Chapter 1

And so, the princess and the prince lived happily ever after.

I couldn’t remember when I first began to doubt the final line of the novel.

Could they really be happy forever like that?

That question always lingered in a corner of my mind. Not because I was particularly pessimistic. It was because of the humans I’d observed until now.

All love naturally has an end.

Some loves burn intensely before extinguishing in an instant, while others gradually fade away when there’s nothing left to fuel them.

Everyone smiles at wedding ceremonies where eternal vows are exchanged with universal blessings.

When every novel ends with a happy ending, no one knows what happens afterward.

Neither the characters in the novel nor even the author who created it.

One can only watch the backs of the two protagonists as they walk out of the ceremony hall, hoping their love continues forever, filled only with happiness.

But what if someone wanted a different story within that world?

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“Welcome. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The door opened before she could even knock. At the same time, a tall man appeared.

Gloria slowly lowered the fist she had raised to knock. Then she bowed her head slightly.

The homeowner invited her in without any wariness, despite her being bundled up in a hat, scarf, and gloves to the point where even her gender was difficult to discern.

As she passed by, Gloria glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

The first thing that caught her attention was his eyes, which looked like jewels, or perhaps pools of blood.

Well-defined skin contrasted with snow-white hair. A mountain-like physique wrapped in a perfectly fitted uniform.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

This was their first meeting. However, Gloria knew exactly who he was.

Dale Clyde.

The supporting male lead. The competitor. Or perhaps the rejected outcast.

He loved the female protagonist but ultimately failed to win her heart—he was like a shadow in this happy story.

“This way.”

Dale politely guided Gloria inside. The room was already somewhat prepared to receive a guest.

Gloria put down the bag she had been carrying on one shoulder. Then she took out a large sketchbook and graphite from it and quickly wrote:

—Pleased to meet you. You’ve already heard about me, right?

Dale nodded slightly in response.

“I heard you have difficulty speaking.”

He had no idea who was standing before him. The information from the gallery manager was probably all he knew.

—I’m J.

“Dale Clyde.”

He managed to read her hastily scribbled writing immediately.

Standing, Gloria supported the sketchbook with one arm and scribbled again in the margin.

—I apologize in advance for not observing proper etiquette.

Then she pointed to her hat with the graphite. Dale nodded.

“I’m aware that you prefer not to show your face. I’m not one to demand formalities everywhere anyway.”

Gloria stared blankly at his warm face that momentarily revealed itself.

If she had introduced herself as ‘Gloria Payton’ instead of ‘J,’ she would never have seen that smile.

Gloria pulled her scarf up tightly to ensure it wouldn’t slip from covering her mouth.

—Thank you for understanding.

Although their conversation progressed slowly with one side writing everything, he showed no signs of annoyance.

Just by observing how respectfully he, the heir to a noble family and current commander of the kingdom’s knights, treated a seemingly common painter, one could tell what kind of person he was.

Gloria placed her sketchbook on the table first and sat down. After she took her seat, Dale followed suit and sat across from her.

Once seated, she wrote again.

—I heard you need a portrait. Will it be hung in your residence?

After she turned the sketchbook to show him, he nodded.

“I’ll send it to my territory. My mother will receive it.”

Today’s visit was to meet the client for the first time and understand what kind of painting he wanted. Gloria began writing down questions she had prepared in advance.

—Have you thought about the size of the painting?

“I have no specific requirements.”

—Do you have any preferences for mood or attire?

“If you have any preferences, I’ll have them prepared.”

Gloria was about to write the next sentence but stopped and looked up. He was looking at her, not at the sketchbook. As if trying to focus on his conversation partner regardless of the written dialogue, his steady gaze made Gloria look away first.

Then she moved her graphite again.

—Those are usually decided by the client.

“If I only needed a painting, that would be the case.”

Gloria, avoiding eye contact with him, was at a loss for words and slowly tapped her sketchbook with the graphite.

‘So the manager was telling the truth.’

When she first heard that Knight Commander Clyde wanted to commission her, she naturally thought it was a lie.

After all, who would suddenly commission a portrait after hearing about a painter who couldn’t paint people because they couldn’t find models?

However, her mentor who relayed the gallery manager’s message added something else.

Dale Clyde was not only interested in J’s paintings but, knowing she was a newcomer, wanted to help her.

When she questioned why he would go to such lengths, her mentor said that’s why she was lucky.

Dale was quietly famous in the art world as a collector who had always bought paintings he liked regardless of the artist’s recognition, but this was the first time he had made a direct commission.

Normally, there would be no reason to hesitate, but Gloria did.

Because she was not an ordinary painter.

So who was Gloria Payton?

If Dale was the supporting male lead who increased the novel’s tension, she was merely a villain.

The other woman who suddenly appeared in a work that had reached a happy conclusion, tormenting the female protagonist, Isabel Deviers.

