Chapter 1 – The Deviation of Lorraine Summers

In the very center of the library at the Summers mansion, Lorraine Summers buried herself deep into an old leather chair. She slowly turned the pages of her book, lost in thought.  

‘Why are the men in books so perfect?’  

She stroked the familiar cover with her fingertips and gazed into the air beyond the pages. The men on the white paper were always devoted. They only looked at the female protagonist, embracing everything about her—perfect, beautiful beings. But reality was different.  

Lorraine placed the book on the table and picked up the letter lying next to it. Though she had read these sentences many times before, she calmly read through them again.

[Lady Lorraine Summers, I regret to say this through a letter…]

It was an ordinary breakup letter. Now, the letter from her former lover was a mix of clumsy sentences and convenient excuses. Unlike the captivating lines of a novel, there was nothing in it to pique Lorraine’s interest.

[…I hope good fortune finds you as well.  Henry Boyle]

“What a shameless farewell.”  

After reading the last line, Lorraine’s expression was as relaxed as if she had received a simple greeting.  

Henry’s reason for the breakup was the usual ‘difference in personalities,’ but Lorraine knew he had started seeing Catherine recently. She placed the letter back next to the half-empty teacup and stared at the fireplace.  

“It doesn’t feel good to be dumped after all.”  

Henry’s voice faintly brushed her memory. A month ago, he had asked Lorraine to date him. The reason Lorraine accepted his proposal was simply out of curiosity about men. Henry Boyle’s face was ordinary, but he was a man with a physique rarely seen in Mostar.  

As she pondered Henry’s request, Lorraine saw the taut shirt stretched across his broad chest and thought, ‘If he has a body like this, maybe it’s worth meeting him at least once,’ and so she agreed.  

In a month of dating, they met six times—enough for any ordinary couple to share at least a kiss. There were plenty of chances, but whenever the moment came, Lorraine hesitated at the sight of Henry’s face.  

‘His petty lips were the problem.’  

Whenever she tried to kiss him, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it because of his narrow lips. Lorraine tried to convince herself that his lips were the issue, but deep down, she knew.  

If the lips were fine, then the eyes; if the eyes were fine, then the nose; if not, then the brow bone… In the end, it was his face. She started dating Henry with a faint hope, but he was far from the ‘ideal type’ she had imagined. No matter how much time she spent with him, she felt no excitement.  

Lorraine stared blankly at the letter beside her. What mattered to Lorraine was appearance. No, to be precise, it was the ‘beautiful man’ she had always imagined.

* * *

The second daughter of the Summers family, Lorraine Summers, was always overshadowed by the label ‘second.’  

The eldest daughter, Agnes Summers, was perfect in every way. Called the ‘Flower of the Social Circle’, she was an ideal noble lady with captivating beauty and wit. Unlike her cheerful sister, Lorraine was quiet and naturally went unnoticed.  

Lorraine rarely cried or laughed loudly since childhood. The words people used to describe the Summers sisters were always similar, only differing slightly in expression.  

“The eldest is like a rose, and the second is like a leaf.”  

Lorraine disliked that phrase but never bothered to refute it. People always tried to define others with a single word, and Lorraine found that simplistic standard amusing.  

Sometimes, being seen as an insignificant leaf was convenient. No one paid excessive attention to her or bothered her with courtship.  

Lorraine had no interest in others. Socializing or mingling in the social circle was just exhausting. However, the manners and etiquette she learned growing up in a noble family disguised her indifferent personality as that of a ‘modest and reserved young lady.’  

But Lorraine’s true self, hidden behind others’ assessments, was different. She was not simply a quiet woman. Inside Lorraine was overflowing curiosity and desire. She didn’t want to be trapped in the ordinary order of the social world.  

As a child, Lorraine spent much time in the mansion’s library. Deep in the shelves were old classics untouched by her mother and sister.  

