TPCM 01

Chapter 1

A splash of bright red blood spread right before my eyes.
The pain lasted only an instant…
Someone was shouting my name—an urgent, desperate voice—and warmth touched my ears before fading into the roaring noise of a sandstorm.
In the pitch-dark void, two people appeared before me. The hazy vision of them talking came faintly through the narrow crack of my half-opened eyes.
The feeling of opening my eyes again was too vivid to be a dream—it carved itself into my memory as something I could never forget.

And then—
When I opened my eyes, there was pain at the back of my head, and beneath my little hands was a soft blanket.

“Ah… seriously?”

My small muttered sigh of disbelief was drowned out by the loud cheers surrounding me.
That made it the eighth “seriously” I’d muttered today.
As I tried to remember why I had to get out of bed, the memories resurfaced in vivid detail.

Maria Arnheim, seven years old.
Born as the eldest daughter of a marquis family.
Currently attending the birthday party of the duke’s second son, who had just turned eight.
This morning, while playing in the garden, I fell and hit the back of my head—
And that was when my memories of my previous life came rushing back.
The moment I saw the young boy at the center of all the cheers, the tangled threads of memory from this morning snapped into place.

So… this is reincarnation.
Why the hell is it into an otome game?!

“Tch… so noisy… so damn noisy… haah.”

Making sure no one could hear me, I clicked my tongue and sighed softly.
The confusion that had clouded my head when I first regained my memories suddenly ebbed away, leaving only calm.

A girl reborn into a romance game should be thrilled—but me? I was just annoyed.
Why? Because I wasn’t interested. That’s all there is to it.
If I had to be reborn somewhere, I would’ve preferred a world with heroes and magic, with battles and quests.

I’d never actually played an otome game myself, but this one… I knew.
Because I’d been forced to see it every single day.
In our company housing, I shared a room with my adorable twin sister, who would always play that damn game with fiery enthusiasm.

She would go on and on about her favorite character—her “oshi,” or whatever—this sparkly prince type named Leon.
“Look! Look at Lord Leon! Uwoooohhh!!” she’d scream like a full-blown gorilla while grabbing my head with both hands, forcing me to stare at the screen.
That was our daily life together.
I never had the heart to ask her to lend me the TV or console; she looked so happy with her goofy grin that it would’ve felt like kicking a puppy.
Besides, I couldn’t understand what was supposed to be so great about it.
So, I’d sneak in a bit of fighting games or RPGs before she got home.

I still remember how she used to laugh heartily, saying, “You’re basically a man, sis!” She really was kind of a cool girl.
Just remembering it now makes my chest ache, so I’ll stop before I start panicking.

Anyway, I managed to live a peaceful life, graduate from university, get a job…
Then, on my birthday—though I can’t remember what age I was—I took a day off to attend the birthday party we always held together.
Even after moving out, we always celebrated together; after all, we were twins.
On my way home that day, I saw the park where we used to play as kids.

That’s when it happened—
A child suddenly ran out from the park into the street.
I didn’t even have time to think.
A large truck was speeding straight toward them.
I threw my bag aside, kicked the child’s back to push them onto the sidewalk—
And that’s where my memory ends.

Yeah. I definitely died.

As the memories circled in my mind, the thought hit me—
My birthday had become my death day.
Since my birthday was also my twin’s birthday, it meant that hearing “Happy Birthday” would always hurt her now.
Our parents and my sister must have been devastated.
But I didn’t think what I did was wrong. I didn’t regret it.
Even if it wasn’t “right,” it wasn’t “wrong” either.
If I were in the same situation again, I’d make the same choice—
But I still felt deeply sorry for my sister.

So this is what it means… to die.

Lost in my heavy thoughts, I realized that the cheering around me had grown louder, followed by applause.
Apparently, the young master had just given his birthday speech.

So noisy. But… it’s your day, not mine. Happy birthday, kid.

The boy standing proudly on the stage looked familiar.
He was definitely a character from that otome game my sister obsessed over.
I didn’t know his name, but I was certain he wasn’t her beloved “Lord Leon.”

