1.
It is not a common occurrence to discover who you were in your past life.
However, that bizarre moment arrived during the most mundane of times. It happened while I was commuting, like any other low-level clerk, to the Ministry of Finance. As I jolted awake, having nodded off in a shared carriage bound for the Imperial Palace, the realization struck me with the force of a physical blow.
‘I’ve been reincarnated into the world of a book.’
No sooner had I grasped the existence of my past life than twenty-some years of living on Earth flashed through my mind like a panorama. The world within the book—the original narrative of the reality I was now anchored in—surfaced with vivid, meticulous detail. It felt as if it had been etched into my brain by divine design.
Yet, I felt no particular resonance.
‘A war-crazed tyrant emperor having a contract romance with a sunshine heroine? That’s only the kind of thing they gossip about in high society.’
I had no deep attachments to my past life; I had no family, no close acquaintances. It simply felt as though twenty-some years of memories had been grafted onto my own.
‘It’s a bit strange that my name is the same as it was in my past life.’
My name on Earth was Kwon Ri-Na, and here, it is Carolina.
‘I wonder if the name Ri-Na is etched into my soul.’
One other trivial similarity was that in both lives, my occupation was that of a low-level clerk.
‘I just hope I don’t repeat the part about getting tangled up with a crazy boss and working myself to an early grave from overwork.’
I prayed for a moment, noticing that the end of my mental panorama looked suspiciously like a municipal office. It was all the more worrying since the “tangled up with a crazy boss” part had already come to pass.
‘I want to live a long life.’
In this life, I desperately wanted to work a normal, incident-free job and retire at the proper age. However, the Emperor—a man who had been trampling over battlefields and striking terror into the continent for nearly ten years—was soon to return in triumph. With their supreme superior, who had been absent throughout and possessed a notoriously prickly personality, expected to arrive, every department was on high alert.
‘Word is the Emperor requested a report the moment he arrives, so work is piling up. Could it be?’
Lost in my fear of death by overwork, the shared carriage soon reached the Ministry of Finance building. I gave a listless greeting to the coachman and headed toward the office with reluctant steps.
“What time is it?”
The moment I opened the door and stepped inside, that very same crazy boss’s sharp voice greeted me.
“It’s 8:10, Donovan.”
I replied, checking the clock with utter indifference. Under normal circumstances, even though I had arrived well before the start of the workday, he would have started harping on about how I was late, or how when *he* was a rookie, he arrived two hours early. But today, Donovan’s trigger point was slightly different.
“What? Donovan?”
My boss, Donovan, was a man who took immense pride in the fact that he was a Baronet, even if his name was listed only at the very end of the noble registry. Although, in government offices, position took precedence over title, meaning there was no need to use the honorifics nobles required.
‘Well, it’s not like he’s asking me to call him Daddy.’
“Sir.”
I added the honorific with a complete lack of sincerity. Only then did Donovan’s face relax slightly.
“I’m not a man who cares much for authority, you see.”
It seemed as if there were a law that anyone who *was* a man of authority must always start their sentences exactly like that.
“Even if the law of the Imperial Palace dictates that position takes precedence over title, there is still an absolute difference between a commoner and a noble, is there not?”
Donovan sent me a look, constantly seeking agreement.
‘If we’re being technical, I’m a commoner, too.’
My father was a Baronet like Donovan, and a Baronet’s title was not hereditary. Therefore, I was a commoner with a noble father.
‘Thanks to having one foot barely inside noble society, my situation is likely better than other commoners.’
But as that was not something to say in this situation, I gave a lackluster reaction.
“Yes, well.”
Whether satisfied by even an insincere reaction, Donovan continued to air his grievances.
“And yet, how could they promote Rachel instead of me? That commoner.”
I finally understood why Donovan’s trigger point was slightly different today.
‘So the promotion list is out.’
Rachel was the head of the neighboring department, and her relationship with Donovan was far from good.
‘Well, Rachel is a capable, self-made individual, while Donovan is only holding on because of his parents’ connections.’
I must have shown it on my face that I was silently praising the impartiality of the Imperial Palace’s personnel department. Or perhaps he was offended because I hadn’t joined him in bad-mouthing Rachel. Donovan, who had been maintaining a semblance of composure, flushed red and shouted.
“What is that expression? Do you actually think it’s right for Rachel to be promoted?”
“Of course not. How could that be?”
Oh, the things we do for professional life; I forced my expression into a mask of denial.
“Don’t lie! You’re taking her side just because you’re a commoner, too. Tsk. It was my mistake to think you would have any discernment, having been raised in a noble house.”
After pouring his frustrations over me for a long time, Donovan stormed out, slamming the door shut as other employees arrived. Seeing Donovan leave with a face still twisted in suppressed anger, Connie approached me cautiously.
“What’s up with that man again?”
“Looks like he missed out on a promotion.”
