-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 002
Chapter Title: If the Male Lead's Name Is Louis, Does He End Up on the Guillotine Too?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Murmurs filled the air.
The imperial banquet hall glittered under dazzling lights.
The chandelier, lit purely by mana without a hint of electricity, shone so brightly it could blind you, while the jewels adorning the nobles' attire competed fiercely for attention.
The air, thick with perfume, food aromas, and fake laughter, was suffocating.
"Ugh, the smell."
I wrinkled my nose and loosened my tie a bit.
I'd been dragged here against my will thanks to my father's threats, but I had one clear goal.
Blend into the background like a ghost, stuff my face, and bail.
I quickly scanned the food, then drew on my infinite buffet experience to fill my stomach.
Wow, this place is a canapé heaven.
That's foie gras on top, right? It melts in your mouth.
I devoured the mountain of food piled on my plate, marveling at each bite.
Especially this smoked salmon roll—it was the real deal.
Just greasy enough to pair perfectly with soju.
Too bad the best they had here was wine and bland champagne—no tequila in sight.
"Can't I sneak some of this home? Marie would love it."
I was muttering to myself, ripping into a lobster claw with my bare hands, when prickling stares started boring into my back.
"Who's that guy?"
"Parne Family's second son, apparently."
"...That man eating with his hands? You're saying he's an imperial citizen—a noble, no less?"
"Lord Count and the eldest son are so refined. How did they end up with... that?"
"Tsk tsk. As expected of the Count. He's a true gentleman, far beyond his rural southern roots—knowledgeable enough to rise to Court Count."
The last bit was twisted with sarcasm, but it boiled down to my dad being an outlier for his background, and me being the norm.
This place felt like a Chungcheong-do local teaming up with a Kyoto native for a mutual slapping fest.
Marinated in Seoul life, I hated how well I understood their bullshit.
Ladies hiding smirks behind fans and gentlemen with champagne flutes buzzed like flies.
I snorted and slurped the lobster meat.
'Sigh, Seoul tribalism is the same here as back home. They say even dogs don't mess with someone eating.'
This was why I never wanted to venture up north.
All that subtle shade-throwing.
I tossed the shell on my plate and wiped my mouth with a napkin.
No one I knew anyway, and I had zero interest in mingling with those phony packs, laughing along and kissing ass.
Time for a tactical retreat.
I snagged a fresh champagne flute and sidled backward toward the darkest curtained corner.
*
Pushing aside the thick velvet curtain onto the terrace brought a rush of cool night air.
"Ahh, now I can breathe."
I leaned on the railing, gazed at the starry sky, and took a sip of champagne.
Parties are best enjoyed solo after sneaking out for a drink.
Not that this was my first rodeo or anything.
I was just settling into my peaceful solitude when an angry voice erupted from behind a massive pillar by the railing.
"How many times do I have to say it before you understand?"
"Your Highness, please... Don't trample my honor any further. What have I done so wrong...!"
"I'm abandoning all decorum to spit these harsh words at you! Your very existence chokes me. That venomous glare, the way you watch me—it's all too much!"
Huh? That tone... I've heard it before.
Classic villainous male lead vibe clashing with the tragic heroine's.
Though the melodrama was laid on thick.
'Anyway, this is prime entertainment.'
Jackpot—I'd stumbled into a lovers' quarrel.
I instinctively ducked behind the pillar.
Peeking out, I saw a blond hunk in ornate uniform facing off against a woman in a gown.
He was cornering her with fury on his face.
She trembled, head bowed.
"Forget the engagement or whatever. I think we should end it all. We've gone too far down this road."
He unleashed his tirade, shoved her roughly, and stormed off.
As he vanished, she collapsed, sobbing.
"Hic... Sniff..."
Her silver hair shimmered pitifully in the moonlight.
Wait, that's it?
Already over?
'Wasted my time peeking.'
Trashy dramas have their appeal, especially live from the front row.
But noble scandals? That's a different story.
Get caught, and it's drama city.
'Time to bounce.'
Champagne in hand, I backed away quietly.
Like a ninja—stealthy and swift as the wind.
I crept crab-style toward the curtain, holding my breath.
It probably looked ridiculous.
Whatever. Better than getting tangled in mess.
But then—
Squeak!
The floorboard screamed, and my heart dropped.
Damn it.
Imperial terrace maintenance is this bad?
The hall had gleaming marble. Did they run out of budget?
Where's all the tax money going?
As I panicked—
Her sobbing shoulders froze. The silver head turned slowly my way.
Our eyes locked.
So this is what "eyes full of venom" means.
Those violet eyes glared daggers, brimming with malice amplified by smeared tears.
Silence.
A suffocating hush enveloped the terrace.
I froze, champagne glass awkwardly raised.
'...Play dumb and slip out? Pretend I'm lost?'
"..."
Her eyes narrowed, face twisting with spite. Was I her punching bag now?
Should I strike first?
