ECD 06

Chapter 06 I Died, and Everything Changed

“She has gone mad!”

In front of Chloe and Roosevelt, Vermont shuddered as he recalled what had happened yesterday.

“Watch your words.”

Roosevelt clicked his tongue.

“I went to draw her blood as usual, and she broke a vase and held the broken piece against my neck!”

“Hmm. That is difficult to believe.”

Chloe answered in a flat tone as she deeply inhaled the scent of her tea.

“You saw her in the meeting room! What kind of medicine did she take? She must have completely lost her mind! And those murderous eyes…”

Vermont trembled as he remembered yesterday.

It had only been for a moment, but he could not deny that he had been overwhelmed by Irene’s gaze.

And not just anyone.

He had been overwhelmed by that foolish Irene!

“Certainly, it is a very strange thing.”

“She became a completely different person overnight!”

As Vermont shuddered, Roosevelt let out a hearty laugh.

“Come to think of it, Deborah, who had been protecting her, suddenly died. Would she really be in her right mind?”

“I suppose…”

Chloe agreed.

“Irene must have become afraid that she might end up like Deborah, so she finally struggled a little.”

“But even so, does it make sense that a girl who seemed like an idiot could embarrass us in the meeting room?”

At Vermont’s words, Chloe remembered what had happened in the meeting room and gave a small laugh.

“Certainly, I suppose we underestimated that girl. Even if she is half-witted, she seems to be a cub of a beast. It was quite an interesting sight.”

Roosevelt agreed with Chloe.

“Perhaps Deborah told that girl everything. Do you think Deborah knew about our work?”

“Hmm.”

Chloe took a sip of tea and fell into thought.

But soon, she shrugged.

“Well, even if that were the case, what can that dead girl do now?”

“Haha, you are absolutely right.”

Roosevelt agreed with Chloe, but Vermont still could not shake off his uneasiness and frowned.

“Give the girl some time to mourn Deborah’s death. How can you be so heartless?”

At Roosevelt’s words, Vermont twisted his lips.

Who was the one who made them draw blood from Irene’s sickly body every time? And now he is pretending to be the compassionate one.

“Yes… Well, I understand.”

However, there was nothing else he could say.

Just then, there was a knock on Chloe’s door.

Knock, knock.

“It is Carlin.”

“Come in.”

Carlin’s timely arrival conveniently cleared up their doubts.

Carlin reported that Irene seemed to have lost her mind from the shock of Deborah’s death. Vermont strongly agreed, and everyone simply dismissed Irene’s small act of resistance.

The reason they could brush it off so easily was simple.

After all, there was nothing someone like Irene could do.

Just as it had always been.

Although I had rested for an entire day, this body’s condition had not improved much.

Of course, a body that had no energy in the first place would not become healthy just by resting a little.

“You woke up early, my lady.”

Carlin brought fruit and thin porridge for breakfast.

Perhaps because I was already used to skipping breakfast, I looked at it, but I had no desire to eat.

“What was my usual schedule like?”

I suddenly became curious about what Irene had done to spend these long, boring days.

“Well, you would read books, take walks, or sometimes write.”

What a boring daily life.

The range of activities this girl had in such a huge mansion was far too small.

I wondered if she had chosen to imprison herself or something.

“Leave it here. I will eat it when I feel like it.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Carlin placed the tray on the table by the window.

The sun was shining intensely outside.

It is rather nice that I can start my day late without having to worry about anyone’s opinion.

But that was all.

I got out of bed and headed toward the corner of the room where the desk was.

“What did you do here?”

There was ink and a quill on the dark brown desk, and the surface was otherwise empty.

It was completely different from my own desk, which had been packed with documents.

My eyes suddenly moved to the drawers beside the desk.

Clack.

When I opened the top drawer, there were neatly arranged sheets of paper and quills inside.

I opened the drawer below it.

A music box and a pair of gloves were stacked together.

My eyes remained on the gloves for a long time.

There must be some story behind these.

But soon, without much interest, I closed the drawer and opened the one below it.

Inside was a hardcover notebook.

I took it out.

“A diary?”

I roughly flipped through the pages, and dates and short entries passed before my eyes.

“I do not have a hobby of reading other people’s diaries.”

But if I wanted to understand this strange phenomenon, I needed to read Irene’s records.

“Let’s start with the most recent dates.”

To find information, I started from the most recent diary entry at the very back.

It seemed to have been written only a few days before my body had switched with hers.

[I briefly crossed paths with my sister. A day when I even get to hear her voice is considered a lucky day.
She said I looked healthier. I am glad that I seemed to have eased her worries a little.
It was a day when I felt relieved that I still had some strength left.]

Even though the entry was so short, I could feel the many emotions inside it.

…Did I really say that?

For me, who dealt with dozens of problems every day, the brief moments I spent with Irene had been nothing more than small, insignificant moments.

If I had written a diary, there would never have been room for a short conversation like that with Irene.

But Irene seemed to be different.

To her, those brief moments when our paths crossed during her boring day seemed to be something important.

“It just makes me feel awful.”

What did you call this feeling?

Perhaps guilt.

I turned one page forward.

[I ate meat for the first time in a while. I think I heard a rumor that the chef had changed.
.
.
.
My condition became worse before I could finish all my lessons.
I hope I can sleep peacefully tonight.]

[I went for a walk. I met the squirrel I had seen before. Its cheeks were stuffed with acorns.]

[A bird with an injured leg was lying in the flower bed. Perhaps it did not even have the strength to cry, as its eyes only moved sadly toward me.]

They were trivial things.

What she ate, what lessons she took.

The only things that caught my attention were the stories about meeting animals during her walks.

“Did people normally come across animals this often?”

Perhaps it was because I treated even walks like work.

I could hardly remember ever encountering animals.

Do they appear when you pay more attention to your surroundings?

[I decided to take care of it until its leg heals. I am thinking about a name for the bird. There must be a name that suits this little one.]

“You saved a bird.”

I had not known that Irene had kept a bird for a while.

I thought I knew everything about Irene, but there were so many things about her daily life that I had never known.

I continued turning the pages.

Irene seemed to be happy often and sad sometimes.

Even in this quiet life, she seemed to have experienced quite a lot of emotions.

Then, when I went about a month further back, I found a passage that caught my attention.

“Was this the day her blood was drawn?”

[It was an especially terrible night. I was afraid it might never end. The room became dirty. When dawn comes, I should pick some flowers to cover the smell of blood.]

That bastard really had been coming to Irene twice a month.

The more I turned the pages, the more certain I became.

I had sometimes seen Irene picking a large handful of flowers from the garden and taking them away.

So that was why.

Unbelievable.

“He did not deserve to die peacefully.”

As I read, it felt like the thread of patience in my head had snapped.

I should have just killed him.

[Perhaps the birds noticed that I was sick, because they flew around me and sang. It made me happy. The flowers were in full bloom, and their fragrance filled my nose. It was a day when I could not help but be grateful for the beauty surrounding me.]

What was she so happy about?

Why is there not even a trace of anger at being exploited?

“What a fool.”

The more I learned about Irene, the more I could not help becoming angry.

If I had known about these things when I was still in my own body, would anything have changed?

If I had asked you about revenge, you probably would have shaken your head with that pitiful smile of yours.

“But do not worry, Irene. I have always been very used to standing in for you, both then and now.”

‘Sister. I want to become like you, too.’

That tearful voice echoed in my ears.

You wanted to live like me?

No, Irene.

You should not live like that.