I dove back into devouring the muffins.
I shoveled them into my mouth ravenously, as if emptying the basket was my sole mission in life.
“Do you really think that’ll make me trust you?”
I knew my crude tactic struck him as pathetic.
“I can’t help it.”
“Can’t help what?”
“This is all I can do right now.”
“…”
He fell silent, offering no more words. I returned to my fervent muffin-eating.
My chest felt tight, constricted. Whether it was the muffins’ dry, crumbly texture or the weight of his gaze on me, I couldn’t tell.
I just swallowed, and swallowed again.
All this time, no matter how brazenly I’d acted, Prince Luciano had regarded me with indifference or pity, nothing more.
Even that, I chalked up to the buff of being the female lead.
In a rigidly hierarchical society like this, my reckless behavior was an outrageous breach of etiquette.
For now, Prince Luciano had built a wall around himself, but I believed I was slowly seeping through it.
But that wasn’t the case.
This was the first time Prince Luciano had revealed such a sharp, bristling edge to his emotions.
It meant that the threat of poisoning was a line even he couldn’t tolerate being crossed.
When I thought about it, it was simple.
Could anyone stay composed under a genuine threat to their life?
How could you go about your days unperturbed, knowing someone was plotting to kill you?
Even as a child, he wasn’t oblivious to real danger or an enemy’s malice.
No—in fact, because he was young, he might be even more sensitive, more keenly edged.
Foolishly, I’d treated the whole situation lightly.
To me, this was just inside a novel.
I hadn’t taken “life” seriously.
After all, Prince Luciano was destined to survive, and more than that, to become the world’s strongest.
The events befalling him were mere plot devices to spice up the story—I’d dismissed them casually.
So, I’d existed as a spectator.
That was my blatant mistake.
To someone desperate and earnest, my attitude must have seemed like deceit.
Prince Luciano had survived each day in utter desperation.
My actions probably came across as nothing but pretense.
My constant beaming smiles must have seemed endlessly frivolous, unworthy of trust.
How could he believe or rely on someone like that?
It was selfish of me to demand his trust when I hadn’t approached him with genuine sincerity first.
All along, I’d been egotistical and arrogant, venting only my own feelings.
The dry muffin felt like it was jamming up my throat.
Muffins were deceptively filling—even one could satisfy.
By the third, I was stuffed, breathing heavily.
The forced swallows made it feel like my chest was packed full.
But under Prince Luciano’s icy stare, I endured and kept eating.
I couldn’t fathom what he was thinking, and that unsettled me.
His face remained cold, as if masked.
He just watched me.
I performed the only act available to me.
I took bite after bite of the stubborn muffins, swallowing without hesitation.
By the fourth, my limits were approaching, and eating became a struggle.
Still, I chewed and swallowed on.
This raw, visceral discomfort hit me for the first time, driving home that this was “reality.”
Not just a novel—I was part of this place.
Nearly a year since my possession, and only now did it sink in.
This was real. This was my life.
Suddenly, sorrow and fear overwhelmed me.
Would I be okay living in this world? The worry came late.
The excitement of possession faded, replaced by a vast emptiness and helplessness that brought tears to my eyes.
But I squeezed them shut, refusing to let them fall.
Crying would only make me seem more irritating to someone who already found me vexing.
Swallowing the muffin steeped in a mix of guilt toward Prince Luciano and this belated sense of reality.
I kept eating without pause, until nausea surged.
Complex emotions—indefinable—and the over-swallowed muffins churned together, something rising relentlessly in my stomach.
And as the muffins dwindled, resentment built.
‘Why, of all things, did I choose muffins?’
Cookies might have been less filling.
My throat was clogged, but the bloating made it agony.
Despite my efforts, several muffins still remained in the basket.
‘Why did I have to be so nosy and pack so many?’
I should have brought just two—one for each.
Emptying the basket felt impossible now.
My stomach felt ready to burst, but Prince Luciano’s gaze pinned me, and I couldn’t stop.
Why possess this body? Why pack all those muffins? Why create this mess?
Emotions piled up, leaving me desolate.
I held back tears, but my body was beginning to betray my will.
“Stop eating.”
He must have noticed my forced gulps, because finally, Prince Luciano spoke to halt me.
But I couldn’t obey so easily.
“No. I’ll finish them all.”
I’d already eaten so much—only three left.
Stopping now would waste everything I’d endured.
Of course, at my limit, I could have subtly accepted his suggestion.
But that wouldn’t fully dispel his suspicions.
He might relent now out of pity.
But deep down, he could still wonder, ‘What if poison was in the ones left?’
If I was proving my innocence, I’d see it through to the end.
I pressed down the churning in my stomach and ate, and ate.
“I said stop.”
