* * *
Like I was fleeing, I ran back to the tower and buried myself in bed.
I couldn’t get the image of Ateol standing in that halo of crimson light out of my mind.
Every syllable of his voice echoed in my ears.
The scent of his favorite rose perfume lingered in my nose, and the air of the space we shared clung to my skin.
My heart pounded like it was about to burst.
I liked Ateol. Ateol…
“……”
I liked him.
Just that one word, so clearly formed in my mind, made my whole body tremble.
I clamped both hands over my mouth—afraid that, if I didn’t, the feeling might slip out between my lips.
Realizing your feelings is more immediate, more dramatic, and more overwhelming than you expect.
The words I like him. I like Ateol.
melted through my mind like honey and filled every part of me.
Every time he teased me or acted mysterious, it had upset me.
Even before I fully understood how I felt, I must have already been angry—don’t mess with me, don’t give me hope.
The system screen said “affection level,” but it wasn’t really affection, was it?
Then what about Ateol’s heart?
And then, I suddenly opened my tightly shut eyes.
My heart pounded, but a heavy realization pressed down on me.
It’s ironic to call it “reality,” but this was a world inside a book.
Ateol’s affection level… no, his feelings, and my own—were they even real?
Suddenly, everything became unclear, as if a fog had rolled over my vision.
I had possessed someone. Possessed and was now moving through a story I didn’t even know.
In this narrative, what do my actions mean?
Just because I came from outside the book, does that mean I’m not a “character”?
But now that I’ve entered the text… aren’t I the same as the rest?
There are times when I say strange things to Ateol.
As if the words aren’t my own, they slip out of my mouth on their own.
It’s not like I never thought about those things before—they’ve just been quietly floating somewhere in my mind.
Maybe it’s the system programming me to speak.
Like… the text. After all, I’m a character possessed into a novel, and I have to move according to the author’s will.
Didn’t Siwoo say it?
That no matter how strong a character is, the author can still do whatever they want with them.
I might think everything I do now is my own choice, but maybe it really isn’t.
I felt confused.
What is the world inside the book, and what is outside of it?
Where did the original owner of this body, the fake Tower Lord, disappear to?
Maybe this possession is just part of the character settings, and I’m actually the fake Tower Lord who’s lost his memory—a man whose name I don’t even know.
If that me likes Ateol… if I say I like him…
Is that the fake Tower Lord’s feeling?
Or is it mine? From the start—who even am I?
The thought filled me with an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
It was like being abandoned alone in a dark labyrinth. Lonely, distant, endlessly dull.
I feel like I’ve felt this way before.
But before I could dwell on it too deeply, my mind began to blur.
A wave of drowsiness swept over me like sand, burying the sense of déjà vu.
Fear surged again as sleep crept in.
What if I fall asleep and this time, I really die?
A death I never wake up from.
Sniffling, I reached for the pills.
I chewed the sleeping pills and tranquilizers dry, without water.
The bitterness hit me so hard I eventually had to drink, but by then my face was already soaked, my eyes aching.
The pillow was damp.
I don’t even know when or why I started crying.
Before the taste had even left my mouth, dizziness came over me, and the medicine took hold.
When drowsiness finally overtook the fear, I closed my eyes like I was blacking out.
When I woke up in the morning, I had no idea why I’d been like that yesterday.
What had been so serious? Why did I cry?
Anyway, it wasn’t important now.
What mattered was today’s Lantern Festival.
The rumors… Well, I couldn’t deny them since they were true, but for now, they needed to be silenced. Escaping wasn’t an option yet.
Ateol had an uncanny ability to find me.
Magic seems all-powerful, but it’s not quite like that.
There was no spell for perfect teleportation, invisibility, or conjuring something from nothing.
Maybe he was exploiting those gaps.
Or maybe he had some kind of radar.
Either way, every escape attempt I’d made ended with Ateol catching me.
I didn’t know how or why he tried so hard to find me, but at this point, running away would only make him angry.
It was better to stay quiet—for now. I could try escaping again later if the situation changed.
Thinking of how Ateol’s temper flared with every attempt I made to flee… yeah. Now wasn’t the time.
And right now, Ateol was standing in front of me.
Here to escort me to the festival.
For some reason, I was reminded of the first time he came to get me for the Hamanan Feast. Or maybe it was another day.
He’d come like this many times, dressed up, waiting in front of the Tower.
Today, he wore the imperial uniform and had his hair slicked back neatly.
Even the tiny ruby earring hugging his earlobe was perfect.
I thought I’d be more conscious of him after yesterday, but surprisingly, I felt calm.
Just like usual.
Ateol, too, didn’t say a word about my sudden escape the day before.
We both kept silent on the carriage ride. He didn’t even throw one of his usual dumb jokes.
Maybe he was bothered by yesterday’s events… or maybe not?
I stole a glance at Ateol, only to meet his gaze beneath his hood.
“Yuri.”
“…What?”
“How are you feeling?”
Out of nowhere?
“My mood?”
“Under your eyes.”
“…!”
A waft of rose scent suddenly came close.
Ateol’s red eyes were right in front of mine.
He leaned in so close it felt like he might kiss me, peering into my eyes as he spoke slowly.
“The shadows seem deeper than usual today.”
He means I look even gloomier than normal, doesn’t he?
I instinctively touched under my eyes.
I’d tossed and turned all night, slipping in and out of dreams.
Sleep had been a struggle.
I finally gathered myself enough to push his cheek gently away.
“It won’t affect the ceremony, so don’t worry.”
“Worry? Me?”
“…”
Ateol shrugged and went back to his seat, tilting his head as he looked at me.
“Yuri. What do you think I’m worried about?”
“The Lantern Festival.”
“What about it?”
“…The ceremony?”
“What part of the ceremony?”
What is this, Twenty Questions?
“You’re worried I won’t do a good job decorating the lanterns.”
“Hm… And why would I worry about that?”
How many question marks has this guy used already?
Speechless, I stared at him, and he tilted his head even more—at this rate, his ear might touch his shoulder.
“Think about it, Yuri. Why would I want the festival to go smoothly?”
“…Because of the rumors?”
If I do well, maybe the rumors will die down a little.
Ateol, still tilted, nodded.
Anyone else would’ve looked ridiculous, but not him.
That face really is unfair…
* * *
