Chapter 7: A Fortnight of Denial

“What?”

“No, really. Even if that old man Vant is incredibly skilled, are you saying there isn’t a doctor of comparable skill in the ducal family? Enough to specifically bring one from a baronial house?”

Haeseung waved his hand dismissively, scoffing that it made no sense, as if the ducal family’s doctors had all vanished. ‘This setup is quite terrible,’ he thought. His subconscious surely couldn’t have concocted such a shoddy premise, and Haeseung resolved to simply discard it.

“Having married and come to such a distant place, it’s understandable that entrusting your pulse to a stranger might cause unease,” Rosie explained. “Ever since Master Vant arrived, Her Ladyship has found stability, and the youngest young master was even born.”

‘Well, if it’s a psychological issue, there’s nothing more to say,’ Haeseung mused. Yet, looking at the Duchess, she hardly seemed like someone who would feel anxious simply because she married and moved far from her parents. Wasn’t she more like a person who would fiercely survive even if stranded alone on a desert island?

Haeseung, pondering whether it would be better to alter the Duchess’s character or change Vant’s background, suddenly recalled that neither the Duchess nor Vant actually appeared in Noona’s novel.

‘Ah, I see,’ he realized. ‘I wasn’t coming up with a brilliant plot point; I was simply dreaming about a background that never appeared in the novel.’

‘Which means… it’s just a silly dream.’

Gazing at the ceiling, Haeseung shook off the fading dream of a brilliant discovery. He had briefly propped himself up, but now he languidly flopped back onto the bed, sprawling carelessly.

Haeseung’s lamentations poured out, declaring it was a bad omen to even dream of such a dull novel. His fleeting plan to uncover a brilliant plot point Noona hadn’t even conceived and sell it to her had vanished. He felt suffocated, wondering how long he had to endure this disastrous dream, and the sheer inflexibility of having to honestly spend twenty-four hours a day within a dream made him curse.

“Let’s just endure one more day.”

“What?”

“No. I’m a patient, so I get tired quickly,” Haeseung clarified. “I feel like I need to rest soon to recover faster.”

Understanding his unspoken request to leave so he could rest, Rosie quickly tidied the crumpled bed and exited the bedroom. Haeseung, who had rolled to one side to allow her to arrange the bedding, then tumbled back to the center of the bed.

“Just one more day. Only one more day.”

He reassured himself that a dream so devoid of events or substance couldn’t possibly continue, and that after just one more night’s sleep, he would awaken to reality. With this forced comfort, Haeseung rubbed his heels together to slip off his shoes, then burrowed under the blanket.

****

A full fortnight had passed since Haeseung first realized he was in a lucid dream. Yet, in all that time, he had not once managed to wake from it.

On the first day he became aware it was a dream, Haeseung had found himself inhabiting the body of Heinzel Defensio. From a distance, he had even glimpsed Lyden Defensio, a candidate for the male lead in Noona’s novel. It was then he realized this dream’s setting was, in fact, Noona’s story.

On the second day, the Duchess summoned him for a meeting. From that day forward, Vant, the quack doctor who claimed to be the Duchess’s personal physician, visited Haeseung once a day, treating his perfectly healthy body as if he were an invalid and performing examinations.

Vant visited again the next day, and the day after that. Aside from these daily visits and examinations from Vant, Haeseung spent most of his time idly rolling around in bed. His burning ambitions from within the dream were long forgotten; now, his only thought was to see how long he could remain trapped.

After a week passed, he began to question his current situation.

‘Was this truly just a dream?’

The reactions of the people were more realistic than reality itself. His body responded honestly: hunger if he didn’t eat, exhaustion if he moved vigorously, and drowsiness that made him nod off if he didn’t sleep. Every phenomenon felt so undeniably real that Haeseung frequently wondered if this truly was a dream.

Thus, a fortnight later, when he opened his eyes one morning, Haeseung could no longer deny it. He couldn’t deceive himself any longer. This wasn’t some unheard-of lucid dream; he had to admit it was reality itself.

“Young Master. Are you still asleep?”

Rosie, entering the bedroom, moved to draw back the window curtains, rousing Haeseung from his slumber.

“Don’t open them.”

Haeseung’s voice, muffled by his pillow, was hoarse. It sounded as though he had just woken, yet also like someone whose voice was thick from crying.

“…Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m healthy. I’ve done nothing but laze around and eat until now; if I were sick, I’d deserve to die.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

Rosie let out a soft sigh and carefully adjusted the curtains she had been about to open, blocking out the light. She moved through the dim bedroom, yet didn’t switch on the lamps. Feeling a strange pang of apology, Haeseung reached out and softly illuminated the lamp beside his bed.

“Would you like to sleep a little longer?”

“No.”

