Chapter 1
The Grand Duchess had disappeared.
Along with the child in her womb.
The Grand Ducal family was thrown into chaos, and an enormous search party was mobilized to find her.
Even the Grand Duke, who had been on the battlefield, hurried back to join the search, but after a month of relentless searching, they couldn’t find so much as a clue or trace.
The alternating rains and snows made tracking her even more difficult.
Then, one day, another month later…
Grand Duchess Radia Decart was found.
Her body was discovered deep in the forest, not far from the Grand Ducal residence, during a night of record-breaking snowfall.
And… the child who should have been with her was nowhere to be seen.
Eight years later.
Mille Village, located in the southernmost part of the Seraphium Empire.
The small, quiet village was unusually lively.
“So, Chairman, you’re saying that His Grace, the Grand Duke, is sending the Ducal family’s elite squad to our village too?”
“That’s right! Can you believe this person has been so gullible all this time?! They said they’ll arrive tomorrow morning.”
The village chief spoke with certainty.
Then—
“Wooooah!”
The villagers gathered in the square erupted in cheers.
Elbadin Decart, Grand Duke.
The only Grand Duke of the Seraphium Empire and a figure revered by the entire population.
Praised as one of the few true nobles in the empire who practiced noblesse oblige personally.
Elbadin’s “Guardian Corps” and “Elite Squad,” composed of the Grand Ducal family’s knights, were especially famous.
The Guardian Corps helped the struggling citizens across the empire, while the Elite Squad gathered talented individuals from every corner of the realm.
Being chosen by the Elite Squad meant support from the Ducal family—not only for the child but for their entire family and even the village they were born and raised in.
For ordinary citizens who lived hand-to-mouth or worried about their next meal, there was no greater opportunity.
“Well, the heir to the Grand Duke’s family also joined the Ducal family through the Elite Squad, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. So shouldn’t our children have hope too?”
As the villagers discussed this excitedly, one of them, who had been quietly listening, asked the chief.
“Chairman… um…”
“Yes?”
“When the Elite Squad comes, shouldn’t all the children in the village be gathered in the square?”
“That’s correct. That’s the rule. But why do you ask?”
The villager glanced at the dark blue-roofed house at the edge of the village and asked again.
“What about that child?”
“That child?” The chief raised an eyebrow and looked toward the dark blue-roofed house.
“…Ah.”
The chief’s face darkened as if a memory had surfaced.
“That child is…”
The villager pressed further.
“When the Elite Squad comes, will you call that child too?”
The chief pressed his lips tightly together, and a hush fell over the square.
‘Oh no.’
So that child…
A child raised by the old woman known as the Northern Mountain Witch.
She occasionally came down to the village with the old witch Briola, but always hid behind her, peeking out just slightly before retreating again, as if terrified of something.
‘A common gray-brown hair color and gray-brown eyes.’
Her small, delicate features were quite pretty, but the oversized hood of her robe hid most of her appearance.
Then, the witch Briola died.
The villagers drew lots to decide who would raise the child, and the child’s luck was… poor.
She ended up with the most incompetent and cruel man in the village as her foster father.
A year passed.
The child spent a year with her foster father but still hadn’t integrated into the village.
‘The last time I saw her was a week ago.’
Although she had a foster father, she seemed completely neglected.
No one in the village cared for her.
‘Honestly… I barely remember her age or her name.’
‘What was it again… Lu…se? Roz? No…’
Rozian, Luphid, Romain, Lara, Liri, Lulu, Lucille…
‘Ah! That’s it!’
Lucillea!
The next morning.
Snow had begun falling at dawn.
Lucillea carried a laundry basket as tall as her torso and trudged through the falling snow to the river at the village’s edge.
Thunk, thunk, thunk!
She broke the frozen river surface to reveal the crystal-clear water beneath.
After tying back her hair, she pulled out a piece of laundry from the basket.
It was an adult man’s shirt—her foster father Shured’s.
-“Don’t even think about coming into the village until I finish all this laundry! Got it?!”
