Chapter 2
To explain how I met my current adoptive father, Marquis Rubiche, I have to go back five years.
Five years ago, I fell asleep on the bus ride home—only to wake up in an entirely different world.
Could there be a story more absurd than this?
I don’t even know if I died in a car accident or something else. If I’d been killed instantly in an accident while sleeping, maybe I wouldn’t remember it anyway.
Who could’ve guessed that Cha Do-hyuk, the TV producer who died after being hit by a car while saving a child, would suddenly reincarnate in another world as a completely different person?
Maybe my case of crossing dimensions isn’t all that different. That’s what I cautiously guessed at the time.
“Ena, careful.”
My adoptive father grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
Only then did I notice the steam locomotive entering the station. The train stopped before us with a loud hiss, and the doors opened as a flood of passengers poured out.
Seizing the moment, I stepped forward to buy our tickets and handed over some money to the station worker. With practiced speed, he counted the bills, handed back my change, and gave me two tickets.
Thinking back on how confused I was by even these tiny differences in this “other world,” it felt strange how accustomed I’d become.
Sitting in our assigned seats beside my adoptive father, I gazed out the window at the passing scenery, feeling oddly restless.
So much had changed in five years. I never imagined I’d be living such a luxurious life—and in this world, of all places.
Magic and science had together driven rapid industrial progress here. On the surface, it looked like 19th-century Europe, but the existence of magic and divine power made it an entirely different world from the one I came from.
“It’s been a while since I last saw the Kingdom of Nayden.”
My adoptive father suddenly spoke.
It really had been a while. Mount Kirkus, in the neighboring Nayden Kingdom, was where I first landed five years ago.
“Yes, it’s been a year,” I replied as evenly as I could. I didn’t want to make him worry unnecessarily.
The Marchioness of Rubiche had fallen to her death on Mount Kirkus, and it was there that I found the barely-living Marquis. I nursed him back to health and saved his life.
To say I “saved” him feels like an exaggeration—I only tended to them for ten days and called for a physician.
If not for Erinda, the magician who often visited the abandoned house I was staying in, the marquis might not have survived at all.
Anyway, that’s how I came to be adopted into House Rubiche.
“We visit every year, but it still feels new each time. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” I said.
My adoptive father smiled faintly in agreement.
Last year, he’d fallen into deep gloom whenever his late wife’s death anniversary approached. Seeing him a little better this year was a relief.
“You still don’t remember your past…?” he asked.
I gave him a troubled smile and slowly shook my head.
Telling him I came from another world would sound utterly insane, so I hadn’t dared.
When we first met, I could barely speak the local language, and my father had misunderstood something about me back then—but since that misunderstanding worked in my favor, I’d never corrected him.
“If anything comes back to you, tell me first, my dear,” he said gently, patting my head.
That warmth made me smile shyly. Truly, meeting him was my greatest stroke of luck.
Then his face grew serious. “But tell me, what happened at the party? You didn’t offend His Highness the Crown Prince, did you?”
So that’s what was worrying him. Ever since Crown Prince Reynold expressed his wish to visit our estate next week, Father had been on edge.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t do anything wrong. And I have a pretty good idea why he wants to visit.”
He seemed momentarily reassured, but soon frowned again, clasping my hands. The middle-aged man with neatly trimmed, light brown hair—the same shade as my brother Rioel’s—spoke with grave concern.
“Whatever happens, you must never act rudely toward the Crown Prince. Never. Even the smallest misstep could be disastrous.”
His tone startled me.
I’d heard rumors he was insane—but was it really that bad? Was he truly some kind of psychopath?
“If you’re not careful, he might take your head off on the spot. I’m not speaking figuratively—he really could…”
He trailed off into a mutter I couldn’t quite hear.
Still, I smiled at him sweetly. “Don’t worry. He won’t be able to hurt me.”
Not if he’s really Cha Do-hyuk, I thought.
My father only looked more worried at that, but since I couldn’t possibly prove it, I kept my smile in place.
“You’re an adult now,” he sighed. “I suppose you’ll know how to handle yourself.”
“Of course. I’m twenty-two already.”
Well—technically, I was thirty-two. But when Father adopted me five years ago, he assumed I was eighteen and recorded it that way.
When I learned to read later and discovered my official age, I didn’t bother correcting it.
After all, who complains about being ten years younger?
The Marchioness’s tomb was in the Alpine Empire, but we always traveled to the Nayden Kingdom to honor her death on its anniversary.
Rioel usually came along, but he couldn’t this year—he was too busy with the knights’ monster subjugation campaign.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Father murmured after we placed flowers on the mountainside grave. “Whether Viollena left you behind in her stead.”
