KYDC chapter 44

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The carriage jolted as its wheels passed over a tree root, lightly shaking me.

I leaned back into the warm, heated cushion and closed my eyes again.

‘Hmm…’

How long had I dozed off?

By the time I thought we should be arriving at the Grand Duke’s residence, I found myself in a place both familiar and strange.

[oo Elementary School]

A green sign with a name I’d seen countless times.

If you left the school gate and turned left, there was a stationery store, a bakery, and a snack shop—typical scenery you’d see outside any school in South Korea.

The scene from the nightmare that played out repeatedly.

‘It’s gone again.’

As soon as I arrived at school in the morning, I checked the compartment under my desk, only to find my pencil case had disappeared once more.

Where could it have gone? It wasn’t at home, that’s for sure.

The expensive pens, correction tape, and collection of cherished tLading cards I’d bought just the day before had vanished without a trace.

Without even time to suspect anyone, I convinced myself I had just misplaced it, for the fifth time since the new school year began, and asked my parents for a new one.

‘I can’t ask for another this time…’

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, knowing my parents were already concerned, wondering how I kept losing my pencil cases and if someone at school was taking them.

‘Should I use my New Year’s money to buy a new one…?’

After some thought, I decided to buy a new pencil case myself and catch the culprit.

One day, I hid behind the classroom TV and waited for over three hours after school, until I finally saw some kids return after their extracurricular classes.

‘Could it be them?’

Among them were kids I had never spoken to, as well as friends I considered close.

They approached my desk.

‘What…?’

Why were they heading toward my desk?

As doubts filled my mind, hoping I was wrong, the friend I trusted the most reached under my desk.

‘Wow, he bought another one.’

‘Who’s taking it this time?’

‘Any cards? I still need that 7-star card.’

The truth I had been trying to ignore became reality. I burst out from behind the TV.

“What the—What are you doing with my stuff?”

Their response was always the same.

“You’ll just buy another one.”

“Aren’t you rich? Your parents will just buy you a new one anyway.”

“It’s not even your money.”

I had thought they were my friends.

It was like this until I moved to a more affluent neighborhood in high school. Until then, I was nothing more than an easy target, a “trust fund baby” for them.

Because my parents didn’t have fancy, professional titles like others, I felt isolated from my friends.

They were always busy running the store, and I often helped out in the evenings, which left me with little in common to discuss with my peers.

Naturally, this created a sense of distance between us. The people who approached me first were usually not the best company.

“How much allowance do you get a month? 50? 100? Hey, can you lend me 200,000 won?”

Even the kids who seemed ordinary at first eventually turned out to be no different.

When I occasionally opened up about the weight of my family’s expectations, my concerns were always dismissed as privileged whining.

My friends’ struggles, on the other hand, were seen as universally relatable.

They would casually mention faking illness to skip their 800,000-won private tutoring, while my story about staying up all night salvaging ruined ingredients from a poorly adjusted refrigerator temperature was treated like a farce.

So, I started talking less about myself.

The more I spoke, the more I revealed my vulnerabilities.

The more friendly someone seemed, the more likely they had ulterior motives.

After being betrayed repeatedly, I came to a conclusion: there was no one who could truly understand me.

I couldn’t even tell my parents what I was thinking, what I was struggling with, or what was making my life difficult.

I figured marriage would be no different.

People are incapable of fully understanding one another.

The problems I had to solve were mine alone, things I couldn’t share with anyone else. They were burdens I had to endure by myself.

As a result, I became someone who was kind to everyone but swallowed my problems alone.

After everything I’d been through, I learned that this was the safest way.

Trusting people was a mistake. It was fine to make others trust me, but trusting them in return would only leave me hurt.

Falling for fleeting emotions like love or affection was the most foolish thing I could do.

Take my uncle, for instance. He divorced and remarried multiple times after his supposed “love marriage,” yet he never learned his lesson.

In contrast, my parents, who met through an arranged marriage, led a steady, respectful relationship, at least as far as I could tell.

So no, I don’t believe in love.

A person who is overly desperate for me makes me just as uneasy, because I’d always be worried about when I might disappoint them.

What I needed was a balanced, mutually beneficial partnership, where neither side depended too much on the other.

That would be enough for me.

The worst possible match would be someone like a dramatic male lead, begging for love as if he’d give up his life for me.

“Mr. Everdeen?”

How long had it been since we left Haptis?

Someone shook me awake as the dim evening light filled the carriage.

It was Hernan, with his tall frame and pale hands, naturally.

“Oh, sorry. I must’ve dozed off.”

As I pulled my cheek away from the seat, slightly embarrassed, Hernan turned his head away, trying to suppress a laugh.

Maybe my cheek was red from leaning on the seat.

“If you want to laugh, just laugh.”

I narrowed my eyes, clearing my throat, but Hernan, with a smile still tugging at his lips, quickly denied it.

“No, I was just shaking off the sleepiness…”

“Don’t lie.”

Hmph. I scoffed inwardly, pushing the carriage door open before Irina even had a chance to do it for me.

“Thank you.”

I lightly stepped onto the ground, offering a brief thanks, and Irina bowed her head in response.

I knew that, eventually, I’d have to marry to continue my noble lineage.

In that case, someone like Irina, who operated like a robot, might not be so bad.

But Hernan?

He was problematic in too many ways—too talkative, too noisy.

I could already feel the headache I’d get from constantly trying to shut him up.

‘Why am I even thinking about this?’

I glanced at Hernan, irritated as his bright blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous smile in my direction.

“Please rest. You can send for breakfast in my room tomorrow.”

That was my way of saying, ‘Let’s not see each other until at least tomorrow afternoon.’

The less time he had to pull any strange stunts, the better.

Nodding firmly, I headed to my room, where Hawthorn had already prepared a hot bath for me, the first in what felt like ages.

“Ah… finally…!”

I had become someone who could find joy in something as simple as a warm bath, but there was no helping it.

Inside the lord’s manor, even lukewarm water was a luxury, and what we usually had barely sufficed for a proper wash, mostly just enough to rinse your hair.

Sure, I could visit the hot springs, but the open-air baths there meant constantly fidgeting with your soaked clothes in front of all sorts of shady people.

Neither option was ideal.

But now, I finally had a private space where I could immerse myself fully in a bath, letting the warmth melt away my stress.

‘Ah… I’m getting a little dizzy…’

I had been in the bath for too long.

Sending Hawthorn away, I donned a thick robe and flopped onto the bed, feeling lightheaded from the heat.

Maybe I should step outside for some air.

Or ask for an ice pack.

The squirrel that had crept into my room squeaked at me as if to ask where I’d been, but I didn’t pay it any mind.

‘My head hurts…’

I leaned back against the headboard, ignoring the agitated Pori as the little squirrel dashed out of the room.

What’s it so busy with now?

I got up, thinking the hallway might be cooler than my room, and stepped outside.