Chapter – 01
Well, I suppose it’s true that all sorts of things happen in life, so let’s just accept that I possessed a character in a genre novel.
It was only then, at that point, that I began my very first fandom obsession, and of all things, it was for a novel-within-the-novel I had possessed.
Possession and fandom. I thought neither had anything to do with me, but…
‘And now I’ve gone and done both at the same time.’
The light and salt of my first fandom life. The novelist of the novel-within-the-novel. Our genius author, Chel Ibùre.
Currently, Author Ibùre was on an indefinite hiatus from the series serialized in a weekly magazine, for the vague reason of ‘personal circumstances’.
Using that as a pretext, all sorts of insulting speculations were circulating within the kingdom.
Anyway, Author Ibùre. You probably have no idea, Author-nim.
Thanks to you, my life has completely changed. There are now more things I do that my former self would never have done than I can count on both hands.
Heck, even the fact that I, Libertà Luar, the only daughter of the Duke of Luar—an extra in the romance fantasy *Does It Seem Like the Imperial Princess Put Poison in Your Tea?*—got into a fight with young ladies who were bad-mouthing you and ended up in my first-ever hair-pulling brawl!
Gritting my teeth, I used my fingers to diligently comb through my tangled hair. The sensation, as if hot blood had rushed upside down to my head, was finally subsiding.
From behind me, as I was checking how much hair Clenotte’s young lady had pulled out, came the voice of the one who had mediated the fight.
“I’ll stay nearby until the Viscountess Adena arrives, so please don’t worry too much.”
“Thank you very much, Marquis Orelleano.”
I bowed once more and stole a glance at his handsome face.
‘He’s the first man like this I’ve seen, both before and after my possession.’
Marquis Shane de Orelleano.
He was a man who looked similar to the description of the protagonist, Baron Chern, from the novel *The Misfortune of Baron Chern*, currently serialized by my beloved Author Ibùre in a weekly magazine.
And he wasn’t just any handsome man who happened to look similar.
Overall soft yet with sharply defined features, eyes the color of freshly painted light green paint, impeccably styled bright blond hair…
The dazzling light from the ballroom, seeping into the secluded garden rest area, cast fragments upon the man’s face, making him seem even sublime.
And it wasn’t just his appearance. Even his voice had similarities to the character Baron Chern.
It was similar enough to bring to mind the description in the novel: ‘a gentle spring breeze that madly stirs one’s heart.’
Was my gaze too obvious? The light green eyes, positioned high above, noticed my stare and curved softly.
Embarrassed that my inner thoughts might have been caught, I blushed alone, sharply turned my head away, and started walking again.
‘…Phew. Get a grip, you fangirl.’
My heart, which had been pounding wildly from the unpleasant fight, started racing again, but for a different reason. How utterly foolish can I be?
As I quickly walked away from the rest area where the incident happened, heading towards another space, I could feel Marquis Orelleano following me.
The chance encounter with this man, who seemed like a character from Author Ibùre’s novel come to life, was purely coincidental.
The place where I and the group led by Clenotte’s young lady had our hushed-voice argument was a rest area next to the beautiful outdoor ballroom within the Aizard Royal Palace.
Thick curtains hung to separate spaces, allowing those tired from dancing to converse discreetly and rest. Plush cushions were spread everywhere, soft enough to make one forget the fatigue in their swollen legs and feet, if only for a moment. Additionally, screens decorated with spring flowers were densely placed, almost enough to overwhelm the senses.
That’s right. We had ended up grabbing each other’s hair in a place steeped in history, one that marks the end of the spring social season every year, all while hiding from everyone else’s eyes.
And it wasn’t just a physical scuffle; we even went as far as making a blood oath. We pricked our fingers to draw blood,
setting aside status and family background, confronting each other as equals based solely on our opinions.
‘You should be grateful I’m a broad-minded possessor from 21st century Korea, Young Lady Clenotte.’
…To be honest, the atmosphere between Young Lady Clenotte, her group, and me wasn’t this hostile at first.
Today was the last day of my debutante season. I spotted Young Lady Clenotte and her group talking about Author Ibùre. Based on just fragments of their conversation, I mistakenly thought they viewed the author positively.
