MISS 07

The mansion was quiet.

The tranquil noon sunlight slipped over the window glass and illuminated the hazy dust drifting in the air.
Azell sat shut away in the darkness, silently observing the peaceful scene.

His mind was complicated, and his heart even more turbulent.
He needed time to think.

“I will definitely give your life back to you.”

The woman who had said those words was currently locked in a prison cell.

Since he had already removed her from his sight, she should have faded from his thoughts. Yet, as time passed, the image of her face only became clearer.

“Azell.”

The woman had acted as if she knew him well.

She even said she knew about this place.

On the day Seymour delivered his report, Azell fell into deeper contemplation after hearing his subordinate’s words—that the woman had wandered through the mansion with nostalgic eyes.

“So it was this… this was it.”

His mind, which had been robbed of forgetfulness, remembered every word she had murmured to herself.
Yet strangely, he could not remember the meaning behind those words—or the woman herself.

It had been like that from the beginning.

He had only asked who she was, but she alone had been shocked, alone had realized something, and eventually ended up wounded.

With painfully aching eyes, with a voice full of sorrow, she called out to him—yet she told him nothing of the truth.

And still, he couldn’t simply ignore her.

Because of those eyes.

They had carried a faint trace of resentment.
But soon that resentment was drowned out by an even greater sadness she silently released.

And yet, surprisingly, what remained at the end was neither resentment nor sorrow.

Affection.

A brilliant affection so worn and weathered that even he, who knew nothing, couldn’t pretend not to recognize it.

Why can’t I remember?

Of course, he couldn’t believe everything the woman said.

But still.

Even so…

“Master.”

At that moment, a voice cut through Azell’s long train of thought.

“Are you alright?”

It was Seymour, who had been carefully observing his master’s condition.

“How is the woman?”

“The same as yesterday. She’s still pounding on the walls. They say she seemed quite anxious.”

After hearing the report about her, Azell fell into thought once again.

She definitely knows about this place.

There was a secret in the prison.

It was a contingency built by the mansion’s architect—a mechanism prepared in case the owner was ever captured by enemies and imprisoned.

Naturally, Azell was the only one who knew about it.

And yet the woman had begun searching for that mechanism the moment she was locked inside.

If I hadn’t already broken the device beforehand, she would have escaped immediately.

Should he just kill her?

Faced with a situation he had never experienced before, the savage beast inside him whispered.

If something bothers you, just remove it.

But I can’t do that.

If the woman truly was the only one capable of freeing him from this terrible cycle, then he had to restrain this impulse.

And if she’s lying…

Then I’ll make sure she pays dearly for deceiving me.

Countless thoughts boiled beneath his expressionless face.

Just then, the door opened and another subordinate entered.

“Master, I think you should come.”

“What is it?”

“The woman… has escaped.”

For the first time, a crack appeared in Azell’s impassive expression.

This damn house. It’s ridiculously huge for no reason.

If it sounded like my language was getting rougher, that was just my imagination.

More importantly, my hands hurt like hell.

After spending an entire day enthusiastically punching a wall with my bare hands, there was no way my hands would come out fine.

But when I looked at my swollen hands, I became angry for a completely different reason.

If escaping was this easy, I wouldn’t have suffered like that.

The way I escaped prison was ridiculously simple.

Out of sheer desperation, I stabbed the lock a few times with the silver pin from the brooch attached to my clothes.

And the door opened.

Yes. That was literally all it took.

What I felt at that moment wasn’t joy at succeeding.

It was rage.

My new damn innate talent…

I definitely didn’t want to discover a talent like that.

Fortunately, that anger didn’t last long.

“…So it really is pink hair.”

While wandering through the empty hallway, I finally saw my reflection in the window.

I had already known my hair was long—swaying around my waist—but this was the first time I’d actually seen my face properly.

“…Hmm.”

My evaluation of the face reflected in the glass was simple.

It was ridiculously pretty.

