The Baron’s daughter had been all smiles while praising Charlize to her face, but the second my back was turned, she was busy laughing and exaggerating every one of my "evil" deeds. Charlize—the original one—must have known, but she simply hadn't cared.
I, however, was done with it. I stood up and watched them scramble away, cold and dismissive to the very end. Only when the last of them had vanished did I collapse onto the sofa with a groan.
"Ugh... I thought I was going to pass out from the dizziness!"
What was the alcohol content of those drinks? It felt stronger than whiskey. I’d never felt this bad after a corporate dinner back in my old life, even with my boss pushing drinks on me.
"I’m actually going to die. This makes no sense..."
Charlize was supposed to be able to handle eight bottles of this stuff and still be perfectly fine. So why was I struggling after less than two?
'Did my soul bring my old alcohol tolerance with it? But how?!'
In any case, my confrontation with the Baron’s daughter was technically an act of "drunkenness." I’d wanted to cut ties with that toxic group from the start, and being "drunk" provided the perfect cover. Besides, I knew exactly why they were talking so much trash about my fiancé.
"...Surprising," I muttered, staring up at the spinning ceiling.
They really had no idea what Duke Lemut—my fiancé—actually looked like. I remembered him clearly from the novel. He was a minor character, but one I had liked quite a bit.
Askin Remut was described as a man so handsome that even the male lead wondered why the heroine hadn't added him to her collection. He was clean, ascetic, and a complete "pre-marital purist." In an R-19 novel full of depravity, a man who refused to get into bed was naturally sidelined.
'Poor guy... excluded from the harem just because he has standards.'
Because he rarely appeared in public, very few people in high society actually knew his face.
"Ugh..."
The room was still spinning. Tomorrow’s hangover was going to be a nightmare. I closed my eyes and let sleep take over.
* * *
It was midnight.
Duke Lemut’s study was far too modest for a man of his status. Compared to the average noble, it was standard, but for the Guardian of the West, it was a sign of his family’s decline.
"Duke."
Ben, the Duke’s lieutenant and a loyal knight, stepped into the room. He was one of the few who knew the true state of the Duke’s finances. He watched his lord with a heavy heart.
"What is it?" Askin asked without looking up. He was buried in paperwork—mostly documents concerning his estate’s debts.
Askin Remut. The Guardian of the West and the strongest sword in the empire. He was a man whose beauty was said to rival the moon. His nanny, Martha, often claimed that in the five-hundred-year history of the empire, there had never been another man quite like him.
He had a solid, powerful build, yet his face was so pious and holy it was easy to mistake him for a priest. Martha always joked that he was "beautiful" rather than just "handsome."
'And that’s why that vicious woman wants him,' Ben thought.
In reality, Askin was a man who had been forced to sign away his freedom and his loyalty to pay off a crushing family debt.
"Another letter has arrived from Princess Altsbait..."
"Throw it away."
Ben winced at the coldness in Askin's voice. "You know, this is the thirtieth one we’ve returned."
"...I never said to return them."
"I know. But it’s less of an insult to return them unopened than to just toss them. I don't want to give her any reason to cause more trouble."
Ben had been meticulously returning every invitation from the "vicious princess." They had been coming in more frequently lately, and she didn't seem to be taking the hint.
"It's strange," Ben mused. "She wasn't this persistent before, was she?"
"I heard she returned from her trip," Askin replied coldly. "She’s probably just looking for a new way to amuse herself at my expense."
Everyone in the capital knew Charlize had been sent away for a while. Even Askin, who avoided social events like the plague, had heard the rumors.
"...Maybe. But in the past, she’d lose interest after five rejections. Why thirty?"
Charlize Altsbait was as fickle as she was wealthy. She usually preferred harassing Askin with her sword rather than letters.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Askin said, his voice flat. "I'll handle it. Just ignore them for now."
His will was firm. He had a plan to end this, and there was no going back. Ben bowed silently, but the sense of unease remained.
'Is there really a way for him to break free from that woman?'
* * *
I had a dream.
"Wait, what is this?! All this money?!"
There were mountains of cash piled up in front of me. I looked closer—it was *my* money. The money I’d made from my coins had actually returned! I literally went swimming in a sea of bills.
When I looked around, I was wearing an expensive, tailored suit. My phone was buzzing with notifications from my banking app, showing numbers so long I couldn't even process them. This was the money I had left after buying my dream house.
I walked into a luxury boutique, the kind I used to only see in magazines. A clerk bowed politely to me. I recited the line I’d always wanted to say:
"Who is the VIP manager here? I’ll take everything from here to there."
I was spending money like it was water. I was finally the wealthy, unemployed person I had always dreamed of being. I was so happy.
'God, please just let me live like this. Just me and my YOLO life...!'
And then, just as it started raining money, I woke up.
"Ugh... my head..."
The reality of my situation hit me along with a splitting headache. A hangover. My dream was gone, replaced by the throbbing in my skull.
As always, my maid was right there with warm honey water and ice-cold water the moment I opened my eyes. Even the original Charlize, a heavy drinker, must have suffered like this.
I was embarrassed all over again. 'Why did my soul have to keep my old tolerance? It’s so unfair!'
But what was done was done. I sat up, rubbing my temples. The memory of the money in my dream was still vivid. My coins, my fortune... I had worked so hard for that money, and dying before I could spend it was a tragedy.
"I can't just sit here," I muttered.
I got out of bed and began to get ready. The maids swarmed around me, their hands shaking as they dressed me and fixed my hair. They watched me with a mix of curiosity and sheer terror. Some of them actually looked worried, as if they wanted to tell me to go back to bed.
'They’re good people... actually caring about someone like Charlize.'
"P-Princess... should I tell the coachman where we're going?" one of them asked timidly.
"Duke Lemut’s residence," I said firmly.
"...Yes?"
The maid’s eyes went wide. For a second, I saw a flash of pity in her gaze. I couldn't tell if she was pitying me or my poor fiancé. My head hurt too much to ask.
"Do you have any hangover medicine?"
"Yes! I'll get it right away!"
As the maids finished their work and stepped back, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Even with the pale, haggard look of a hangover, the woman staring back at me was breathtaking.
'This level of beauty is practically a weapon.'
It was a shame Charlize only ever used it for evil. I sighed and massaged my temples. In the mirror, I saw one of the maids watching me stealthily.
"Do you have something to say?" I asked.