Chapter 1
“Your Highness.”
At my quiet call, Lombre lifted his head from the papers he’d been flipping through.
The moment his cold, blood-red eyes landed on me, my throat tightened. Whenever I looked into those eyes, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps Lombre didn’t kill people with a sword—but with his gaze alone.
“There’s something I’d like to give you.”
“I won’t take it.”
He said he wouldn’t take it, but I had to hand it over anyway. I calmly pulled the resignation letter from my chest pocket and placed it in front of him.
At his wordless glance asking what it was, I gave a small smile and answered.
“It’s my resignation.”
“Amber Siderwood.”
The way he called my name was laced with mockery. He tilted his head slightly, then leaned back comfortably in his chair.
“You’ve grown bold.”
I’d worked by his side for ten years, so I thought he might let something like this slide.
The smooth curve of his lips lifted faintly as he picked up the white envelope I’d handed him.
“Denied.”
The thin paper envelope tore cleanly in half in his hands.
The day my world flipped upside down was no different from any other ordinary day.
A day spent being harassed nonstop by a dog-like executive who spewed sexual harassment every time he opened his mouth, followed by overtime and a late-night commute home.
Feeling like doing absolutely nothing and falling straight asleep would be a waste of my already nonexistent personal time, I opened a book app, thinking I’d at least do something.
I absentmindedly bought the novel ranked number one on the site, figuring it had to be entertaining—and sure enough, it was gripping right from the start.
A chewy, tightly paced plot, a charming male lead, and a female lead who was the very definition of gentle strength.
It was a popular romance fantasy novel among genre readers: Taming the Tyrant as His Secretary.
As the title suggested, it was a love story between a tyrant male lead and his secretary subordinate.
As an actual secretary myself, I couldn’t help thinking, How does a secretary fall for her boss? How does a female subordinate even get close to her male superior like that?
The novel was fun, though. I did think I’d hate it if my own boss were like the male lead—but that would never happen, so it didn’t matter.
I fell asleep thinking that way.
Never imagining I’d end up transmigrating into the novel.
‘Ha.’
It felt like the world had done a full one-eighty—but in truth, not much had changed.
In a class-based society, I just had to work even more like a dog to survive.
The only difference was that my garbage middle-aged boss had been replaced by a handsome future emperor.
Everything else was the same.
I was still a secretary.
Specifically, Amber Siderwood—the secretary endlessly, mercilessly worked to the bone by the male lead.
‘With a name like Amber Siderwood, I thought he was a man.’
Whenever Lombre went on inspections or business trips, he dragged Amber along like a goldfish’s tail, so naturally I assumed he was male.
Besides, the narration always referred to Amber as he, not she.
If I’d thought about it more carefully, I would’ve realized that the original novel used he as a gender-neutral pronoun.
But honestly—who thinks that deeply while casually reading a light novel?
It had been 25 years since I entered this world, and ten years since I’d started working under the male lead.
At one point, I desperately wanted to return home—but as time passed, this place became my home.
“My, did your guts fall out of your belly, Amber Siderwood?”
My resignation letter, now torn neatly in half, fluttered through the air.
How many times had this been ripped now?
As I bent down to pick up the pieces, the scraps unnaturally drifted away, clearly manipulated.
The moment I realized Lombre was using magic just to mess with me, I gave up and looked straight at him.
“Even if you tear it up like that, I’ve prepared fifty more.”
“Then I’ll tear it up fifty more times.”
Unbelievable. I’d slaved away under him for ten years—wasn’t that enough to accept a resignation?
I stared at him, frustration and resentment written all over my face.
“That’s a rather insolent look.”
Did he have eyes on the top of his head? I quickly lowered my gaze as he returned to his work.
Did I read the novel wrong? Was Lombre the type to cling to people who wanted to leave?
The Lombre I remembered was someone who ruthlessly filtered those who approached him—and never stopped those who left.
