Bailonz Street 13

“Hey, are you okay? Hey! Liam!”

As I crawled across the bed on my knees and peered over the other side, Liam was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, his long limbs bent at odd angles, looking utterly confused.

“What—what are you saying?” he shouted in a slightly high-pitched voice.

“Marriage. YOU AND ME. Okay?”

“But, I didn’t bring a ring.”

What is he talking about now?

“Give me a little time, I wasn’t prepared… Marriage has procedures…”

What on earth is he saying?

“We haven’t even gotten engaged—”

I couldn’t listen to any more. I interrupted him, worried that if I let him continue, I might really end up as Jane “Moore.”

“I mean a fake marriage. We just need to pretend to be married. It’s not unusual for couples to be close. People will just see us as a happy wife and her husband. During this trip, I have no choice but to live as Jane Moore temporarily. So please cooperate, darling.”

“Jane Moore,” Liam muttered, sitting awkwardly on the floor. “Jane Moore.”

He sounded like a madman, repeating the name several times. Then, he rubbed his face vigorously and said something incomprehensible.

“Li… smon…”

What?

As my gaze sharpened like lightning, he quickly got up, turned his head to hide his expression, and lifted me up. Despite his injured arm, he carried me carefully to the door. It was surprisingly comfortable. And his strides were so long that we reached the corridor in just a few steps!

Is he embarrassed? Just because he attached my surname to his first name?

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Desperately trying to hide his expression, his neck veins bulged from clenching his jaw, and I could see his ears turning faintly red.

“Liam.”

“Hold on.”

His voice sounded like he was struggling to control himself, trying to hide his embarrassment and shame. After a while, he set me down and returned to his usual cheerful self.

“Shall we go, madam?”

What a ridiculous and pretentious man. If he thinks this will make me forget his embarrassment, he’s mistaken. I sighed and placed my arm in his outstretched hand. He glanced at my intact left hand and then pulled me closer to his side. He was playing the devoted husband. I’ll let it slide this time, but there won’t be a next time.

“Let’s go, darling.”

＊ ＊ ＊

We passed by many people as we moved towards the dining car. People were surprisingly uninterested in each other and even less in what others were doing. An elderly lady looked at my broken arm with pity, but Liam’s firm grip around me discouraged any conversation.

Would this affect the event? I briefly thumbed through the notebook in my pocket, reviewing our actions and checking the save slots. Slot 1 was the most recent, saved on the train back to London. After some thought, I saved our progress in slot 2. So far, so good. I was in good shape.

I need to make saving a habit. This reality makes me forget it’s a game sometimes. The people around me no longer feel like NPCs; they seem alive, with breath, warmth, and pulsing veins.

I ordered tea, without milk or sugar, and a sandwich because I was hungry. Liam ordered the same, adding a piece of sugar and some milk to his tea.

“So, honey,” I said, making Liam flinch and shudder as if he was choking. He seemed to suppress it desperately. I gently patted his arm and pushed the sandwich towards him.

“When does our ‘schedule’ start?”

After clearing his throat, Liam replied, “Well, dear, I think it’s best to wait until dinner.”

Ugh. It’s so cheesy. I hadn’t even touched the sandwich, but my appetite vanished. Still, I grabbed a piece, feeling the emptiness in my stomach. The sandwich was delicious, with crispy bread, ham, and vegetables, mixed with a tangy and slightly sweet sauce. It even had cucumber, though I would’ve preferred pickles.

Liam took my hand, his large fingers curling around mine, squeezing firmly. The waiter, delivering a sweet dessert, saw this and smiled warmly.

No, it’s not what you’re imagining. But for now, we are a married couple. Mom, this is how I’m living in London. I tried to suppress the urge to laugh.

Liam started writing on my palm with his fingertip.

‘I think there’re… watchmen.’

Watchmen? Are we being watched?

I kept smiling and whispered, “Us?”

‘Not us. Watching for suspicious behavior.’

I tried not to move my eyes. An average person wouldn’t notice this kind of surveillance. If they did, or if they scanned the crowd conspicuously, they’d reveal that they ‘know something.’ I had to pretend I was unaware.

And then I noticed something odd. Liam had used the plural form of ‘watchmen.’

“How many?”

His response came.

‘9/10(Nine tenths).’

Almost all of them.

…That’s too many.

Liam’s gray eyes softened. He stopped writing on my palm and gently kissed the back of my hand. His warm, moist lips lingered for a moment before pulling away.

He played the loving husband so well that it almost felt like we were truly married. His eyes conveyed warmth, affection, and respect, making it easy to believe it wasn’t just an act.

Immersion is crucial in disguise, but could these emotions be mere imitation? It almost felt like he had genuine feelings for me.

I swallowed hard, reminding myself repeatedly that this isn’t that kind of game. <Misty London> is a horror game, not a dating sim. With that thought, my restless heart calmed down instantly.

I naturally withdrew my hand and brushed a strand of his fallen hair. Then, I looked out the window. The rhythmic sound of the train and the sight of meadows and sheep outside made me feel a sudden sense of confinement. Though I didn’t have claustrophobia, it felt suffocating.

“I’m tired. Let’s go back to the cabin,” I said.

With 90% of the passengers being watchmen and the rest observing them, I didn’t want to stay here any longer. The constant act was exhausting.

Liam, catching my signal, stood up and carefully helped me.

“Maybe you should take a nap, dear.”

“…Maybe I will.”

The waiter kindly saw us off as we left, and we walked away from the clinking cutlery and light chatter.

I felt eyes on us but then sensed them withdraw. We seemed to have diverted suspicion slightly, a small relief.

Back in the cabin, all my strength drained away. When I wobbled, Liam quickly caught me.

“Careful.”

All this trouble just for a cup of tea. I had been so tense halfway through that I couldn’t even tell if I was drinking tea or eating a sandwich.

The air in the train felt stale. Maybe it was the earlier conversation, but I felt on edge. Was that why? My head was starting to throb, and I felt cold.

Seeing my pale face, Liam touched my forehead and then his own. He said I had a slight fever. Maybe it was because I hadn’t taken the medicine he had prepared.

He gently picked me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down with surprising care. He even unbuttoned my jacket and took off my shoes. He seemed experienced in caring for the sick.

“I can do it myself,” I muttered, feeling like a child as he helped me out of my jacket.

“I know. But you need to rest if you’re sick.”

Then, he committed the outrageous act of grabbing my calf and massaging it. His large, hot hands pressed and kneaded the tense muscles.

Honestly, it did feel good…

But seriously, this guy! Massaging my legs out of nowhere?