The Adopted Princess Hopes to Escape the Genre - Chapter 6
As my thoughts spiraled endlessly, I started feeling increasingly disillusioned.
Sure, I’ll admit it—there was a time I’d thought it might be fun to experience possession at least once. I’d imagined that if I were ever possessed, I’d handle everything so much more efficiently than other novel protagonists, and I’d never frustrate the readers with sweet potatoes*.
(*TL note: a “sweet potato” in this context refers to when the pacing of a story is such a slow burn that it’s frustrating. It’s like eating a sweet potato without a drink.)
Of course, that confidence was based on the assumption that possession wasn’t actually possible.
Now that it’s happened, I take back everything I ever said.
I have no confidence that I can survive in this unfamiliar world, where I know absolutely nothing, as impressively as those novel protagonists.
If I had possessed the body of a noble lady, there’s no way I’d have dared to propose a contract romance or marriage—I’d probably have had my neck chopped off by one of those scheming male leads instead.
If I had possessed a villainess, I’d either have been immediately found out and burned at the stake as a witch, or I’d have flown so under the radar and I’d still face justice as a villainess.
Even if I’d possessed the heroine, I wouldn’t have survived either. The moment I encountered the villainess, I’d probably have handed the male lead over to her on a silver platter and crumbled under the weight of countless schemes without being able to fight back.
Because I value my life above all else, and I live in a completely different world from the characters in those stories.
I’m just an ordinary college student. A normal person living a mundane life, cursing at professors and drowning in assignments like every other student…
Why is this happening to me?
Thinking, “Might as well enjoy it since I’m possessed!” was impossible given the awful circumstances of this body. What could a 7-year-old beggar kid possibly do?
“Ah, I really feel like crying.”
No matter how much I thought about it, there was no glimpse of a better future, and eventually, I grew despondent.
Muttering complaints under my breath, I wandered aimlessly until I finally snapped back to reality, finding myself in front of a mansion shrouded in mist.
Hey…
How far could I have walked from the market to stumble across this enormous, ominous-looking mansion that seems perfect for handsome yet villainous bastards to live in? And it’s in the middle of a remote forest, no less.
It was too obvious. Too painfully predictable, which made it even scarier.
Still, I had to keep all possibilities in mind and stay cautious.
Usually, grand mansions in isolated places like this are dangerous. Such places are often home to a man who lost his angelic wife too soon and spends his days wallowing in solitude. Whether because of his grief over losing her, or because his original personality lacked restraint and losing his wife unleashed his true nature, he becomes someone who carelessly disregards human life and casually issues threats of murder.
If it were just one person, they’d still be manageable. But usually, the angelic wife leaves behind a child or two as well.
And as someone with a cold, no-nonsense personality, I couldn’t be the kind of bright and sunny, affectionate figure who could rehabilitate these handsome yet morally bankrupt individuals with egos out in orbit.
Sensing danger instinctively, I turned back the way I came, only to feel my body suddenly lift off the ground.
“Huh?”
The sensation of my feet leaving the earth startled me so much that I flailed my arms desperately, trying to regain balance.
A mocking laugh rang out as a figure emerged from the mansion.
“Hyung! Look at that kid! That’s seriously hilarious.”
“Should I kill it?”
Ah… they’ve finally appeared.
The handsome but utterly morally bankrupt guys.
If I die here, will I return to my original world, back to working on that assignment, or will I just wake up again at the market?
Professor, I’m sorry for all the times I cursed you behind your back. But I couldn’t exactly curse you to your face, could I?
If I go back, I promise never to procrastinate on assignments again.
Yeah, no. That’s a lie.
Resigned, I tightly shut my eyes.
“Looks like it could be fun, should we take it home?”
“Should I kill it?”
“I’ve been so bored lately with nothing fun to do. Perfect timing—I’ll make it my toy.”
“Still think I should kill it.”
A “bored villain” and a “should I kill it” villain are siblings? The difficulty level here is off the charts.
So this life—or rather, my second life—ends here, huh?
Rustle.
‘Now what is it?’
“Did I not teach you not to pick up just anything?”
The faint hope I had left was shattered as the ultimate villain, the one who produced these two, made their entrance.
“I don’t recall receiving such lessons.”
“Father! Can we take that home and raise it?”
Any hope that at least one of them might be normal disappeared the moment the man showed up.
Calling a person “that”… it was obvious what kind of home education that household had.
And as soon as the man, supposedly their father, appeared, he started a staring contest with the older of the two sons.
The younger son, oblivious to the tension, egged them on, insisting they include him in their standoff.
While the three of them were caught up in their pointless squabble, the spell holding me up broke, and I dropped to the ground.
There was a thud. Even though the sound was loud, none of them noticed, too busy arguing.
Rubbing my sore backside, I carefully watched their movements. The moment I saw their attention shift entirely to each other, I mustered every ounce of strength I had and sprinted back toward the market.
‘I’ve run enough for a lifetime today.’
Huff-. Huff-.
So this was a world with magic too? What the hell! I almost got killed by those three lunatic psychopaths!
After running for what felt like ages, I finally reached the entrance of the market I’d started from. It was still bustling and noisy, filled with people.
Just then, a frantic voice stopped me.
“W-wait!”
I turned toward the voice and saw the carriage from earlier parked right in front of me.
‘Don’t tell me… have they been searching for me in the market this whole time?’
Wasn’t that cliché supposed to be over already?
No matter what I did, it seemed like I couldn’t escape that carriage. Maybe this really was where I was meant to end up.
I quickly resigned myself to the situation and tried to adapt to reality, but a shred of rationality held me back.
No. This isn’t right. This isn’t good. And I can hear it—clearly.
“Stop for a moment.”
The sound of my life falling apart in real time.
“Didn’t the Duke just tell you to stop? What are you doing standing there?”
If I ran now, could I escape without getting caught? What was my best 100-meter sprint time again?
While I was lost in these thoughts, the ticking time bomb descended from the carriage and approached me.
“Could you spare me a moment to talk? It won’t take long.”
The button on the time bomb had been pressed, and the timer had begun.
A 7-year-old beggar girl in rags had no power to refuse the words of a man addressed as “Duke.”
If he says jump, I have to jump. This is a hierarchical society, after all.
“Yes….”
