Chapter 6
Liriope stared blankly at the paper Theo had handed her, telling her to choose a date for their engagement.
His enchanting smile and sly demeanor lingered in her mind, leaving her cheeks still burning.
In the original story, the male lead’s flirtatiousness was reserved solely for the heroine.
To other women—especially those who admired his looks and pursued him—Theo was always cold and indifferent.
That’s why people used to say he was a man better admired from afar.
And yet here he was, throwing teasing jokes at Liriope and trying to charm her the way he would the original heroine. It was absurd.
“Why on earth is he doing this…?”
Liriope muttered as she held her head in her hands.
She dropped her hands and glared at the sheet of paper on her desk.
Theo’s words replayed in her mind, filling every corner of her thoughts.
One line in particular made her let out a hollow laugh.
―If you were going to regret it, you should have done so before using me. Even if that idiot crown prince cries and begs, our engagement cannot be undone.
Regret? She had never once thought about regretting it.
It wasn’t as though Kadin would ever cry and beg before her.
Instead, it was Theo she pitied—because eventually he would fall for Rosarin, and then he would demand their engagement be broken.
No matter how many engagement dates he brought for her to choose from now, once he met Rosarin at the Harvest Festival, he would certainly start wishing Liriope would just disappear.
Whether she had used him or made him angry, in the end, this engagement was destined to mean nothing.
But then… why do I have this ominous feeling?
Liriope propped her chin on her hand and stared down at the list of dates again, sinking into thought.
By dragging the male lead into her schemes, she seemed to have gotten herself deeply involved in the story’s main romance far earlier than intended.
She had only wanted to avoid the crown prince and claimed she preferred the northern duke instead—but she hadn’t expected things to turn out like this.
She had underestimated the duke’s determination, the kind of man who would fetch the stars from the sky if Liriope asked.
“Sigh…”
She picked up the sheet of paper with another weary sigh.
“This really feels ominous.”
Murmuring softly, Liriope shook the paper lightly.
She had planned to survive by avoiding the second male lead, but instead she had gotten entangled with the main male lead.
Of course, she had no intention of dying a brutal death like in the original, nor did she have any reason to.
Once Theo fell in love with Rosarin, she would let him go without hesitation.
She even planned to become Rosarin’s best friend, so she’d have no reason to harass her out of jealousy over the broken engagement.
Even if she had been engaged to Kadin, she had no intention of repeating the villainous deeds from the novel.
“Did I stick my neck out too far, just trying to stay alive…?”
Her sigh carried both regret and anxiety.
The ominous feeling weighed heavily on her, but she brushed it aside with the thought that as long as she did her best to avoid the bad ending, she’d be safe.
Well, as long as I befriend the heroine, there’s no way I’ll die.
She set the paper back down and gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Oh my, look who it is! The most sought-after lady in Gardea herself!”
Not long after her engagement to Theo was announced, Liriope’s first social appearance was at the tea party of Lady Selzionel, daughter of a marquis.
Her maid Gemma, convinced that this was a scandal of the century, had all but shoved her into Péroché’s atelier, insisting she had to look her absolute best.
But Liriope hadn’t expected such a warm welcome.
Madame Péroché was the empire’s most famous designer, known for personally crafting garments only for royals, dukes, and marquises.
Counts and below could only buy her ready-made dresses.
That was why, as a reader, Liriope had always disliked the fact that the original heroine happened to be a mere count’s daughter.
Now that she herself was the direct client, though, she couldn’t deny she enjoyed Péroché’s exclusivity.
People really do prefer whatever benefits them most in the end.
“Ah, I just received the perfect fabric for you, milady. It will go beautifully with your golden hair. Please wait a moment.”
When Péroché went into her workshop to fetch the fabric, her assistant Selly showed Liriope and Gemma to a sofa and served them tea.
As Liriope sipped her tea, she began to wonder why fetching a single piece of fabric was taking so long.
Just then, the atelier door opened, and in walked an astonishingly beautiful young lady.
Though she had never seen her before, something about her seemed strangely familiar.
“Welcome, Lady Rosarin.”
At Selly’s words, Liriope’s heart skipped a beat.
It was her—the heroine of the original novel, Rosarin Melzebvian.
Liriope stared, just as she had the first time she met the northern duke.
Rosarin’s radiant platinum-blond hair framed her porcelain skin, and her emerald eyes sparkled with an otherworldly light. She was so beautiful it almost stole Liriope’s breath away.
Her movements were graceful and elegant, befitting not a count’s daughter but a duchess.
And beside her stood Mary, the loyal maid who had played a vital role as Rosarin’s supporter in the story.
Seeing them both here together, Liriope’s eyes shone with excitement.
“Hello, my lady.”
Rosarin met her gaze and quickly approached with a greeting.
Oh my god—it’s her, in the flesh!
Liriope jumped up to greet her in return.
“Ah, hello—”
But just in time, she clamped her mouth shut.
Her rank was far higher than Rosarin’s—she must not bow or use honorifics.
So she awkwardly sat back down, sealing her lips.
Rosarin, graceful as ever, walked up to her.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you. I’m glad fate allowed us to today.”
Me? But… why?
Bewildered, Liriope looked up at her.
The story hadn’t even begun yet—there was no reason for Rosarin to go out of her way to meet Liriope.
Rosarin opened her handbag and took out a neatly folded handkerchief.
“I felt it was only right to give this to you.”
The handkerchief looked carefully kept, giving off a pleasant fragrance.
Liriope’s eyes widened as she noticed the symbol embroidered on it.
It was unmistakably the crest of the northern duke.
She remembered it vividly from the novel’s illustrations of the duke’s castle, where that same crest flew on countless flags.
“This belongs to His Grace the Duke.”
Rosarin’s words pulled Liriope out of her thoughts.
When she lifted her gaze, Rosarin gave her a somewhat awkward smile.
Why does she have this…? Could it be… they’ve already met?
In the original, Rosarin and the duke were supposed to meet for the first time at the Harvest Festival.
Before that, at the Hunting Festival, Rosarin was meant to encounter the crown prince, sparking Liriope’s jealousy.
But the Hunting Festival was still more than a month away.
Which meant their first meeting should still be in the future.
So why have they already met? And what’s with this handkerchief?
The more she thought about it, the more unsettled she felt.
Is this because I tampered with the story? No… even before Theo and I got engaged, they must have already crossed paths.
But that made no sense—the novel specifically stated they first saw each other at the beginning of the story.
What on earth is happening? Why did they meet early…?
Unease twisted in her chest.
Perhaps noticing her troubled expression, Rosarin spoke softly, her voice tinged with apology.
“I received help from His Grace once.”
“…Oh.”
“He gave me this handkerchief then. I wanted to return it, but it felt wrong to do so directly.”
Felt wrong? Why…?
Liriope widened her eyes at her in confusion.
Rosarin hesitated for a moment, pressing her lips together, then looked straight at Liriope and said—
