Chapter 5
Beneath the blue rose greenhouse, a boy and a girl sat facing each other.
Sweet desserts lined the round table between them, each one flaunting its beauty and fragrance as if tempting the still-young pair.
Somehow, it all felt strangely familiar.
“Ahem!”
Remembering the atrocity she’d committed just two days ago, Clarissa cleared her throat awkwardly.
“…S-so, did you sleep well?”
Breaking the silence was one thing—but nerves got the better of her, and she bit her tongue.
As Clarissa swallowed the pain without even letting out a cry, she noticed Aryan’s shoulders flinch.
‘Ah… did I say something wrong again?’
She’d thought yesterday’s events had closed the distance between them a little, but maybe that had just been wishful thinking.
Fidgeting with her hair, Clarissa studied Aryan’s expression.
‘He looks scared, doesn’t he? Is it because I went too far back then?’
But it was too late for regrets—and even if she could go back, she’d probably hit them again, not less.
After completing her cold, brutally honest self-analysis, Clarissa waited with an I won’t hurt you kind of face.
For some reason, she was reminded of the time, back when she was Writer Kang, when she’d first adopted a rescue dog.
‘He kind of looks like… a timid puppy.’
Whether he sensed the comparison or not, Aryan slowly chose his words, eyes darting around.
He was the one who had prayed not to wake from the dream—but now that he was awake and facing Clarissa in the flesh, he felt like crawling into a mouse hole.
Aryan’s face flushed red, then drained pale, over and over.
“Does it… still hurt?” Clarissa asked at last, unable to wait any longer.
“You don’t look very well.”
“Th—!”
Aryan’s pupils doubled in size.
Clarissa’s pale face was reflected clearly in his blue eyes.
His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally bowed his head deeply and answered in a voice that barely crawled out.
“I-I’m fine.”
“That’s a relief, then.”
Clarissa laughed awkwardly and changed the subject.
She wondered if what scared him was the fact that he’d spent the night at the marquis’s estate.
“Oh, right. I already sent word to the count’s estate, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yes…”
‘Hmm. Not that either?’
No matter what she added—this, that—nothing resembling a proper conversation took shape.
Come to think of it, their talks were always like this.
Clarissa talking freely, and Aryan nodding along with a cowed expression.
Clarissa let out a quiet sigh, thinking back on the mess she’d made for days now.
What good was deciding to give the male lead a flower-strewn path instead of his miserable childhood, if she couldn’t even communicate with him properly?
She shook her head sharply.
A few awkward exchanges weren’t enough to ruin everything.
Under the table, Clarissa clenched her fist.
She was ready to draw on her experience from her previous life—as a writer.
“Aryan.”
She called his name carefully—the one she’d probably say more than any other for the rest of her life.
“The reason I asked to meet you this morning is…”
But once she tried to speak, her thoughts rushed ahead of her, and the right words refused to come.
Aryan’s clear, jewel-like blue eyes watched her, stiff with tension.
It felt selfish—like she was doing this for her own peace of mind.
And honestly, that wasn’t entirely wrong.
‘This is a win-win… for both of us, right…!’
Having convinced herself,
“Well, originally, I should’ve talked about this yesterday…”
‘Screw it.’
Clarissa squeezed her eyes shut and blurted out everything she’d been sitting on for the past day.
Clarissa—the girl—and Writer Kang—her former self—collided head-on.
“I wasn’t in my right mind back then!”
“My lady?”
“I know what I said must’ve hurt you… a lot!”
“What do you mean…?”
Aryan’s lips parted and closed again, uncertain.
He couldn’t make sense of Clarissa’s serious expression or her cryptic words.
Yesterday, today—there hadn’t been even a trace of cruelty in the gentle Clarissa before him.
“My lady… are you hurt somewhere?”
“No! That’s not what I mean, I just—!”
Trying to gather up her mistake sent sweat trickling down Clarissa’s back.
And that wasn’t the only problem.
‘Wait—damn it. Isn’t this basically a proposal?’
It was a childhood engagement.
Thinking about it, it hadn’t even been that long ago that she’d insisted on being engaged to him.
But making a proposal with the rational mind of Writer Kang—who’d never even had a proper relationship in over twenty years—was no easy task.
She knew it was silly to be this embarrassed, but her face kept heating up anyway.
Her fingers clenched the soft folds of her dress.
Avoiding Aryan’s impossibly pure gaze, Clarissa shouted as if bracing herself for impact.
“Breaking off the engagement was a mistake!”
‘Wow. Writer Kang. Is this your vocabulary now?’
She could practically feel the God of Literature glaring down at her.
‘What—what else was I supposed to say?!’
Of course, it was all in her head—but clinging to that illusion was the only way she held onto her sanity.
A heavy silence settled between them.
‘Why is it so quiet?’
As the silence deepened, Clarissa cautiously lifted her eyes to check Aryan’s face.
He was still staring at her, completely blank.
‘What, are you shocked by my word choice too?’
Her irritation nearly slipped out, but she managed to rein it in and cleared her throat.
“Um… Aryan?”
Since it had come to this, she pushed through the embarrassment and pressed him.
A small sound escaped his lips first.
“Ah…”
“Did… did you understand what I meant?”
Judging by his flustered expression, he’d heard her just fine.
“So, you mean…”
Aryan trailed off.
Clarissa waited, eyes sparkling.
“That you want… to keep our engagement?”
Swallow.
A sound—no one knew whose—filled the space.
“Yes! I mean—yes!”
You got it!
Clarissa brightened and quickly checked his expression.
And that’s when—
“Aryan?”
“…Why… do you ask?”
His expression—
‘Huh?’
It was dark. Uncomfortably so.
As expected, Aryan lowered his head and murmured,
“Why all of a sudden…”
Clarissa was the one caught off guard by his troubled tone.
She’d expected it to be hard to say—but not this reaction.
After all—
‘Aryan…’
He had never once refused anything Clarissa wanted.
Why all of a sudden—that was her line.
‘You’re actually… rejecting me?’
It felt like someone had smacked her over the head.
‘Oh. Right.’
Only after floundering in shock for a moment did Clarissa remember the truth she’d overlooked.
Huge lines of text flashed through her mind in an instant.
Aryan looked down coldly at the woman pleading before him. Not the clear tears running down Clarissa’s cheeks, nor her flushed face twisted in desperation, stirred his heart in the slightest.
[If I had to choose the single most correct decision of my life—]
Aryan’s voice was utterly calm. The memory of his younger self, who had once feared that small, foolish woman, felt nothing more than ridiculous.
That’s right.
Aryan—
[That was it.]
His lips curved into a perfect smile. His blue eyes sank even colder.
Hated Clarissa.
[I broke off the engagement with you, Lady Lisette.]
‘Am I… screwed?’
Without realizing it, Clarissa hugged her own arm.
It felt like all the blood drained from her body.
When she looked up, she met Aryan’s eyes—clear as a summer sea.
Right now, they looked at her with innocent confusion.
But in the near future…
“Aryan, do you… maybe…”
Don’t like me?
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
It felt a little unfair.
‘What’s wrong with me?! I’ve got a good family, tons of money, and I’m pretty! And my personality—my personality is…’
Yeah.
She’d completely botched it.