"Uh, um."
Shit.
What do you even say here?
"Who are you?"
Her sharp voice stabbed like a dagger.
"How long have you been lurking? Eavesdropping like a lowlife—clearly no noble decorum."
One more time: noble speech is like Chungcheong dialect meets Kyoto politeness.
Translation: prim words, but her eyes were cursing me out.
Oh crap, bad matchup.
She's not letting this slide easy.
Normally, you'd grovel: "Forgive me, milady. I got carried away..." Blah blah.
Twenty years in this world, and I still can't stomach buttering up like that.
Plus, I can't stand injustice—my mouth ran off on its own.
Screw it.
We'll make it work. Dad's a Court Count.
"What, did I peek 'cause I wanted to?"
"Pardon?"
"And let's correct the record. I wasn't eavesdropping—you guys interrupted my champagne time. I was here first, moon-gazing."
Her eyes went wide.
No one this brazen before, clearly.
Probably true.
In these circles, the crasser you feel, the more you poker-face, oil your tongue, and cushion insults for "noble poise" brownie points.
"I-I never imagined such rudeness."
"Yelling your breakup empire-wide then hoping no one hears? That's thief mentality. Cast a soundproof spell next time."
"Are you speaking to me?"
"Yup. Who else is here?"
I shrugged, sipping champagne. She gaped, jaw nearly unhinged.
Staring properly now—
Whoa. Total mess, but still drop-dead gorgeous.
Silver hair, violet eyes—like a game character creator on max.
Salarymen would blow their paychecks on looks like that.
"And hey, someone as pretty as you—why waste tears on that jerk? If you're mad, deck him."
"...Pardon?"
"Come on. You know you're stunning. Line up your admirers, and you'd need ten carts."
Not flattery—straight facts. Objectively unreal.
She barely recovered, trying nonchalance.
"...Do you sweet-talk every random girl?"
"Not sweet-talk. Stating facts."
My cheeky line broke her again.
"Your ears are beet red, by the way. No tolerance for compliments, huh?"
Her face flushed crimson.
Ears looked ready to combust.
This counts as straight-ball flirting here?
Back home, college club booze-ups, that'd get a middle finger and "Back off."
These isekai snobs only know fancy footwork. Tsk.
Still, sorry for witnessing her embarrassment—least I could do was morale repair.
"Anyway, if I were you, I'd grab his hair instead of crying. Or slap him silly. Options galore."
Her reaction? Like I'd spoken alien.
"Hair... grab? Options?"
"Say that again?"
"..."
Her lips quivered.
Angry? I eyed an escape route.
Pfft!
She burst.
Head down, shoulders shaking.
Crying to laughter transition.
"Kh, heh... Ahaha!"
My crude advice must've hit hard—first of its kind.
She clutched her stomach, laughing freely. Way better than the pitiful sobs.
I grinned and raised my empty glass.
"Hey, you laughed. Call it payment for peeking? No take-backs later."
She wiped tears, looked up.
Violet eyes sparkled with life.
"...You're a real weirdo."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
I waved lazily and turned.
No point dragging it out. Hit and run—that's cool-guy style.
Parting the curtain back into the hall, a clear laugh rang out behind me.
Poke.
"Hair-grabbing."
Felt like I taught her something risky, but whatever.
As long as it's not my hair.
*
"Ugh, damn it. That's Seoul for you."
Even crawling to the sticks, someone's always lurking.
Reminded me of college MT nightmares.
Couples vanishing for "ice cream runs" mid-drinking games.
That frustration.
At least this was the opposite. Lucky break.
Then—
Braaang!
A booming trumpet shook the hall.
The grand doors flew open as guards bellowed.
"The Sun of the Empire, His Highness Crown Prince Louis de Leopold!"
"The Flower of Rosenberg, Lady Elysia von Rosenberg enters!"
"...Huh?"
Wait.
Louis?
Elysia?
...What?
These names rang a bell.
From the territory? Nah, backwater news doesn't travel. Who...?
Suddenly—
A sealed corner of my past-life memory twitched.
Fragment sparked.
'Yo, if the male lead's named Louis, does he hit the guillotine too?'
'You idiot! Shut up! You're killing the vibe!'
Smack!
Sis walloping my back.
Little sis rolling on the bed with a romance novel cover.
Sis beside her cackling.
"This novel's male lead is trash, but his face carries it."
What was that title again?
"...This Life, I Just Want to Live Quietly?"
Ugh, damn.
Why's it stick in my head now?
I stared blankly at the turkey leg in my hand.
Suddenly, every dissonance in this world clicked like puzzle pieces.
*
*
*
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
No wonder.
Medieval fantasy with highway rest stops.
Running fridges and ACs on magic, yet no Industrial Revolution—just horse carriages.
Nobles risking more on wordplay than swordfights.
"...Ah, I'm screwed."
The curse slipped out loud.
No way.
This world's from that novel?