Chapter 1
I Died
Before me, a spray of bright red blood burst into the air. The pain was only for a moment… After the strong voice of someone shouting my name, looking up at me, and the warmth of their presence reached my ears, everything dissolved into the roar of a violent sandstorm-like noise. Then came the darkness. Out of the blackness, two figures appeared vividly, talking to one another—the hazy scene barely visible through the thin slit of half-open eyes. The feeling of opening them again was too strong to be just a dream; it carved itself into me as an unforgettable memory.
And when I opened my eyes… a pain in the back of my head, a child’s hand, and the softness of a blanket.
“Ah… you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The small mutter of lament was drowned out by cheers all around, so completely opposite to my own feelings. Today marked the eighth time I’d muttered “you’ve got to be kidding me.” The reason I had to get out of bed was also the reason the memory returned to me with even more clarity.
Maria Arnim. Seven years old.
Born the eldest daughter of a marquis family, currently attending the birthday party of the duke family’s second son, who had just turned eight.
This morning, while frolicking in the garden, I fell, hit the back of my head—and that’s when my memories of my previous life came back.
The moment I saw the boy who was the center of everyone’s cheers, the threads of the memories I had only just recalled this morning tangled together…
So this is reincarnation. Why the hell did it have to be an otome game.
“Che… so noisy… shut up already… haa…”
Taking advantage of the fact that no one could hear me, I clicked my tongue softly and let out a sigh. The chaos in my head, thrown into disarray by my memories, suddenly calmed down like a tide receding.
Why is a girl, reincarnated into an otome game, this cynical and fed up? Because I have no interest. That’s the only explanation. If anything, I would’ve preferred a battle story with heroes and wizards.
I’d never played an otome game myself, but I knew this one. I’d been forced to, unwillingly. Because back in the company dorms, I had shared a room with my adorable twin sister, who every single day would play this very otome game with feverish excitement.
She would grab my head with both hands and force me to look at the screen, shouting like a gorilla while trying to explain in detail about her “oshi”—or whatever it was called—the princely character she loved so much.
“Look! Look at Leon-sama! Uoooohhh!!” she would roar. Meanwhile, I would be trapped in a daily ordeal of having to watch a game I couldn’t care less about.
I could never bring myself to ask her to lend me the TV or the console, seeing how happily she squealed with her nose practically stretching out. Much less could I say, “What’s even so good about this?”—that would have been terrifying. Instead, I played fighting games or RPGs during the times before she started her gaming sessions.
“You’re really more like a big brother than a big sister,” she would laugh boisterously like a gallant man, and the memory of her cool smile flashed vividly through my head. I shook it off before I could panic.
Even so, I lived my life peacefully, graduated from university, got a job… I can’t recall how old I was, but it was on my birthday.
Even though we had both moved out of our parents’ home, my sister had insisted—pleaded—that since we were twins, we had to celebrate our birthday together every year. So I always took paid leave to return home for our birthday party.
That day, as I neared our family home and saw the park where I had once played with my sister, I grew nostalgic. That’s when a child suddenly darted out of the park into the road. A huge truck was barreling toward the kid at full speed. There was no time to think.
I threw my bag aside, kicked the child out of the truck’s path, saw them tumble safely onto the sidewalk—and my memory ended there.
Yeah, I definitely died.
My thoughts swirled… My birthday had become my death day. But my birthday was also my twin sister’s. For her, hearing “Happy Birthday” would forever be laced with grief. She wouldn’t be able to see it as a happy day anymore.
My parents and my sister must have been devastated. I don’t regret it—I don’t think it was a bad thing. If it wasn’t evil, then maybe it was good? I can’t say if it was the “right” thing to do, but if I had to choose again, I’d do the same. The only thing that lingers is the guilt I feel toward my sister… So this is what it means to die.
Even as I was weighed down by gloomy self-reproach, the crowd’s cheering and applause swelled around me. Apparently the young boy had gone up on stage to give a speech.
Noisy as hell. But hey, it has nothing to do with me. Happy birthday, kid.
The boy up there on stage, being showered in applause and praise—I’d seen him before. He was a character from the otome game my sister played. I don’t know his name, but at least I knew he wasn’t Leon-sama, the one my sister adored.