So Azell’s actually more of a face-lover than I thought.

A tall nose and eyes like a calm lake.

And what about that pale, clear skin that made the luscious pink hair stand out even more?

My exhausted face from all the hardship only added an air of innocent beauty.

Like a mysterious beauty with a tragic past.

No wonder that guy listened to my crazy nonsense when I suddenly appeared.

It was all thanks to this face.

You know, being transmigrated like this… isn’t as bad as I thought.

Just as my mood started improving, the person I had been waiting for finally appeared.

“You seem more relaxed than I expected.”

Of course.

It was Azell.

“I thought you’d be running away like a frightened colt.”

But by now, the Azell inside my head had long since become nothing more than a typical man who liked pretty faces.

I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“I wasn’t planning to run.”

“Then why all the commotion?”

“I just wanted to get out of there.”

“Why? If you’d stayed quietly, I might have spared your life.”

For a moment, I almost told him to stop talking nonsense, but unfortunately I wasn’t that brave yet.

“It would’ve been hard to see you.”

“What?”

“I missed you.”

“…!”

“I wanted to see you a little more. I wanted to talk face to face. But you kept avoiding me, so I forced my way out. Because I missed you too much.”

Silence fell instantly.

Perhaps he couldn’t find the words to respond, because Azell’s eyes wavered for a moment.

Hmm?

It was only for an instant, but I definitely saw it.

He was shaken by my words.

Something I had said without much thought had produced an unexpected effect.

Based on that, I needed to revise my plan on the spot.

Originally I planned to negotiate more… but maybe I should push the emotional angle first.

My mind began spinning rapidly.

Whatever happened, I absolutely had to avoid being thrown back into prison.

She missed me?

When the exhausted-looking woman said those words, Azell was momentarily taken aback.

Why?

Even he didn’t know the reason.
He was simply left speechless.

“Azell!”

Suddenly the woman shouted urgently.

Wondering what trick she was trying now, he watched as she ran straight toward him and grabbed his hand.

“…!”

Startled by the sudden contact, he almost instinctively shook her off.

But the woman didn’t seem to care. Instead, she carefully examined his palm.

“What’s this? You’re hurt.”

So that’s what she meant.

The wound on his palm.

Two days ago, when he heard that his eternal life would never end, he had clenched his fist unconsciously and his nails had dug into his palm.

Why is she making that face over something like this?

It wasn’t a serious injury. Just a shallow mark where his nails had pierced the skin.

Yet the woman looked deeply distressed over what could hardly even be called a wound.

And what about her own hands? They’re swollen and bruised.

Perhaps because of that, Azell asked without thinking.

“What’s your name?”

“Ah…”

It was a mistake.

The question didn’t suit the situation, nor had he asked because he was truly curious.

It had simply slipped out.

Yet because of that small mistake, the woman once again looked as if her world had collapsed.

Normally it should have looked foolish—crying and laughing over a single word.

But strangely, he didn’t feel like mocking her.

“I see… that’s right. My name… you don’t know my name.”

Countless conflicting emotions flickered at the edge of her tightly pressed lips before disappearing.

Because of that expression, Azell now genuinely wanted to know her name.

“Tell me. What is it?”

…My name?

Cold sweat ran down my back at the unexpected question.

I had only just figured out what I looked like. How would I know my name?!

Would ‘Park Chunbae’ work…?

Whenever I played games, I used nicknames like ParkChunbae1, ParkChunbae1054, or ParkChunbaeDeliveryTribe119.

There was no way someone like me had the talent to come up with a fantasy-style name.

I can pick a prison lock but can’t even make up a name!

Self-loathing filled me, but Azell was staring at me seriously, waiting for an answer.

“….”

And as the silence dragged on, suspicion began to grow in those red eyes watching me.

I had to say something.

Anything.

So in the end, my choice was—

“Then… will you give me one?”

A perfect transfer of responsibility.