Chapter: 03
I Didn’t Want to Become Iana Marseille
However, in a society where it was considered normal for noblemen to have at least one or two lovers, and now that he had already become the heir to the Lemacien Marquisate, his desire could be seen as hardly excessive. Alice shook her head, thinking her worries might be nothing but needless anxiety.
‘I’m just getting suspicious because I’m old.’
In fact, aside from Alice, even the Marquisate’s retainers often praised him for being fully capable of inheriting the title, so Alice sometimes ignored the strangely unsettling behavior of Melen.
But when she remembered the mysterious powder floating in her cup, and, more importantly, that Melen had carefully handed that cup to her herself, she could no longer simply let it slide.
Alice suddenly stood and looked around. Or at least, she tried to. If it weren’t for the sharp pain stabbing her chest, she would have called someone to find Melen and had the suspicious cup she drank from entrusted to a trustworthy place.
“Ugh!”
Alice clutched her chest and collapsed, causing a commotion around her.
“Your Highness! Please, stay with us! Your Highness!”
Someone nearby helped support her. The cup slipped from her weakened grip, rolled, and shattered under the feet of the gathering crowd. Alice struggled to lift her head and look at the faces surrounding her. From the very back, Melen was watching her. When she glared at him with bloodshot eyes, Melen didn’t know what to do and stepped back.
Alice tried to lift her arm to point at him.
“That… that one!”
But her words were drowned out by the noise. A ripping pain tore through her chest, and blood began to flow from her mouth. Gasping for breath, Alice turned her head. She saw a healer running through the crowd. Not just one, but two? Damn curiosity shone even at a moment like this, and Alice could barely keep standing as she collapsed, watching where the second healer was rushing to.
‘No… what’s that?’
Alice’s eyes narrowed. Iana Marseille was lying on the floor, seemingly unconscious, eyes closed. Alice glanced back and forth between Prince Kal and Princess Vivienne. Princess Vivienne was looking at Iana with worry, tears welling in her eyes.
Alice’s memory stopped there. The healer began emergency treatment on the unconscious Alice, but the chances did not look promising. Her lips had turned bluish. The healer, who had been putting medicine in her mouth and massaging her body, struggled for a long time before finally speaking with a grim expression:
“Your Highness has passed away.”
Sighs of regret erupted here and there, and someone began to cry. The once lively banquet instantly turned somber.
The valiant woman Alice Lemacien, who had lived a tumultuous life, passed away at the age of 87.
A sweet fragrance wafted to her nose. Alice sniffed with her eyes closed but couldn’t guess its source at all. The maids must have done something in her room again.
‘Apparently, all ladies naturally have a bottle or two of perfume. And if you have money like Your Highness, dozens of bottles.’
Whenever Alice frowned and scolded them for doing something useless, the maids muttered indignantly. By now, Your Highness could enjoy such a trivial luxury. Tirelessly, they muttered. Chattering. It seemed like the noisy sound was in her ears, and Alice smiled faintly with her eyes closed.
‘Such cute things.’
The blanket on her skin was unusually soft, unlike the one she normally used. It seemed to have been secretly replaced. How long had she been lying there?
Alice clicked her tongue and opened her eyes.
The moment she opened her eyes, a magnificent ceiling fresco came into view. As she rolled her eyes, the elegant white molding surrounding the fresco and the white wallpaper that seamlessly extended from it looked extraordinarily lavish. The wallpaper had delicate, small grooves carved into it, with paintings matching the theme of the ceiling fresco, appearing almost sculptural.
“Damn it!”
How much must this have cost? Who would do such a thing in her room? Alice knew very well that this uselessly beautiful decoration was worth a fortune. It was a product she had developed and sold exclusively to a few high-ranking nobles. Even though she used the cheapest, most abundant cosmetics on her face and spent most of her day outside working, why would she waste so much on a room she only spent a few hours in at night? Especially when she had no time to even look at the paintings while sleeping.
The thought of what the rest of the mansion looked like made her head throb. Whether it was because she had been sick and just got up or because of the extravagant state of the room, she felt her body worsen rapidly from the relatively okay condition it had been in moments ago.
“Those things of mine!”
But enraged Alice could no longer lie down. How could she waste the money she had worked so hard to earn just to paint a ceiling? She swung her arm and grabbed the cord that was within reach, tugging it roughly. Soon, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, and the door opened.
