Chapter: 2
“There is no place for you here. You will live out the rest of your life in the northern Avalt territory.”
It was an order to lock Silvia Atlante away in a forsaken land bordering the domain of monsters—an abandoned territory at the very edge of the world.
“I don’t want to! I don’t want to, Father! Please don’t send me there!”
Silvia Atlante sobbed and begged, but her father, Duke Atlante, was utterly merciless.
“How long did you think I would keep turning a blind eye to your disgraceful behavior? This is enough. I will not allow you to further stain the name of our family.”
He drew a cold, unwavering line with his voice toward his daughter, who was gasping for breath as if she might die at any moment.
At his voice—devoid of even a trace of warmth—Silvia lowered her head.
Unable to persuade her father, Silvia Atlante was ultimately fated to be sent to the abandoned land.
But she had no confidence she could survive in such a barren and terrifying place.
Especially not in a land where she could encounter monsters at any time.
With neither confidence nor hope, she was driven to the edge of a cliff.
And at that precipice, she chose poison.
Silvia Atlante obtained a lethal poison that would end her life painlessly with a single swallow—and drank it.
That day was her twentieth birthday.
An Atlante noblewoman who spent her entire life yearning for love, yet was never loved even once—who ultimately ended her life by drinking poison.
“…And I became that woman?”
I couldn’t believe it.
“Mirror.”
“…Pardon?”
“Bring me a mirror.”
Perhaps because Silvia’s memories were flowing into me, informal speech slipped out naturally.
“Ah… Miss?”
Though I’d said it twice, the woman beside me—no, Bell, Silvia’s personal maid—only hesitated, fidgeting instead of going to fetch one.
“Um… should I really bring you a mirror?”
“Yes. A large one, if possible.”
When I spoke firmly, Bell’s shoulders sagged, and she trudged out of the room.
‘It’s just a mirror—what’s the big deal?’
As I frowned in confusion, the body’s memories suddenly surfaced.
Silvia Atlante hated mirrors. The moment she saw her reflection, she would shriek and thrash in revulsion.
So of course, when someone like that suddenly asked for a mirror, the maid would be confused—and frightened. She probably thought this was just another excuse for Silvia to torment her.
“I—I’ve brought it, Miss.”
Bell returned carrying a mirror larger than her own body.
As I stepped in front of it, a woman filled the rectangular glass.
A grotesquely obese body, large enough to rival two average adult women combined.
‘It’s amazing she can even stand upright.’
When I lifted my gaze, I saw a face buried in flesh.
There was none of the famed beauty of the House of Atlante to be found there—only spite piled thick across her features.
“Is she really the Duke of Atlante’s biological daughter?”
“Ah—M-Miss!”
Seeing Bell pale and look as though she were about to cry in the mirror’s reflection, I grinned.
“Just kidding. A joke.”
“Th-that kind of joke… I thought my heart was going to stop.”
“You’re making a fuss over nothing.”
I brushed it off lightly on purpose, but Bell continued watching me nervously.
I almost said more—then stopped. No matter what I said now, Bell wouldn’t take it at face value.
What I’d just said was a direct hit to Silvia Atlante’s greatest sore spot.
Even a remark like, ‘Isn’t Lady Silvia not actually the duke’s real daughter?’ would send her into a blind rage.
But I wasn’t the real Silvia.
Whether she was truly the duke’s daughter or not meant nothing to me.
I withdrew my attention from Bell and quietly studied the mirror again.
A woman with a body so fat the buttons looked ready to burst.
Facial features so buried in flesh their original shape was hard to tell, and blotchy red patches scattered across pale skin, as if from some skin condition.
Most of all, her expression—naturally twisted into something irritating even at rest—was spectacular in the worst way.
‘If you stopped anyone on the street and asked, they’d say she looked like she had a terrible personality.’
Her hair was light brown, similar to mine in my previous life, which gave me a faint sense of familiarity.
‘Though the tangled mess of unkempt curls isn’t exactly appealing.’
In contrast, the blue eyes—like something straight out of a foreign film—felt endlessly awkward.
Like wearing clothes that didn’t suit her.
‘Wouldn’t plain black or brown eyes have been better…?’
But unlike me, the original Silvia Atlante liked her eyes.
Because they were the only trait she shared with the House of Atlante.
All direct descendants of the Atlante family had eyes the color of the sea—the same color reflected in the mirror now.
In a way, it was pitiful. How often must she have been told she looked nothing like her parents to cling so desperately to eye color alone?
Yet I could understand the obsession. Apart from her eyes, there was nothing about Silvia Atlante that resembled the Duke and Duchess.
Having spent her life with her parentage constantly questioned—to the point of developing neurosis—it made sense that she would latch onto something so small.
Either way, even this unappealing combination of colors matched Silvia Atlante’s memories perfectly.
‘So… does that mean I really became Silvia Atlante?’
Smack!
“Ah—Miss!”
‘The fact that my cheek hurts after slapping it means this isn’t a dream.’
Rubbing my throbbing cheek, I asked Bell, who was staring at me like I’d lost my mind,
“What year is it?”
“Th—the Solar Calendar, year 392, Miss.”
