༺ I'm Not Dreaming (2) ༻

Noel Saint Grenn.

The second child and first son of the Viscounty household— Saint Grenn.

It still felt strange, saying that name and knowing it was mine now.

Because, somehow, I really did possess his body.

Even now, I try to remember if such a character existed in the game my sister used to play.

I was never that invested in the game itself, barely paid attention to the key characters, let alone their names.

But if there was one thing I had in my favor, it was an excellent photographic memory.

Black silky hair, neatly kept. Yellow eyes, sharp and unsettling.

Doesn't ring a bell.

If he was someone important, my sister, Hana, would've talked about him endlessly.

She had a way of going on and on about characters she liked—or even ones she hated.

But I can't recall her ever mentioning a 'Noel Saint Grenn.'

And yet, here I am, in his body.

What a joke.

And, surprisingly enough, the main character of this world wasn't even a guy.

The protagonist was a girl.

Sigh…

The memories I gained from Noel feel incomplete, like bits and pieces of a character who only showed up in the background every now and then.

It's like looking into a side character who barely got any screentime.

At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if he was just a name in passing.

I picked up the glass beside me and took a slow sip.

Then, I muttered the question that had been sitting at the back of my mind since I woke up here.

"What am I supposed to do now…?"

I had already decided to live through this. To figure things out.

But I couldn't help but wonder—why was I brought into a fictional world?

"Fictional…?"

I let out a dry chuckle.

There was nothing fictional about any of this.

Everything around me was as real as the regret of checking your bank account after a night of bad financial decisions.

Okay. Let's focus.

I was the second-born of a prestigious Viscounty household.

That much was clear.

Which meant I didn't have to worry about money or influence.

And money was the most important one.

I absentmindedly played with my glass, swirling what little remained of my drink.

Then, before I knew it—

Spill.

"Shit."

I stood up immediately, cursing under my breath as the dark liquid soaked into my black coat.

With a sigh, I took it off, shaking off the excess before draping it over the chair.

But as I did, something slipped out from the inner pocket and fluttered to the floor.

A letter.

I bent down to pick it up.

The envelope was a creamy white, its edges slightly damp from the spill.

A golden stamp pressed onto the paper bore a crest I somewhat recognized.

My brows furrowed.

I wasted no time in opening it, careful not to damage it further.

The moment my fingers unfolded the paper, something inside me clicked.

And then—

Memories.

They came rushing in, fitting into place like puzzle pieces I didn't even know were missing.

---

"Oh… so that's why he was carrying this letter."

I read over the contents.

It was an official notice, stating that Noel Saint Grenn of the Saint Grenn household was returning to his position in the Imperial Security Department.

"A civil servant..."

"…Just like I was back in Seoul."

Turns out, Noel—being the second-born and practically useless in his father's eyes—had no choice but to follow his father's advice and work as one.

At least, he did for two years.

Then, as his illness worsened, he left and became an assistant instructor at Velorian Imperial Academy.

And not just any academy—the most prestigious learning institution in the empire.

But why?

Why would someone like him—someone terminally ill—choose to become an instructor?

His reason, apparently, was to research his own illness.

But he gave up.

He stopped searching for a cure.

Instead, he focused on gaining experience, as if convincing himself that there was still something worth doing before he died.

Because that's what he was doing, wasn't it?

Waiting to die.

I sat down again, gripping the letter a little tighter.

That was a lot to take in.

Since I was him now… that meant I had a terminal illness.

Much like Hana did.

I exhaled, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Sigh… what was the point of falling into this world and possessing a body that was living its final days?"

If I had a choice, I would've preferred a healthy body.

Someone with a future.

Someone who didn't have death looming over them like a shadow, waiting to pull them into the abyss.

But I didn't have a choice.

As much as I had questions, sitting here wouldn't give me answers.

It's not like some fairy was going to pop out of thin air, waving a magic wand, and guide me through this world like some kind of overworked tutorial NPC.

No.

If I wanted answers, I had to find them myself.

So.

Where to start?

Velorian Imperial Academy?

That's where the plot was unfolding—or maybe it already had.

If this really was the world of a romance fantasy, then that meant nothing but petty drama and falling in love.