“Miss, you’re awake?”
A frail voice whispered timidly like a mosquito’s buzz. Alice’s eyebrows shot up vertically. Such a timid maid could not survive in her house. Who had picked such a child? Alice glared fiercely at the maid.
“Eek!”
Lou inadvertently inhaled sharply, making a strange sound. The picky young lady shot her an even more displeased look.
To say the truth, the past few days while Alice had been lying down were the calmest since Lou came to the Marquisate. But now that the young lady had regained consciousness, that peace seemed to end today. Lou, unaware that her thoughts were written plainly on her face, awkwardly smiled ‘hohoho’ and approached Iana.
“What did you do to my room?”
The forced smile on Lou’s face instantly stiffened. Before entering the room, she had imagined dozens of possible scenarios to brace herself. But none had accounted for the young lady asking such a question. What now? Lou glanced around with a worried expression and said:
“Your room is just as it was, miss. There’s no way I could have done anything to it without your permission.”
“Miss?”
Alice’s expression hardened even more.
‘No matter how lenient I am, how dare you mock your master!’
Alice gritted her teeth.
When she was young, she had been too busy making a living to care about her appearance. Alice, a distant relative of the Lemacien Marquisate, had inherited the title not for herself but because the status would help the business she ran. Maintaining that status required a good amount of money, but Alice’s judgment was correct. Even those who had ignored her because she was a woman or a minor noble now bowed their heads and showed trust in the name of the Lemacien Marquisate. It was hardly a loss.
Alice, who had originally been of ordinary appearance, didn’t pay much attention to her looks even after becoming a noble. Yet, since she never married, and had not become a marquise through marriage, most nobles still called her “Madam” or “Marquise Lemacien.”
At first, it wasn’t out of malice but from indifference, as her appearance naturally looked older. However, the more Alice could not let it go and got angry, the more the title “Marquise Lemacien” became a term of ridicule behind her back, eventually solidifying as Alice Lemacien Marquis’s weakness.
Alice had no choice but to take extreme measures. She could tolerate mockery of herself, but not if it damaged the image of her business. She had to prevent the enterprise she had built with blood and sweat from becoming a laughingstock.
Alice ordered ruthless punishment for those who called her “Madam” or “Marquise.” She would break deals, cut off funds, and investigate distant relatives to torment them somehow. Petty, underhanded, despicable methods were all employed—even methods too dirty to be mentioned among nobles. Alice had lived this way and saw no reason to change even after becoming a marquis, nor did she think it wrong. When she had neither money nor power, hadn’t people treated her the same?
The results were a huge success. No one dared insult her with “Madam” or “Marquise” anymore. After saying “Your Highness” or “Marquis Your Highness,” they would bow deeply in respect, showing outward signs of love and respect. Of course, she knew some still held contempt behind her back, but Alice laughed it off generously.
And now… “Miss?” Alice felt as if Lou had spat on her face. She glared so fiercely that Lou, flustered, choked back tears and spoke:
“I’m sorry, miss. I won’t do it again.”
The problem was that Lou kept calling Alice “Miss.” Not “Madam,” but “Miss”! Was this mocking her for being old now? She had never heard that title when she was young. Where to even begin explaining? Alice silently glared at Lou.
Lou swallowed her tears. Clearly, going home peacefully today was impossible. The young lady she served glared at her with a firmly upset expression. Lou squeezed her eyes shut and knelt.
At that moment, a short knock sounded behind Lou, and the door opened. In this mansion, only one person could enter before Iana gave permission: Iana’s father, Duke Benoît Marseille.
“What’s the matter again, Iana?”
His voice was like a winter gale. Alice turned her neck stiffly and awkwardly to look at Duke Marseille, as if a bone in her neck had been misplaced. She seemed to have heard something but couldn’t be sure.
“I asked, Iana Marseille, what’s the matter?”
Alice forced her misaligned neck to move and looked at her hands. Her fair, delicate hands rested gently on the silk blanket. Hands she had never had before. She swept her eyes across her room, which she had thought had changed, with a stranger’s gaze.
“Just seeing it is nice enough. I didn’t particularly want to become Iana Marseille.”
Alice muttered in dismay.
