Saved Him, Now I'm Obsessed (10 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 3

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“You don’t remember anything at all? Not even me, your older brother?”

The large man pointed at himself as he spoke, as if he truly were my older brother. Could I possibly have had a sibling I never knew about? No. Grandfather never once mentioned I had a half-sibling.

Mother and Father had married young, and died in an accident shortly after I was born—there was no way I could have a hidden sibling.

“I don’t have any siblings….”

Not only siblings—I had no blood relatives left at all. After my only family, Grandfather, passed away ten years ago, I’d lived entirely alone. So the idea of me having a brother now… was absurd.

“What on earth is going on here!”

“Did you really treat her properly?”

The man who claimed to be my older brother grabbed the healer by the collar and shouted furiously. The frail healer, hoisted off the ground by the massive, bear-like man, looked pitiful as his toes barely touched the floor.

Well, it wasn’t uncommon. Relatives of patients often lost control of their emotions and lashed out verbally or even physically at apothecaries or healers.

I understood their feelings, but healers and apothecaries couldn’t magically cure every illness. Yet convincing patients or their families of that was even harder.

Since it seemed his anger toward the healer was because of me, I calmly tried to soothe him.

“Please don’t use force… Wouldn’t it be better to explain things clearly so I can understand? Threatening the healer won’t make me become this ‘Claire’ you speak of. So just explain—why do you keep calling me that name?”

“Claire….”

The large man flung the healer away, his eyes brimming with tears. Then he gazed at me with a pitiful, heartbroken expression. His face resembled a tragic heroine’s, yet his behavior was…

It was the first time I’d seen such a grown man cry so childishly, and it made me feel deeply guilty, as if I’d committed some terrible wrong.

But honestly, wasn’t the most wronged person right now the healer coughing desperately on the floor, seemingly on the verge of suffocation?

Healers were supposedly treated better than apothecaries… but then again, people were people anywhere you went. Pushing aside my sympathy for the healer, I turned to them and asked for an explanation.

“If you dislike the name Claire, shall I call you ‘Little Cherry’ like when you were little?”

I stared at him—the man asking with eyes red and swollen from crying—as if he were the most pathetic creature on earth.

“Little Cherry?”

“Little Cherry… Your hair color lightened considerably as you grew, but when you were little, your hair was a deep pink, just like an unripe cherry, so we called you that… You looked like the tiniest circle in the world—so cute. Of course, you still are….”

He even sniffled as he spoke. My mind went blank, as though I had a fever. If anyone was delirious, it wasn’t me—it was him. Maybe the healer should be treating him instead of me.

My hair was indeed red, but a deep, dark red—more like a fully ripe cherry, not an unripe pink.

And what was this about being “the tiniest circle in the world”? I’d always grown faster than others; the word “small” had never been used to describe me.

In fact, I was as tall as any grown man… “Little Cherry”? No, setting that aside—today was the first time we’d ever met! When did we become close enough for him to use such a nickname?

Even more absurdly, everyone else in the room—aside from me—was staring at me with confused expressions, as if they believed I truly was Claire, or “Little Cherry.”

It was utterly frustrating. Being surrounded by people who acted as if calling me Claire instead of Jane were perfectly normal made me wonder if perhaps I was the one hallucinating.

“No, seriously, what is this all about….”

Even stranger was the fact that my long hair, falling past my shoulders, was now a pale pink—just like an unripe cherry, as they claimed.

Moreover, my once stiff, broom-like red hair was nowhere to be seen. When I ran my fingers through it, it felt as soft as the finest velvet.

“And even your fingers are short and delicate….”

My hands were small, fair, and flawless—like those of a gently raised noble young lady.

They weren’t the rough, scarred hands of someone who handled medicinal herbs, but smooth as if they’d never even touched water. They felt so foreign I kept clenching and unclenching my fists. Though my movements felt awkward, they clearly obeyed my will.

“So… you’re saying I’m Claire?”

“Yes. Claire McKane—my Little Cherry….”

No more of that “Little Cherry” nonsense… But no matter how I looked at it, this body clearly wasn’t mine. And with them reacting as if the world would collapse at my slightest word, I couldn’t keep insisting, “I’m not Claire!”

By the way—Claire McKane… That name did sound familiar…

“I’m feeling rather dazed right now… Could you tell me more clearly who I am? And please introduce yourselves as well.”

I addressed the large man and the beautiful woman.

Awkwardly, they introduced themselves: the large man was “Shuri McKane,” Claire’s older brother, and the blonde woman in the sky-blue dress was “Ileina McKane,” his wife.

And I, they said, was their only younger sister, “Claire McKane.”

Claire McKane. The name was definitely familiar. Where had I heard it before…?

I struggled to recall who exactly this name belonged to. It wasn’t hard—recently, her name had been mentioned frequently throughout the Carlobanian Empire.

Half a moon ago, during a royal hunting tournament, Prince Daniel, Ian’s younger brother, nearly lost his life. His horse had panicked for some reason, reared violently, and thrown him off.

The agitated horse reared again, hooves raised to trample him. Terrified, Daniel had slumped to the ground, staring up helplessly at the beast about to crush him.

No one had time to react to the sudden incident.

At that moment, a young noblewoman nearby bravely threw herself forward and saved him.

That was how Lady Claire McKane had made her name.

Thanks to her, Daniel suffered only minor abrasions. Claire, however, was gravely injured.

Struck on the head by the horse’s hoof, she hadn’t woken up for nearly half a moon. Rumors claimed she’d barely cling to life; some even said she’d already passed away….

Trending

The problem was, these people here kept calling me “Claire McKane”—not “Jane.”

Only after asking for a mirror could I be certain. This body was unmistakably not Jane’s, but that of a young lady I’d never seen before.

Now I understood why Shuri McKane had called her “Little Cherry” when she was little.

Her pink hair, petite stature, and perfectly rounded eyes, nose, and mouth—everything about Lady Claire McKane was small and adorable. The nickname “Little Cherry” suited her perfectly.

“My hair’s shorter and lighter… But what about me? What happened to me?”

Rubbing the back of my neck to soothe the dull ache spreading from my temples, I tried to recall my last memory.

Though unclear, I did remember one thing—the fire at the apothecary, and being crushed beneath a clock adorned with a golden dragon.

“Did I die then… and end up inside this girl named Claire? But what about Claire herself?”

While I sat lost in thought, the recovered healer explained my condition to the others.

“It seems Lady Claire suffered a head injury when she collapsed, causing memory damage. Whether it’s temporary or permanent, we can’t yet determine.”

The healer diagnosed me with amnesia. From his perspective, it was the only reasonable diagnosis for someone who remembered neither family nor herself.

I didn’t resent his conclusion. If I told them, “I’m not Lady McKane—I’m Jane, a commoner apothecary!” they’d likely conclude I was mentally unstable rather than merely suffering from memory loss.

Even if I explained, “This body belongs to Lady McKane, but I’m Jane inside,” who would believe me?

Even I knew it sounded utterly impossible. At best, they’d call a priest, convinced I was possessed by a demon.

Then again—if a priest sprinkled holy water, would I be exorcised and Claire return? Probably not. Claire was likely already dead.

Even if I disappeared, her chances of revival were slim. Horse-related accidents carried high fatality rates, and after half a moon without waking, there was little hope.

Here I was, worrying about being exorcised… making me feel like a demon myself.

As for my own body… I’d better not think about it. The fire hadn’t been small—if anything, my body probably hadn’t survived that inferno intact. I stopped imagining any further.

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