“I’ll prepare your bathwater. While you wash, I’ll have your meal brought up. Eating something delicious will surely lift your spirits. I’ll ask the chef to pay special attention to it.”

When he used to groan in sickness, Noona would always comfort him with that same tone, taking their mother’s place when she was out working. Though her personality could be exasperating, she was sometimes tender.

Memories from his childhood surfaced, making Haeseung even more despondent. If this wasn’t a dream but true reality, he worried that his family might be fretting over his disappearance while he was stuck in this novel.

As Rosie entered the bathroom and the sound of water filling the tub reached him, Haeseung curled into a ball and sighed.

‘It can’t be. Surely not. How could such a thing happen in the world? This is purely fiction. It’s impossible.’

Despite his strenuous denials, reality was a gutter—no, it was transmigration. A transmigration into an entirely different world, one straight out of a novel. Even worse, it was transmigration into a character within a fictional world, not even a real one.

“Does this even make sense?”

He poured out his laments, filled with injustice and bewilderment, yet there was no one to hear his grievances. He couldn’t even fathom who, or what phenomenon, or what power had dragged him into this novel.

“Noona was right after all.”

He belatedly praised Noona’s idea, acknowledging that a dump truck would have been a truly better option. If he had been hit by a dump truck and transmigrated, he wouldn’t have spent a fortnight in denial, clinging to false hopes like his current self. He wouldn’t have entertained the foolish notion of “it’s just a dream, I hope I wake up soon,” nor would he be plagued by such pessimistic thoughts.

He would have simply understood that he was perfectly dead, with no chance of return, and realizing he had transmigrated into someone else’s unknown body, he would have grasped the situation much more quickly.

Instead, this absurd “woke up and transmigrated” scenario had utterly confused him. Haeseung thrashed his limbs wildly in frustration, then, losing all strength, he slumped onto the bed and sighed once more.

Still, if he had died in reality, there would be no dreams or hope left. At least he held the hope of returning, whereas being hit by a dump truck would have meant instant death.

But… how would he return? Would he simply wake up in his original body one day, just as he had woken up to this transmigration? Or would some effort be required to go back?

Haeseung let out a hollow laugh, his mind entertaining illogical thoughts in this utterly nonsensical situation.

‘Could he even go back in the first place?’

In just one more day, he would have turned twenty, officially becoming an adult, ready to confidently enjoy his newfound freedom. He had studied like a dog for six years of elementary, three years of middle, and three years of high school, aced the Suneung, and gotten into Korea University, preparing to revel in a vibrant campus life.

“But it’s all ruined now. Random book transmigration. Yes, it’s completely ruined.”

Rosie, emerging from the bathroom, watched Haeseung as he mumbled, gazing up at the dark ceiling, a worried expression on her face.

“Please go and wash, Young Master.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll bring your meal right away, so please don’t soak for too long.”

After earnestly admonishing Haeseung about whatever worried her and ushering him into the bathroom, Rosie vigorously pulled back the bedroom curtains. Bright sunlight poured into the room, chasing away the darkness from every corner. Only after confirming the bedroom was now satisfyingly bright did Rosie tidy the crumpled bedding before leaving to fetch his meal.

Rosie stood by Haeseung’s side, ready to attend to his meal as he slowly spooned his soup. Continuing to eat somewhat reluctantly, Haeseung glanced at Rosie and gestured towards the chair opposite him.

“Please, sit down.”

“Please speak, Young Master.”

“I have something to ask you. Sit.”

Despite Haeseung’s words, Rosie remained unmoving, a deeply troubled expression on her face. It seemed his request went against aristocratic etiquette. With a small sigh, Haeseung understood and waved his hand dismissively.

“What is it you’re curious about?”

“Is the Duke currently ill and bedridden?”

“Young Master… you don’t actually remember, do you?”

Instead of answering Haeseung’s question, Rosie posed one of her own. He wasn’t simply suffering from memory loss; he was an entirely different person, yet unable to reveal this truth, Haeseung merely gave a vague nod.

“Why didn’t you tell Master Vant?”

“Hmm… I was afraid he’d worry. But even if I didn’t say anything, wouldn’t he have noticed?”

Haeseung, now worried about belatedly having to deal with the consequences of his reckless actions—taken when he believed it was all just a dream—gazed up at Rosie.

“Well, I’ve been with you all day, Young Master, so I had my suspicions. But wouldn’t Master Vant or Her Ladyship find it strange? You should tell them now. That way, they can find the cause and fix it.”

‘That quack doctor is hardly trustworthy,’ Haeseung thought. ‘Besides, this isn’t an illness, nor is it something that can be fixed. The person inside this body is fundamentally different.’

However, this truth was also something he couldn’t confide in anyone else, leaving Haeseung with nothing but a sigh.

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