By modern standards, it was a rather problematic thing to say. Park Yujin quietly turned the name over in his mind — I am Eugene Primrose — reminding himself whose body he was currently borrowing to exist in this world. In this era, every young man of society was, in essence, a registered member of a matchmaking agency, desperate for marriage and racing against the clock. Viewed through that lens, Ivan’s plan was perfectly sensible.
Unlike the modern world, where one had the freedom to choose whether to marry at all, the ballrooms of the Social Season would be the opportunity of a lifetime. Perhaps, with a stroke of luck, one might even meet the person fate had destined for a burning, passionate love. Or, as Ivan hoped, one might find someone wealthy and easy to talk to — someone who shared the same goals.
“If we’re dreaming big and manly about it, I’d set my sights on the Lady of Suffolk or the young miss of the Ferd family. Of course, they’d have to show some interest in me first before I could even approach them.”
Eugene didn’t recognize the names Ivan rattled off, but he could safely assume they were beautiful and rich. He understood the situation intellectually, but his expression refused to brighten. In fact, now that he’d grasped and accepted it all, his face had only grown darker. The reason was simple — this wasn’t entirely someone else’s problem.
“And I have to join in on that too?”
“Oh, Eugene. I wish I could tell you to keep living as comfortably as you do now. But if you’re not planning to grow old and die alone, you’d better pull yourself together before Lady Chelsea does any more damage to our reputation.”
At Ivan’s words, Eugene pressed a hand to his forehead. He felt as though the ground were spinning beneath him. To my followers and subscribers in another world — not only am I stuck paying off this family’s debts, I may end up having to get married on top of it all. Marriage. Out of nowhere, marriage. The debt alone was already enough of an injustice, and now there was one more thing piled on top of it.
“Who knows? Maybe, just like Kyle, a mad love worth running away in the dead of night is waiting for you too. You little romantic.”
Without any idea of what was going on inside Eugene, Ivan patted him on the shoulder and tossed out what was supposed to be a comforting remark — though it did nothing but scratch at a raw nerve. At Ivan’s joke that was hardly even a joke, Eugene stared at him with undisguised blankness.
The sharp, pointed glare pricked at Ivan’s cheeks, and he gave an awkward laugh, waving his hand with a “Just kidding, just kidding” — but Eugene’s gaze didn’t waver in the slightest. Watching Ivan, who looked not just unbothered but practically giddy, Eugene let out a long, heavy sigh.
Ivan — the man who was supposedly his older brother — was exactly the kind of person his appearance suggested: large, golden, and shaggy, like an oversized fluffy dog. There wasn’t a sharp edge to him anywhere; he was, by and large, a fairly positive person. Even after Kyle’s disappearance had suddenly dropped the responsibilities of the eldest son onto his shoulders, he didn’t seem particularly burdened by it. Knowing Ivan’s temperament, Eugene could tell that whatever he said, Ivan would get along just fine with whoever he ended up with.
But Eugene was different. Park Yujin, wearing the shell of Eugene Primrose, had no intention of marrying — not in the world he came from, and not in this one either. It wasn’t some grand anti-marriage ideology; it was simply that, for the Eugene of right now, marriage felt like something impossibly far away.
Of course, it was possible that someone he truly loved might suddenly appear and make him dream of marriage — but even that only applied when he was in his own body.
Back in the modern world, he had just finished paying off his debts and was on the verge of being reborn as a new person, ready to start fresh — romance hadn’t even been a thought. And now that he’d been dropped into this world, he was even less in a position to leisurely enjoy a love life. Worrying about it wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he clung vaguely to the belief that someday, somehow, the real Eugene Primrose and Park Yujin would each return to their rightful worlds. That’s what he told himself — but honestly, how could he not be anxious?
Would there really be a chance to go back? To return? What if Park Yujin, on the other side, was already dead? What if Eugene Primrose’s soul no longer existed anywhere?
There was no way he could play at love in a situation like this. And Park Yujin had no desire to be sold off into a marriage he felt nothing for — especially not in someone else’s body. Eugene Primrose might come back one day and resent him for it.
