The acrid smell cleared Jeryl’s head and she pulled away from the solid arms that had been holding her.
‘A moth to a flame—why does death keep happening in front of me?’
It felt like trauma in the making.
She didn’t feel sorrow for the dead—most of them were murderers or horrible people anyway.
“Thank you for saving me—”
“Tch.”
She was about to thank her savior when he made that sound. Tch?
The man, flustered, flipped the corpse over and mumbled.
“That damned emperor is going to make a fuss again. What a nuisance.”
She hadn’t heard everything clearly, but the way he glared at her right after made it obvious he wasn’t especially fond of her.
She didn’t care—something else seized her attention.
‘Why are his karma numbers like that?’
<System>
[ Karma: ▒▒ ]
The space above the man’s head blurred as if pixelated. This was a first. Someone whose karma she couldn’t see?
“Judging by his clothes, he’s noble. If you’re out tonight, take a guard with you. Don’t cause needless trouble.”
“Who’s this guy?”
“What?”
Startled, Jeryl had accidentally said what she’d been thinking and swiftly clapped a hand over her mouth. A sharp look flew her way.
The man frowned in mild disbelief then turned his head away—clearly not interested in continuing the exchange.
‘Still, I can’t just let my lifesaver go like that!’
Once, moved by a fable about returning kindness, Jeryl hurried to find words.
“Haha—no, that’s not it… Anyway, thank you for saving me! I’m Jeryl of the Marquis of Rubian. If you want compensation—”
The man’s head snapped around. Maybe it was her imagination, but his violent aura seemed to thicken.
“…Rubian family?”
“Yes!”
“Jeryl Rubian?”
She nodded. The man strode closer until his shadow fell over her; he was easily over 190 cm. The way he measured the woman in front of him met the bright, curious gaze reserved for one who’d saved a life.
Then the corner of his mouth split into a long, wide smile.
If his butler had seen it, he would have muttered, “My lord’s about to make trouble again,” in exasperation.
“I’m Car—no, call me Kal. You said you’d compensate?”
“Yes, you saved my life. Though it was—rough, I suppose…”
The predator’s grin was fierce.
For a sparrow who’d only intended to return a favor, it felt like a bolt from the blue.
“There is one thing I’d like you to do.”
“What is it?”
“I haven’t been in the empire long, so I don’t know the capital well. Will you show me around?”
Oh—he’s a foreigner!
Jeryl nodded, thinking simply.
“Alright, then let’s meet tomorrow at the café by the square. I’ll send you the exact time in a letter.”
“Yes! Leave it to me. But are you sure that’s enough—?”
The man, tucking away a sleek silver pistol, smiled like a well-fed predator.
“Fine.”
In short: Jeryl was stood up.
“Milady! Didn’t you say you had an appointment tonight?”
“Um… I did, but it didn’t work out.”
She shook the rain from her soaked clothes and frowned.
‘Did I get the time wrong?’
But the letter she’d received that morning had clearly said: Today at 6 p.m., the café by the square.
The accusatory paper fluttered in her hand, and a familiar smell lingered on it.
‘Like leaves and rot…’
Her nose twitched but produced no answer. Jeryl shrugged off the thought and returned to the main point.
‘Maybe something happened to Kal. He’s a foreigner—maybe he got lost.’
She picked up a pen.
To Kal:
Hello—this is the sparrow you rescued yesterday…
She stopped, inked out the useless “sparrow” line, and reworded the letter.
This is Jeryl Rubian, whom you saved yesterday. You didn’t show up at our meeting place today, and I was worried. Are you alright? If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.
She handed the letter to Bell, thinking little of it. He’d probably forgotten or had some reason.
The next morning Kal replied.
To Lady Rubian,
I had circumstances that kept me from coming yesterday. I regret making you wait. As apology, allow me to treat you to dinner—shall we meet at the fountain in the square this evening at 6 p.m.?
Of course, relief flooded her—there was a reason—and she left her house with the list of sightseeing spots she’d prepared for a guide in her pocket.
In the end she was stood up again.
She looked pitiful standing alone in front of the fountain.
‘…What a bastard.’
By now she was getting angry. Oddly, she felt a flicker of sympathy for the Duke of Refert—his obsession was almost understandable.
While murmuring at the sunset, she realized:
‘Come to think of it, I haven’t had any letters from the Duke since that “Hey.” incident.’
After the terrifying “Hey.” message, she’d expected another letter attack. Her expression brightened.
‘So maybe I dodged the death flag after all?’
That would be great—she wanted a thin, long life.
Her reflection in a puddle caught her eyes; yesterday’s rain had left standing water.
The brightness drained from her face.
She hesitated as if afraid, and then leaned over to peer into the puddle.
<System>
[ Karma: 50 ]
The karma number that never changed when she checked via reflection stayed the same.
Since occupying Jeryl Rubian’s body, she hadn’t done anything vile. If anything, guilt from a past life had driven her to help others.
‘So this karma must be not Jeryl’s, but mine.’
