!” over and over.
“Assistant Marienne, didn’t Sir Baileon already confess? Are you saying there are other potential lovers?”
“No, that can’t be…”
“But you heard her too! The astrologer said three auspicious stars are surrounding you. One is obviously Baileon, but who are the other two?”
Cloise was nearly trembling with excitement. Once again, her “matchmaking maniac” side had appeared.
Marienne had thought she was rooting for her brother, but clearly, the possibility of rival lovers delighted her even more.
Still… who could they be?
Just who on earth had fallen for Marienne Didi this time?
◇ ◆ ◇
If she were to reject Baileon, it wouldn’t affect the original storyline. In the novel, Marienne Didi never dates the sub-male lead, Baileon Beers.
But if she accepted his confession, would that disrupt the main plot?
No.
Baileon never ends up with Odette in the original anyway, and Odette’s ascension to emperor has nothing to do with his love life.
“…There I go again, twisting things to sound convenient for me.”
She remembered conversations from her days as a reader.
Back then, everyone had agreed that if a male character who had loved the heroine suddenly confessed to the transmigrated version, it would feel more irritating than exciting.
Of all people, not you! I loved you because of your undying devotion to the heroine!
She too had slammed her desk and shouted, insisting it made no sense for Baileon to fall for anyone but Odette—so sure of herself.
“…I really need to stop making assumptions like that.”
Another life lesson learned.
“Phew.”
Every time her heart leaned toward Baileon, she heard that annoying northern man’s mocking words echo in her head:
You pretend to cheer for his love, but really, you just want to steal Odette’s place.
“Damn it. How can anyone twist words like that?”
She was furious.
In truth, her heart had already turned strongly toward Baileon. But admitting it now would feel like proving that bastard right.
“Argh!”
Marienne buried her face in her blanket and let out a muffled scream.
Then she realized—she was letting someone she disliked control her actions again.
I don’t have to give up my future just to prove him wrong. Not this time. I won’t let his words dictate anything anymore.
She made up her mind.
◇ ◆ ◇
Marienne stepped out into the garden under the pouring moonlight.
While other noble estates had perfectly symmetrical, manicured gardens, the Beers estate’s garden was closer to a small, lush forest.
Baileon was there, near a cluster of wild roses in full bloom, doing a task his father had assigned him.
A national chancellor digging dirt in the middle of the night might strike some as undignified.
But Count Beers was particular about his garden—he wouldn’t trust anyone else to tend it. And the only person he acknowledged as capable enough to help was his son.
“Baileon, could you dig some ground for transplanting tomorrow? My back’s starting to hurt.”
His father asked, and the son, a high-ranking statesman, complied without question.
That was just how the Beers family operated—each deeply immersed in their own interests, strange but warm. Marienne found them endearing.
“Marienne, still awake?”
Baileon tossed a spadeful of earth aside. The smooth, fluid motion of his arms told how often his father had “recruited” him for such work.
Marienne tried to tear her gaze away from the muscles beneath his rolled-up sleeves.
Those arms carried me, didn’t they…?
She quickly stopped that train of thought—she had something more important to do now.
“Sir Beers, tell me three reasons why you like me.”
Baileon paused mid-motion. His first response was a half-complaint—that choosing only three would be difficult. It reminded Marienne of their early days after she’d first transmigrated—only now, their roles were reversed.
“Hurry,” she urged.
“…First,” he began, “when I’m with you, I feel lighter—happier. Second, because of that, I want to make you happy too. Seeing you smile gives me a sense of fulfillment. In those moments, I feel like I might actually be a good person.”
Marienne wanted to tell him that wasn’t an illusion—he was a good person.
“And third,” Baileon said softly,
“When I’m with you, I start believing I could be happy. I picture a future where we’re talking and laughing together… Would that sound too presumptuous?”
A faint shyness colored his smile.
“But it’s true.”
“Then… until I tell you to stop, can you promise to tell me a new reason every day?”
“Of course.”
“I just want you to be happy, Sir Beers. To smile more often. That’s why I supported you and Her Highness—I wanted you to have joy in your life.”
She took a deep, nervous breath.
“But since you say you’d only be happy with me…”
Marienne’s lips curved slightly.
“Then I’ll gladly become your happiness.”
That moment—
She knew she would remember it forever.
Even when time dulled other memories, she would still recall Baileon’s smile that night—so full of joy, yet laced with quiet sorrow.
It’s strange—how overwhelming happiness can carry a tinge of sadness.
She didn’t need an explanation. She just knew.
“Starting today, we’re officially dating!”
After blurting it out so boldly, embarrassment followed immediately, and she dropped her gaze.
“So… what do we do now? I’ve never dated anyone before, so I don’t know what comes next.”
“Good question,” Baileon said with a soft laugh. “Neither have I.”
What did other couples do after becoming official? If there were a handbook, she’d have read it cover to cover.
I’m dating Baileon now!
For something so unexpected, she felt oddly calm.
Shouldn’t her heart be pounding with excitement right now—this being her first romance ever, and with him of all people?
Why did she just feel… dazed? Careful? Unsure what to say?
Did everyone feel like this at first?
Marienne exhaled deeply and pressed the back of her hand to her cheek.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s just… awkward,” she admitted, wincing. “I feel happy but awkward, and awkward but happy. I don’t even know what I’m saying, but that’s how it feels.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying? I do.”
Baileon leaned toward her slightly.
Marienne’s heart went into overdrive. Her mind was filled with one thought:
He’s going to kiss me!
Already? They’d been dating for what—five minutes? Too fast! So it was true—Cancers really are the sexiest sign! If this is his natural instinct, how had he held back all this time?
“I feel the same way,” he murmured.
Huh?
Marienne froze, breathless.
“I feel happy and awkward too. Like I’m dreaming. In my imagination, I thought I’d handle this more smoothly.”
“Oh… that’s what you meant?”
“Yes.”
Baileon tilted his head, smiling gently.
“What did you think I meant?”
“A-ahaha…”
Good thing she hadn’t closed her eyes.