I ran over and joined their conversation, my excited fangirl heart on full display, but what do you know? One moment they were spouting baseless assumptions about Author Ibùre’s personal life, and the next, they were pouring out all sorts of filthy insults. They were comments that could never be considered legitimate criticism or a matter of taste. I was taken aback, but finally, I realized.
I had dived headfirst into a nest of antis.
“Ah.”
I winced and frowned, rubbing the tip of my left thumb with a handkerchief where a stinging pain throbbed. Checking under the dim light, the spot pierced by the brooch pin had stopped bleeding. I shoved my finger roughly back into the glove I had taken off and kept walking.
Curses mixed with irritation spilled out with every step.
‘How dare you insult Author Ibùre in front of a crazy fangirl like me?’
This isn’t my usual personality. I’m just someone who quietly stays in the middle of things. And yet, here I am, getting into fights! Even going through with a blood oath!
The blood oath wasn’t much for such a grandiose name. It was just about making a cut on a finger and then facing off. It was just a somewhat violent and crude act for a noble young lady to engage in.
If that handsome Marquis hadn’t suddenly appeared, kindly mediated the fight, and stepped in as my representative…
‘…Wait.’
Caught in the storm of rough,杂乱 thoughts, I suddenly froze like a stone, struck by a belated, unpleasant question.
‘Now that I think about it, how does he know my name and family?’
*Thud, thud.* The sound of shoes, carefully stepping on the white stone slabs regularly placed on the green grass, was following me.
A chilling energy gripped my ankles. A rational suspicion had finally dawned on me.
I hadn’t introduced myself since this kind, handsome man first appeared today.
Throughout the entire spring social season, the only balls I attended were those hosted by the royal family. I hadn’t gone around meeting anyone during that time.
Considering the location of the Luar Duchy’s main estate, and according to what I learned from the diary of this body’s owner, Libertà, the young lady hadn’t been to the capital since her father, the Duke of Luar, got divorced.
So, of course, I had never danced with him even once.
Hiding my suspicion from my expression as best I could, I looked back at the mediator and my representative in the fight.
“…Did you find it amusing?”
I’m usually the type to endure and let pass annoying and noisy things, except when it comes to Author Ibùre. But for some reason, I had a feeling I shouldn’t let this slide, so I spat out the question quietly.
“You look like you found watching the fight quite interesting.”
I asked him frankly, right in response to his ambiguous smile.
“So, was that why you became my representative for the blood oath? Because you thought it would continue to be entertaining?”
At my direct words, the Marquis just stared at me intently, neither too close nor too far, as if gauging what answer to give.
Meeting his gaze squarely, I spoke again.
“I thought you were smiling because it was dark and you wouldn’t be seen. If you’re embarrassed because I pointed it out, then I apologize.”
“I’m sorry. But about me looking amused… How did you know?”
I wondered what he was thinking by saying this, then briefly retorted.
“A hunch.”
Ahh. A meaningless sigh softly spread from the Marquis. Marquis Orelleano answered in his characteristic kind voice, as if trying to soothe me.
“The part I found amusing didn’t come from witnessing an unfortunate situation.”
“Then what was so amusing?”
“Young Lady Luar’s response regarding the popular figure, Chel Ibùre.”
Huh? The Author?
I asked without realizing I had raised my voice.
“You were eavesdropping on our conversation?”
The moment the topic of Author Ibùre came up, the fangirl cells inside me jumped to attention. Somewhere in my heart, I was standing alone, making a foolish, excited fuss.
*Are you, by any chance, an Ibùre fan too? Want to be friends?*
On the other hand, perhaps thinking I was accusing him, Marquis Orelleano lowered his eyelids and apologized.
“My apologies. Even when I tried not to listen, I couldn’t stop your beautiful voice from piercing my ears. Moreover, the topic was quite interesting…”
A smile appeared on the Marquis’s face, elegant like an antique art piece, and without giving me a chance to defend myself, he threw a provocative challenge like a cannonball.
“But that author’s books… Aren’t they just a waste of paper and ink, as Young Lady Clenotte claimed? Utterly useless in life, right?”
…Looks like my second fight is going to be with this guy, huh?