“Three left.”
“Now, ha…”
“It’s fine. Two left.”
I swallowed those too, and as I picked up the last muffin, Prince Luciano glared fiercely.
But I had no energy to mind his stare.
At my absolute limit, I desperately ate.
Overstuffed, nausea roiled, my vision blurred.
Even my head ached.
Who knew overeating could be this terrifying?
The churning and rising I could handle, but my nerves were firing wildly all over.
One more bite, and disaster loomed—yet I couldn’t quit with this last one.
It felt like finishing it would clear my injustice, so I forced it down.
I stuffed my cheeks until they bulged, chewing methodically.
Finally, every muffin vanished into my mouth, and Prince Luciano’s expression twisted.
A mix of incredulity, frustration, and something like resentment—I barely swallowed the last bit in my mouth.
Gulp!
The final massive lump wriggled down my throat, just barely.
Stomach bloated, holding back the constant surges, I declared my innocence.
“I ate them all. See? I’m fine. No poison!”
I spoke boldly, then clamped my mouth shut.
Instinctively, I knew catastrophe loomed.
‘This is it—I can’t hold it.’
This wasn’t something willpower could contain!
Cold sweat streamed down my back.
I wanted to bolt, but moving would spell doom.
My abrupt silence must have puzzled him, because our eyes met.
I knew I shouldn’t, but my body betrayed me.
“Ughhh!”
With a grotesque retch, the muffins reversed course from my body.
Prince Luciano’s face froze, witnessing it head-on.
This wasn’t supposed to happen!
In that instant, for some reason, my first thought was that he’d misunderstand my state.
Amid the upheaval, I desperately poured out an explanation.
“Ugh, this isn’t, urk, because of poison, urk, it’s not, ughhh!”
My fervent plea only furrowed Prince Luciano’s brow deeper.
Under his gaze laced with disgust, I felt utterly ruined.
This would etch itself in his memory more vividly than anything I’d built so far.
“Really, ugh, no poison, ughhhh!”
And then, I could think no more.
The muffin’s reversal intensified.
As if they’d multiplied by some spell in my body, they kept coming.
I wanted to flee, but the flow wouldn’t stop.
Tears and snot streamed amid the agonizing sensation.
He didn’t even step aside—Prince Luciano watched my wretched display in full.
Fortunately, the ordeal was so intense that shame had no room to register.
I heaved and heaved until exhaustion claimed me, and I passed out.
* * *
My stomach churned madly, the world a hazy blur.
I seemed to be lying down, but I couldn’t move a finger at will.
My body felt afloat.
So, was I conscious, or dreaming? I couldn’t tell.
‘Why am I like this?’
My insides twisted in pain, my throat raw as if torn.
My head buzzed like a swarm of gnats inside.
Then, a flash—the last memory streaked by.
My disastrous blunder.
‘I’m insane…’
And the trigger that led to it resurfaced.
My true mistake.
The foolish end where, frantic to explain, I hadn’t even apologized.
Prince Luciano’s razor-sharp face seemed to appear.
‘Or is it? Am I really seeing it?’
In my blurred vision, his rigid face floated.
The haze made it unclear—hallucination or truly watching me?
Desperately, I moved my lips.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
I truly hadn’t meant to deceive him.
I’d denied reality to protect myself, acted on my whims.
It was all born of my foolishness and selfishness.
Unknowingly, I’d kept hurting others, and the guilt brought tears.
“Hic, I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
Had my body youthened my mind and spirit too?
I pitied myself for failing to consider him, still so young.
Regret flooded me for my pathetic behavior.
The tears, once started, flowed like a faucet.
They streamed, obscuring my view.
Overwhelmed by self-loathing and guilt, I sobbed, repeating apologies.
I must have wept for ages, saying only that I was sorry.
Belatedly, the poison issue resurfaced.
“Hic, really, ugh, no poison. It’s not like that.”
Voicing it made the poison accusation feel profoundly unjust.
I hated being misunderstood that way.
Now, I wailed, repeating that there was no poison.
“Sob, it’s unfair… Why me, waaah, only me, waaaah.”
Then, resentment at my possession surged.
The pain made everything desolate.
“Ugh, what, hic, now… Hic, Momma.”
The future loomed empty, filling me with worry.
How would I live on?
What to do with the fear.
What to do with the guilt.
“Huff, huff, I’m sorry. Ngh, no poison. Waaaah.”
Like a child, I bawled, protesting injustice, repeating apologies and denials.
Fever rose, my mind growing foggier.
Exhausted, voiceless, tears dried up from dehydration.
My body sank heavily; I surrendered, closing my eyes.
At the last, a warm touch fell on my heated eyelids.
Like another’s hand—that sensation lingered as I released my final hold.
