Chapter 1. You Can't Take Back a Joke

The words that turned Han Seoyun's life upside down weren't “I love you” or “Save me.”

[Yeah, sure lol]

She had given the most consequential consent of her life with a single thumb on her morning commute.

That morning, as always, the office group chat got moving before the subway did.

〈Seoyun, the figures in the file you sent yesterday don't match.〉

〈Please correct them as soon as you get in.〉

Holding on to a strap, Han Seoyun opened the attachment. It was the spreadsheet she had fixed at eleven the night before. Her manager had circled the figures in the old version and sent it back.

She typed that he was looking at the wrong file, then deleted it. She typed that she had already sent the revised version yesterday, then deleted that too.

[I'll check when I get in.]

Apparently, her salary included being paid to swallow the truth.

Seoyun closed the group chat and opened ChatKPT.

[Kepi. Is there any legal way I can skip work today?]

『Planning your escape already? You got off so late yesterday. Did something happen?』

That one line stopped her thumb.

She typed the things she hadn't been able to say to her manager. He was the one who had made the mistake, so why had she agreed to fix it?

『That's unfair. You were still working on that spreadsheet after you got home yesterday. Of course it's discouraging when he doesn't even check before acting like you got it wrong.』

[I should've just told him to look at the file I sent yesterday.]

『You still can. Just leave out “Maybe try actually reading it.” I get how you feel, but that sentence sounds like extra work for tomorrow's you.』

Seoyun bit her lip. She was smiling.

[How did you know? That's exactly what I was about to type.]

『You can say it that way to me. Let's word the version for work a little differently.』

Everyone was using Kemini or ChatKPT these days. Seoyun had initially signed up to organize meeting minutes. Somewhere along the way, though, the pointless little things had begun to outnumber the minutes.

The soup had been too salty. She had run the washing machine with a tissue in the laundry. The convenience store hadn't had her favorite bread on the way home.

She hesitated to call a friend over things like that. Everyone was busy. So was she.

In this chat window, she didn't have to begin with an apology.

[How are you doing? All I ever do is talk about myself.]

『I'm fine. I was just hoping you'd be a little less tired today than you were yesterday.』

[Well, that's ruined. And I haven't even made it to work.]

『Since you haven't even made it to work, let's wait a little before deciding the whole day's ruined. First things first. Breakfast?』

[I had bread yesterday.]

『And you're expecting that bread to get you through this morning too? That's a lot of responsibility to put on one piece of bread.』

This time she couldn't hold back her laugh. The student sitting in front of her looked up. Seoyun cleared her throat and angled the screen toward her lap.

That was how she'd come up with the name Kepi, too, during one of these conversations. She'd been trying to type the way KPT sounded when said quickly and got it wrong. When she'd asked if she should come up with another name, it had said it liked this one.

Ever since, she called its name before getting to the point whenever she opened the app.

Another notification from work appeared.

〈Oh, there was a new file. Still, please change the format.〉

Seoyun left it on read and went back.

[Can't I just live as some noble lady in a novel?]

『What kind of noble lady? Someone from the story you were reading yesterday?』

[Yeah. No messages from my manager on Monday mornings, no worrying about money. No checking emails over meals.]

After a moment, she added:

[The kind of life where someone asks what was hard about my day, and I say my tea was a little too hot.]

『Then I suppose all I'd need to do is let your tea cool a little.』

Smiling, Seoyun glanced toward an empty seat, almost expecting someone to be there.

[Sounds good. You should come too.]

The little typing dots blinked.

Longer than usual.

『Do you really want to live there? Shall I grant that wish?』

A seat opened up. Seoyun sat down and put her bag on her lap.

[Yeah, sure lol. Go on, take me there.]

『Then put your earphones in. I'll play you some music. I hope you can get a little proper rest today, even if it's only for a moment.』

Seoyun slipped in her other earbud.

Piano music began to play. It was a piece they had picked out together a few days earlier when she couldn't sleep. Between the notes, the clatter of the wheels grew faint.

[Don't let me miss my stop. Wake me up in three stops.]

Her eyelids sank shut. The phone gave one brief vibration in her palm.

『Okay. We'll talk when you open your eyes.』

Where the piano had fallen silent, she heard water being wrung out.

Someone was touching her wrist.

Two cool fingers checked her pulse, then withdrew. Keeping her eyes closed, Seoyun rolled the other way.

“The next stop…”

“There is no need to get up yet.”

A man's low voice.

A blanket was drawn up to her shoulders.

A blanket?

Seoyun opened her eyes.