Even though I didn’t have many personal feelings, it honestly didn’t feel good to be the target of his irrational rage right after going through an identity crisis. I gave a concise answer to Connie’s question and walked away, saying I needed to get to work. Connie looked as though she wanted to ask more, but she didn’t hold me back.
Perhaps because my day had been awful since the morning, I couldn’t get a grip on my work today. Even tasks that should have been easy to finish weren’t going well.
‘Get a hold of yourself. If you can just make it through today, it’s the weekend.’
I tried to steel my nerves, but it wasn’t very effective.
“Are you in your right mind? The calculation is wrong!”
Finding a wrong formula in the document I submitted, Donovan shouted as if he had finally caught me red-handed. An abacus came flying toward my desk. I had put in much more effort than usual and checked it multiple times, but I had failed to spot it.
“Do you have any idea how important the raw tax collection data coming in from the territories is? This is the base data for the reports presented to His Majesty!”
The fact that it was a trivial mistake—merely miscopying a single number in the calculation process—didn’t matter. The fact that I could have used a magical tool for a final review to catch it before any problems occurred also didn’t matter. What mattered was that Donovan, who was in a foul mood, had discovered my mistake before the review process.
Regardless, it was true that I had made a mistake, so I silently endured Donovan’s annoyance, which was little more than him venting his temper. When I returned to my desk, Connie, wary of Donovan, handed me a note.
Half the note was filled with sharp, biting remarks about Donovan written in the code used by Ministry of Finance employees. The other half was a suggestion that since my mood must be sour, we should head to a pub together after work.
‘Sounds good.’
I signaled a circle with my hand to Connie. Perhaps because the thought of a cold beer was waiting, the remaining time was slightly easier to endure. After holding out for a few more hours, the bell rang, signaling the end of the workday for Imperial Palace officials. I left all my remaining tasks for next week and quickly escaped the office.
Leaving the Ministry of Finance building, my body felt light, as if a pile of heavy stones had been lifted from my shoulders.
“Let’s worry about next week’s work next week.”
I stood in the shade of a tree in a corner, out of sight of the employees leaving the palace, and waited for Connie to emerge. It was a meeting spot Connie and I had decided on so that our after-work beer wouldn’t turn into an unwanted group outing. I felt like I had been waiting at our spot for about ten minutes, but Connie didn’t appear.
‘I did come out early, though.’
Another ten minutes passed.
‘Is something wrong?’
I started to get worried. Just as I was about to head back to the office, I saw a figure approaching from a distance.
“Excuse me, Carolina?”
But the person who approached wasn’t Connie.
“It’s been a while, Heather. How have you been?”
Heather was a friend of Connie’s from her hometown, so we knew each other’s faces even though we worked in different departments. When I greeted her, Heather smiled brightly.
“I’ve been doing well. Oh, this. Connie asked me to give it to you.”
Heather handed me a crumpled note. I opened it and read the scrawled words: ‘Something came up and I can’t leave, so let’s go for a beer next time.’
“Goodness, working overtime on a golden Friday evening.”
“Tell me about it.”
Heather, who had delivered the note, chimed in.
“From what I saw, she was about to leave when Donovan caught her. She was being chewed out for something trivial, and it sounds like Donovan told her she had to redo it and bring it to him right away.”
‘Oh, dear.’
It seemed Connie was the next target.
“Connie said to tell you she’s sorry.”
After faithfully delivering the postscript, Heather left.
‘What should I do?’
Normally, I would have just headed home quietly since the plans were canceled… But my stress had reached its peak today, and I wanted a cold beer so badly.
‘I’ll go by myself, I guess.’
The pub Connie and I had planned to go to was near the Imperial Palace, so the neighborhood was safe. And the early summer evening weather was perfect for a walk. I headed toward Rikel Street at a slow pace. Perhaps because it was the day of a night market celebrating a military victory, merchants soliciting customers were visible from the very entrance of the street.
The gazes of other passersby were drawn to the merchants shouting at the top of their lungs to promote their goods. However, my gaze was fixed on a spot where a girl with a still-youthful face was selling flowers. I noticed her hesitating several times as she tried to speak to passersby, perhaps due to a shy personality.
‘It’s about time I changed the flowers in my vase, anyway.’
As I approached the flower stall, the child’s face brightened. I smiled back and purchased a bunch of freesias.
“It’s hard to find freesias at this time of year.”
As I touched the petals and marveled at them, the child, who was wrapping the freesias with practiced hands, explained in a shy voice.
“These are flowers from the northern part of the capital. Their blooming season is a little late. It’s the end of spring in the north, too, so these are the last ones.”
The child handed me the bouquet and smiled shyly. Just as I took the bouquet and caught the scent of the early summer freesias, a man with his hood pulled low approached the flower stall quickly.
“Freesias, do you have any?”
“What should I do? The one that customer just bought was the last one.”
The child’s troubled gaze shifted toward me. Following the child’s gaze, the man’s eyes also turned toward me. The man’s face, of which only the jawline was visible, filled my field of vision.
‘Wow, he’s handsome.’