In truth, while the Baroness’s daughter before me fawned over Charlize, she was busy exaggerating Charlize’s wicked deeds and mocking her behind her back.
Charlize seemed to know, yet she simply let it be.
I would be the one to end this charade here.
I watched with a cold gaze as they hurried to leave. Only after the room fell silent did I let out a groan and collapse onto the sofa.
“Ah… I thought I was going to die of dizziness.”
What on earth was the proof of this liquor? I barely managed to keep my wits about me as I checked the alcohol content, and I nearly fainted. It was stronger than whiskey. Insane.
I never drank this hard, not even at company dinners with the CEO.
“Ugh, I’m dying. This makes no sense.”
They say Charlize could drink eight bottles of this stuff and remain perfectly fine.
Then why am I like this after not even two?
I mean, only my soul changed; how could my alcohol tolerance change with it?
In fact, even the things I said to the Baroness’s daughter earlier had been fueled by the alcohol.
Though, the intention to call off the engagement had been in my heart from the very beginning.
Regardless, I now had a very clear understanding of my fiancé’s reputation.
“…Surprising.”
I stared at the ceiling and blinked.
So, that fiancé of mine’s beauty isn’t common knowledge?
Duke Remut. I remember that man clearly.
Even though he was a supporting character, he was a man who truly suited my taste.
The male lead was human garbage—my brother—so I had always wondered why the female lead didn’t include Remut in her harem. My fiancé was a truly handsome man.
Neat, cold, ascetic… what else was there?
Ah, a pre-marital celibate.
Was that why he was excluded from the harem? Since this novel was a 19+ ruinous romance, perhaps men who didn’t sleep in beds weren’t meant for that life.
I had diligently shouted for him to be included in the comment section, at least.
Anyway, I knew well that for some reason, the man rarely appeared in official settings, to the point where people hardly knew what his face looked like.
“Ugh…”
The ceiling was swimming uncontrollably.
With a hangover like this… tomorrow was going to be hell.
I closed my eyes.
* * *
Late at night.
The Duke of Remut’s study was so shabby that one wouldn’t think it belonged to a Duke.
Compared to what ordinary nobles used, it might have been considered average, but it was certainly lacking for the great name of the Duke of Remut.
“Your Grace.”
The man who had just opened the door was Ben, the Duke of Remut’s adjutant and a knight.
He was one of the few who knew exactly why the office of a Duke was so inappropriately sparse.
He swallowed a sigh and walked forward.
“What is it?”
It was a late hour, but the Duke of Remut was still busy working.
Most of the documents he handled were related to his territory or his debts.
That was right. The Remut Duchy carried an enormous amount of debt.
“…”
When Ben hesitated, the Duke of Remut slowly raised his head.
Askin Remut.
The strongest sword of the Empire, known as the ‘Guardian of the West.’
He was a remarkably beautiful man, as if the moon had taken human form.
To borrow the words of Masa, the nanny who was Ben’s closest confidante and also close to the Duke, his beauty was such that it was no exaggeration to say there hadn’t been a man this handsome in the entire 500-year history of the Empire.
Unlike his solid physique, typical of someone from the West, his face alone evoked a sense of piety and holiness, as if he were a member of the clergy.
Masa would often gush that ‘beautiful’ was a more fitting word than ‘handsome’ for him.
Ben was not a man who concerned himself with appearances, but he believed his lord was someone anyone would consider an exception.
‘That’s why… even that wicked woman covets him.’
However, the reality was that he was a man who had no choice but to sell his abilities for money, burdened by a massive debt.
“A letter from the daughter of Duke Alzbeit has arrived…”
“Throw it away.”
Ben held his breath at the cold, emotionless voice.
“Are you aware? This is the 30th one you’ve turned away.”
“…I never told you to send them back.”
“I took the liberty. Sending them back as-is is less insulting than simply trashing them, and it ensures no unnecessary trouble arises.”
Ben spoke quickly, barely stopping to draw breath.
He was right. Ben had already turned away thirty invitations from his master’s fiancée, the wicked daughter of Duke Alzbeit.
Strangely, the invitations had been coming with excessive frequency lately.
Furthermore, it was odd that she refused to accept his rejection.
“It is strange. She hasn’t sought you out this often in the past, has she?”
“She claims to have returned from her travels. It seems her wicked playfulness has returned along with her.”
The fact that Charlize Alzbeit had been briefly exiled under the guise of travel to clean up the mess she’d made was famous in the capital.