“Marie? Father, Mother, Marie’s—”

“Marie? What’s wrong, dear? You look pale. Maybe it was too soon to let you outside today…”

“She’s right. Are you feeling unwell? Should we rest in the carriage? No, perhaps it’s better to see a doctor—”

Their worried voices snapped me back to the present.
Both my parents and my slightly older brother were looking at me with concern.
They were so kind, gentle, and warm—this new family of mine.

I can’t go back.
What I can do is live properly now.

I forced my thoughts back on track and smiled, gently touching my parents’ arms.

“I’m fine. I was just lost in thought for a moment. The doctor already checked me this morning, remember? I’m perfectly all right.”

All three of them widened their eyes and exchanged glances.
Ah—crap.
I’d forgotten what my current self was supposed to be like.

Maria Arnheim, in this world, was a soft, clingy little girl—sweet but a bit slow—who adored stuffed animals.
I wasn’t a possessing soul; I’d been this person since birth.
Basically, my black history had just begun.

“I knew it, something’s wrong. Let’s go rest in the carriage, shall we?”

“Yes, that’s best. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve greeted our hosts.”

“Mother, please stay. I’ll take Maria to rest for a bit.”

My doting parents and brother, soft as ever, clearly didn’t buy my “I’m fine.”
Normally, I’d be whining to go home by now anyway.
But I couldn’t let my black history deepen any further—this was my own mess to deal with.
Besides, this was an important social event: the birthday of a noble family’s son, higher ranked than ours.
It wouldn’t do for the marquis’s daughter to leave just because she “felt a little dizzy.”
The bump on my head hurt, sure, but otherwise I felt fine.

“Truly, I’m all right. I was just thinking about what words to use when congratulating the young master.”

My parents’ faces softened a little at that, though my brother still looked unconvinced.

“Really? Don’t push yourself too hard, all right? Just greet him as we practiced—you’ll be perfect.”

“Indeed. You’re a fine little lady, Maria. Just smile like always.”

“Now then, let me escort you, Lady Maria.”

A lady, huh… I had to keep my face straight and not smirk.
Flanked by my parents and guided by my brother, we made our way toward the front where the boy stood.
Their protective closeness made it a bit hard to walk—I was going to trip at this rate.

We reached the stage, where the crowd parted to make way.
As expected, being a marquis family put us near the top of the guest hierarchy.
Some even bowed politely to my father as we passed.

“Congratulations on this joyous day. I am Maria Arnheim, eldest daughter of the Arnheim Marquisate. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“…”

“Thank you. We were looking forward to meeting the marquis’s lovely daughter—she truly is a charming young lady.”

While my father and brother greeted the duke and his son’s father, I was talking to the boy’s mother and the boy himself.
But this brat… he completely ignored me.
He kept turning away, pretending not to hear, glancing over only to quickly avert his eyes again.

What kind of manners are those?
All these people came here to celebrate your birthday, you little punk.
And your mother isn’t even scolding you?
Clearly spoiled rotten.
Then again, I was hardly one to talk—at least before this morning.

“Hey.”

“…”

I managed to keep my cool, though I could feel a vein throbbing on my forehead.
Since others were waiting, I quickly wrapped up my greeting, bowed formally, and stepped aside.

Not bad, considering I was still reeling from my reincarnation.
I’d regained most of my recent memories too.
Surely I’d done well enough to be called a proper lady.
My parents’ beaming faces confirmed it.

Yesterday, no matter how much I practiced, all I could say was, “Hewwo! Mawie deshu!”
They had praised me for that too, calling it “adorable,” but my sudden improvement must have amazed them even more.
Still, this dress was too tight, too bright, and I desperately wanted to leave.

“I feel like crying.”

“Are you going to cry? Oh dear, please don’t spin on the floor again, all right? Do you want to cry loudly instead?”

“I’m getting bored.”

“She said she’s bored, how cute… The party’s not over yet, sweetheart.”

“I feel like crying.”

“There, there. Fufu.”

No, I really didn’t want to cry here.
Not in front of all these nobles—
That would stain my black history forever.