“What? Solar year 392?”
“Yes…?”
“Stop lying and tell me the truth. You’re saying it’s not 397, but 392?”
Bell answered with a completely baffled expression.
“Y-Yes, it’s 392, Miss. You held your birthday banquet just yesterday. Why are you asking…?”
There wasn’t a trace of deceit on her trembling face.
“So it’s not a lie?”
I couldn’t believe it.
Silvia’s last day—the day she drank poison—was the first day of the year 397.
It was also her twentieth birthday, so I knew the date clearly.
But then…
“What did I do yesterday?”
“You attended the birthday banquet held at the estate. After it ended, you stayed in your room the entire time. And then…”
Bell trailed off, glancing at me nervously.
“Go on.”
“Th-that’s all.”
With those words, Bell squeezed her eyes shut, probably expecting a scolding.
But I just stared at her blankly.
‘That face isn’t an act.’
Then really…
“I went back to the past?”
“…Pardon?”
“By five whole years.”
No wonder Bell looked younger than I remembered.
Still—what in the world was going on? My head was a mess.
‘Someone, please explain what the hell is happening!’
Knock, knock.
As I clutched my head in silent agony, a knock sounded at the door.
‘Who?’
No matter how I searched my memories, there was no one who would visit Silvia’s room.
She was on worse terms than strangers with her family, had no friends who would come calling, and no letters ever arrived…
‘Of course not.’
Before I could even tell them to come in, the door opened.
The person who entered was the chief butler, the one who oversaw the entire Atlante ducal estate.
His eyes widened in surprise when he saw me standing in front of the mirror—clearly for the same reason Bell had been shocked.
‘Is he wondering why Silvia Atlante, who used to go berserk at the sight of a mirror, is calmly looking at one?’
But unlike Bell, who’d stood frozen for ages, the butler quickly composed himself.
“Miss, the master requests your presence.”
The master.
There was only one man he could mean—five years later or now.
The owner of this estate, ruler of the great House of Atlante.
The Duke Atlante.
‘And, technically, the father of the body I’ve taken over.’
After debating whether “Duke” or “Father” was more appropriate, I chose the latter.
“…Father?”
“Yes, Miss.”
‘Why would the duke call for me?’
Cold by nature, the duke never treated his children with affection.
I didn’t know how he treated the others, but to Silvia, he’d been worse than a stranger.
Unless there was business to discuss, he never summoned her—not since she was very young.
So for him to call me now…
“He appears to be angry about yesterday’s incident. You should go at once, Miss.”
“Ah… um…”
‘Yesterday’s incident? What exactly happened yesterday…?’
Five years was a long time. It wasn’t easy to recall.
‘What on earth was it?’
Any faint curiosity vanished the moment I met the duke’s icy gaze.
His blue eyes were filled with unmistakable contempt.
A look so cold it was impossible to believe it was directed at his own flesh and blood.
At that gaze, my shoulders shrank reflexively—a reaction etched into the body.
Silvia, the body’s original owner, had been afraid of her father. So afraid that even fleeting eye contact made her flinch.
“You caused another disgraceful scene yesterday.”
Judging by his words, Silvia must have caused trouble again.
The problem was—I couldn’t remember what it was.
Instead of answering, I lowered my head. The duke continued.
“They say it will take at least a month for Eirin’s arm to heal.”
Ah! Now I remembered.
The disgraceful act he referred to was the scene Silvia caused at her birthday banquet.
Yesterday’s banquet was meant to celebrate Silvia’s birthday.
Yet despite that, the true center of attention wasn’t Silvia—it was Eirin.
People offered Silvia only perfunctory congratulations before flocking to Eirin, showering her with praise.
Surrounded by guests while the birthday girl herself stood alone, Silvia lost her temper and picked a fight with Eirin.
“Why did you wear such a flashy dress to my birthday?! You did it on purpose to steal the spotlight, didn’t you?! Huh?!”
While Silvia lashed out with baseless accusations, Eirin responded with maturity.
“If that’s how it seemed, I’m sorry, Sister. I’ll go change my clothes.”
That only drew more admiration from the crowd.
“How can Lady Eirin be so kind? She even puts up with the ugly noblewoman’s absurd tantrums!”
Hearing that, Silvia grew even angrier and shoved Eirin.
Yes—she shoved her.
It wasn’t entirely intentional. She was simply so enraged that reason deserted her, and she acted on instinct.
Having grown up ignored and mistreated, Silvia had never learned how to control her anger. Even the slightest offense or disregard sent her into a violent frenzy.
Perhaps it was the resentment she’d bottled up for so long. Or perhaps because no one ever listened, no matter what she said.
The exact reason was unclear—but from around the age of ten, Silvia had developed a terrible habit of breaking things or hitting people when angry.
She did these things in a half-delirious state, and once she came to her senses, she’d be left trembling in fear.
It was the same even after frail Eirin fell hard, her arm snapping cleanly in two.
Silvia trembled in terror at the horrifying accident she had caused.
Yet no one comforted her. No one checked on her.
Everyone rushed to Eirin instead, wringing their hands and panicking over what to do.