Eugene’s expression grew even more grave. Ivan, puzzling over how to coax his younger brother out of it, deliberately kept his tone light. To begin with, none of this was anything that could weigh heavily on Ivan — it was simply the natural order of things, as far as he was concerned.
“What’s there to be so serious about, Eugene? Throwing yourself into the Marriage Market is honestly the easiest way for you to secure a decent life for yourself.”
Ivan wasn’t wrong. Unlike Eugene with his grave expression, the other young men of their social circle were already debating whose figure and features were the finest, eagerly awaiting the start of the Social Season.
By the end of the Social Season, they’d be congratulating — and envying — whichever friend had secured a beautiful, wealthy bride to stand beside him. For someone like Eugene, a third son with little to inherit, it wasn’t unheard of to enter into a betrothal agreeing to take the wife’s family name entirely. It was a way to gain both status and wealth in one stroke — the easiest path forward for any son who wasn’t the firstborn.
The same logic applied to the women, of course. They had surely already commissioned dresses by the armful, completed their assessments of which family’s son was the most promising, and finalized their strategies. As with most noble families, Count Primrose seemed eager to settle the question of both sons’ marriage prospects during this upcoming season. That said, as Ivan had said more than once, he had no intention of forcing such obligations on Eugene.
He didn’t want to see Eugene struggling again, placed in circumstances he hadn’t chosen. And Ivan figured that if he himself put in a little more effort, it would be enough. That was only possible, of course, because Eugene had no particular interest in managing his own public reputation.
But that aside, Eugene couldn’t stay holed up in the townhouse forever. Ivan opened his mouth to console him — and then, thinking it over, felt the need to make his younger brother at least somewhat aware of the duties and realities that came with being born into the nobility.
“Father and Kyle never said much about it all this time simply because you reacted so badly. And I was careless too — I kept putting it off and leaving it to Kyle.”
Truly, the easiest way to give Eugene a stable life was marriage. Eugene had the kind of face that could devour the social world whole — not just dominate it, but tear it apart entirely. And whatever else had happened, he still carried the Primrose name, which lent him a polished exterior no amount of financial ruin could fully dull.
The Eugene before his memory loss hadn’t exactly devoted himself to academia, so becoming a lawyer or a doctor at this point was out of the question. And if he’d suffered just from having to socialize with other young men at public school, joining the military and becoming an officer was even further out of reach. As for the clergy —
Ivan cast a sideways glance at Eugene. It didn’t seem like a terrible fit, but thinking back on the written exchanges Eugene used to have with those writer types, Ivan had the distinct feeling that — memory loss or not — Eugene would vehemently refuse. Just to see, Ivan tested the waters.
“Or — would you rather devote yourself to God right now, while you still can?”
“Would I get to meet God if I did?”
Ivan had expected a flat refusal without a moment’s hesitation, but instead, Eugene’s eyes lit up. The atmosphere was such that if Ivan pushed just a few more words, Eugene might actually say yes then and there — which was enough to make Ivan stop teasing and keep his mouth shut.
“Why…? What would you even do if you met God?”
“Something like that.”
Eugene clenched his back teeth hard. Would it only be words? I have a truck-load of questions I want to ask. Why him, of all people. Whether sending him here was God’s doing. What had become of the real Eugene. What had happened to his own body, left behind. Whether his mother, his sister, and his editor were doing well. What had become of the advertising contracts he’d already signed. And so on, and so on.
Eugene felt that the option Ivan had put forward was actually quite reasonable. Listening to Ivan, it seemed like the body’s original owner hadn’t particularly enjoyed social activities either — so perhaps, using this soul transfer as an excuse, he’d developed a far greater interest in theology than in marriage. Ivan, sensing that Eugene was actually starting to seriously consider it, felt a twinge of unease.
