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D+31

The day marked exactly one month since I began living as Remy.

These days, each day feels like the same endless loop.

Just like the sticky summer weather, my life in this world feels like a damp, crumpled sheet of paper—stretching on forever.

The only somewhat bright spot is that I’ve finally learned to ride a horse.

Considering how badly I was thrown on my first attempt, I thought I’d never manage it.

But thanks to Ashton’s relentless instruction, I eventually got the hang of it.

Which is good, considering the upcoming hunting trip…

Ah, right. The hunting trip.

This morning, an official letter arrived from the royal palace regarding the hunting competition.

The letter asked if I’d be joining the large-scale event again this year.

Technically, it was phrased as a question of participation, but between the lines, it read more like a demand: Join immediately, or else.

I was used to these kinds of demands.

Thanks to the frequent letters from Hayworth, I received “invitations” all the time.

Ever since his return from the summer villa, he’s been half-threatening me to visit the palace.

The reasons varied.

Sometimes he wanted to teach me about the hunting competition, other times he wanted to show off rare treasures from allied nations, or even share a new tea imported from the East.

The excuses changed, but the meaning was always the same: Come see me so we can go on a date.

Naturally, I refused.

I didn’t want to stray too far from the original plot.

So my reply was always the same: “I’m still too weak from post-awakening symptoms.”

At this point, it was practically a canned response.

By now, he should’ve gotten the hint… but our prince was as stubborn as they come.

Since it had come to this, I was planning to cause a scene during the hunting trip.

This time, I needed to sneak into the dining tent and poison Allen’s drink. T

he method was childish, but it wasn’t up to me.

The key was that Ashton had to catch me in the act.

Unlike last time, I couldn’t let my conscience trip me up.

I needed to do it right.

No more getting pushed down the stairs instead of pushing Allen—this time, I’d succeed.

Scratch, scratch.

As the pen’s feather tip scratched the paper, the writing came to a stop.

Today marked a full month.

Though not daily, I’d been consistently keeping this ‘Possession Journal’. Stretching his stiff shoulders, Remy let out a sigh.

“Ugh. Writing by hand in this era is a pain. Whoever invented ballpoint pens deserves a medal.”

He placed the inked pen back in the holder, stood up, and stretched his arms overhead.

With a yawn, he walked toward the bed, grabbed a cookie the attendant had left, and flopped onto the mattress.

“Wait… has it really been a month since I possessed this body?”

Life was strange.

Just a month ago, he’d been attending school, joining club activities, and playing games like any other student.

But now he’d spent an entire month trapped inside a novel’s world.

“But honestly, it’s not so bad. The house is huge and nice. I can order servants to do whatever I want. The food is mediocre, but I’m getting used to it.”

The more he thought about it, the less he minded staying here forever.

No worrying about grades, no group projects, no job hunting.

As a minor noble, his future was already secure.

“Plus, my parents aren’t even here. What did they say again? Off on some business trip? No one’s around to nag me…”

At that thought, his heart clenched.

“Wait. Mom. I haven’t thought about her in so long.”

He’d been so distracted by the possession and escape plans that he’d forgotten about his mother.

He’d wanted to escape this world because he couldn’t bear living without her.

But in using that as an excuse, he’d completely forgotten her existence.

“Mom… I miss you…”

As her face came to mind—

“…Wait.”

Suddenly, Remy’s expression froze.

His brows furrowed deeply, and he started biting his thumbnail in anxiety.

Something was wrong.

He’d never experienced this before.

“I… I can’t remember Mom’s face…”

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how seriously he focused, her face wouldn’t come to him.

It wasn’t just her face—her warm hands, her supportive smile—everything was gone.

Like fog clouding his mind, the memories were blurry and incomplete.

“This… this can’t be happening. How could I forget Mom’s face??”

Had the stress been too much?

Was his brain malfunctioning from the pressure?

Or had all his false claims about memory loss turned into reality?

“Damn it. This can’t be right. What else? What else have I forgotten?”

In a panic, Remy tried recalling other personal details—his address, phone number, student ID, even his front door code.

But none of it came to him. Just vague impressions that something should be there.

Like a smudged painting, everything was blurred beyond recognition.

“This… this can’t be happening…”

It was only after facing all these facts that Remy realized the gravity of the situation.

He finally understood just how heavy and serious the phrase “I don’t remember” — which he had uttered so casually — truly was.

This was a terror beyond imagination.

The thought that nothing he once had was coming back to him was unbearably cruel.

Was this what it felt like to walk through the midnight sun?

If he walked alone down a street where everything had evaporated into blinding whiteness, would it feel this frightening?

But no fear could compare to what was about to hit Remy.

“Wait a minute. Now that I think about it…”

What was coming for Remy was—

“Who… was I?”

It was the discovery that he couldn’t even remember his own name.

---

Remy was completely dejected.

The sun blazed above him, and the water he was submerged in was cool, but his mind wandered aimlessly, unable to settle anywhere.

For days, Remy had tried — over and over again — to remember.

But there was nothing.

Not even the precious name his parents had called him for 20 years.

It was just… gone.

“This is driving me insane. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

Resting his chin on the pool’s edge, he muttered into his folded arms.

His voice was so soft it seemed like the sound of cicadas would drown it out, but someone still heard him.

“What’s bothering my Remy so much this time?”

Hearing the voice, Remy wasn’t startled.

By now, he just expected him to show up.

“Wow, you don’t even greet me anymore, huh?”

Still burying his face, Remy mumbled in a voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re here?”

“Oh, don’t bother. As if a greeting now would be appreciated.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Remy sluggishly straightened up.

As he lifted his head above the water, he saw Ashton standing confidently by the pool.

‘Why does he have to be so ridiculously handsome today too?’

Even faced with Ashton’s glowing face and physique, Remy felt nothing.

Today, emotions were out of reach.

“Hey, Remy…? Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Liar. Something’s definitely wrong.”

“Whatever. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t.”

Tired of the conversation, Remy turned away.

Maybe dunking his face into the cold water would help clear his mind.

He slipped under.

“Hey, hey!”

Before he could fully submerge, someone hoisted him out of the water.

Spluttering, Remy looked up, only to see Ashton effortlessly lifting him by the scruff of his neck, like a fish plucked from a stream.

“Ow, what are you doing?! That hurts!”

Dangling like a rabbit caught by the ears, Remy squirmed.

It was shocking that Ashton, who was the same age, could lift him so easily.

A bruise to his pride.

“Put me down! Now!”

Ashton found the sight of Remy flailing amusing.

But worried his friend’s armpits might dislocate if he kept this up, he set Remy down beside the pool.

“You’re crazy, seriously!”

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