Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: A Life Reversal
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The Grand Duchess had vanished.
Along with the child in her womb.
The grand ducal family was thrown into turmoil, and a massive search party was dispatched to find her.
The Grand Duke, who had been away at war, rushed back to join the search, but even after a month of relentless searching, not a single clue or trace could be found.
With rain and snow pouring down almost daily, finding any trail became all the more difficult.
Then one day, another month later.
Radia Descartes, the Grand Duchess, was finally found dead.
In the dead of night, during a record-breaking blizzard, in a forest not far from the grand ducal estate.
And.
The child who should have been with her was nowhere to be seen.
***
Eight years later.
The village of Mille, located in the southernmost part of the Serapium Empire.
The small, quiet village was abuzz with excitement for the first time in a long while.
“So, Village Chief, are you saying His Highness the Grand Duke is sending the ducal family's Elite Corps to our village?”
“That's right! Good heavens, have you lived your whole life being deceived? They say they'll arrive tomorrow morning.”
Once again, a confident voice flowed from the village chief's lips.
At that, a great roar went up!
The villagers gathered in the square cheered in unison.
Grand Duke Elbadin Descartes.
The sole grand duke of the Serapium Empire, and a man respected by all its people.
He was widely praised as one of the few true nobles in the empire who personally practiced noblesse oblige.
In particular, the ‘Guardian Corps’ and the ‘Elite Corps,’ which Grand Duke Elbadin had formed from the ducal family's knights, were famous.
The Guardian Corps helped imperial citizens in need across the empire, while the Elite Corps was tasked with gathering talented individuals from all corners of the land.
If a child was chosen by the Elite Corps, not only would the child and their family receive the grand ducal family's support, but so too would the village where the child was born and raised.
For commoners who lived hand-to-mouth, or worried about their next meal their entire lives, there was no greater opportunity.
“Come to think of it, wasn't the Young Lord, the current heir to the grand ducal family, also brought in through the Elite Corps?”
“Yes, that's right. So there's hope for our children, too, isn't there?”
It was then, as the gathered villagers chattered excitedly with hope.
One of the villagers who had been quietly listening to the conversation asked the chief.
“Village Chief. Um…”
“Hm?”
“When the Elite Corps comes, don't we have to gather all the village children in the square?”
“That's right. That's the rule. But why do you ask?”
The villager then glanced at the house with the indigo roof near the village entrance and asked again.
“What are you going to do about *her*?”
*Her*? The village chief raised an eyebrow and also looked toward the indigo-roofed house.
“Ah…”
As if only just remembering, the chief's expression darkened.
“That child…”
As the village chief trailed off, the villager asked again.
“Are you going to call for her too when the Elite Corps arrives?”
“…”
The chief pressed his lips together at the question. A murmur rippled through the square once more.
‘What should I do.’
That child was…
The one raised by the old crone they called the Witch of the North Mountain.
She would occasionally come down to the village with old Briola, but as if terrified of something, she would hide behind the old woman, peeking her face out only to quickly hide again.
‘She had common mousy brown hair and mousy brown eyes.’
Her delicate features were quite pretty, I think. But even that failed to leave much of an impression, hidden as it was under the deep hood of her robe.
Then, the witch Briola died.
The villagers drew lots to decide who would raise the child, and she turned out to be rather unlucky.
Of all people, she ended up with the most incompetent and violent man in the village as her adoptive father.
A year passed like that.
The child spent a year with her adoptive father but still failed to blend in with the village.
‘The last time I saw her was a week ago.’
Though she had an adoptive father, she looked completely uncared for.
And no one in the village paid her any mind.
‘Good grief… I can't even remember her age or name properly.’
Am I really going senile?
‘Now, what was it again.’
Lu…ce? Rosie? No…
Rosianne, Lupid, Romaine, Lala, Lili, Lulu, Lucil…
‘Ah! That's it!’
Lucillea!
***
The next morning.
Snow had been falling since dawn.
Lucillea, carrying a laundry basket as big as her torso, crunched through the snowflakes toward the river at the edge of the village.
Thump, thump, thump!
After breaking through the frozen surface of the river, crystal-clear water flowed beneath.
Lucillea tied back her wavy hair and pulled an item of laundry from the basket.
It was a man's shirt, belonging to Lucillea's adoptive father, Shured.
—“Don't you dare show your face in the village until all this laundry is done! You hear me?!”
—“Don't you dare show your face in the village until all this laundry is done! You hear me?!”
—“Don't you dare show your face in the village until all this laundry is done! You hear me?!”
He had come home dead drunk again last night, and the laundry reeked of alcohol.
As if it were a daily chore, Lucillea dipped the smelly shirt into the water and pulled it out.