He had come home drunk again last night, leaving a strong smell of alcohol on the clothes.
As usual, Lucillea dipped the smelly shirt into the water and wrung it out.
Then she picked up the laundry paddle with her other hand and began to beat the clothes.
Tap, tap, tap, tap. Despite being only eight years old, she handled the paddle with surprising skill.
She even hummed softly to herself.
“Shured, head, head, crown!”
For a long while, she beat the shirt, chanting in rhythm: neck, neck, shoulders, shoulders, arms, arms.
Was it just her imagination, or was there emotion in the way she pounded the clothes?
After firmly pressing the pants’ seams, she finally paused.
‘Did I get too emotional?’
The clothes looked more tattered than before.
‘Oh well.’
He was drunk every day; he wouldn’t notice even if the pants had holes.
She placed the paddle next to her feet and brought her hands to her mouth.
Her small fingers were already red from the cold.
Hoo, hoo…
Blowing warm air into her fingers, she looked at the laundry piled at her feet.
‘It’s forced labor, but on thoughtful days, laundry is the best.’
The icy water cleared her mind, and the repetitive motion helped organize her thoughts.
Especially when she imagined the faces of people she disliked, the fatigue seemed to vanish in one go.
Yes, it was perfect for sorting her messy thoughts and regaining her memories.
‘It’s back.’
Her memories from her previous life.
A month ago, on her eighth birthday, as if it were a gift, her past life’s memories returned.
Even the fact that she had possessed a character in a novel she had read in her previous life.
‘And in that novel…’
She had been the villain.
Consumed with jealousy and envy after losing her father to the male protagonist, driving him to the brink of death.
‘No wonder he came to kill me as soon as he became Emperor.’
Um… excuse me.
Lucillea crouched and stared quietly at the sky.
‘I’m not asking to be the heroine.’
How many extras in the original story were barely mentioned?
Yet, of all things, she had to possess…
‘A character whose death day was already set… what kind of conscience is that?’
Lucillea stared at the sky, expecting no answer.
Small snowflakes drifted down.
Then—
[Lucy! Lucy!!!]
Through the snow, a yellow parrot fluttered down, circling above Lucillea’s head.
[Lucy! I’m here! Cookie’s here!]
Cute Cookie! Lovely Cookie! Oh, how pretty! Cookie did so well!
Boasting to herself, Cookie fluttered around and finally perched gently on Lucillea’s head.
Yellow wings, a snow-white belly, round black eyes, cheeks blushing slightly, and a small head crowned with feathers—it looked like a tiny crown.
Cute in appearance, and, impressively, it could communicate—an extraordinary bird.
The voice was loud and chatty, but…
‘It doesn’t matter; only I can hear it anyway.’
Cookie’s voice came straight into her mind.
Cookie didn’t need to chirp aloud, and Lucillea didn’t need to speak.
They could read each other’s thoughts whenever they wished.
Cookie wiggled its tiny beak.
[I checked out the village like Lucy told me! Everything’s just like you said! So many people gathered in the square!]
“…Really?”
Cookie nodded rapidly.
[And that damn foster father was there too! Drunk since morning, swaying around! That useless waste, squandering food, should fall flat and break his nose!]
“….”
Small, yellow, and fierce—the words came out harshly.
‘Well, the rough tone contrasts with the cute look, that’s our Cookie’s charm.’
Lucillea couldn’t help feeling proud.
Cookie urged her again.
[Let’s go right now! The Elite Squad or whatever is coming! Being chosen means a life-changing opportunity!]
Gaaah! Gaaah! Cookie flew up again, tugging Lucillea’s sleeve with its beak.
Lucillea grabbed Cookie and placed it on her right shoulder.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
She took out an old, shabby bag hidden at the bottom of the laundry basket and slung it over her back.
It was packed in advance in case the Elite Squad arrived.
‘Goodbye to this wretched village and that cursed foster father.’
Striding toward the village square with determination, she said:
“Let’s go! I’m turning my life around, and Cookie’s having a sky-high turnaround!”
Yeaaah! Cookie cheered and took off into the air.
