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Chapter 02
In a room adorned with an extravagant chandelier, a woman with pale pink hair lay drenched in cold sweat.
“…So the child was miscarried?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, it appears she has had a miscarriage.”
“Hah.”
At the doctor’s words, Eric let out a deep sigh. Without even glancing at the woman lying on the bed, he turned his back and headed for the door.
“Please don’t worry, madam. She’s showing signs of improvement and should regain consciousness soon—”
Bang.
Before the doctor could finish, Eric had already left the room.
“Tsk, tsk. Still, she’s his wife—how can he be so indifferent?”
Clicking his tongue, the doctor looked down at Rose, who lay unconscious. She looked endlessly pitiful to him. What on earth was so appealing about that brute that she would cling to him like this? There was no one in the empire who didn’t know that the marriage had happened because of Rose’s fervent pursuit. Just then, Rose—who had looked as though she were dead—twitched her fingers and slowly began to open her eyes.
“Madam! Are you conscious?”
‘Madam…?’
She heard the voice of an unfamiliar man. When she opened her eyes, a middle-aged foreigner was speaking to her in fluent Korean.
“You’ve woken up after three days.”
Three days… She tried to recall her last memory before losing consciousness.
‘I definitely remember being crushed when the building collapsed…’
The ground had suddenly caved in and the building had come down. She had been sure she’d died, but it seemed she’d been rescued instead.
‘…I wanted to die.’
She had been living a life she couldn’t even end—betrayed by a friend she trusted, her husband stolen away, and then discarded miserably.
‘…Where is this place?’
It was far too luxurious to be a hospital, and it was strange that the foreigner before her spoke Korean so fluently.
“Where am I?”
They said she’d woken after three days, but even her voice sounded strange—one pitch higher than before, clear and light.
“Pardon? …This is your room, madam. Are you all right?”
The doctor looked at Rose with concern. Asking where she was, not even knowing it was her own room.
“My… room?”
She looked around in confusion.
‘This lavish room—nothing like my shabby studio apartment—is mine…?’
As she glanced around, she froze like stone when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Why was there a woman she’d never seen before in the mirror? Staring blankly, she slowly stood up. She heard the doctor telling her not to get up yet, but ignored him and staggered toward the mirror.
“H-How is this possible?”
A slender, beautiful woman—completely different from her original self—stood there. Her legs gave out, and the doctor hurriedly caught her.
“Madam Wens, are you all right?”
Madam Wens…? Even in her dazed state, the name of a male lead from a novel she’d once read came to mind. She wasn’t good at remembering names, but she remembered this one clearly—the count she’d mocked as a “walking disaster.”
‘…Of all things, possession.’
Clutching her throbbing head, Rose became certain. She had possessed the body of Madam Wens—the female lead of the grim novel she’d abandoned just before dying.
Rose de Wens. That was the name of the character she’d possessed. Rose was the only daughter of a fallen count’s family, one that had been at odds with the Wens family… and she’d fallen in love with Eric at first sight and chased after him so persistently that her parents ended up bedridden—if she remembered correctly. After the doctor left, Rose sat dazed on the bed, trying to piece together her situation. But since she’d only skimmed the novel, she couldn’t recall the details clearly. What she did remember was that Rose had been hopelessly in love with Eric, while Eric didn’t love her at all. Just then, a maid knocked and entered the room.
“Madam, the bath is ready. We’ve sprinkled lavender petals.”
“A bath? The doctor said my condition isn’t good, so only a light shower for now—and no bathing for about two weeks. And my period hasn’t even ended yet.”
Rose didn’t know she’d miscarried. The doctor, seeing how disoriented she was, hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her and had only informed the head maid. At the word “period,” the head maid’s face went pale.
‘So it’s true—like the doctor said, she may have short-term memory loss…’
She recalled the doctor saying Rose might even have forgotten she’d been pregnant. Looking at Rose with deep pity, the head maid hesitated, unsure what to do. With an awkward bow, she hurriedly left.
“…I did want to shower. Maybe I’ll just sleep today.”
Her body felt unbearably heavy, as if the earth itself were pulling her down. Like a sick chicken, Rose nodded off. Once she lay down, sleep overwhelmed her. Before long, she was fast asleep, the room filled only with the soft sound of her breathing.
It seemed the night would pass quietly—
Creeeak.
Someone opened her door and entered. The lights were off and there was no movement; they must have known she was asleep. Yet the person strode straight toward the bed, unconcerned if she woke. He gazed silently at the sleeping Rose. Perhaps he’d just bathed—his hair was still damp.
“Is she asleep?”
He murmured, poking her cheek lightly. Tickled, Rose burrowed deeper into the sheets. When the man slowly shrugged off his robe, his well-trained body was revealed in the moonlight. Half-naked, he lay down beside her and gently stroked her.
“Mmm…”
Rose shifted, rubbing her eyes as she woke.
‘It tickles…’
Blinking groggily, she saw a dark shape hovering before her eyes.
‘What…?’
Her foggy vision gradually cleared. She had fallen asleep alone—yet a man was staring down at her.
“Eek!”
Realizing it, Rose screamed and dove under the sheets.
“Stop screaming.”