That was good.

Safe, even.

A quiet life in the background of a romance? I could work with that.

But there was something else.

I couldn't ignore the fact that the original Noel—before I took over his body—was heading to the Imperial Security Department in Elyndral.

And if I had to guess, he must have been taking the train the same time I was.

The more I thought about it, the more the memories settled into place, filling in the gaps one by one.

Noel Saint Grenn.

A man who worked tirelessly, not for himself, but because he had no other choice.

A man who built a career, climbed the ranks, and became someone people respected—all while knowing he wouldn't live long enough to enjoy any of it.

A man who had long since accepted that his time was running out.

And now…

I was him.

"Sigh...let's go over this again…"

I'm the second child of the prestigious Viscounty household—Saint Grenn.

He was born with a defect in his mana circuits.

An affliction that, in a world ruled by magic, was nothing short of a death sentence.

What started as a mere complication soon developed into a terminal illness, one that stripped him of time itself.

Every breath he took, every step forward, was borrowed from a future that was never his to begin with.

Had he been born in any other household, he would have been discarded like a broken tool—tossed aside as a failure unworthy of his noble bloodline.

Yet, life refused to give him even that predictable tragedy.

Unlike the usual tales of abandonment, the game had chosen to let him stay.

And for what?

Because his father, the Viscount, was a kind man?

Because he loved his son?

Or was it out of guilt?

Perhaps it was all three.

Despite being deemed useless, Noel was never cast out.

He remained in the Saint Grenn household under the quiet yet watchful care of his father.

A father who, despite the whispers of the nobility, refused to turn his back on a dying son.

But pity was a cold companion.

A life without purpose was no life at all.

And so, his father used his influence, weaving connections within the Imperial Ministry of Security to secure Noel a place—a job.

A manager.

An easy title. A stable career.

Something that didn't require him to fight, to exert himself, to worsen his already fragile condition.

Yet, Noel didn't stop there.

Within three years after joining the academy, he climbed ranks that others took decades to reach.

He became an assistant instructor.

Then a professor.

Then a patron of the Magic Engineering Department at the academy.

A man leading a double life.

For someone who struggled with magic, there wasn't much he could do in an academy where talent was everything.

And yet, in the end, even his father had to acknowledge that Noel's persistence had gained him both experience and connections.

Still, fate had another path carved for him.

The military.

At first, it made no sense.

Why would a sickly man with an expiration date be sent to the military?

But, if one looked deeper, the reasoning became painfully clear.

Noel's father, a man of power and influence, had always harbored one wish—to see his son join the Imperial Knight Order.

It was a noble dream, one every father in the empire longed for.

And for a time, Noel shared that dream.

But that was before reality made itself known.

Before he realized that men like him didn't have the luxury of dreaming.

He was terminally ill.

A knight? That was never going to happen.

So he made his choice.

Rather than waste what little life he had left swinging a sword in vain, he opted for something else.

A quieter existence.

His time in the military was brief—a mere formality.

He had spent three years at the Imperial Military Academy, training alongside men who had futures waiting for them.

He even passed.

A month ago, he had completed his training.

Yet, he had no choice but to return to the Imperial Security Ministry, back to the role of a civil servant.

And what did that mean?

Paperwork.

A desk job.

A position so insignificant to him that he may as well have been invisible.

But to his father?

It was everything.

It was a position of prestige, one that came with an income most could only dream of.

A stable future—even if that future was one that Noel wouldn't live long enough to enjoy.

And that was where he was headed today after returning from the military.

The letter in his hands was proof of that.

A formal document, written yet again by his father, pulling him back into the Imperial Security Ministry as a civil servant.

His position? A manager within the Imperial Security Department.

A glorified police officer.

I clutched the letter tightly, feeling the weight of it in my hands.

Noel wasn't much different from me.

He lived for the sake of others.

Just like I did.

But unlike me, he had accomplished so much in just a few years—far more than I ever had in my previous life.

Back then, before I ended up in this body, I always thought I had time.

That was the difference.

I had lived knowing there would always be a tomorrow.

That I could afford to take things slow, to not push myself, because the world wouldn't go anywhere without me.

I was just a civil servant, after all.

