Chapter 01
“…I’d rather die.”
“…What?”
Two cold gazes bore into me. One had been there since the day I married into this ducal family… the other, for the past several years. Every single day, those icy eyes were directed at me. In this luxurious study, complete with a fireplace, those looks felt so utterly out of place—almost ironic, that mere furniture seemed warmer than the people inside.
“I said, I’d rather die than go on living here like this.”
“……”
“Sigh…”
A husband who never once looked back at me. Worse than indifference—he mocked me, treated me with contempt. That man was Julius Fangray, a duke by title alone. And the sigh and scorn directed at me now came from Julius Junior, my own son… though I was never permitted to call him by name.
“You are my mother, after all… Please restrain your selfishness.”
“Cough… Insolent brat, won’t you be quiet?”
“Wha—!?”
If it were just selfish whims, perhaps life might have been bearable. But no—since the day I wed, the maids ignored their mistress. When I bore a son, he was taken from me… and raised into a man who despised his own mother. Even my meals were neglected. Eventually I developed this wretched cough that never ceased. Doctors were called, but none could cure me. I had been sickly ever since.
Unable to live even a minimal life, trapped in this hostile environment… to endure it forever was impossible. That was why I had come—to voice my complaints, and above all, to demand a divorce.
“Hah.”
“What is… cough… so funny?”
“I was only thinking how you complain as though you had any worth.”
“Excuse me?”
“To say you’d rather die, when you’re incapable of anything in the first place?”
“……”
“Did you think spouting such words would earn you money? What a shameless wench.”
I froze at the cruelty of it. I had come here determined to ask for separation, yet he struck me down with words so vile I couldn’t even speak. From the day I entered this house, I had been meek, obedient… perhaps that had been my mistake. My husband, with his lustrous jet-black hair and ruby-like eyes, was a man of devastating beauty. And I—too cowardly to ever raise my voice—was at fault.
“…If that is how it is, cough… then I will—”
“Hmph. If you insist, then I’ll lend you a dagger, famed as the ‘Blade of Instant Death.’”
“…What?”
“Take it literally. Go on—die.”
With that, the bastard flung a small sheathed sword toward me. Julius Junior, a mirror image of his father, sneered and watched with mocking eyes.
(How dare they! How much more do they intend to humiliate me?)
I glanced at the dagger lying on the floor. It seems when despair and fury reach their peak, people find the resolve to act. Just like me now.
“You won’t actually do it, of course—huh?”
“What—!?”
Both men gaped at me in shock. But what was left to cling to? My life had long since sunk to the bottom. Exhausted by the mere act of existing, I seized the dagger, drew it from its sheath, and gathered every ounce of strength into my hands.
“I despise you! I hate you both with all my heart!”
Shouting my defiance, I plunged the blade into my own chest. Agonizing pain seared through me. My vision blurred, my body no longer obeyed my will.
“Cough—!”
(Father, Mother… I’m so sorry…)
The faces of my late parents—who had loved me so dearly—flashed through my mind. In reality, the last sounds I heard were the thundering footsteps and harsh voices at my ear, nothing but a final chorus of misery. I no longer cared for my so-called son. Nor for my husband. Such a wretched life… I, Natalie Pettigrew, former count’s daughter, had had enough.
As my vision faded into darkness, I thought I saw the dagger at my chest glimmer, as if to comfort me in my final moment.
◆◇◆
“Ah!”
When I opened my eyes, I was dazzled by sunlight. But something was strange. I was certain I had driven the blade into my chest—yet there was no pain at all. And more than that… this bed was so soft, so comfortable.
“What… What is going on?”
“Ah! My lady, you’re awake already?”
“Eh…?”
The one who entered slowly through the door was a maid who had served the Pettigrew family for many years. The kind woman who had cared for me since childhood—
“Mina?”
“That’s right. Oh dear, my lady, why such a shocked expression? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten poor Mina?”
“…!”
She looked younger than the last time I saw her—when she was gaunt yet still placed my well-being above her own. My eyes blurred with tears at the wave of nostalgia.
“M-my lady! Did I say something wrong?”
“No… not at all. I’m just… so happy.”
“…?”
Mina’s soft blonde hair was braided into two plaits. Even when it was decided that I would marry into the duke’s family, she insisted she would accompany me. But then—so suddenly—she fell ill and passed away.
“This feels strange, but… ah! More importantly, you must hurry with your preparations! You’ll miss breakfast otherwise.”
“Really, even in heaven you’re rushing me?”
“What are you saying, my lady! Come now.”
Mina pushed me firmly toward the dresser and sat me down. Reflected in the mirror was unmistakably—
“My goodness! That’s… my younger self!”
“Oh, my lady! Are you still half-asleep?”
“Hey, Mina, that’s cold of you… Fufu—wait? Cold?”
Mina pressed a cool damp towel to my face. At first I thought nothing of it—but I could truly feel the sensation. This was far too real to be heaven.
“Eh? Ow!”
“My lady… what sort of game is this?”
I pinched my own cheek hard. The sharp pain proved it—this was neither a dream, nor the afterlife.
“Mina! Tell me—what year is it right now!?”
“Eh? My lady, what’s gotten into you? It’s the Imperial Calendar year 886, of course.”
“…What?”
I married in the year 888. The number had been easy to remember. But she had just said 886. That meant…
I had gone back—twelve years before those days of suffering began.
“I… I’m eighteen now, right?”
“Of course you are! My lady, what strange questions…”
“What… what on earth—”
My desperate question trailed off uselessly. Mina, efficient as ever, busied herself with my preparations, while my mind was too overwhelmed to process anything at all.
