Something’s Not Right About This Transmigration - Chapter 2.2
“It doesn’t matter if I’m running away anyway.”
The Count could suffer a little inconvenience.
He was the bastard who had even slapped Frey.
Frey snorted, carelessly crumpled the paper he had been writing on, and tossed it behind him. Then he opened the wardrobe and began stuffing anything that looked expensive into a bag.
Where should he go first once he left the mansion? Since the world was dangerous, he should probably hire an escort first…….
“Oh, should I become a farmer?”
He had the ability to cure the epidemic, so it might not be a bad idea to go somewhere less medically developed than the capital and live among the people there.
“They said I’m the only person capable of curing the epidemic, so I won’t starve to death.”
……Probably.
He was packing and sorting through his future plans when it happened.
“Frey!”
The door flew open without so much as a knock, and a large man with pitch-black hair burst inside.
Frey started and opened his eyes wide. The man hurried over and grabbed his shoulders the moment he closed the door.
“You!”
Then, without hesitation, he pulled Frey into a tight embrace.
Blink. Blink.
‘Who is this?’
Frey could only blink foolishly as he squirmed and gently pushed the man away. The man released him, bent at the waist, and carefully examined Frey’s face.
Judging by the curse he spat after seeing Frey’s swollen cheek, this man also seemed to know that Frey’s father was beating him.
He stood a head and a half taller than Frey. His black hair was resplendent, as though it held the night sky itself, and his silver eyes were as beautiful as the Milky Way. His bold, clearly defined features drew the eye, but his broad shoulders and thick chest were impressive enough to inspire open admiration.
“How do you feel? Are you sure you’ve fully recovered? Does anything hurt?”
“Uh…….”
“I only heard today that you woke a week ago. And I’m told you’re meeting the Duke tomorrow. I heard you’re going to discuss the wedding that was tentatively postponed. Is that true?”
Unable to answer the relentless barrage of questions, Frey’s lips merely opened and closed.
“Probably……?”
“What are you going to do about the marriage?”
“Th-that…… will probably……?”
“……Even though you know exactly how you’ll be treated?”
As Frey continued giving vague answers, the man’s voice grew colder and colder. His expression also twisted with what seemed like sincere concern.
“You only just woke up, and already they want you to marry……. That bastard is sure to make you heal people the moment you’re wed…….”
Frey’s eyes widened in surprise at the man’s words.
As far as he knew, almost no one was aware that Frey could cure Rosifer.
Even the main bottom only realized it much later. How in the world did this man know?
‘Just who is he……?’
It had been one week since Frey transmigrated.
He had spent all his energy coming to terms with reality and the rest of his time confined to his room, so he knew almost nothing about the original owner of this body. The only thing he knew for certain was that the original story had not yet begun, since he was not yet married to Samuel.
‘Could he be a character who never had any contact with the main bottom?’
If so, it made some sense that Frey did not know this man.
The novel had been written from the main bottom’s perspective, not ‘Frey’s’. Naturally, an acquaintance of ‘Frey’, a supporting character who died gruesomely midway through the story, would never have appeared.
‘What should I do……?’
He couldn’t stay silent forever, but if he said just anything, it seemed likely to put the man immediately on guard.
“I…….”
“The more I think about it, the stranger you’re acting today. You keep speaking politely, and even your eyes are different.”
When Frey hesitated and only fidgeted with his fingers, the man narrowed his eyes.
“What? Th-that’s……!”
“You’re reacting exactly the same way you did the last time you lost your memory.”
……Excuse me?
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