It was famous enough to reach even the ears of Askin, who rarely attended official events.
Though, it would have been impossible not to notice, thanks to the annoyingly frequent letters arriving from abroad.
“…That may be, but previously, wouldn’t she have lost interest once Your Grace refused her five times?”
Charlize Alzbeit had a glamorous appearance and a penchant for excess.
She was as fickle as she was fond of treasures.
She would occasionally set aside a day to torment Askin, but generally, she would leave him be if he refused. She would simply find it amusing—tossing out comments like, ‘You’re the only man who rejects me’—and then move on.
Askin did not answer.
Ben felt a cold dismissal from his lord, as if to say, *Who cares.*
“No matter what happens, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Askin spoke in a frigid voice.
“I will handle it myself. Just pretend you don’t know.”
His tone was charged with an unprecedented, firm resolve. As if he had some sort of plan.
Ben bowed his head in silence.
*Is there really no way to break things off with that woman?*
Ben suppressed his anxiety.
***
I had a dream.
“Huh, what is this? All this money?”
Bills were piled up like a mountain in front of me. I tried hard to count them before finally giving up.
Even a rough glance told me these were the earnings I was owed.
*The money I earned from coins has returned!*
I was swimming diligently through a wave of cash when I suddenly lifted my head.
I came to my senses to find myself wearing a neat, high-end suit.
On my mobile banking app, an amount even greater than the pile of cash in front of me was glowing in digits. This was the surplus left over even after I’d bought a house.
I looked at the long string of numbers with satisfaction before stepping into a luxury boutique—one I had only ever admired while flipping through magazines.
Watching the clerk greet me respectfully, I recited the line I had wanted to say at least once in my life with effortless cool.
“Who is the VIP manager?”
I looked around excitedly, mimicking the poise I’d seen in luxury review videos and dramas.
“I’ll take everything from here to there.”
Just like that, I spent money with abandon.
Watching the numbers on my screen, which never seemed to dwindle, I knew I had finally become the rich, unemployed person I had dreamed of being.
I was so happy.
*Oh God, please let me live my life as a YOLO like this forever…!*
Surprisingly, I woke up the moment I prayed that.
Which meant I had finally shaken off the dream.
“Augh, my head…”
The moment I opened my eyes, a splitting headache greeted me, as if to anchor me to reality.
Whatever way you looked at it… it was a hangover.
The maid immediately brought warm honey water and a glass of ice water, moving with the practiced efficiency of someone well-accustomed to my condition.
1.
‘Even a heavy drinker like Charlize must have suffered from hangovers.’
The old resentment flared up again.
‘Why did my tolerance have to change!’
But what was done was done. I clutched my aching head and sat up in bed.
I looked down at my hands. The amount I had seen in my dream felt cruelly vivid.
…My coins. My money.
Perhaps it was because I had lived such a long, impoverished life. Watching my wealth vanish like an ebbing tide brought back a sharp, bitter regret for the life I’d left behind—a life I had died without ever truly living.
“This won’t do.”
I jumped out of bed and began to pace.
Before long, the summoned maids were busy grooming me, their eyes darting toward me with wary caution.
“……My Lady, your hair is finished. As for the ornament here……”
“That’s enough.”
The maids seemed intimidated as they watched me press hard against my temples, no doubt finding it strange that I was up and about so early. Some even looked as if they wanted to stop me from moving altogether.
They are kind people. There are actually those who worry about Charlize.
“Um, My Lady, what shall I tell the coachman regarding our destination?”
“The Remut Duchy.”
“……Pardon?”
The maid stammered, then hurriedly bowed her head.
For a brief moment, a flicker of profound confusion and pity passed through their eyes. I wondered which of us—my fiancé or me—that pity was meant for.
‘My head hurts too much to ask.’
“Do you happen to have any medicine for a hangover?”
“Yes? Yes, I will go bring some at once!”
While one maid scurried away, the others who had finished dressing me bowed and retreated.
I looked into the mirror. To my surprise, a stunning woman stared back at me, her features only slightly haggard from the drink.
‘……Her beauty is truly lethal.’
She was breathtaking, indeed. It was a shame she had used such beauty only for vile deeds.
I let out a soft sigh and pressed firmly against my brow. Through the reflection, I caught one of the remaining maids stealing a glance at me, her expression clearly uneasy.
“You—do you have something you want to say?”