Memories of the past flickered through her blue eyes: why she insisted on working at a children’s clinic when there were so many places to choose from.
[Big sister, I like you because you’re my sister!]
[Big sister, why do people call you “the adopted child”? What does that mean?]
Screech—bang!
[Ah… no… I’ll save you! Hold on, please—just a little longer…]
The red-streaked asphalt was the last thing her memory clung to.
Her gaze into the puddle turned hollow.
“Milady, the sun’s going down. That Kal—Kare or Kal—doesn’t look like he’s coming. Maybe you should go in?”
Ah, right. Kal.
Startled awake, she scanned the square; black hair and red eyes were nowhere to be seen.
She sighed and turned to leave.
“Alright, let’s go. I don’t know what to think anymore…”
“Your Grace, a letter from His Majesty the Emperor has arrived.”
“Burn it.”
Kal—no, Caron—glowered and the butler looked troubled.
“It’s a bit much to ignore the Emperor’s letter for weeks…”
“I don’t want to waste time on my foolish brother’s rambling letters. Burn it. No—bring it here. I’ll burn it myself.”
Caron roughly snatched the envelope the butler offered. It ignited at once—red mage power.
‘A waste of ability…’
The butler swallowed hard. To use such rare red magic wastefully was painful to see. If the emperor saw this, he’d be furious.
“Any letters from the House of Rubian?”
“Yes. Perhaps you should stop being angry with Lady Rubian?”
Caron regard the suggestion like an absurdity and curled one lip.
“Nonsense. Check again. There must be more.”
His red eye flashed. Then a servant approached with a silver tray.
“Your Grace, a letter has arrived from the House of Rubian.”
Caron’s broad fingers grabbed the envelope at once.
To Kal.
The handwriting was pressed hard onto the paper as if written in an irritated hurry.
This meeting was meant to provoke the Emperor who was wary of my marriage. After being stood up more than ten times, my neck is stiff.
Caron read quickly, noting how the corner of the letter was torn as if chewed.
He smiled in satisfaction and nodded.
“Butler, write a reply for me. Tell him in suitable wording to meet me tomorrow at 6 p.m., in front of the museum.”
“…Do you not intend to go out this time?”
The butler looked as if he was tired of his master’s whims.
“No, this time I’ll go.”
The lids over those reddish eyes folded meaningfully.
“It’s about time I revealed my true self.”
“Milady, there’s a letter from Kal.”
“Not Kal—Kal, not Kare…”
Bell seemed to have taken personal offense to the foreigner who’d stood her up.
Jeryl, having just gotten out of bed, took the envelope. The faint scent of gunpowder brushed her nose.
‘What excuse will he use this time?’
To Lady Rubian,
Good day—morning where the birds sing in the spring sun. Did you have pleasant dreams last night? Please forgive my behavior yesternight…
The tone suddenly switched to polite honorifics. The letter lay out a florid apology—the butler’s tearful attempt to polish his master’s manners.
Unaware of the truth, Jeryl fell head over heels for the charm.
…Would you see me at the museum at 6 p.m. today?
“Are you going?”
“He saved my life—at least show some courtesy…”
But when cornered, even a sparrow can be petty. If he stood her up again, she’d forget the whole thing.
She stood resolute.
5:30 p.m. — thirty minutes until the clinic closed.
“Jeryl, how have you been?”
“Oh, Ian. Long time.”
As she finished her tasks, a handsome man with warm brown hair and lively green eyes approached.
Ian—the captain of the First Royal Knights and heir to the Duke of Persh—was someone she’d treated after a severe injury years ago. That treatment had been the bridge that kept them in contact.
One oddity: in the original story, Ian wasn’t the First Knight Captain at all.
Well, that wasn’t necessarily bad. If people’s roles could change, perhaps the plot could shift too—which meant she might avoid the early-death ending.
Jeryl laughed lightly, watching the clarity in his eyes.
“You look particularly bright-eyed today, Ian. Got special contact lenses or something?”
Ian smiled without answering.
“Jeryl, would you have dinner with me after work?”
“Oh—well. I have an appointment tonight.”
“A date?”
“No—no, it isn’t a date—”
At that moment—
“Emergency! Multiple patients are seizing!”
A clinic staffer shouted, and stretchers began arriving in a line.
“Another blue rash.”
“Centered on the respiratory system again?”
“Yes. This month alone we’ve had several.”
Recently, many people had been brought in with the same symptoms: blue blotches around the nose and mouth and convulsions.
Before she could even ask why, voices called for her from all directions.
“Jeryl! Over here, please!”
“Over here!”
As a healer-mage specialized in treatment—a rarity even among general mages—she ran until her feet burned. The clock hands slid toward 6:00 and she barely noticed; she had far more patients than she could handle.
“Jeryl, please check this one!”
The hands kept moving, and before she realized, it was 7:00.
“Mom, that big brother is scary!”
“Shh! Come here! Don’t go near him.”
7:30 p.m.
A man, more practiced at causing people to faint than getting rejected, stood in the empty square wearing a ferocious grin.
