Chapter 143
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Life at the mansion wasn’t bad. No—it was downright wonderful.
A dazzlingly luxurious space that left her unsure where to look, professional attendants who catered to her every comfort, delicious meals prepared three times a day, and a kind, handsome host. It was an environment designed for contentment. Yet Jaha couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being treated too lavishly.
After all, the only “price” she paid for enjoying all this was sipping tea while telling Rikanan stories about Earth.
Explaining things like a thesis—neatly divided into politics, economics, society, and culture—was impossible for someone like her, no expert by any means.
Still, Jaha did her best within the limits of her knowledge. The astonishing part? However messy her input, the output always sounded surprisingly plausible.
The saying “Teach one, understand ten” must have been coined for this man.
Just by lowering his eyes and sinking into thought, he’d fill in the gaps of her patchy explanations. Even concepts difficult to accept within this world’s values—democracy, capitalism, socialism, egalitarianism—he grasped instantly. Not that he agreed emotionally, but he comprehended their frameworks at once.
“So, the nations where Jaha lived were divided into monarchies and republics, with governance broadly categorized as democratic or dictatorial. A monarchy can adopt democratic methods, while a republic can be dictatorial.”
After days of listening to Jaha’s rambling, Rikanan summarized it all with startling brevity.
“A democracy-based monarchy is a constitutional monarchy—where the ruler’s power is restricted by law. A dictatorship-based absolute monarchy matches our current system here. An elected yet dictatorial monarchy is an elective monarchy. But what distinguishes this ‘elective monarchy’ from the presidential system you mentioned earlier? Both select rulers through elections.”
“Uh, well, first, a presidential system is rooted in democracy, where everyone has equal voting rights regardless of gender, age, origin, or wealth—a concept called ‘universal suffrage.’ An elective monarchy, though, is fundamentally autocratic, with voting rights limited to a select group.”
“Then what about a republic that’s dictatorial?”
“There’s a country called Vietnam—it operates under a four-person collective leadership…”
The tea time passed in the blink of an eye as they conversed.
Jaha glanced regretfully at the remaining desserts. Once again, more than half were left untouched. Partly because the portions were generous, but mostly because Rikanan barely touched them—he merely sampled one or two each time. It seemed he didn’t particularly enjoy such treats. All these desserts were essentially made solely for her.
Truthfully, it felt excessively indulgent.
“Looks like Rikanan doesn’t really like these things,” Jaha ventured, testing the waters. If he confirmed it, she could suggest scaling back the preparations in the future.
“That’s true,” Rikanan admitted readily, his long eyes curving smoothly.
“But seeing you enjoy them makes me happy.”
Jaha’s resolve crumbled under the sudden charm offensive. How could she argue when someone that handsome said such things?
“The leftover refreshments will be distributed among the mansion staff who want them, so don’t feel burdened,” he added, as if reading her discomfort. Though Jaha had already been careful to eat neatly, she resolved to be even more conscientious from now on.
“By the way, did the cheese cookies not suit your taste?”
Only when he pointed it out did Jaha notice the cheese cookies remained conspicuously uneaten compared to the other sweets.
“No, they were delicious.”
She wasn’t just being polite—they were genuinely good. The cookies, made with quality butter and cheese, had a richness far beyond any ordinary bakery’s offerings. Yet, her hand had hesitated to reach for them. With every bite, an inexplicable heaviness welled up in her chest.
This wasn’t the first time. Back in her original world, she’d also experienced moments when eating cheese cookies left her mood inexplicably somber, her heart prickling with dull aches. It wasn’t like certain songs that plunged her into melancholy—why would specific foods trigger such gloom? It made no sense.
The funnier thing was, she didn’t actually dislike the cheese cookies. If forced to choose, she’d say she liked them. Looking at them evoked a strange sense of gratitude—like encountering someone who’d helped her through an impossibly difficult time, yet also reminded her of nightmares she couldn’t wholeheartedly cherish. Though, to call it that would be exaggerating; there was no such dramatic backstory.
Jaha’s life had been exceptionally smooth. Before her parents passed away, the biggest hardship she’d faced was job hunting. Yet despite her sheltered upbringing, she often simmered with an inexplicable resentment.
Maybe it was that “han” (a Korean concept of sorrow) she’d learned about in literature class—some days, her chest felt so tight she thought her heart might burst. She’d want to scream at someone faceless, demand answers from a shadow.
On nights when she recalled wanting to kill that vague, nameless entity—no face, no age, no gender—she’d clench and unclench her hands slowly. She’d nearly spiraled into that darkness again just now.
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