Let’s think about it: what would happen if the Frog Prince, kissed by the princess, didn’t turn back into a human?
What if Snow White, kissed by the prince, didn’t wake up but instead passed away quietly?
What would happen?
The children reading those fairy tales would likely grow up to believe that life is inherently bleak and devoid of hope, turning into social misfits or sinking into defeatist thinking.
That’s why fairy tales are usually written with a happy ending in mind.
The problem, however, is that our lives aren’t much like fairy tales.
After the Great Demon Mephisto was vanquished, did my otherworldly life play out like a fairy tale filled with magical moments?
My answer: not quite.
First, let me address one thing.
When it comes to Jerome, you have to understand something about him—he has an obsessive need for control.
For example, if there’s a rule that you must wash your hands before eating, Jerome insists that not only he but everyone else follows it.
Sure, washing your hands before eating is good for public health—I get that.
But sometimes, when you’re starving, wouldn’t it be okay to eat first?
Yet Jerome would always respond to my objections with that same frustratingly logical but somehow infuriating answer.
“Washing your hands takes thirty seconds, and this argument is taking us a minute. Wouldn’t it be better to just wash your hands, darling?”
And then I’d get upset over his smug reply and sulk silently through the entire meal.
Even then, Jerome would insist on rearranging my utensils, telling me the knife and fork were in the wrong place.
When he acted like that, I couldn’t help but feel like I was living with a parent rather than a lover.
If he insisted on molding me to his preferences like that, what would even be left of me?
Anyway, what remains after an emotional reunion isn’t the fairy-tale romance of a Frog Prince pledging eternal love, but a Frog Prince announcing he’s polyamorous and Snow White leaving for a working holiday to “find herself.”
In other words, a starkly realistic and unromantic relationship with a slim veneer of fantasy.
That evening was no different.
After I regained my memories, Jerome purchased a villa near Sacre—a beautiful house by a large river and close to the library where I used to work before my memory returned.
I liked it immediately.
During the day, I worked at the library, and in the evenings, I returned to the villa to spend personal time. It was an idyllic and peaceful life.
I liked Jerome.
But honestly, I could live just fine without being by his side all the time.
As long as our hearts were connected, what did distance matter?
Jerome, however, didn’t seem to think the same.
For quite some time, he maintained a long-distance relationship by working in the capital during the week and visiting me in Sacre on weekends.
But during a rare dinner together, he suddenly proposed something unexpected.
“How about coming back to the capital?”
My hand, holding the knife, froze mid-air.
I looked up expressionlessly to meet Jerome’s gaze.
As always, his handsome face carried a faint smile as he watched me.
I sniffled and put the piece of meat he had cut into my mouth.
Thanks to the cold that had been lingering for a week, my nose ran incessantly.
Chewing slowly, I placed my fork down with a clink and answered firmly.
“I like it here.”
“There isn’t a single competent healer here.”
“Grandpa Alec is here.”
“He’s not a healer; he’s a quack who couldn’t even cure a common cold.”
Jerome’s rebuttal left me silent.
True, my cold had worsened after visiting Grandpa Alec, but I’d heard he was once a renowned healer. As I hesitated, my head grew dizzy.
Jerome clicked his tongue and placed a hand on my forehead.
“If you were healthy, I wouldn’t argue. But you’ve always been frail. Right now, you’re managing, but eventually, you’ll need a proper healer. That’s why I want to take you to the capital.”
Jerome’s reasoning was straightforward.
Sacre, being a remote island, lacked adequate medical facilities and cultural amenities.
While it was fine as a summer retreat, it wasn’t ideal for permanent residence.
As I remained unimpressed, Jerome sighed and poured water into my glass.
“Darling, please take this seriously. I mean it.”
“It’s just a mild cold.”
“A mild cold can turn into something serious if ignored.”
“Kind of like how our relationship is right now.”
At my pointed remark, the smile faded from Jerome’s lips.
Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine.
After a moment of silence, he finally spoke in a subdued voice.
“What’s the problem?”
“…”
“What’s bothering you?”
“You’re the problem. I told you I like it here. I don’t like the capital—it’s polluted, overcrowded, and full of nobles pretending to be refined while they feast and revel. I’d rather take quiet walks and read books here.”
The more I spoke, the more heated my voice became.
Ever since I ended up in this world, pretending to be a noblewoman, I had developed a bad habit of constantly worrying about others’ opinions.
Even now, with no secrets left to hide, I still felt uneasy around crowds.
That was another reason Sacre felt more comfortable.
Jerome’s face grew colder as he listened to me.
“You’re saying you prefer barely seeing me on weekends?”
“Plenty of couples live like that. Or what, do you want to stick to me 24/7?”
“I do.”
Jerome’s blunt reply made the butler, who had been quietly pouring wine, choke in surprise.
Both Jerome and I turned to look at him.
After an awkward silence, I dragged my chair back with a screech, turned to face Jerome, and glared.
Jerome tilted his head, daring me to speak.
“I don’t get you. I’m not some possession of yours to carry around. I’m an independent person. I’ve decided to live here.”
“No, you’ll be moving to the capital soon.”
“I’m not going.”
“Stop being childish.”
His irritated tone made my neck stiffen.
It was the prelude to war.
I stared at him for a long moment before dropping my knife, standing abruptly, and trying to leave the table.
Jerome grabbed my wrist.
Looking at his grip, I shot back in a biting tone.
“If I don’t suit you, go find another lover.”
“Sit.”
“Someone who listens to everything you say, who comes when called and leaves when told. Someone who can tolerate your filthy tastes.”
“I can’t get it up for anyone but you.”
The butler, trembling at Jerome’s words, clutched at the tablecloth to steady himself, causing the dishes and food to crash to the floor.
Pale as a ghost, he begged to be killed instead, his body shaking uncontrollably.
After calming him down and sending him away, Jerome suddenly yanked me toward him as I tried to pull my wrist from his grip.
“You say you’re not mine? No, you are mine. You’re my partner, my responsibility, and the one I must support. So why shouldn’t I have a say in where you live?”
“…”
“I’ll give you a month. By then, you’d better have everything sorted.”
“I really hate you when you’re like this.”
I confessed honestly, my voice trembling with suppressed anger.
At my words, Jerome’s grip on my wrist loosened slightly.
Taking the chance, I quickly freed myself and strode out of the Great Hall.
Even after Mephisto disappeared, Jerome’s controlling tendencies often strangled me like this.
Like all relationships, Jerome and I had passed the phase where we felt like destiny to one another and were now in a transitional period, wondering, ‘Perhaps we aren’t meant to be after all?’
Although I knew stepping aside could resolve the issues between us, I repeatedly clashed with him, inevitably hurting him in the process.
I hated Jerome for pushing me to that point, and I hated myself for using it as an excuse to hurt him.
It was, in every sense, a complete disaster.
Sacre was an island known for its biting cold and strong winds, harsher than anywhere else.
As a result, I often caught colds during seasonal transitions.
In hindsight, that was the root of it all.
What I thought was a mild flu worsened, eventually developing into tuberculosis.
My lungs filled with fluid, and I came dangerously close to death.
That experience left a deep impression on me—and, it seemed, on Jerome as well.
Even in my semi-conscious state, I sometimes saw Jerome sitting beside me, his face dark with an expression that could kill. Later, he admitted he’d genuinely thought I would die.
I even heard he had studied forbidden magic to revive the dead, which left me feeling strangely torn.
I briefly entertained the idea of relenting and following him to the capital.
But truthfully, my discontent wasn’t rooted in Jerome’s controlling nature.
It was something else entirely.
is this going to be permalocked???
I think soo ughhh 🥹🥹