Eugene Primrose as a clergyman. Eugene lived a life far removed from indulgence — measured against anything, it was a quiet existence — but even so, the clergy didn’t suit him at all. Eugene belonged right where he was now: listening to the ramblings of eccentric artists, writing them cheques, and smirking at the men who threw themselves into hunting or rowing like it was a religion.
“Don’t worry.”
Ivan reached out and caught his younger brother before his heart could tip any further toward God.
“This is effectively my last Social Season, but you still have more chances ahead of you — so there’s no need to rush. Once I’ve sorted things out, everything will be fine.”
The assets Kyle had liquidated and disappeared with were considerable in size, but it wasn’t as though the Primroses were sinking under a mountain of debt into ruin. They simply needed a little time to recover after a large, sudden outflow.
If Ivan managed to settle on a match this season, they might receive some assistance from the bride’s family — and even if not, the dowry she brought would buy them plenty of time. With that buffer, the estate’s yields would gradually refill the empty coffers, and they could return to their former way of life without any great trouble.
Ivan had no intention of forcing Eugene into something he didn’t want. Even today’s outing wasn’t meant to pressure him — it was simply that Ivan needed to make an appearance, and so he’d brought Eugene along. Eugene didn’t need to slip into the Debutante events and act like a slick-haired swallow hunting for prospects. Just hearing the rumour that Eugene Primrose had been present among them, displaying his noble bearing, would be enough to satisfy their father.
“And after that, you’ll be back to writing cheques for poets who curse the entire world, and spending your days shut in your room admiring strange paintings while the other men are out hunting. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
Ivan looked at Eugene and grinned with an air of self-satisfaction. Eugene’s answer seemed more or less a foregone conclusion, so Ivan nudged his knee as if urging him to just say it already. But the response that came back was entirely unexpected.
“Ah — was that what I was like?”
“What you were like?”
“You know — like someone who does nothing but drain the family fortune and goes around resenting society.”
Eugene had been listening carefully to Ivan’s description, and somewhere along the way, it struck him that the person being described sounded like quite the layabout. From the sound of it, he seemed like… well, it felt a bit harsh to say, but — an insufferable, self-important critic who lived entirely for his own sense of superiority. Eugene felt the need to revisit everything he’d gathered about himself during his time at the townhouse.
He’d shown little enthusiasm for social events that were perfectly ordinary in this era. He’d written cheques for poets who cursed the world. There had been that comment about living frugally for the time being. And it didn’t seem like he had any particular occupation to speak of. On top of all that, he didn’t appear to possess any remarkable talent either.
At this point, an image flickered through Eugene’s mind — one shaped by all the modern media he’d consumed. A third son of a distinguished family who fulfilled none of his obligations. It might be a thoroughly biased read, but given the circumstances, it seemed pretty clear.
“Ivan. What kind of person am I?”
It was possible that his time as Eugene Primrose would end as soon as today — or it might stretch on for years. Either way, it was something he needed to pin down clearly. From everything Eugene had gathered so far, the youngest son of the Primroses had a fragile constitution, prone to collapsing on occasion, and was not cruel to the servants. In fact, judging by how every member of the household seemed to dote on him, it was less a matter of not being cruel and more that he’d maintained genuinely warm relationships with them all.
It was plain that everyone pitied Eugene. Between Ivan’s reactions and those of the servants, Park Yujin had naturally imagined the body’s original owner as a delicate, unworldly, utterly loveable young master. Then again — with a face like that, how could anyone not love him? As if he’d read Eugene’s very thoughts, Ivan smiled his easy, sly smile and hedged.
“The most beloved Primrose, with the face of an angel.”
“Be honest. If you weren’t his brother but just a friend — how would you describe Eugene Primrose, the person?”
That answer didn’t work on Park Yujin. He wasn’t going to be Park Yujin anymore, and if he was going to live as Eugene Primrose while doing his best not to affect his reputation, he needed to be certain of what kind of person Eugene had been before the accident.
“That’s a rather difficult question.”
“I won’t be hurt, so just say it honestly.”
“Mm….”
“I didn’t have any friends, did I?”