Then, with her other hand, she gripped a laundry paddle and began to beat the garment.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack. For an eight-year-old, she was quite skilled with the paddle.
She even hummed a little song to the rhythm in her small, soft voice.
“Shured's head, head, crown of his head!”
And so it went for a while—neck, neck, shoulder, shoulder, arm, arm.
Was it just her imagination, or was there real feeling behind the hand that beat the clothes with the paddle?
Only after giving the crotch of the pants a thorough pounding did she finally pause her clubbing.
‘Did I put too much feeling into it?’
The laundry seemed a bit more tattered than when she'd started.
‘Well, who cares.’
He's drunk every day, so he won't even notice if there's a hole in his pants.
With a thud, she set the paddle down by her feet and brought her hands to her mouth.
The tips of her ten small, short fingers were already frozen bright red.
Hoo, haah, hoo—.
Lucillea blew hard on her fingertips, trying to bring even a little warmth to them, and glanced at the pile of laundry at her feet.
‘I'm only doing this because I have to, but on days when my mind is a mess, laundry really is the best.’
The water, cold enough to freeze her hands, cleared her mind, and the repetitive, simple paddling helped organize her thoughts.
Especially when she imagined the face of someone she hated while beating the laundry—it felt like all her pent-up frustration vanished in an instant.
In other words, this domestic chore was perfect for sorting out the cluttered thoughts in her head, now that her memories had just returned.
Yes, they had returned.
‘The memories of my past life.’
A month ago, on Lucillea's eighth birthday.
Just like that, she had regained the memories of her past life, as if someone had tossed them to her as a birthday present.
Not only that, but also the fact that she had been reincarnated into a novel she had read in that life.
‘And in that novel, I was…’
The villainess, of all people.
The one consumed by envy and jealousy, believing the male lead had stolen her father, who drives him to the brink of death.
‘No wonder he comes to kill me the moment he becomes emperor.’
Excuse me…
Lucillea squatted down and stared blankly up at the sky.
‘You know, I'm not even asking to be the female lead.’
There are so many extras who aren't even mentioned in the original story.
But no, of all the characters, it had to be…
‘Being reincarnated as a character with a fixed date of death… Have you no conscience?’
Lucillea gazed silently at the sky, from which no answer would come.
Tiny snowflakes drifted lightly down.
It was then.
[Lucy! Luuucy!]
A small yellow parrot came fluttering through the snowflakes, circling above Lucillea's head.
[Lucy! I'm here! Cookie is here!]
Cute Cookie! Lovely Cookie! Oh, so pretty! Cookie did a great job!
Praising itself, it flew about frantically in the air before landing gently on the crown of Lucillea's head.
It had yellow wings, a snow-white belly, round, jet-black eyes, and cheeks tinged as if blushing. The feather sticking up from its small, walnut-sized head looked just like a crown.
Not only was it adorable, but it was also a very special bird that could even hold a conversation.
Its only drawbacks were that its voice was a little loud and it was rather chatty…
‘Then again, since I'm the only one who can hear its voice, it doesn't really matter.’
To be precise, she heard Cookie's voice in her head.
Even if Cookie didn't chirp out loud, and even if Lucillea didn't speak.
Lucillea and Cookie could read and hear each other's thoughts whenever they wished.
Cookie moved its tiny beak.
[I checked out the village just like you asked, Lucy! It was just like you said! There were tons of people gathered there!]
“…Really?”
Cookie nodded its head rapidly.
[And that damn adoptive father of yours was there too! He was standing there, swaying, drunk since morning! A piece of trash like that who just wastes food should fall flat on his face and break his nose!]
“…”
Rather harsh words came out of that tiny, millet-seed-sized yellow beak.
‘Well, I suppose that rough way of talking, so unfitting for its cute appearance, is Cookie's charm point.’
Lucillea didn't know who it had learned to talk like that from, but she felt a strange sense of pride.
Cookie urged her on again.
[We have to go right now! That Elite Corps or whatever is here, and they say if you get chosen, it's a total life-changer!]
Let's go! Let's go! Taking flight again, Cookie tugged at the collar of Lucillea's clothes with the tip of its beak, hurrying her along.
Lucillea snatched up the fussing Cookie, which was still tugging at her collar, and placed it on her right shoulder.
“Alright. Let's go.”
Replying lightly, Lucillea pulled out an old, shabby bag she had hidden at the very bottom of the laundry basket and slung it onto her back.
It was a bag she had packed in advance, not knowing when the Elite Corps would arrive.
‘Now, it's goodbye to this wretched village and my damn adoptive father.’
Then, with a look of grim determination, she started walking toward the village square and said.
“Let's go! It's a life reversal for me, and a bird-life reversal for my Cookie!”
Yaaaay! Cookie cheered and soared into the air.