Jen, who had said he would be back soon, was only able to return after 30 minutes.

30 minutes. It was an ambiguous time to describe as “soon,” but considering the vast mansion, it was understandable. After all, it would take a good 5 minutes just to walk from the interview room to the main entrance.

“I apologize. It took longer than expected…”

Jen entered the room hastily, as if being chased by something. His disheveled hair and attire had been neatly and elegantly arranged.

Deborah said with a faint smile.

“It’s alright.”

Deborah didn’t expect Jen to return her smile. But she thought he would at least explain why he had asked her to wait.

However, Jen just stared at Deborah silently, like a rigid statue. With a serene expression as if in a dream.

‘This is uncomfortable.’

Deborah maintained her faint smile and waited for him to speak. It wouldn’t be appropriate for Deborah to rush him.

At that moment, Jen, who had turned his head sharply to the point of showing his back, said,

“Let’s have our conversation elsewhere. Follow me.”

Deborah didn’t particularly want to move. It felt like the conversation would just drag on unnecessarily. But she couldn’t very well suggest having a chat in a place strewn with broken cup fragments.

“Understood.”

Upon hearing Deborah’s response, Jen took a deep breath and opened the door. As Deborah stepped into the corridor, she noticed the empty waiting area and thought,

‘Surely he didn’t send everyone away?’

It must have been quite a task to send away so many people.

There would have been complaints, and explaining follow-up schedules would have been troublesome too. Deborah suddenly felt uneasy. What on earth did Jen want to tell her that he would postpone the interviews?

‘No matter how much I go over our conversation, there was nothing wrong with my answers.’

Deborah hadn’t said anything that would have been uncomfortable for that arrogant male protagonist or the interviewer to hear.

The only thing she could think of was whether Jen might have some connection to ‘the Heather couple’.

‘Jen reacted to the mention of the Heather couple. Perhaps he knows them?’

As far as Deborah knew, the Heather couple didn’t appear in the story.

‘Well, people don’t have to be mentioned in the story to know each other.’

Come to think of it, the description of Jen in the novel was woefully inadequate. The only past revealed was that he had been abandoned by his father, lived as a vagrant, and then received help from some nobleman to start a business.

‘The explanation was indeed lacking. Even if Dia is the protagonist, Jen is still the male lead.’

In that story, Jen seemed to have been born to hate someone.

A flame that seemed capable of burning even massive mountains, yet flickered precariously at a breath. That was Jen.

That precarious flame was bitterly hated in the world beyond the text. It was understandable. He had committed such grave sins.

At the time, Deborah probably didn’t like Jen either.

‘Probably.’

That’s why she was so shocked when she learned that the new world given to her was one where Jen and Dia were the protagonists. To think she had to live in a world where such terrible things would happen.

‘Even though I had been living a life unrelated to the protagonists until now, and thought I would continue to do so, to end up connected like this…’

In fact, the current Deborah, separate from her desire to stay away from Jen, didn’t hate the current Jen. Those two feelings needed to be clearly distinguished.

‘Jen hasn’t done anything directly wrong to me. And he probably hasn’t done anything cruel to Dia either, at least not yet.’

Of course, he would have chosen Dia as if buying an object, and spoken arrogantly. And if left alone, the things Deborah remembered would happen.

‘But at least for now, it’s a crime that doesn’t exist yet.’

So she couldn’t hate or condemn him.

“……”

The heavier of the clear footsteps echoing in the corridor came to a stop.

As the back leading her stopped, Deborah also came to an abrupt halt.

“Is something the matter?”

Deborah asked Jen, who had turned slightly to glance at her.

“…Just checking if you were following well.”

Jen answered, quickly turning his head back to face forward.

Deborah smiled softly. Who would have thought he’d worry about such a thing?

‘Well, I suppose it might be hard to keep up if he walked freely with those long legs of his.’

But Jen was walking leisurely with short strides. How could one miss such a figure from behind? Even a child could have followed.

“I’m following well.”

Hearing Deborah’s reply, Jen started walking slowly again. Deborah also began to move her feet once more.

Deborah looked at Jen’s back, which seemed close enough to touch if she reached out, and briefly imagined a hypothetical scenario.

‘If I were to turn around and run away wildly from here, would this man catch me quickly?’

Probably so. Even if she ran so hard that her breath felt like it was burning her throat, she would end up being caught.

Of course, she wasn’t sure if Jen had any intention of catching her. He might just send a complaint-filled letter to Madam Saint later.

‘Ah, I really want to run away.’

If it weren’t for Madam Saint, Deborah would have pretended to be crazy and fled from this persistent male lead.

If there was one thing she had realized through her 28 years of life here and her hazy life before, it was that even if you only pursue a quiet life, you can still be caught up in a storm at any time.

‘Even people who were smiling normally just moments ago can suddenly become otherworldly in an instant.’

Knowing that our lives can become dangerous no matter how careful we are, is there really a need to be caught up in a storm, especially a massive one?

Deborah wanted to avoid this storm at all costs.

* * *

The place Jen guided her to was a reception room far too grand for a mere interviewee to sit in.

Of course, a reception room is a space meant for entertaining guests. But the reason this place was lavishly decorated with all sorts of artworks and flowers that would soon wilt wasn’t for common guests like Deborah.

