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Chapter 4
“Show Me a Broody, Gorgeous Man”
“…Thank you.”
“Good. If you spot a handsome guy who looks like he’s chewed through every kind of loneliness in existence, you must let me know. Got it?”
The child gave a quick nod and scurried away.
“I think that was the last person in line.”
Next to her, Sasha—the maid who had been helping out—let her know that the long, winding line had finally come to an end.
Vendia looked around at the now-deserted surroundings and tilted her head back to stare up at the sky.
“Damn it.”
Nothing. No one. No matter how hard she looked, he wasn’t here. She had scoured every alley, but there wasn’t a single man who looked like a feral, diamond-in-the-rough “mad dog.”
Soho Street might have been big, but this was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
So she used up what little money she had to buy loads of bread and gave them out to the hungry.
She figured someone might come to get bread—someone worth finding.
“A total bust.”
So this wasn’t a reverse-rescue romance after all? Then she’d just done a whole day of volunteer work with sketchy intentions.
“Seriously? You’re really gonna do me like this?”
Even though she knew it was pointless, she glared up at the sky, full of resentment.
If you’re going to forcibly shove someone into another person’s body, shouldn’t you at least give a hint? How can you have this little decency?
It’s too much. Just too much.
“Let’s go.”
Vendia stood up and made her way back to the entrance of Soho Street with Sasha.
“Wait here, milady! I’ll go grab a carriage!”
Sasha dashed off to flag down a hired wagon.
They’d come in a hired carriage too. The Count’s family hadn’t sent one for her—because they were petty and vindictive.
“Last day for the lowest prices! You won’t find these deals again!”
“A new dessert café, Mon Chou, has opened! Come visit us at Soho 2-1!”
“Hey, when do you head down to the South?”
“In two weeks, sir. Still plenty of space in the supply cart if you’ve got goods to send. I’m staying at the Blue Moon Inn.”
While merchants shouted around her at the chaotic entrance, Vendia stood off to the side and suddenly turned her head.
She saw a coachman sitting on a cart hooked to a large freight wagon, chatting with a passerby.
A wagon leaving for the South in two weeks?
“Excuse me!”
Something sparked in her mind, and Vendia rushed over to stop the departing coachman.
A Shadowed Alley Not Far from the Market Entrance
Two small figures peeked cautiously around a corner piled high with junk discarded by shops.
“Big brother, big brother! That’s the lady!”
The smaller one pointed toward Vendia, standing alone near the entrance.
“She was looking for you!”
The child’s lisp made his excitement all the more obvious. Crumbs still clung to the corners of his mouth.
“…A noble?”
The man—called “big brother” by the child—muttered to himself as he eyed Vendia’s delicate blue dress. Clearly not a commoner.
His unkempt bangs half-covered his dirt-smeared face, but the sharp line of his jaw and high nose hinted at something unusual.
“Yeah! The maid lady called her something like Rose? That’s it—Vendia Rose!”
At the child’s excited chatter, the man’s dark eyes narrowed.
“Why would the Rose family’s daughter…”
He thought for a moment.
He needed to find out—why she was looking for him, and what exactly she knew.
Later, Back at the Mansion
“You poor beggar, what gives you the right to play saint?”
The moment Vendia stepped into the mansion—her body aching from the bumpy hired wagon ride—she was met with scornful words.
Standing by the door, as if waiting for her return, was the last face she wanted to see.
“Wow. Ruining my eyes the moment I walk in. Impressive, brother. Truly admirable.”
Clapping slowly, Vendia walked past him. Kalbasa followed, veins bulging in his neck.
“Seriously, what the hell happened to you? Did your whole brain get scrambled? You’re a completely different person!”
“What are you even saying.”
“And giving away free bread at the market while our family’s on the brink of collapse? Are you out of your mind?!”
Wow, news travels fast.
Soho Street wasn’t even that close—there must be a rat in the house feeding him information.
“Hey, are you listening? How dare you act like a saint after ruining this family?!”
“Ugh, back off! Your breath reeks!”
Halfway up the stairs, Vendia shuddered and shoved him away.
She was already in a foul mood from the failed search, and now this meat stick was buzzing in her ear like a fly.
“W-What? What smell?! You’re the one who—!”
“Seriously, go brush your teeth.”
Kalbasa’s face flushed bright red with embarrassment. Vendia gave him a withering glare and continued up the stairs.
“That little—HEY! How long do you think you can act like this?! HUH?! Even if you come crying and begging later, it’ll be too late, you got that?!”
Oh, so he’s planning some shady revenge? Thanks for the confession, idiot.
“Here, have this.”
She flipped him off with a lazy middle finger before heading into her room. His indignant screams behind her were music to her ears.
A Few Days Later
Time flew by.
The day the Marquis of Sachsen was due to arrive had come.
Despite being fully prepared, Vendia stood by the window, pacing.
Her eyes scanned the road outside the estate gates—but not a soul passed by. Not even a bug.
“So, he’s really not coming?”
Muttering through gritted teeth, she bit her nails in frustration.
Yes, she was still waiting—for the grand ducal carriage to appear in shining glory.
It was dumb, she knew, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. She hadn’t given up hope for a redemption arc just yet.
Given how the story had gone so far, a regret-and-redemption storyline still seemed the most likely.
When she found out her father and Kalbasa had conspired to sell her off to that decrepit Marquis, she’d secretly… kind of hoped for something else.
Sure, it was a tired old trope—but still a classic.
A heroine in peril, saved at the last minute by a prince on a white horse.
A part of her still hoped Denros Kalvermer would hear of the arranged marriage, lose his mind, and come charging in to get her back.
“…Yeah, right. Screw that.”
She gave a bitter laugh and began slipping on one lace glove after another—five in total.
“You’re really out for good, Denros. Even if you come crying and begging—”
She stopped mid-sentence as an image popped into her head. That flawless face, crying silently…
If he cried…
“Are you nuts?! No way. Hell no!”
She shook her head furiously and shoved the last glove on. No more stalling.
She hadn’t found anyone for a contract remarriage. The only one who’d show up now was that wrinkly old marquis.
Time to put her plan into motion.
She’d already returned the stolen seal, and the letters were probably arriving by now.
It wasn’t a big deal—just a tiny surprise she’d prepared for her dear brother, Kalbasa the Sausage.
“No one thinks about their older brother like I do.”
With that, she grabbed her packed bag and used the rope she’d tied to the window to climb down.
Even though it was a third-floor attic, the mansion wasn’t tall, and her window opened onto a flowerbed—perfect for a safe landing.
She touched down lightly, tucked the rope away in a hidden spot, and slipped out of the estate through a small escape hole she’d dug earlier, avoiding the servants’ eyes.
Vendia wasn’t a fool. She hadn’t just sat around waiting for someone to rescue her—she’d prepared her own escape plan.
“I don’t have any regrets, got it? I’ll live so well they’ll choke on it!”
Stupid bastard.
Even so, she couldn’t stop cursing Denros as she waited at the side of the empty road.
And that’s when—
She sensed someone behind her.
