Wasn’t I the Female Lead of a Regret Novel? [Novel] Chapter 39

Chapter 39

“M-Master?”

Chris knocked on the drawing room door and waited, but no answer came from
within. Left with no choice, he cautiously pressed the handle.

The door glided open. Stepping inside, he found Vendia fast asleep, sprawled
uncomfortably on the sofa. It seemed the exhaustion of preparing for the shop’s grand opening had finally caught up to her.

Without a second thought, Chris approached her. Papers and documents were
scattered across the table in a messy sprawl. He gathered them into a neat pile,
set them aside, and sat on the edge of the table.

Resting his chin in his hand, he simply watched her sleep.

Her breathing was soft and delicate, a faint, rhythmic sound that filled the
quiet room. Even though the morning sun was streaming through the windows,
bathing her face in bright light, she didn't so much as knit her brows. She was
out cold.

Chris started to stand, thinking he should pull the curtains, but then he sat
back down.

What a ridiculous thing to care about, he thought.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth at the absurdity of it all. But his
expression quickly flattened as he reached out. His hand, scarred but now fully
healed, moved with unsettling naturalness toward her throat. He wrapped his
fingers loosely around her neck.

He could feel the softness of her skin against his fingertips. Her neck was so
slender it felt as though it might snap if he applied even the slightest
pressure.

Chris tilted his head, whispering to the empty room.

“You’re far too weak.”

One sharp squeeze and her breath would be extinguished forever. That was how
fragile the life he held in his hand truly was. He stared at her at this woman
who slept blissfully unaware that her very existence was currently at his
mercy.

His dark pupils wavered ever so slightly.

Suddenly, he sensed someone approaching. Chris reacted instantly, pulling his
hand away and returning it to his side.

“The hell are you doing?”

A voice as welcome as grit in an eye cut through the silence the moment his hand
retreated. Chris turned his head, and he saw Ron was standing in the doorway, leaning
crookedly against the frame.

“And what brings you here, Lord Ron?” Chris asked smoothly.

“None of your damn business. Move. I’ll wake her.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll do it.”

Ron marched over and tried to shove Chris aside, but Chris caught Ron’s hand,
holding his ground.

“Let go and move,” Ron growled.

“I’m afraid I can’t. You’re the one who should step back, Lord Ron. She is my
Master, after all.”

Chris watched with cold satisfaction as Ron’s face contorted with irritation.
Just as the tension between the two men reached a breaking point…

“Holy crap! What time is it?!”

Vendia bolted upright, her eyes snapping open in a panic.

“Tch, It’s noon,” Ron said, clicking his tongue as he yanked his hand out of
Chris’s grip.
“Hurry up. The carriage is here.”

“Oh! Chris, did you tidy this up for me? Thanks!”

Vendia scrambled to pack her bag, flashing Chris a quick thumbs-up when she saw
the neat stack of documents on the table. She straightened her clothes and
instinctively turned to leave with Ron.

“M-Master? I thought you said you were going to work?”

Before he realized it, Chris had reached out and grabbed her hand. Vendia
stopped and looked back at him, blinking.

“Yeah? I am going to work.”

“Then… why is he going too?”

“Oh. He’s commuting with me for a while.”

“I see…”

“I’ll be back later!”

She offered him a strained smile and a quick wave. Chris felt the shift. He knew
it clearly now.

‘Everything has turned out exactly as you wished, Master.’

Ever since he had uttered those words, her attitude toward him had changed. It
was subtle, but the warmth was gone.

The strength left Chris’s hand, and he let her go. He watched as Vendia and Ron
walked out of the drawing room together.

“Hey, I hate the look in his eyes. Fire him,” he heard Ron’s voice echoing down the
hallway.

“Are you insane?!”

Then came the distinct smack of Vendia hitting Ron on the back.

Left alone in the silent drawing room, Chris looked down, his eyes turning cold
and flat.