‘They even lit a fire in the fireplace.’

Was that for Deborah too? Or was it for Jen, who, despite not being particularly susceptible to cold, intensely disliked being chilly?

‘Even if the fireplace is for Jen, the rest…’

Deborah broke out in a cold sweat looking at the luxurious wool blanket on her lap and the elaborate tea set.

The three-tiered tray was piled high with jewel-like desserts that looked delicious, and the porcelain was from the Royal Road company that supplied even the royal family, with all the teaspoons and forks made of silver.

‘This is too much. Far too much.’

While it’s polite to enjoy hospitality with a smile, this was so excessive that she couldn’t bring herself to touch anything.

‘And the most excessive thing here is this person.’

Deborah stared at Jen, who had been bustling about until just now, bringing her something to cover herself with and personally pouring her tea.

Jen, seemingly uncomfortable with the plush sofa that enveloped a person, crossed and uncrossed his legs before finally planting both shoe soles on the floor.

“Why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like these things?”

Jen asked, leaning his upper body forward. His voice was calm, contrasting with his somewhat restless actions.

“Oh, no.”

“Then why aren’t you eating? You must be hungry after waiting for so long.”

“They’re such precious things that I hesitate to touch them.”

Deborah replied with a genial smile, causing Jen to raise one eyebrow.

Towards Jen, who wore an expression of dissatisfaction, if not quite a frown, Deborah added,

“I’ll eat slowly.”

“…Do so.”

Having said that, Jen silently stared at Deborah’s hands. Under that persistent gaze that seemed to hope those hands would grasp something, Deborah held back a bitter smile and grasped the teacup.

‘If I break this, it would cost me three months’ salary.’

Thinking that made her heart flutter, but there was no sign of unsteadiness in her series of movements as she drank the tea.

Jen watched her bring the teacup to her lips without blinking, his eyes slightly downcast.

When Deborah, after moistening her throat with just one sip, looked at him again, only then did Jen hurriedly avert his eyes. Did he think Deborah hadn’t noticed?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jen asked, glancing at Deborah again, seemingly aware of her fixed gaze. By the end of that short sentence, his gaze was directed somewhere in the empty air.

‘That’s what I want to ask you.’

Deborah couldn’t understand why Jen was avoiding her gaze. She was the one who wanted to avoid him.

“What did you want to tell me?”

Deborah’s voice was gentle yet straightforward. Jen, furrowing his brow, parted his smooth lips.

“Why are you in such a rush? Will your ‘Madam Saint’ get angry if you don’t return quickly?”

Deborah had thought that the ‘Jen’ in the novel would be a frightening person. Not just irritable, but sensitive and as cold as the edge of a blade. But right now, Jen looked like a sulking child.

‘So he’s not scary, but…’

Yet that gaze, the one that kept glancing at Deborah’s face even as he tried to avoid it, was very ‘Jen-like’. It was persistent and intense, reminiscent of a flame.

“Even if you don’t rush, I have many questions to ask.”

“Feel free to ask comfortably.”

“Then, first question. Ten years ago, why did you leave the Heather household?”

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Deborah’s smiling face froze.

Ten years. It’s a very long time. Long enough for a child to become an adult, for someone elderly to return to God’s embrace.

Deborah, like many others’ decade of life, had lived through quite a stormy time.

But even so, remembering ‘that time’ made her heart unsettled and her head dizzy.

“……”

As Deborah opened her mouth and hesitated, Jen, who had been staring at her with surprised eyes, turned his head abruptly and said,

“…Let’s move on to the next question. After quitting your job with the Heather family, where exactly were you and what were you doing?”

Jen’s new question pulled Deborah a step back from her gloomy past, but it also left her feeling disgruntled.

It was only natural for an employer to inquire about an interviewee’s background, but they usually didn’t ask in such a pressing manner.

‘Anyone would think I had run away and been caught.’

Swallowing her displeasure, Deborah answered leisurely.

“I believe I listed my experience on my resume.”

“I’m asking because your resume only shows your work at Madam Saint’s mansion.”

Jen said, as if pressing her. Unless one was interviewing for a high position in the royal family or an equally prestigious household, it was common practice to list only the most recent experience.

‘Doesn’t Jen know this? No, he knows. That’s why he didn’t pick a fight earlier.’

But now he’s picking a fight.

‘This is quite arbitrary.’

Suppressing an internal sigh, Deborah answered.

“I worked at a clothing factory in North Martin.”

“North Martin…? What kind of factory there?”

“The Zelaman Company factory.”

Jen, who had been frowning all this time, now wore an expression incomparably more severe than before.

‘Such a displeased expression.’

What was so wrong about Deborah working at a clothing factory?

“Zelaman? Don’t lie. That factory was only completed 5 years ago.”

“That’s right. I didn’t work there for many years. Before working at that factory, I also worked at a restaurant, and lived and worked on a farm…”

“Then why did you omit all that and only mention the factory?”

Jen’s breathing was rough. With only his eyes reddening on his pale face, Deborah found herself involuntarily staring into Jen’s eyes.

Jen, after breathing heavily, covered his eyes with his large hand. His anguished appearance was like a painting, but now was not the time to appreciate his beauty.