It Turned Out She Wasn't a Favored Concubine - Episode 105

It felt like my whole body was being pulled somewhere, and in an instant, the ground beneath my feet disappeared, and I was sucked into an abyss.

The darkness grew so thick it seemed to devour my very consciousness. But just before I lost myself completely, a flicker of light tickled through my eyelids. I reached out with both arms and forced my eyes open, desperate not to lose that light.

Beyond the radiant glow, a faint outline began to emerge. The first thing I saw was a room bathed entirely in white. A small, clean, sterile white room.

As my eyes adjusted, familiar yet unfamiliar objects began to take shape beyond the white hue: blinds rustling in the sunlight, a mug and a transparent plastic water bottle on a small side table, stacks of thick and thin books, a tall IV pole with the sound of droplets falling, and a stark but clean white bed. It was a hospital room—one that hadn’t changed much from the past.

It was the hospital room of the original world.

“Haa…”

I let out a quiet sigh. A deep sigh of relief.

In that moment when darkness nearly consumed me, I feared failure. Crossing the wall between worlds was clearly different from ordinary teleportation.

Unlike teleportation where the location changed instantly upon opening your eyes, moving between worlds took time. Maybe it was just how I perceived it in my mind, but the time I felt was quite long.

Long enough to tremble in fear at the worst possibility—that I might wander forever in the darkness.

What would’ve happened if I hadn’t caught the light and had been swallowed by the darkness?

There was no answer. As Eliot had said, I might have ended up wandering endlessly in an unfamiliar world.

I had told Giscal, “I’ll be back,” but no one could guarantee that I’d successfully return to my original world.

Teleportation was possible, yes—but inter-world teleportation was another matter. I had a vague sense that I could make it, even a near certainty, but that feeling wasn’t as absolute as the certainty of the sun rising tomorrow.

So I felt relieved. Relieved that I had crossed the wall between worlds safely, and hopeful that I might be able to keep my promise to Giscal.

“Who…?”

Someone spoke. I held my breath and looked around. Behind a white curtain, a shadow of a person appeared. The figure was sitting on the bed, leaning slightly, and tilting their head in my direction.

“Did you come to see me?”

The shadow asked more clearly. There was no one else in the hospital room besides the person behind the curtain and me. Which meant…

My breathing grew louder, then quieted. No, I couldn’t be sure yet. I needed to calm myself first.

“I—I must’ve mistaken the room… I’m sorry. I’ll leave right away.”

I turned to check the nameplate outside the room, but the shadow behind the curtain spoke again.

“Wait, just a moment.”

“Yes?”

“Are you… Yoon Se-ha?”

I forgot to breathe for a moment. The figure on the bed had moved so close that they were nearly touching the curtain.

“…It’s really you. You’ve really come.”

Even though I hadn’t answered, the shadow was certain. Certain that I was Yoon Se-ha, that I had returned from another world.

Only then did I realize the voice of the shadow resembled my grandmother’s. The voice that used to call my name. But it couldn’t be her—my grandmother had passed away long ago.

So this shadow, this person behind the curtain…

Instead of asking who they were, I answered their question first.

“That’s right.”

The white curtain swayed slightly. The shadow’s hands moved, covering their mouth as their shoulders trembled. One hand reached toward the curtain, as if ready to pull it aside.

I resisted the urge to turn my head. I stiffened my neck, just in case the curtain was pulled back and I’d see what I needed to see.

But even after several seconds, the curtain remained closed. Curious, I looked again at the shadow. Their hand had stopped at the edge of the curtain.

“Not yet.”

The shadow said.

“It’s too soon for us to meet face to face.”

“Too soon?”

“Meeting requires preparation.”

The voice still resembled my grandmother’s, but not entirely. I listened closely and clasped my hands behind my back, afraid I might impulsively pull the curtain aside.

“Preparation takes time.”

The shadow repeated. I echoed the words silently.

Meeting. Preparation. Time.

It wasn’t wrong. At least for the shadow, time was needed. I had moved worlds by my own will, but for the shadow, my presence was something suddenly thrust upon them.

Of course they needed time—to prepare emotionally.

The other world had a slower flow of time, so while every second had felt urgent there, it wasn’t the same now.

Now that I was in this world, I could follow its pace. I accepted the shadow’s suggestion willingly.

“Alright.”

The shadow nodded at my response and pointed somewhere.

“Could you open the top drawer of that cabinet?”

Their finger pointed to a white cabinet. I opened the top drawer of the three-tiered cabinet. Inside was a small but thick notebook.

I held it up toward the shadow. They gestured for me to open it. I hesitated briefly, then opened the notebook. On the first page, I saw the words:

—To Yoon Se-ha

It was undeniable proof that it was written for me. More precisely, it was written by Arne, who had inhabited my body, for me who had entered hers.

“Did you know I’d come today?”

I asked with a trembling voice, even though I thought it unlikely. The shadow shook their head.

“Not at all.”

“Then how…”

“I was waiting.”

Even without specifying the subject, I knew—they had been waiting for me.

“So I kept that notebook nearby at all times, ready to give it to you whenever you came. I didn’t know today would be the day.”

“Waiting… sounds like you knew I’d come to this world.”

The shadow looked at me directly.

“…I had a feeling. But I didn’t know if I’d live to see you myself. Just in case you came after I died, I made copies of the notebook and hid them in several places.”

The shadow smiled faintly, but I couldn’t smile back. Just as I had felt something about her, she had felt something about me. We were connected—even across the thick wall between worlds.

“What is this notebook?”

I closed it again and asked. The shadow answered without hesitation.

“My diary.”

A diary. I thought of Arne’s encyclopedia-like journal and chuckled inwardly. This notebook was thick, but only about the size of a novel.

It wasn’t so thick you couldn’t hold it with one hand. And from the few pages I’d flipped through, it didn’t list names or describe people’s traits.

It was a standard diary. Which meant the journal Ortland had given me, claiming it was Arne’s, wasn’t hers at all.

Most likely, Ortland or Rui had written it themselves to help me adapt to the unfamiliar world.

That journal had been highly objective, and every detail about Arne’s actions had been recorded—because it was meant as a guide.

“Is something wrong?”

The shadow asked when I fell silent. I cleared my throat and replied.

“It’s nothing. But why are you giving me your diary?”

“It’s a little embarrassing, but I felt you should know.”

The shadow shifted slightly and added:

“How I lived in this world using your body.”

Honestly, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. But I hadn’t expected her to offer such a detailed diary herself.

“I thought it was the least I could do for you.”

She answered the unspoken question. I stared at the diary for a long time, then nodded. The shadow continued:

“If you turn to the last page, you’ll find a list of places you need to visit.”

I tried not to read the middle pages and flipped to the end. Sure enough, the final page listed specific addresses. The format was unfamiliar—perhaps the address system had changed over fifty years—but the names of the places were still recognizable.

So I could clearly understand what those locations meant. I traced each one with my fingertip, and at a few, I pressed my lips together tightly.

Sensing my emotions, the shadow remained silent for a while. Even though we were separated by a white curtain and could only see each other’s shadows, that silence was a strange comfort. I bowed my head and quietly wiped away my tears.

Support