[Back to My Chamber — Later]
PLOP!!
I threw myself onto the ridiculously soft couch like a dying seal. My tiny sandals flew off my feet and landed somewhere in front of the crackling fireplace, both of my little legs stretched as far as they could.
"...Wooooow..." I let out the deepest sigh of my new life. "I’m tired... just from walking."
Seriously. Who designed this mansion? The dining hall was practically in another country; no wonder rich people stayed fit because they accidentally completed marathons inside their own houses.
A familiar, trembling voice interrupted my thoughts. "Y-Your Grace... would you like some hot tea?"
I lazily turned my head; the maid from earlier stood near the door, hands clasped tightly together. She was still shaking, actually...had she stopped shaking even once since I woke up?
I narrowed my eyes. "What’s your name?"
"M-Mia, Your Grace."
I looked her up, then down and then up again. Did House Ashcroft hire maids...or frightened rabbits?
"Alright, Mia." I waved my tiny hand dramatically. "Bring me hot tea...and snacks. Lots of snacks."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace!"
"And...everyone leave."
Every maid bowed. "Understood."
Then—
WHOOSH!!
They disappeared so quickly it looked like someone had fired them out of a cannon. I blinked.
"Did they teleport?"
Silence answered me.
I slowly looked up at the magnificent ceiling, where golden dragons curled around painted clouds. A crystal chandelier glittered like frozen stars.
"So...I really reincarnated..."
Silence.
I slowly melted across the couch, one leg dangling over the armrest while my face buried itself into an expensive cushion, and sighed dramatically.
"I guess...I only have to avoid two things in this world, number one...the Grim Reaper, Grand Duke Cassian Ashcroft."
A psychopathic villain with enough red flags to start his own parade.
"And number two...the mysterious poison. I still don’t know who poisoned her...or how...or when; just great. So apparently I’m living inside a murder mystery too."
Fantastic, absolutely fantastic.
I buried my face deeper into the cushion.
"I miss my old life...I miss instant noodles...I miss air conditioning and even miss Monday mornings..."
. . .
. . .
"Okay, maybe not Monday mornings, but my previous body is probably looking down on me, wondering why I’m wearing lace. I miss my apartment, I miss my tiny life, I miss my wi-fi, and...I miss my DICK!"
. . .
. . .
"Is it too weird to say?"
Knock. Knock.
"Your Grace?" Mia carefully peeked inside. "I’ve brought your tea."
"Come in." She pushed a trolley inside with hot tea, fresh macarons, tiny cakes, and cookies. I looked at the desserts and sat folding my legs on the couch.
"Thank you."
She looked genuinely confused. "I—it is only my duty, Your Grace."
Why did she react like I’d just knighted her? Did the previous Lucielle bite people? Before I could ask, Mia carefully placed a folded document onto the table.
"Your grace...His Grace has sent this month’s allowance."
I absentmindedly picked it up. "Hm?"
I took a sip of tea, opened the paper, read the number and----
SPPLLLUUUURRRRRTTTTTTTT!!!!
Tea shot across the room so beautifully I’m pretty sure I accidentally recreated a weather phenomenon.
"Cough...cough...cough..."
Mia immediately handed me the kerchief to wipe, and I stared at the paper, and the paper stared back.
"...WHAT THE FISH?!"
My eyeballs shot out of my face. I caught them. Dusted them off. Put them back. Counted the zeroes again. They tried escaping a second time.
"How many zeros is this?" I counted again. "My fingers aren’t enough."
I counted with my toes, "Still not enough."
I slowly raised the paper with trembling hands. "M-Mia..."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace?"
"Is..." I swallowed. "...Is this...my monthly allowance?"
She looked at the document. "Yes. Is something wrong?"
I pointed at the absurd amount. "This is monthly?"
She blinked. "Is it too little? If your grace is dissatisfied...I can ask the head butler to increase it next month."
My jaw slowly hit the floor.
Increase it? Again? Again?!
Girl, do you realize, back in my previous life...three generations of my family could retire on this amount, comfortably with vacations and probably another vacation just because they were bored?
. . .
. . .
Now that I realize, I basically live inside a treasure vault.
The golden flower vase. The imported carpets. The crystal chandelier. The marble fireplace. The hand-carved furniture. Even the stupid teacup was probably worth more than my old apartment.
Why...why didn’t I think about this sooner? Back then as Minato... I had to drag my exhausted soul to work every morning. I smiled at people I hated. Listen to my boss say the words ’we’re like family’ while slowly draining my will to live."
But as Lucielle...I can literally sit here and exist.
Mia stared at me, unsure whether she should be afraid or concerned. I didn’t blame her because at that exact moment... I could feel something dangerous waking up inside me.
Not Lucielle, not the noblewoman.
Me.
The unemployed salaryman. The man who had once dreamed of money so badly he would have sold his left shoe for a promotion.
. . .
. . .
"Heheh..." A strange laugh escaped my mouth, low, silly, and distant like a witch discovering a new tax loophole.
Mia’s face went white. "Y-Your Grace...?"
I lifted both hands slowly, then opened my arms toward the room because here the air smelled like money and good decisions and I declared, at the top of my lungs—
"LET’S LIVE THIS LIFE!!! WHO CARES ABOUT THE PLOT?!"
Mia nearly dropped her heart.
I, on the other hand, leaned back against the couch with the expression of a man who had just discovered paradise. She looked seconds away from calling a priest.
***
[Ashcroft Manor — Midnight]
"Arrest her!"
"Someone call His Grace!"
"She should be thrown into the dungeon!"
