IOC - 17

However, that relief was short-lived. By the next morning, my thoughts were still in complete disarray.

Geoffrey Marches Latour.

A warning bell rang in my head, telling me I could be swallowed whole by this man. I wanted to avoid him. Yet, he was currently the only person who had an inkling of my true identity.

Furthermore, his words kept looping in my mind. An ancestor came to this world? And they preferred spicy food? Could it be... was that person Korean, just like me?

Absurdity hit me first, followed by a cold wave of dread washing down my back.

This was a setting that had never appeared in even a single line of the original novel. I had survived here based on the sole confidence that I was a reader who knew the ending.

But the moment unknown information began popping up one by one, that confidence shattered into pieces. It didn't feel like fiction was becoming reality, it felt like reality was swallowing the fiction and rewriting it entirely.

If the future I knew was no longer guaranteed, how much longer could I hold out?

And then there was the most incomprehensible part of all.

The price he demanded.

Why would an Archmage, slowly dying of a terminal illness, lust after the body of a mere innkeeper?

Was it really just "his type"? Or was there a much deeper, unspoken motive lurking beneath?

The proposal he made couldn't be explained by a single line of simple desire. Beneath it lay something bigger, darker, and somehow ominous.

But I didn't have the slightest clue what it was.

One thing was certain, though. for whatever reason, he had succeeded in completely unsettling me. If his goal was to throw me into confusion, he had already won.

Even after a day had passed, my mind was still occupied by Geoffrey. The lingering aftereffects bled into my work, I found myself staring blankly into space even while carrying heavy stone pots of soup.

It was right then.

"Innkeeper!"

A customer's sudden shout made my hands jerk.

Clatter!

"Gah! Yes?! ...Ow, hot!"

Hot broth splashed onto the back of my hand, followed by a searing sting of pain. That snapped me back to reality. The customer eating in front of me watched with startled eyes.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Ah, yes! What can I get for you?"

"I was going to ask for more radish kimchi, but I'll get it myself. You should go cool that hand off first."

"Oh, it doesn't even hurt!"

I scurried off to grab the kimchi dish, screaming at myself internally.

Get it together, you idiot! You're in the middle of a shift!

Despite my efforts, the lingering sensation on my lips kept bringing back the memory of Geoffrey’s touch, the way his fingertips glided along my jawline, the closeness of his breath.

How on earth was I supposed to forget that?

"Innkeeper! Refill on the broth over here!"

"Coming!"

"More rice, too!"

"Right away!"

As the flood of orders poured in, I was forced back into the present. Right, this is an inn on the border. What I need to hold onto isn't worry or conspiracy, it's money and customers.

I pushed the image of those violet eyes out of my head and headed back to the soup cauldron. I shoveled out the food as if burying my anxiety and suppressing my fears.

I just need to serve soup. For today, at least.

However, my next encounter with Geoffrey came much sooner than expected. Because I had spilled the soup and suffered a burn, I had to close the inn the following day. Somehow, he knew exactly that and showed up.

Seriously, does this guy have CCTV installed in this inn?

I looked at him with a sour expression, but Geoffrey simply lowered his hood and greeted me casually.

"Good morning."

"Good morning... You're quite diligent, coming by so early."

Who visits at the crack of dawn? I grumbled internally while spitting out a robotic greeting.

Geoffrey looked at me, then reached out without hesitation.

I flinched and tried to pull away, but once again, I was caught in a firm grip.

He’s a mage, so why is he so strong? Just as indignation was about to flare up, a warm light began to glow.

The blisters on the back of my hand began to subside, and the stinging pain vanished like a lie.

"Whoa...!"

The spot that had been beet-red just hours ago was now completely clear. Seeing my shock, Geoffrey gave a serene smile.

"An innkeeper's hands are their most precious asset for business, after all."

"Thank you."

I toyed with my hand, amazed that the pain had vanished so instantly. But then, Geoffrey began to slowly stroke the back of my hand. A chilling shiver ran through me.

"I had a feeling you were thinking about me. Please forgive the rudeness of my early visit."

"Pardon...?"

"I heard you made a mistake."

He wasn't wrong, but there was a disturbing vibration in his voice that made me uneasy.

Geoffrey leaned back in his chair and rested his chin on his hand. After an unbearable silence, I finally spoke first.

"How did you know I was hurt?"

His lips curled slightly.

"How pitiful. Please, do not be afraid."

Don't be afraid? Easier said than done.

He knew I was hurt even though I never said a word, and he showed up the very next day. How could I not be afraid?

As I glared at him, Geoffrey raised both hands as if to show he was harmless.

"Do you not realize how much of a hot topic your inn is within the Empire right now? When word got out that you were closed today, voices of disappointment could be heard everywhere. I simply overheard part of the conversation."

I kept my mouth shut, having nothing to say to that. Geoffrey furrowed his brows slightly as if troubled. Then, he reached out and lightly tapped the back of my hand.

"……!"

Startled, I reflexively yanked my hand back. Geoffrey didn't seem to mind, he simply shrugged.

"I've taken up enough of your morning. I shall take my leave now."

"...Eh?"

Really? That’s it?

I blinked stupidly at how easily he was backing off. But just as I thought he was leaving, Geoffrey suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand. Our fingers became instantly intertwined, locked together with no space between them.

"……?!"

With our fingers laced, Geoffrey squeezed and released my hand a few times. As I flinched with every squeeze, a glint of amusement touched his eyes, as if he found my reaction entertaining.

After a while, he let go with a light flick of his wrist and stood up.

"Let's count that as the 'price' for today. I will see you on your next holiday."

I remained frozen, a look of utter bewilderment on my face. Just before he stepped over the threshold, Geoffrey suddenly looked back.

"For the record, I believe your coming here was not an accident, but fate."

Suddenly? Not knowing his intention, I hesitated before offering a simple goodbye.

"…Yes. Thank you for the treatment."

Geoffrey gave a thin smile at that. Along with the sound of the door closing, the bell chimed briefly, and the inn fell back into silence.

In that quiet, a question suddenly dawned on me.

After groping my hand to his heart's content, why did he say something like that at the very end?

Was it to leave a bitter aftertaste? Or was it a calculated move to leave me confused so I couldn't think of anything else?

Whichever it was, it was half-successful. My mind was still trapped by him.

...Come to think of it. Had I ever once deeply considered why I was "possessed" into this world?

From the moment I opened my eyes, I had been too busy just surviving under the name "Shion the Innkeeper." Selling soup every day, welcoming guests, and clinging to life had forced me to bury and ignore the most important questions.

"……."

Why am I here? Why am I in this body?

I had never once asked myself those questions deeply.

"No."

I shook my head vigorously.

No, it’s just that I was used to giving up. Giving in easily, adapting somehow, and stubbornly holding on, that was my way.

For someone who doesn't know the way out, resignation is better than despair, and action is a higher priority than contemplation.

...And yet.

A deep question echoed. Is this really right?

That question created ripples deep in my heart that lasted a long time, like a stone thrown into a pond. Even though Geoffrey had left, the feeling wouldn't subside.

That night, after tossing and turning before finally falling into a shallow sleep, I had a dream.

The very same dream that had been deeply rooted in me for a long time, covered in inferiority and helplessness.

The dream was always the same scene. Standing behind a glass wall, no matter how much I struggled, I couldn't get inside. Not a single fingertip of mine could reach the inside of that wall, which was filled with sparkling lights, laughter, and applause.

Because my place was always outside the wall.