That's why people used to say I daydream a lot not just at work.

"...."

Wow...

Seemed like he had one hell of a life.

Even though I could recall bits and pieces, the memories of his relationships—or rather, the people around him—were oddly fragmented, like pages ripped from a book.

Faces blurred, voices muffled.

It felt like someone had erased the parts that made him human and left behind only his achievements and suffering.

Sigh...

As much as I wanted to believe some higher being had dumped me here as a cruel joke, a tiny part of me couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this.

A dream, maybe?

I let out another dry chuckle, probably the hundredth one tonight.

Living as a civil servant and an instructor on borrowed time in a romance fantasy world—now that was ridiculous.

But… it didn't sound all bad.

Maybe this was one of those dreams I used to have often.

Maybe, just maybe, I could finally be happy.

Live for myself and for the original owner of this body.

This was the kind of dramatic act that Hana would love.

So, in the end, I was still living for Hana, wasn't I?

If she were here, she'd probably smack me and pout, saying something like—

"Why do you always have to be the protagonist of suffering?! Just once, be the rich background character who sips wine and watches the drama unfold!"

I couldn't help but smile.

I slipped the letter back into my blazer's pocket and finished my drink in one last swig.

Then, almost immediately, the world tilted.

Crash!

The glass shattered as it slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

My vision blurred, a wave of nausea surging through me before I doubled over and vomited—violently.

"Shit…" I rasped.

One thing I had overlooked—this body was weak.

Noel mostly relied on a walking cane—bâton d'appui, the fancier name for it—and toxins, alcohol included, did numbers on his system.

I should have realized it earlier.

My old habit of drinking before dark blinded me to the fact that my new body couldn't handle it.

Or rather… it shouldn't have.

For a first-time drinker, the body didn't react too badly.

Which meant—

Noel actually used to drink a lot.

Probably why he had a reputation as the trashy son of the Viscounty.

But with his achievements, no one dared to call him that to his face.

They had another name for him, one that merged his notoriety with his competence—

The Lout of Iron Deeds.

"…Ugh."

I groaned, wiping my mouth before glancing around.

Did I leave my cane on the train?

Great. Just great.

I forced myself up, tipping the bartender extra for the mess, then dragged my unsteady legs out of the tavern.

The air outside was cool, the sky a brilliant canvas of oranges and purples as the sun set on the horizon.

"Shit…"

I muttered, squinting at the time.

When was I supposed to report to the Imperial Security Department?

Shaking off the lingering dizziness, I hailed a carriage.

Strangely enough, I knew my way around Elyndral, the capital of the Central Dominion, without needing to ask.

But it didn't matter—the driver already knew where to go.

After all, everyone in the capital knew of the imposing structure ahead.

The Obsidian Bastion.

The headquarters of the Imperial Security Department.

I stepped out at the entrance, greeted by an iron-wrought gate.

Wide, tall, open—just slightly.

"Glad they didn't close up yet," I murmured, stepping inside.

The moment I entered, a strange stillness settled over me.

The pathway stretched ahead, lined with tall, ancient trees.

Their branches arched above, intertwining to form a dome, petals of soft pink drifting down in the quiet air.

The only sound was the gentle trickle of the fountain at the center, its water glimmering under the fading light.

It was too quiet.

Was it because the Obsidian Bastion was secluded from the bustling city?

No.

This silence was different.

Heavy.

Wrong.

I walked toward the entrance, the large oak doors slightly ajar.

Darkness pooled beyond the threshold.

Steeling myself, I stepped inside.

Crunch.

Glass.

Beneath my boot, tiny shards glittered in the dim light, scattered across the floor like fallen stars.

My breath slowed.

Something was off.

The sun had fully set now, only the last vestiges of daylight filtering through the tall windows.

One of them, directly across the hall, cast a pale glow upon the long mirror mounted on the wall.

I took a step forward—

My hand brushed against something.

Wet.

I froze.

Slowly, I raised my hand, feeling the dampness between my fingers. The air smelled faintly metallic.

No.

Not dampness.

The dim light from the window stretched toward the mirror—

My breath hitched.

A splatter of crimson stained the half-broken glass.

Blood.

My reflection stared back at me, wide-eyed.