The man grabbed her, frowning irritably.
“W-Who are you?!”
Terrified, Rose glared at him.
“That’s quite the joke. Asking who I am—your husband.”
The man in Rose’s bedroom was her husband: Count Eric de Wens.
“H-Husband?”
At Eric’s words, Rose stared at him uncertainly.
“Madam!”
Hearing her scream, maids and knights burst in—then froze at the sight of the two on the bed.
“Care to leave? You’re not planning to watch something meant for married couples, are you?”
At Eric’s curt remark, the servants hurriedly retreated. Only then did Rose accept that the man before her truly was Eric de Wens—her husband.
‘So she fell for him at first sight and chased him…’
He was handsome enough to understand why. Brushing his jet-black hair back, he sighed and fixed his gaze on her.
“You said you’d give me children.”
“…Pardon?”
“You did. Said you could give birth to ten if I wanted. But…”
Stunned, Rose listened as his next words hardened her expression.
“Why haven’t you had even one? After three years of marriage, you finally got pregnant—I thought I could relax. And then you miscarry.”
Miscarriage…?
“Don’t fail next time. I won’t keep sleeping with you forever.”
“…Did I miscarry?”
“What, you haven’t heard yet?”
Rather than worry, Eric frowned at her dazed reaction.
“…When did I miscarry?”
“Three days ago, when you collapsed. That’s when it happened.”
From his words, Rose realized exactly where she had entered the story. Right after the miscarriage… Yes—after that incident. The day Rose first discovered Eric’s affair. The shock had caused her to lose the child. Why had the man who cheated come here tonight? Was this going to be one of those clichés where he turns out to be better than in the novel—coming to apologize and comfort her?
‘…No.’
The moment she looked at him, she knew her hope was pointless. He was far too undressed for someone here to comfort her. She quickly turned her gaze away, his intent painfully obvious—he’d come merely to satisfy his own desires.
“…Please leave.”
Without even looking at him, Rose turned her back coldly.
“I don’t want to.”
Unbothered, Eric whispered near her ear and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Rose’s whole body went rigid.
‘I almost forgot.’
This was a grim novel. The Rose in the story tried to confirm Eric’s love through nights spent with him. Though Eric didn’t love her, she always believed he did. She never refused him, even when he came late at night. But the woman who had possessed Rose was different.
‘I just woke up today after losing consciousness—and he acts like this.’
Any lingering affection vanished at his utter lack of consideration.
“If you won’t go, then I will.”
She shook off his arm and tried to rise, but Eric dragged her back onto the bed. She collapsed weakly, and he climbed over her, muttering irritably.
“Just stay.”
Then he abruptly stood up. Exposed, Eric made Rose quickly avert her eyes and hide beneath the sheets.
“I’ll leave.”
He picked up his robe and put it on slowly.
“You’re the one who refused. Don’t you dare cry and collapse like last time, no matter what I do.”
Saying that so brazenly, about cheating? Rose could only stare, speechless. She knew mistresses were common in such novels—but saying this to someone who’d collapsed because of infidelity? With a final burst of anger, Eric slammed the door and left.
“…They really romanticized the male lead.”
He was even worse than in the novel—irredeemable, beyond salvage.
‘I have to live in the same house as that?’
Knowing the thorny path ahead, a chill ran down her spine. Rose’s life in this story was never meant to be happy.
‘The first thing I need to do is escape being the tragic heroine.’
What was the point of staying by the side of a man who cheated as a matter of course, whose family fell into ruin, and who wouldn’t hesitate to use violence? Less than a day after possessing this body, Rose resolved to leave. And before long, her wish would be granted—by an unexpected encounter.
The next day, Rose went out for a walk.
“This mansion is ridiculously huge.”
The sheer scale felt alien. Not yet familiar with the layout, she wandered—until a noisy commotion ahead stopped her.
“I told you, I’m not a maid here!”
“Has she eaten something bad?”
“Why is she acting like this all of a sudden?”
“Doana, you didn’t work for days, so we had to cover your duties!”
Rose approached the voices. Several uniformed maids surrounded a woman in a worn dress. The maids were angry, but the woman calmly sipped tea and muttered,
“Why is this dream so vivid? Why won’t I wake up, even after days?”
As Doana looked around while drinking, her eyes met Rose’s. She glanced between Rose’s elegant clothes and her own.
“…Those would suit me better.”
Brushing her rough blonde hair behind her ear, Doana muttered. The maids, noticing the countess, froze at her words.
“Doana! Have you lost your mind? What are you saying in front of the countess?!”
“We’re sorry, madam. She’s been acting strangely these past few days.”
“Hurry—apologize!”
They forcibly pressed Doana’s head down.
“Hey! Let go!”
She shook them off irritably.
“How dare you touch me? If this weren’t a dream, I’d have called 112 already! People like you only come to your senses after getting sued.”
At “112,” Rose flinched.
‘112…? Did I hear that right?’
A far too familiar number—one that didn’t belong here. Staring at Doana in disbelief, Rose listened as Doana added,
“Ugh… and I don’t even have my phone. This is so annoying.”
At that moment, Rose was certain.
She wasn’t the only one who had possessed a character in this novel.