One ordinary day, she stumbled upon an old book. Picking it out as usual and sitting on the sofa, Lorraine opened it and was so startled by its contents that she instinctively closed it. The cover was faded and the title barely visible, but the story inside was more intense than anything she’d ever read.  

Young Lorraine instinctively knew she shouldn’t be reading it, but her curiosity was unbearable. In the end, Lorraine glanced at the library entrance, then cautiously opened the book and began to read, sentence by sentence. Inside the old hardcover were vivid descriptions of sensations she had never imagined.  

“Lorraine, are you reading again?”  

Agnes suddenly appeared behind her, so engrossed in her book that Lorraine hadn’t noticed the time passing. Lorraine hurriedly closed the book on her lap and straightened her tense back.  

“You were so quiet I almost forgot you were here. What are you reading today?”  

Agnes asked with a cheerful smile, and Lorraine, clutching the book she could never show her sister, mumbled a reply.  

“Just… a history book.”  

Lorraine gave an excuse without realizing. Hearing ‘history book,’ Agnes lost interest and left. Lorraine sighed in relief.  

The love shared by the heroine in the book was different from the love Lorraine knew. It wasn’t about making vows and whispering words, but about intertwining bodies deeply. The various ways of loving, which young Lorraine had never imagined, pounded at her chest.  

Her fingertips trembled as she turned the page again, her heart pounding uncontrollably.  

‘I want to experience love like this.’  

From that day, Lorraine opened her eyes to a new world. Secretly reading, her mind filled with all sorts of fantasies. She dreamed of someone as beautiful and devoted as the protagonists in her books. Maybe she couldn’t find them in reality, but in her imagination, she could create her own world.  

Lorraine learned about love and desire from books. As she became an adult, she wanted a passionate love like the heroines. Outwardly, she seemed shy and reserved, but inside, Lorraine was filled with longing.  

On sleepless nights or when the gentle spring breeze blew, her heart would flutter and her desires would stir. On such days, she would awkwardly touch herself, imagining the sensations she’d read about. But there was a limit to exploring her body alone.  

The perfect male protagonist she saw in books. Her admiration for a beautiful man, like a prince in a fairy tale, grew, but of course, she couldn’t meet such a man in reality.  

Lorraine tried to accept reality.  

‘Even if it’s not a novel’s male lead, I’ll just date an average man, marry, and live like that.’  

But real men were disappointing. Lorraine’s heart never once fluttered at social gatherings as an adult. The nobles’ insincere courtship and obvious compliments held no sincerity, and their gestures were full of pretense. No one made Lorraine’s heart race. Under the dazzling chandelier, the laughing people looked like puppets in a play to Lorraine.  

Whenever she was alone, Lorraine would recall the gap between her desires and reality. In books, love was beautiful and intense, but real men always fell short of her expectations.  

Before long, Agnes, now married and gone, told Lorraine,  

“Even ordinary men have their own charm.”  

Women she met at social gatherings said,  

“Men aren’t all about looks. You have to consider their family and wealth too.”  

But seeing the sigh-inducing appearances of the men they chose, Lorraine wondered if she could live that life.  

‘Other women whisper love to men so easily—why is it so hard for me?’  

Lorraine tried, but when she saw an unattractive man, she felt no affection, not even interest. For her, romance was impossible from the start.  

But she couldn’t give up everything. Lorraine decided that even if she couldn’t have the passionate love of a novel, she at least wanted to experience a man.  

In the end, Lorraine reached a conclusion.  

‘I don’t know about love, but let’s satisfy my desires first.’  

If she kept dreaming of passionate nights with a loved one, she might never know what an org*sm was before she died. Lorraine decided to focus on fulfilling her physical curiosity instead of love.  

So she recently tried dating Henry Boyle, who showed interest in her at a social gathering, but she could never overcome the barrier of his face. His unattractive appearance made physical intimacy impossible for Lorraine, and eventually, he went to another woman.