TMV 01

Chapter 1

0. Prologue

I slumped down onto the expensive tapestry covering the floor, letting the hem of my dress puff out like a round bun.

I didn’t forget to cross my legs neatly, letting my shiny enamel shoe tips and lace socks peek slightly from under the skirt.

Then I spread a white sheet of paper—about the size of an 8-cut drawing paper—in front of me and grabbed the crayons I had brought.

“Shall I start?”

I lifted my head stiffly so my perfectly curled golden hair wouldn’t fall too much, and looked down at the paper. My cheekbones were almost too visible from this angle.

“My face has to show nicely.”

Looking at the blank white space, I sighed without realizing it. I was told to keep smiling brightly, so I forced a careless grin, and air slipped out through my unevenly stretched lips.

“Good posture, perfect angle. Now then… what does a 14-year-old girl usually draw?”

It had been seven years since I was fourteen, so I didn’t really know anymore.

I squinted and drew a chicken leg on the paper with a yellow crayon.

“Good. Chicken legs look like gourds anyway. Close enough.”

With a positive mindset, I picked up an orange crayon next. I planned to draw a pizza.

I drew a messy circle, then scribbled four lines across it… and somehow ended up with six intersections, turning it into eleven uneven pizza slices.

“More slices are better anyway!”

As I was carelessly scribbling, camera flashes started going off everywhere.

A large antique-looking camera was taking pictures of a fat man sitting on the sofa in the reception room, me sitting at his feet like a porcelain doll, and the orphanage director.

The man, who had arranged me like a studio prop and was speaking with the orphanage director in the most ideal pose and expression, finally turned toward me.

“Looks like it’s almost over.”

This was the final part of the show.

My legs were numb, but I just wanted it to end quickly, so I kept my perfect pose like a statue.

The man smiled too kindly, like a politician on a campaign trail.

“You’re called Fredia, right?”

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

“Is there anything you lack at the orphanage?”

“Thanks to your continuous support, I’m living without any lack.”

I recited the lines the director had taught me in advance. The man laughed satisfactorily and pointed at my drawing.

“Your drawing skills are truly excellent!”

“……”

I looked down at my drawing, which couldn’t honestly be called excellent even as a lie.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one trying to finish this quickly.”

“Fredia, what is your dream?”

I looked at my drawing with half-lidded eyes, then gave the count a cute smile.

“My dream is to become a painter!”

At that moment, camera flashes burst again.

Tomorrow’s newspaper would probably say something like:

“Orphan girl who dreamed of becoming a painter: ‘I’m happy I can dream thanks to the count’s support.’”

I felt like a circus elephant painting with its nose.

I glanced at the orphanage director, who was smiling just as warmly as the count. Her face was bright because I had performed well and collected donations nicely in front of the sponsor.

“Good. At least I’ll get a full meal tonight.”

Thinking that I would soon be able to put something into my shrunk stomach made me feel slightly better. I had been starved since yesterday because the director said I must look good in photos.

“Ugh, what a miserable life.”

How did it end up like this?

“Even before I possessed this novel, I was an orphan—but at least I never went hungry in the real world!”

Yes. This is the world of a romance fantasy novel called <The Suspicious Young Lady>, and I am someone who has possessed a character.

My role here is to beg.

At least for now.

1. I Possessed a Possession Novel

At first, I thought I was dreaming.

I thought, I read a novel before sleeping and ended up having a strange dream.

A new body, a new scenery, new people.

It felt like traveling abroad, and I was excited. I wandered around saying “hi, hello” to everyone I met, and they treated me like a crazy person.

Then the orphanage director found me and threw me in like a mop. She kept forcing me to clean stairs, so I would just splash water around and wander off again.

“I worked myself to exhaustion even in reality, and now I still have to work in my dreams?”

But then someone slipped on the wet stairs I had left and got hurt, and I was beaten with a stick. That’s when I realized—this might not be a dream.

“Wait… is this actually a novel possession…?”

It hurt too much. Could a dream feel this real?

From then on, I was confused. But believing it was a dream was easier than accepting reality.

“If I’m not crazy, then it must be a dream. When I wake up, I’ll buy a lottery ticket. This dream is too detailed.”

That night, the director punished me by locking me in a room without dinner.

It was an attic at the top of the building.

“Amazing… an attic! Only rich houses abroad have these! I always wanted to live in a place like this.”

Inside was just a blanket, one set of clothes, and random junk.

Inside the clothes, I found the name “Fredia.”

“That’s the name of the main character in the novel I read before sleeping.”

Sometimes what I read before bed appears in dreams. Nothing strange.

“In the novel, a modern person possesses Fredia’s body and changes the story little by little.”

<The Suspicious Young Lady> was about a modern person possessing an orphan girl named Fredia and gradually changing the original story.

I had skimmed it quickly because I had work early in the morning.

“Even though I skipped most of the descriptions, this dream is so vivid. I really have a good imagination, haha.”

I lay down in the narrow attic, feeling comfort in the wooden smell of the old building.

“When I wake up, I’ll probably return to my miserable real life. I wish I never woke up.”

I fell asleep with that thought.

I had no idea it would become reality.

The next day, I didn’t wake up from the dream.

I was still in the body of a beautiful 14-year-old blonde girl, Fredia.

“What? Why am I not waking up? Did I sleep too deeply? Or is time passing differently in reality?”

Or maybe I had gone insane overnight.

If so, someone would find me wandering and call the police or ambulance.

But days passed and nothing changed.

So I had to accept reality.

“So… this is inside a novel, and I, like the original protagonist, have possessed a character? Then am I the possessor protagonist?”

At that moment, a hymn I once heard played in my head like a parody.

‘I have gained a new life as Fredia…!’

This was a chance.

A chance to throw away my harsh old life and start again.

In reality, I was an orphan who grew up in shelters and institutions, then entered society with nothing.

After leaving the orphanage, I worked at factories for low wages, struggling like crazy.

Then I quit and tried countless part-time jobs.

At 21, I lived day by day just to survive. I even got scammed out of wages recently and was behind on rent.

My life had no future.

So I escaped into manga cafés, reading novels and comics all day.

That was my only escape.

“And now I’ve possessed a novel! This is basically success in escaping reality!”

At that time, my head was full of flowers.

“What should I do first?”

Survive? Reform the villain? Turn the male lead into a loyal dog-like boyfriend? Abandon the cruel family?

“Anything works!”

This was clearly a flower road life given to me by fate.

I thought I was the protagonist.

…But then.

“Fredia, I’ve watched you for a few days, and I can’t tolerate this anymore.”

The orphanage director, now furious, called me in.

“You’re already too old to stay here. I originally planned to keep you as a maid because you helped a lot, but now I think it’s better to send you elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“You’re fourteen. You can work as a maid, so you’ll go to Mr. Hamel’s house.”

“Hamel…?”

A farm owner who supplies food to the kitchen.

A middle-aged man I always avoided because he kept acting like I was his daughter—trying to hug me, kiss my cheeks, things like that.

My face turned pale.

The director smiled cruelly.

“You’ll live and work at his farm. It’s a good arrangement for you. So behave properly.”

“……”

I couldn’t take it anymore and stood up.

“Director!”

Then I collapsed flat on the floor.

“I’ll work twice as hard as a beggar from now on. Please, just let me stay, okay? Sob…”

Fredia’s current job: orphanage maid and fundraising beggar.

Unlike typical protagonists who try to change the future after possessing a novel…

I started begging for money on day one.