“Disgusting,” he muttered.

He was talking about his mood.

*

“You really expect me to do this?”

“Yes. This is the only option.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m perfectly sane, thank you.”

Expecting this exact reaction, Vendia didn't even flinch as she held out the
mascot head. This was Ron’s third day coming to work with her after he’d
mentioned wanting to find something to do.

Honestly, she didn't need an employee who was this prickly and arrogant, but she
couldn't bring herself to turn him down when he seemed to be trying to pull his
life together. After all, she was the one who had comforted him by saying some
flowers bloom late.

“You said you didn't want people to see your face. This is the only way.”

“I could watch the kid like I did the other day! Or manage the inventory!”

“I already have people for those jobs. Today, this is all I’ve got! Unless you
want to help the guards?”

Ron clamped his mouth shut. Clearly, he’d rather die than do manual labor. They
were currently facing off in the small office at The Second. It was just the two
of them, the air thick with Ron’s stubbornness.

“If you don’t want to do it, then fine.”

As Vendia started to pull the costume back, Ron lunged forward and snatched it.

“Are you doing it?” she asked.

“…”

“Yes or no?”

“…What even is this?”

“A coconut chip. Isn't it cute? I had it custom-made.”

Ron’s face crumpled into a pure look, unadulterated misery. It was a
full-body mascot suit shaped like a giant coconut chip, intended for a tasting
event. The plan was for someone to wear the suit and hand out samples in front
of The Line to draw a crowd.

“With the head on, no one will know it’s you. How could they?”

“…”

Ron went silent again. His eyes were darting back and forth as if he were having
an internal crisis. She had suggested it because he seemed so pathologically
averse to showing his face, but it didn't seem to be helping much. His will to
work was great, but if he refused this, there wasn't much else she could do for
him.

“Is this… necessary for your business?” Ron finally asked.

Vendia wondered why that mattered, but she nodded anyway.
“Of course. If you don’t do it, I’ll have to hire someone else for the event.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The changing room.”

“Oh! Right, it’s over there!”

Startled by his sudden compliance, Vendia pointed toward the door on the right.
Ron grabbed the costume and disappeared inside.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Ron stepped out.

Because of his height, the pants ended at his mid-calves, leaving his ankles
completely exposed.

“Hey. This thing is way too loose,” Ron’s muffled voice came from inside the
giant head.

The mascot head was wobbling precariously, tilting back and forth because Ron
couldn't keep it steady. It had been made for an average adult, but Ron’s head
was apparently much smaller than the designer had anticipated.

“Hold on, can you take it off for a second?”

She wondered if she could pin it or stuff it with something. Vendia reached out
to help him, trying to think of a fix.

Just as Ron was about to pull the head off…

“Where is that idiot?!”

A furious voice thundered from outside the office.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Ron muttered from inside the mask.

The office door slammed open.

“Hey! I told you..!”

The woman who had kicked the door in stopped mid-sentence. Her jaw dropped. And
then…

“Pffft! Hah!”

“…”

“Bwahahaha! Ahahahaha!”

“…”

“Gasp!! Hahaha! Oh my god!”

She erupted into a fit of laughter so loud it shook the room. She stood there,
pointing at Ron, who was dressed as a giant coconut chip with the mascot head
halfway off his face.

The woman was tall, at least five-foot-seven, with striking red hair and sharp,
clear features. She wore a dress made of high-quality fabric that was elegant
without being overly flashy. Her eyes were cat-like, her nose was perfectly
straight, and her lips were full and red. She was, by all accounts, a stunning
beauty.

“Wait… what?”

Vendia looked back and forth between Ron and the woman, who was now clutching
her stomach and doubling over in hysterics.

“God dammit,” Ron hissed, his face flushing a deep, humiliated crimson.

“Hahaha! Where’s the camera?! I need a camera right now!”

The woman began hopping up and down in pure delight. She looked exactly like
Ron.