An illicit relationship. A mistress. Or a kept woman.

Gloria was the woman with whom the male protagonist, Jack Deviers, had an affair after marrying the female lead.

If Dale knew who she was, he wouldn’t treat her like this.

Those ruby-like eyes would be filled with hatred and contempt.

Not just Dale, but anyone would feel the same. Gloria had been in that position from the moment she first opened her eyes.

Dale, as Isabel’s childhood friend who had loved her for a very long time, would hate Gloria more than others.

However, the reason Gloria ultimately decided to appear before him in such a suspicious appearance and accept the commission was simple.

Dale was her favorite character.

Even before she became Gloria—when she was just a reader—that had been the case.

The fact that she, who liked Dale more than anyone, had now become the male lead’s mistress could only be described as extremely bad luck.

It stemmed from a transmigration that any romance fantasy novel reader would recognize.

Six months ago, a strange soul dropped into Gloria’s empty body.

‘Usually with transmigration, one starts by staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, followed by household servants screaming at their master’s strange behavior, but…’

Recalling that dizzying moment, Gloria closed her eyes tightly and then reopened them.

Gloria Ellen Payton. Her second life began amid even more screams.

The location was a temple where a funeral was in full swing.

Gloria suddenly sat up in a coffin filled with pure white flowers.

Sometime before, she had thought:

If by chance she were to transmigrate into a romance fantasy novel, she would be able to handle the situation skillfully with all the manuals and data she had read.

‘Kyaaa!’

‘T-the corpse has come back to life!’

However, Gloria swore that no one could have remained composed in this situation. What could anyone do in front of people screaming as if they’d seen a ghost?

Moreover, she didn’t have time to calmly tell the terrified people, “Please remain calm.”

She was too busy figuring out what had happened to herself.

‘No way…… am I dead?’

Being dead meant nothing else.

Her original soul, Kang Jae-hee, an ordinary art student from South Korea who was about to have her graduation exhibition, recalled what had happened to her.

She had always said she was going to die like this, but she never thought she would actually die.

A brief moment of dizziness in the bathroom caused her to slip, and she felt a dull pain in her head.

Her vision flickered before darkening. And when she opened her eyes again, she was here.

With her bony, white arms, she clutched her golden hair. And in the gradually subsiding atmosphere, this time she screamed.

‘How is this possible!’

The temple once again became chaotic.

And so Kang Jae-hee became Gloria and began her new life.

Half a year had passed since then, bringing us to the present.

—Then, Sir Clyde.

Gloria gave a meaningful smile from within her scarf.

—I’ll tell you what I want to paint from now on.

So, to rephrase, the decisive reason she decided to meet Dale came down to this one thing:

Gloria couldn’t miss the opportunity to legally paint a portrait—no, fan art—of her favorite character.

—That’s all.

With that final sentence, the busy graphite stopped moving.

While asking questions to understand the client’s needs, she had simultaneously been drawing a draft, causing her hand to move back and forth between different papers.

The completed draft had notes written all over it about how she would paint the portrait, and in the center of those notes was a drawing of a man with only his outline sketched.

After quietly examining the drawing, Dale eventually nodded.

“Very well.”

—Do you like it?

“Yes.”

He answered simply and clearly.

Someone who didn’t know Dale well might have wondered whether his answer was sincere or merely polite, but Gloria knew better.

Dale was someone who would convey his dissatisfaction or disagreement just as concisely if he had any. He handled everything efficiently, and no one separated public and private matters as clearly as he did.

For him, the only thing in his private domain was, needless to say, Isabel.

—Then I’ll return next week with the necessary materials and canvas.

Gloria also had nothing more to add since the client was satisfied.

Instead, she wrote one last message for him.

—If you don’t want any traces left, I’ll leave these behind. Please dispose of them as you wish.

Then she gathered the papers she had used to communicate with him and handed them over.

It was a phrase she had prepared while devising the written communication ploy.

Words only remain in the listener’s memory, but writing clearly leaves a record.

Of course, there was nothing in their conversation that others shouldn’t know. However, from his perspective, the mere existence of such records might be burdensome. That’s why she came up with this method.

In response to Gloria’s action, Dale picked up the papers and quickly scanned them.

“This too?”

He was also holding the sketch for the portrait. Gloria nodded. Then she lightly tapped her temple with her index finger.

‘I’ve memorized it all.’

He then stood up, left the sketch on the table, and put only the papers with their written conversation into the fireplace.

Dale and Gloria watched the burning papers for a while.

Only after the papers had all turned to ash did the two move.

Gloria picked up her bag, and Dale rang a bell to call a servant.

“See her out.”

And standing by the door, he said to Gloria:

“Twice a week. I’ll keep Tuesday and Friday afternoons free. If there are any changes, I’ll contact the gallery.”

Gloria nodded, and with that, the commission was successfully arranged.

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