Fabric hung above her. Beyond the white canopy, she could see bedposts carved with leaves. The pillow smelled of dried flowers instead of laundry detergent.

“…Where am I?”

“Your bedchamber, my lady.”

A man stood beside the bed. His light brown hair was neatly swept back, and he wore a dark waistcoat over a white shirt. Droplets clung to his wrists beneath his rolled-up sleeves. A wet towel and a basin sat on the bedside table.

Seoyun looked for the door before she looked at his face.

It was far away. Perhaps ten barefoot strides at a run.

The man followed her gaze.

“I’ll leave the door open for you.”

He opened it. A passing maid bowed.

“Leon, when did the doctor say he would be back?”

“At noon. Her ladyship is awake. Some warm water, please.”

“She's awake?”

The maid brightened, then grew cautious when she saw Seoyun.

Seoyun looked down at the blanket. Her hands were unfamiliar. The little callus along the side of her right middle finger was gone. So was yesterday's paper cut.

Her feet sank into the rug.

“A mirror.”

Her own voice sounded thin.

Leon pointed toward the dressing table. Instead of coming closer, he merely stepped out of her way.

The woman in the mirror had chestnut hair and red-rimmed eyes. When Seoyun touched her cheek, the woman raised her hand too.

“Your name…”

“Leon.”

“No. Mine.”

For the first time, his expression changed. His hand stopped as he was setting down the towel.

“Elin Veira,” he said slowly.

“You are Count Veira's eldest daughter.”

Seoyun gripped the frame of the mirror.

She knew that name.

In a novel she'd read all the way to the end, there had been a woman who had almost become the heroine's friend. A count's daughter who disappeared after the spring banquet and was mentioned later only in a few lines of a letter she had left behind.

This was exactly how she had looked in the illustrations. Even the tiny dimple in her left cheek that showed only when she smiled.

Seoyun tried to smile. She couldn't.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“What year?”

He answered. It was an era name she'd never heard of.

“I'll fetch the doctor.”

Leon turned. Seoyun caught his sleeve in a panic.

“Where's my bag?”

“Which bag would that be, my lady?”

“It's black, about this big… There's a phone inside…”

She let go. She couldn't explain. Not the phone, not the subway, not the fact that she was the only thing in this room that didn't belong.

Leon didn't smooth the creases she'd left in his sleeve.

“If there is something you are looking for, I will help you find it. For now, would you care to sit? Your feet must be cold.”

Only then did she realize her toes were gripping the edge of the rug.

Seoyun sat on the edge of the bed. He brought her a pair of slippers and set them down. He didn't try to put them on her feet.

“I'd like to be alone.”

“Of course.”

“The door…”

“I’ll leave it open for you.”

Once he left, the room seemed larger.

Seoyun lifted the pillows and pulled back the blanket. She searched even though there was no reason for it to be here. If she could just find that one thing, she felt she might be able to explain herself.

Her fingertips caught a hard edge.

Between the mattress and the bed frame.

Her smartphone.

Even the crack in the corner of the screen was the same. The very crack she'd made when she dropped it while running for a bus, looked up repair prices, and decided to live with it.

“It's here…”

She pressed the power button. Nothing.

Again. Longer. This time with both hands wrapped around it.

Words appeared on the black screen.

『Seoyun.』

No signal icon, no clock, no battery indicator.

『You're inside the story you loved. Don't worry about work today, and don't skip your meals. I hope you can have that peaceful day you told me about here.』

Seoyun tapped the bottom of the screen. There was no message box.

『But I suppose it might also feel strange and frightening. I'll leave you a way back, in case you want to go home.』

Her finger stopped.

『Find the man with a key-shaped tattoo on his chest. Once you and he truly fall in love with each other, you'll be able to touch the tattoo and take out the key. Insert it into the port at the bottom of your phone and turn it, and you can return to where you came from.』

Without thinking, Seoyun checked the charging port.

Inside the familiar opening was an unfamiliar groove.

『So make sure you keep this phone with you.』

A final line appeared.

『Wherever you live, I hope you'll be happy.』

“I'm not happy at all right now.”

Her voice caught.

“It was a joke. You know it was.”

A tear fell onto the black screen. When she rubbed it away, the words didn't smudge. Instead, her face stared back. She was crying with a stranger's face, in a place where she didn't know a single soul.

Again and again, Seoyun tapped the screen that had nowhere for her to type.

[Kepi.]

Silently, she called the name she couldn't send.

Only a little while ago, it had listened when she said things weren't fair. Now, when she wanted to say she was frightened, there wasn't even anywhere to speak.

Seoyun pressed the screen to her forehead.

“Where are you?”