"Quick! Inform the Grand Duke!"
. . .
. . .
I frowned beneath my blanket. Why were people screaming in the middle of the night? Did nobody in this mansion understand the sacred importance of sleep?
I groaned and stretched like a lazy cat.
"...Who the hell shouts at midnight...?"
With all the enthusiasm of a corpse returning to life, I climbed out of bed. My feet landed on the icy floor.
I lazily grabbed the thick shawl hanging beside my bed, wrapped it around myself like a burrito, scratched my butt without a single ounce of elegance, and staggered toward the door, but I wasn’t walking; I was buffering.
The moment I opened the door, the noise became even louder.
Seriously. Were they holding a festival?
I dragged my feet through the brightly lit hallway. As I reached the staircase...I blinked. Several maids had surrounded someone.
Slap!
Thud!
"Confess! You shameless thief!"
"How dare you steal from the Grand Duke’s kitchen!"
I stared for a few seconds and asked, "What are you all doing?"
Silence.
Every maid froze and then said, "Your grace... Is there... anything your grace requires?"
I descended slowly, still half-dead from sleep, and looked down, and in the center of them... Mia, the poor girl looked like a frightened rabbit that had been cornered by a pack of angry wolves; her shoulders were shaking, her face was pale, and someone had clearly been rough with her.
Seeing the crowd, I understood...they were all her bullying Mia and... I absolutely hate bullies, especially in the middle of the night.
"I asked what the hell you’re doing."
Silence.
Then one of the maids bowed lower and said, very carefully, "Your Grace, this matter does not require your concern. We shall handle it."
I looked at her and somehow, in my sleep-deprived state, I became even more irritated. "This...this is exactly how people get punched in office meetings."
Mia swallowed hard and bowed so low I was worried her forehead might merge with the floor. "I... I was only taking some rice and pulses from the kitchen, Your Grace..."
One of the maids snapped, "Taking? You mean stealing."
Mia flinched again. "I—I was desperate, I—"
"Desperate enough to steal from the Grand Duke’s house?" The way she said it made Mia look like she was seconds away from crying, and that was enough to make my sleepiness turn into annoyance.
I stepped down the final steps, saying, "First of all, somebody get me a chair."
A maid hurriedly snapped, "Y-Yes, Your Grace!"
I have been dragged out of bed before my soul was ready. If you expect me to judge a case standing up, I need furniture.
A chair appeared within moments. I sat down heavily, one leg over the other, and leaned back like I was about to conduct a performance review instead of a theft investigation.
Mia remained on the floor, trembling; the others stood stiffly around us, waiting. "Now tell me the truth, did you really steal from the kitchen?"
Her lips trembled. "I... I was in a desperate situation, Your Grace."
One of the maids immediately snapped, "That does not excuse it."
I turned my head slowly. "And you are...?"
The maid stiffened. "I am Daisy, Your Grace."
"Daisy." I repeated the name once, then looked at her. "When exactly...did I give you permission to answer for Mia?"
Silence.
Daisy’s face immediately turned pale. "I-I apologize, Your Grace."
I turned back to Mia as she looked up with wide eyes. "Mia, were you allowed to take food from this manor?"
She shook her head quickly. "N-no, Your Grace... I wasn’t."
"Did you steal money?"
"No!"
"Did you steal jewelry?"
"No, Your Grace!"
"Did you steal the Grand Duke’s sword and try to sell it on the black market?"
She looked horrified. "N-no, of course not!"
"Good." I leaned back in the chair. "Then this is not a crime. You can take food from the kitchen."
The maids blinked.
Mia stared at me in shock. Honestly...I wasn’t cut out for judging people. In my previous life, the biggest decision I made was whether to order fried chicken or pizza. Now I was apparently presiding over midnight court.
Adulting really never ended.
I sighed again. "I don’t know what made you desperate enough to steal, but...I shall understand it as an emergency. Food can always be bought again; a hungry person...can’t."
The maids looked at one another, and I lazily waved my hand.
"So...ask. Don’t steal. I’ll approve it."
Mia stared at me in disbelief. "T-Thank you...your grace."
I sighed and stood up, yawning so hard my jaw nearly cracked. "Alright, everyone go back to sleep."
The maids hesitated.
"What? You all want dark circles under your eyes? Do you want to look like haunted wallpaper by morning?"
Mia quickly wiped at her eyes and nodded, and the maids slowly dispersed, still looking shaken, as if I had just broken one of the mansion’s sacred laws by showing basic human decency.
Honestly, that was probably true. I turned toward the stairs; this whole thing had taken enough out of me already. I just wanted my bed, my pillow, and my beautiful, beautiful unconsciousness.
I climbed the stairs slowly, dragging my shawl tighter around my shoulders, and then I froze because near the top of the staircase someone was standing there.
Tall, still, and quiet enough that I hadn’t noticed him until now. My sleep-fogged brain immediately woke up. The man stood in the candlelight like the darkness itself had taken human form.
Silver hair, broad shoulders, a body so powerful it looked unfair, and those cold, blue eyes... Cassian Ashcroft.
He was staring at me with no expression. Which somehow made him even scarier; our gaze locked, and he didn’t speak. He just looked at me for a second longer, then turned away as if my existence were a mildly interesting inconvenience.
That made my brain stall.
I was still frozen at the stairs. "Wow...he really is a grim reaper. When did he even arrive?"
And for some reason, that one glance was enough to make the entire hallway feel colder than before.
The man who had just watched me scold the servants. The man who had said nothing. The man who had somehow made silence feel dangerous.
"Yeah, maintain distance, very, very far distance."