Chapter 1
Beneath the greenhouse of blue roses sat a boy and a girl, facing each other.
Vividly colored desserts showed off their individual beauty, tempting them shamelessly—but the two children, whose cheeks still held the peachy flush of youth, did not spare them so much as a glance.
Would it have been better if the desserts had simply been forgotten amid a lively conversation?
At a round table wide enough for a grown man to stretch both arms across, a veritable ballroom of sweets lay in abundance. Yet the boy and girl only sat in silence, gazing at one another.
In the end, only the cloying sweetness drifted sadly through the air, overpowering even the fragrance of flowers.
Only after the once-warm scones and the tarts topped with strawberries and raspberries had gone completely cold did the girl—Clarissa, who had been quietly watching the boy—finally speak.
“Let’s break off the engagement.”
Those were not words one would expect to hear from the mouth of a twelve-year-old girl.
That is, if she were an ordinary child you might see on any street.
The boy who had been staring only at Clarissa’s lips—Aryan—began to tremble, his small shoulders shaking.
Only the sun, kinder than ever, reached down to gently stroke Aryan’s shimmering white hair.
“……M-May I ask why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
Clarissa’s cold reply pierced straight through Aryan’s heart.
His long white eyelashes fluttered. His sea-colored eyes wavered, then fell.
Only then did the lavish desserts fill Aryan’s vision.
And suddenly, he understood.
To Clarissa, he was worth less than those beautiful, sweet confections.
“Ah……”
With a small sigh, Aryan wrapped his arms around his own scrawny frame.
His ill-fitting, expensive suit brushed against his delicate skin from time to time. Yet the places touched by Clarissa’s words hurt far more than the reddened skin beneath his collar.
Still, nothing was more unsightly than shedding tears. The boy pressed his lips together and waited for time to pass him by.
“Young Master Mathias.”
But time did not pass. Instead, it crept closer and cruelly placed the moment into his hands.
“Do you find what I said amusing?”
Clarissa’s voice, sharp as thin ice, poured down over Aryan’s head.
Though the midday sun of early summer steadily grew hotter, it offered him no warmth at all.
Aryan fidgeted with his ice-cold wrist.
“That’s not—”
He had to say it wasn’t. But his voice, caught in his throat, trembled weakly.
Clarissa’s chocolate-brown hair swayed like dark waves in the night.
Beneath her sharply arched brows, her brilliant golden eyes—once, he had hoped that affection might someday settle there.
How futile that hope had been.
A chill crept through his wrist, and a heavy pressure settled deep in his chest. Breathing became difficult.
Only after secretly clutching at his chest did Aryan manage to say the words Clarissa was waiting for.
“I understand.”
For the first time, Clarissa’s crooked smile straightened.
Her golden eyes gleamed with intelligence. Her cheeks, flushed with satisfaction, looked almost lovely.
“I will follow the young lady’s wishes.”
Even at the very end, Aryan could not bring himself to say her name.
He simply etched the sight of Clarissa’s face—smiling brighter than ever—quietly into his eyes.
Sorrow and fear. Relief and regret.
Lost in a swamp of nameless emotions, Aryan searched for a word to define his own heart.
But no name could speak for it. To call it love—he didn’t even know what that word truly meant.
And if asked whether he liked her, he wouldn’t be able to answer that either.
After all, the boy had always been too busy watching Clarissa’s moods, so young yet so willful.
Yes—Aryan had always been afraid of the girl before him, even though she was younger than he was.
And yet, even so, the sudden, lightning-like end of their relationship left a thin, long, indelible wound somewhere deep within him—a place even Aryan himself could not see.
Clarissa, as usual, lay atop her large, plush bed. After taking a small sip of warm milk, she closed her eyes while listening to the one and only melody in the world, played just for her.
The moon brushed gently against her translucent cheek as it passed by.
Starlight poured in through the wide window, and just as the summer insects began their nightly concert—
Clarissa’s eyes snapped open.
No, no! That’s not it! If he lives too comfortable a life, he won’t have any emotional lack! A proper male lead needs scars in his heart!
A voice she had never heard in this life—yet one that felt painfully familiar—rang clearly in Clarissa’s ears.
“What?”
Startled, Clarissa answered the hallucination without thinking.
And when a soft, drowsy voice filled the room—her own—she instinctively shrank back.
Hearing her voice as she spoke felt strangely wrong.
An inexplicable fear washed over her.
Carefully, Clarissa lifted a hand to her throat.
“Ah?”
Once more, she heard her own voice.
It was still as beautiful as a canary’s song—but this time, she was certain.