I couldn’t find the right words, so I stayed silent.
When I found them, the Marchioness had already passed away.
That memory still stung—though not as deeply as it must have for the father and son she left behind.
“Ena.”
We’d finished our descent when Father spoke again. The village came into view below.
“Remember this. No matter what anyone says, you are my daughter.”
He gently brushed my hair. I knew he was worried about the way I struggled to fit in with other noble ladies at social gatherings.
Fitting in with women born and raised with noble pride had never been easy for someone like me—but it didn’t bother me.
I smiled brightly enough to reassure him. “Of course, Father. I’ll always be your daughter.”
He sighed in relief, and if that comforted him, I’d gladly say it as many times as needed.
The maids standing by the parlor entrance were sneaking glances at the Crown Prince.
Even if he was said to be mad, his looks alone were enough to stir curiosity.
I lifted my teacup carefully—without a sound, just as my etiquette teacher had taught me—savored the aroma, and took a sip.
Across from me, the Crown Prince watched with an amused smile resting on his hand.
His golden eyes sparkled mischievously, the way someone looks at something they find charming.
I’d accept interesting, but cute? Not so much.
“You’ve adapted well,” he said leisurely. “It’s been five years since you arrived, hasn’t it?”
I took in his ethereal appearance—silver hair, sharp brows, and those golden eyes—and the austere high-collared outfit buttoned all the way to his throat.
If he was truly a madman, shouldn’t he at least have a few buttons undone? His immaculate formality made him look more like a saint than a lunatic.
“Yes. And I’ve only been studying etiquette for that long, so please excuse any mistakes.”
He chuckled softly. “Has it been difficult adjusting?”
He looked at me kindly, as though he really understood. It was disconcerting.
Everything about him screamed foreigner—the silver hair, the gold eyes—so how could he talk about Korea like it was his home?
Still, maybe I was the strangest one here.
I sighed. “How could it not be difficult? Imagine a modern person suddenly forced to live like some old-fashioned noblewoman.”
He laughed. “True. It’s a dreadfully stuffy world.”
“With way too much sexism. Not exactly a woman-friendly society.”
“Too many rules, too much hypocrisy,” he agreed, idly spinning his teacup by its rim before rising to his feet.
Then, out of nowhere, he extended a hand to me.
“It’s stifling in here. Let’s talk outside—the weather’s fine.”
And just like that, I realized why.
There were still maids standing by the door. Instead of dismissing them, he’d chosen to take our conversation somewhere private.
As we walked through the garden, I could see servants and attendants peeking out the windows to get a glimpse of him.
“Quite popular, aren’t you?” I muttered.
He snorted. “Curiosity, not popularity. And didn’t I tell you? Call me by my real name.”
“Cha Do-hyuk?”
“That’s right.”
“But… are you really Cha Do-hyuk? You could just be some other dimension traveler pretending to be him.”
“I told you—Jwibangeul,” he replied, smirking.
Right. “Jwibangeul” (Mouse Ball)—his ridiculous nickname. Hard to fake that kind of proof.
Still, what I really wanted to ask was something else.
“Then what should I call you? Cha Do-hyuk? Or maybe PD-nim? I’ve never called you by your name before.”
“Forget the PD. Just call me Cha Do-hyuk. I was going to ask you to do that before I died, anyway.”
What the heck did he mean by that?
Why would I call him by name? We weren’t that close.
Then it hit me—he died in a car accident, and just a month later, I ended up here after falling asleep on a bus.
No wonder I was so disoriented. For the first year, I honestly believed I was dreaming.
“Well, how about this instead—Cha Do-hyuk, or maybe… Cha Do-ron bas—”
“…Do you have a death wish?”
I’d been about to suggest calling him Cha Do-ron bastard as a joke, but the look on his face—smiling yet deadly—made me shut up instantly.
“You’re asking if I want to die?” I blurted, sweating. “No thanks! I quite like being alive!”
And then—
“Ah! No, no! Please, no!”
From behind the large garden tree, my adoptive father suddenly burst out crying, throwing himself to his knees before the Crown Prince.
“Please show mercy, Your Highness! My daughter is ignorant of court manners and meant no offense!”
Tears streamed down his face as he turned to me with a trembling, fatherly smile.
“It’s all right, Ena. Father will be fine.”
Then, mouthing the words so only I could see, he added:
‘Run, my child. Leave this to me.’
…Father. No, this isn’t what you think!
There was no doubt about it—my poor father had completely misunderstood the situation.