“Marie? Father, Mother, Marie is…”
“Marie? What’s wrong? You look pale. I knew we shouldn’t have let you go out this morning…”
“She’s right. Are you alright? Should we take you to the carriage to rest? No, perhaps it’s better to go home and have the doctor look at you.”
The touch of hands on my back from both sides snapped me back. On either side of me were my parents and, next to them, my older brother, a year my senior—all three looking at me with concern. My current family was kind, warm, gentle.
But no matter how much I think about it, the past won’t come back. I had to focus on what was before me now.
Forcing my confused thoughts back on track, I placed my hands on my parents’ arms and smiled.
“I’m alright. I was just lost in thought. I already saw the doctor this morning, and I’m perfectly fine.”
My parents and brother widened their eyes and exchanged glances.
Ah—this is bad. I’d completely forgotten my current personality.
I was supposed to be a spoiled, clingy girl who loved stuffed animals and spoke with a cutesy lisp. Not quite airheaded, but close. This wasn’t possession—it had always been me, from the moment I was born. A cringeworthy history.
“See? Something’s not right. Why don’t you rest with Mama in the carriage for a while?”
“Yes, that sounds best. I’ll come right after I finish my greetings, so wait for me there.”
“Mother, you stay here with Father. I’ll take Marie to rest.”
My parents and brother, utterly doting, took my calmness as proof that I wasn’t actually alright. Normally I’d already be whining that I wanted to go home. But I couldn’t add more to my black history. This was something only I could control.
Besides, this was an important social event—the birthday of the son of a higher-ranked family we were connected to. On such a celebratory day, we couldn’t afford to seem inconsiderate. The bump on my head still hurt, but otherwise, my health was fine.
“Really, I’m alright. I was just thinking about what to say when greeting the young lord.”
That eased my parents a little, though my brother still looked unconvinced.
“Is that so? Just don’t push yourself. If you greet them as we practiced, you’ll be perfect.”
“Indeed. Marie is a splendid young lady. Just keep that usual sweet smile.”
“Then take my arm, Marie. A lady must be properly escorted.”
A lady… No, don’t smirk, don’t let it show.
Without forming a line, but moving through the crowded hall, my parents on either side, my brother escorting me, we approached the stage. The hall was crammed full of people, and the closeness of my parents made it harder to walk, not easier.
But then the crowd parted, and directly before me stood the birthday boy. Our family was still a marquis house, so it seemed we were given some rank-based priority. I even saw some people bowing to Father.
“Congratulations on this day. I am Maria Arnim, eldest daughter of the Marquis of Arnim. It is an honor to meet you.”
“…”
“Thank you. I had been looking forward to meeting the marquis’s precious daughter. What a truly lovely young lady.”
Father and my brother greeted the young lord’s father, while Mother and I greeted his mother and him. But this boy—he was completely expressionless. He responded to none of my words, ignored me entirely. Yet, he kept sneaking glances, only to quickly look away when our eyes met.
What’s with that attitude? So many guests came to celebrate your birthday, and this is how you act? And his mother didn’t even scold him—he was obviously being spoiled. Not that I could really judge, given how I had been until this morning.
“Hey.”
“…”
I held my composure, resisting the vein threatening to bulge on my forehead. With so many others waiting to greet him, I quickly ended my introduction with a polite bow and stepped back.
Not bad, considering my head was still a mess. I’d remembered enough of my past life and this one to pull off being a proper lady. My parents were beaming with pride at my sudden growth.
Until yesterday, no matter how many times we practiced, all I could manage was, “Hewwo, I’m Mawwy.” They’d praised me even for that, but today’s performance was a leap beyond. Naturally, they were overjoyed.
Still, the dress was tight, the lights dazzling, and I wanted to run away.
“I feel like crying.”
“Are you about to cry? Don’t cry, alright? You mustn’t roll on the floor here. Do you want to cry out loud?”
“I feel like I’m getting bored.”
“Bored, she says. Well, the party’s not over yet.”
“I feel like crying.”
“There, there. Fufu.”
No, I didn’t want to bawl here. To cry loudly in front of the nobility would stain my black history pitch black.