This…
This isn’t my voice.
The moment the thought formed, a burning sensation tore through her mind.
Clarissa writhed in pain. It felt as though all the blood in her body was rushing backward.
“Ghk!”
She wanted to reach out and call for help, but all she could manage was a hoarse gasp.
As her consciousness blurred, unfamiliar scenes came flooding in.
Kang, I’m getting ready for a new project—could you take a look?
Anything by you is good, Park! What’s it about? …Whoa, rofan? You’re writing romance fantasy this time?
Yeah. My last work got good feedback for the romance, so the company suggested I lean fully into the genre this time.
Damn, finally a Park-style rofan! I’m getting chills already.
I’m basically a newbie in this genre, so help me out, will you?
Of course, Your Grace.
The hands of “Writer Kang,” who had received something from the woman called “Writer Park,” moved busily.
Not just one stack of papers, but several—inside them, densely packed mind maps.
Detailed descriptions filled the pages, along with illustrations and neatly categorized photos of familiar-style buildings and gardens.
Kang flipped through them, openly impressed.
Her lips grew still, but her eyes darted rapidly.
And then, her gaze stopped.
Aryan von Ruben — Male Lead
Oh.
Hearing Kang’s voice echo in her mind, Clarissa clenched the bedsheets tightly.
Th-that name…
Just as the scream-like question threatened to burst out, Kang continued, a peculiar smile on her face.
The empire’s only sword master, wounded in war, eldest son of a count’s family who later becomes a duke—he gets help from a commoner female lead and returns to the capital with her! Together they overcome the forces threatening his family and grow side by side… Yeah, that’s good! But Park, is that all for the male lead’s backstory?
Her excited voice trailed off for a moment. Clarissa easily imagined what came next
Ah, well, I have some ideas…
Park hesitated shyly. Kang nodded vigorously, urging her on.
Encouraged by the sparkle in Kang’s eyes, Park began enthusiastically explaining the male lead’s past.
As Kang listened, her expression gradually stiffened.
And then, she said it—the fatal words.
No, no! That’s not it! If he lives too comfortable a life, he won’t have any emotional lack! A proper male lead needs scars in his heart!
No!
Those were the very words that had woken Clarissa.
She instinctively reached out—but touched nothing.
Cold sweat slid down her back.
Like being abused by his stepmother from childhood, developing an eating disorder so he still can’t taste food! Being neglected so he couldn’t take care of his appearance, growing frail and smaller than his peers, mocked by other children, developing relationship issues—and to top it all off, getting dumped by his fiancée so he can’t trust women! But despite all that, only the female lead is okay!
Kang spoke animatedly. Park looked at her with interest.
And then—
That…
Park broke into a wide grin.
Clarissa felt like she was about to cry.
Sounds great!
“Damn it. I’m screwed.”
Clarissa’s body jolted upright like a salmon leaping upstream.
The word that tore through her fragile voice was something she had never uttered in her life.
Yet she showed no sign of caring what she’d just said.
As memories poured in, Clarissa curled into herself.
She wiped her sweat-soaked face with both hands, her throat burning with thirst as she whispered with difficulty.
“Clarissa von Lisette.”
Her name—and—
“The only beloved daughter of the Marquis of Lisette, Asgard Empire.”
There wasn’t a single piece of information she didn’t recognize.
Yes—didn’t.
Clarissa lifted her head, chasing the faint trace of the moon.
Her golden eyes trembled anxiously.
Under the pale moonlight, she slowly raised her hand.
White skin. A small girl’s hand.
Her voice shook.
“…Mathias—no, the former fiancée of Duke Ruben.”
From this moment on, every word that left Clarissa’s lips was something she should neither know nor be able to know.
“The idiot side character who dumps the male lead as a child and is later ruined—the dumbest woman in the world.”
It felt as though she had glimpsed the secret of the enormous world surrounding her.
In truth, she had.
Clarissa recalled a name she had long forgotten—her own.
Yes. This world Clarissa lived in was inside a novel.
No—a world that used to be inside a novel.
And not just any novel, but her closest colleague’s very first romance fantasy:
The Duke’s Chocolate.
“Damn it…”
A pained groan slipped between Clarissa’s neatly clasped hands.
Why memories of a so-called past life had suddenly resurfaced, or why she had reincarnated as Clarissa—the dumbest character in the story—didn’t matter.
The biggest problem was—
“Crazy Kang…”
She was the very person responsible for giving the male lead his tear-jerking tragic backstory.
And—
“…stupid Clarissa.”
Just a few hours ago, she herself had reenacted—exactly as written—the single dumbest act in the entire original story