The only person he would ever hold onto was the heroine, Aurora Dwan.
With no hesitation, I pulled out another resignation letter and held it out to him.
“Please accept my resignation, Your Highness.”
At my renewed request, his expression subtly shifted as he lifted the paper again.
He must’ve been planning to tear it—until it didn’t tear.
Seeing a rare flicker of confusion on his face, one I’d only glimpsed briefly during his childhood, made me laugh.
“I had it magically coated.”
“…By whom?”
“Duke Valdafric’s son did it for me.”
The moment I mentioned Creed Fohre Valdafric—his longtime friend—Lombre let out a hollow laugh.
“Both of you seem eager to die.”
And in the next instant, my ninety-eighth resignation letter turned to ash in his hand.
“Get out.”
I almost handed him the ninety-ninth—but his icy voice sent me fleeing the office immediately.
Resigning was important, but my life mattered more.
It had been three years since Lombre returned to the imperial palace from the Valdafric estate.
And it had already been several months since I started trying to quit.
With the original story’s timeline approaching, my anxiety grew.
“Ha…”
Just how long would it take for him to finally accept my resignation? Was I really going to be worked to death under him forever?
I’d worked hard even before transmigrating—but this was on another level.
At least in my old world, people didn’t kill each other.
“Amber?”
Lost in my grumbling thoughts, I snapped my head up at the voice right in front of me.
A man with such a gentle face he reminded me of a large, friendly dog.
Creed Fohre Valdafric—eldest son of the Valdafric duchy and Lombre’s childhood friend.
“My lord.”
At my formal address, he quickly covered his mouth with a sheepish look, then grinned.
His soft green eyes, drooping slightly at the corners, curved into crescent moons.
“I suppose I should call you Secretary instead.”
He said that every time.
“When it’s just us, feel free to call me Amber.”
It had been three years since Lombre returned to the palace, and three years since I became his sole secretary—yet Creed still called me Amber. Which meant he always would.
My grandfather had once been the Valdafric household’s head butler, and I’d spent much of my life there myself, so being on a first-name basis felt natural.
If not for status laws, calling us childhood friends wouldn’t be strange at all.
“Is His Highness…?”
“He’s inside, but you might want to wait a bit before going in.”
“…Why—ah. The resignation letter?”
Since I’d been talking about quitting for so long, my resignation attempts had become a famous topic around the palace.
The Regulus Palace officials who once begged me not to leave now regularly bet on who would give up first.
I’d make every one of them regret betting on Lombre.
I would resign—no matter what.
“Then I definitely shouldn’t go in now.”
Imagining Lombre’s mood souring every time my resignation came up, Creed tilted his head.
He gestured for us to have tea and talk for a bit, and I nodded.
Ugh. I’m exhausted. Does imperial work ever end?
I took off my glasses, hooked them carelessly onto my clothes, and quietly left the annex room.
“Did you try handing over the coated resignation letter? What happened?”
“It turned to ash immediately.”
“I figured.”
Creed’s light laughter was pleasant to hear.
If anyone understood Lombre as well as I did, it was him.
As Creed stared at the closed annex door, his green eyes turned back to me.
“But isn’t working under His Highness not so bad? Your salary must be pretty good by now.”
That wasn’t even a question.
Including my years at the Valdafric estate, the salary since Lombre was acknowledged as prince, and the bonuses given out of ‘sympathy’ for my suffering—the amount was jaw-dropping.
Honestly, it probably exceeded the wealth of most high-ranking nobles.
Thinking about my vast fortune made me smile—and then feel strangely sad.
“There’s no one who takes care of you like His Highness does. And honestly, you get special treatment.”
“So you’re telling me to give up on resigning?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Sure didn’t sound like it.
“Then how about saying it like this?”
“Like what?”
“That you don’t want to be killed while standing at the prince’s side.”
Creed smiled—a rare, chilling smile that didn’t suit him at all.
