I really wanted a girlfriend who would love me. Someone who would make me feel special. I thought she was the one, and that's why I took all her shit.
Was it wrong to fall in love, or does one have to suffer for falling in love? If I am to suffer in love, then it should be with someone worth suffering for.But first, where is this place?
Andrea's mind raced as she slowly took in her surroundings. Nothing at all felt familiar. The air itself felt different, heavier somehow, like it pressed against her skin instead of passing through her. The ground beneath her feet was solid stone, not asphalt. The buildings nearby were tall and structured, made of carved stone and wood, not glass or concrete. Everything looked western, like something pulled from history books or period dramas she used to scroll past without interest.
A carriage stood directly in front of her. It was large, polished, and dark, with intricate carvings along its sides. Two horses were hitched to it, standing calmly despite the noise around them. Two men sat mounted on the horses, holding the reins loosely, their posture straight and patient, as if they had been waiting for her for a while.
She took a step closer, her shoes clicking softly against the stone. That was when she noticed something else.
Her clothing, Andrea looked down slowly. She was wearing a silky gown. The fabric shimmered faintly under the sunlight, smooth beneath her fingers when she touched it. It clung to her body in a way that felt unfamiliar and wrong, like wearing someone else's skin. This was not her clothes, not her style, and definitely not her world.
Her breath caught as she reached up and brushed her fingers through her hair. Pink. Her dark hair was gone. Replaced with soft pink strands that fell over her shoulders.
Her heart skipped. Before panic could fully set in, a voice came from inside the carriage.
"Straw, are you not getting in, or do you want to walk all the way to the banquet?"
Andrea froze, Straw? She looked toward the carriage.
Inside sat a young man with striking yellow hair. His posture was relaxed, one arm resting against the cushioned seat as he looked at her with clear impatience. His clothing was elegant, tailored perfectly to his frame, the fabric rich and expensive. He looked unreal, like someone drawn straight out of a fairy tale. The kind of character that existed only on screens and pages, not in front of her.
"Huh?" Andrea said.
The sound came out smaller than she intended. She did not understand what was happening. She did not understand why he was calling her Straw. But the men on the horses were still watching her, and the carriage door was still open..Her legs moved before her mind caught up.
Andrea climbed into the carriage.
The interior was just as unreal. Soft cushions, warm lighting, the faint scent of something floral mixed with polished wood. She sat across from the blue haired man, her hands folded tightly in her lap, nails digging into her palms as the carriage began to move. The ride was quiet. The wheels rolled steadily over stone roads. Andrea stared at the floor, then at the wall, then at the man across from her. Her thoughts spun faster than the carriage.
Ten minutes passed, maybe fifteen. By the time the realization hit her, it landed with a strange calm instead of panic.
She was dead and nd reborn into this body. The conclusion settled in slowly, piece by piece, until it became impossible to deny. For someone familiar with these kinds of stories, it was almost simple. Isekai. Transmigration. The kind of trope where someone dies drowning or gets into an accident in the real world and wakes up somewhere else. Another timeline or another world, inside a novel, inside a webtoon.
She had read enough summaries to recognize the pattern. But that was fantasy. That was fiction, in real life, people did not wake up to a carriages with pink hair and silk gowns. In real life, when someone died, they went to heaven or hell. So what was this?
Andrea lifted her gaze again, staring at the young man sitting across from her. He seemed unbothered, unaware that her entire existence had just shattered and rearranged itself.
A thought crept into her mind.
Is he some kind of fiancé? A betrothed husband? Or the male lead of whatever story this is? Her eyes lingered too long.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked, finally noticing.
Andrea did not even bother to look away. She did not know who she was supposed to be or how she was supposed to act in this body.
"Are you my fiancé or husband?" she asked.
The carriage went quiet. The man stared at her. A moment passed, then another.
"Sister," he said slowly, "did you hit your head somewhere inappropriate this morning, or is this one of your shenanigans?"
Andrea blinked. Oh, he's my brother. Wow.
The word sister settled something inside her chest. The tension eased just slightly. She had already begun thinking of escape routes, excuses, plans to avoid a forced marriage. Knowing he was just her brother made her shoulders relax.
Thank goodness.
"Straw," he continued, clearly unimpressed, "do you remember what we discussed last night? And the role you're supposed to play at the royal banquet?"
"Yes, I do," Andrea replied quickly, her mind scrambling to keep up. "But I'd like a memory refresh. Just to be sure it matches what I remember."
He rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his hand.
"I told Mother that letting this girl accompany me to the city would add nothing but headaches to my life," he muttered.
He coughed once, then straightened slightly.
"You better listen carefully. Right now, we are on our way to the king of this nation's birthday banquet. Only a few were invited. Thanks to me, our family received an invitation. As the Duke of Eastside, I was invited, and Mother insisted I bring you along."
Andrea listened carefully, nodding where she thought it made sense.
"So you can seduce the king into marrying you," he continued, "while I ask for the princess's hand in marriage. Either way, according to Mother, one of us must succeed. Do you remember now?"
Andrea stared at him. Her brain stalled.
"Wait," she said. "My mind stopped the moment you said seduce the king and marry him. Why would I seduce an old man while you get to marry his daughter? What kind of stupid political shit is this? I would have accepted it if you said the queen, but I guess there isn't one. So you want me to marry the father and suffer while you marry his daughter and live happily ever after?"
The duke frowned, studying her face like she had suddenly grown a second head.
"Straw," he said slowly, "I am sure you hit your head somewhere, because you are speaking complete nonsense. First, this was your plan to begin with. Second, the king and the princess are brother and sister. Siblings. Where are you even getting all this from?"
Andrea froze. "Oh," she laughed quickly. "Haha. I was just pulling your leg. I wanted to see if you really remembered my plan." The words came out too fast, too forced. She felt dumb the moment she said them.
As she turned her gaze toward the carriage window, two options formed clearly in her mind.
Either she kept pretending to be Straw and played her role, because she did not want to know what would happen if the duke discovered that his sister was gone and someone else now occupied her body.
Or she finds a way to escape this political seduction mess before it even began.