Chapter 1
Prologue
“Bionne Rossa Elient.”
Like watching a theatrical play, I realized that I was witnessing the life of a woman.
She was born as the legitimate daughter of a marquess family.
With her pretty looks and the solid power of her noble household, she had every reason to be arrogant. She was always the main character, no matter the place or time, and was constantly surrounded by people who adored her. Even when she rose to the highest position a woman could attain, she believed it was only natural. That place was rightfully hers, and no one could ever covet it.
“Foolish woman.”
It was all just her own delusion—and it didn’t last long.
As time passed, her once unstoppable ascent in life began to spiral downward. The exalted position she once held turned into a sharp blade tightening around her neck, and the crowd that once praised her became a pack of savage wolves, lunging to tear her apart.
Even in her final moments, she cried out in resentment. She cursed the world and coughed up blood.
A sneer formed in response to her foolishness. Why did she crave their love so desperately? Why did she desire what was never truly hers?
“You only need to abandon those who do not love you.”
As if letting go of her final breath, her body collapsed in a spray of crimson blood. Just when it seemed like the end, she slowly raised her head.
Her deep green eyes, clear and shining like gemstones, now glimmered with madness as they locked directly onto me. Her lips, painted red as if soaked in blood, moved slowly.
“Don’t forget. I am you. Lee. Ji. Ah.”
A pitch-black darkness swallowed me whole.
Act 1. Bionne Lossa Elient
My dazed mind slowly began to awaken. Like watching a theatrical play, I realized I was witnessing the life of a single woman—her laughter, her tears, her screams unfolding like a panorama. I slowly opened my eyes.
The dim light of dawn was creeping into the room. While still lying down, I held my hand up in front of my eyes. A pale, soft-looking hand came into view.
“How small.”
I slowly opened and closed my hand a couple of times. It moved according to my will, without resistance.
Raising my upper body, I pulled my feet out from under the blanket. Sure enough, my white, smooth toes wriggled at my command. I glanced at my palms again, then looked at my toes once more.
Familiar—yet oddly unfamiliar.
I completely pulled my feet out from the blanket and slid them into the slippers beside the bed. The chilly dawn air and the soft, fuzzy texture of the slippers sent a shiver up my spine.
‘That woke me right up.’
I rubbed the soles of my feet against the furry insides of the slippers, savoring the ticklish sensation. It felt real. Proof that this wasn’t a dream.
Straightening the slippers, I moved my body. Even in the dark, my body instinctively found the heavy blackout curtains covering the window. I grabbed one side and yanked it open.
Contrary to my expectation that the curtain would slide aside with a swish, it flapped once and returned to its original position, covering the window again. I was briefly thrown off by the unexpected reaction.
‘Why? What’s going on?’
I lifted one edge of the curtain with my hand. Though still dim, the light was enough to illuminate the room somewhat. Holding the curtain open, I looked at its connection to the wall.
Instead of a curtain rail I was familiar with, a hook jutted out from the wall, firmly anchoring the curtain in place. It was a sight that felt familiar—yet not.
I unhooked both sides of the curtain from the rings jutting out from the window frame and turned around. The room filled with light, as big as the large window itself. Once I confirmed sunlight was touching every corner of the room, I returned to my original goal: the mirror.
The mirror was exactly where I remembered it, sitting quietly.
I slowly walked toward it and stood in front. My light brown hair, appearing golden under the morning sun, flowed down to my waist in soft waves.
In the mirror, a child with sparkling dark green eyes blinked back at me. With slightly upturned eyes, she resembled a haughty, spirited cat.
I raised a finger and poked my cheek. The plump baby fat typical of children pressed in elastically and bounced back.
A face both familiar and unfamiliar. I tugged at my cheek. The mochi-like skin stretched out with a bit of pain. A younger face than I remembered—or perhaps exactly the way I remembered it.
“Bionne Lossa Elient.”
The name echoed in my mouth—familiar, yet unfamiliar.
I looked into the mirror again. The child with the chubby cheeks disappeared, replaced by the face of an adult.
‘Don’t forget. I am you.’
Eyes gleaming with madness stared straight at me from the mirror. Her red lips slowly moved.
‘Lee Jia.’
Suddenly, the woman vanished, and the tired face of another woman took her place.
Unlike the one before—but so very familiar.
As though watching a play, I had become a third-party observer to her life.
Am I the resurrected Bionne who died? Lee Jia, who longed for an escape from her mundane life? Or a young Bionne who saw the future? Which came first, and which came after?
Once again, the young Bionne was staring at me from within the mirror.
“Maybe all of this isn’t a memory at all… but just a dream.”
My mind was filled with question marks, but strangely, I didn’t feel confused. With memories this jumbled, one would expect an identity crisis—but my head felt unusually clear. As if someone had just handed me the answer to a difficult question.
I was Bionne Lossa Elient, who died cursing the world. I was Lee Jia, who lived a passable life and died. And now, I was Bionne Lossa Elient again, standing in front of the mirror, seeing myself.
“Oh my!”
At a startled exclamation, I turned my head toward the sound. A woman met my eyes and quickly covered her mouth, bowing her head.
“I-I didn’t realize you were awake, my lady! I’ll prepare your wash water right away!”
Before I could say anything, she hurried off. She must’ve been shocked to see me awake earlier than usual.
Until yesterday, I was a picky and temperamental child. Everything needed to be ready the moment I woke. Warm—not too hot or cold—wash water filled with fragrant flower petals, along with my dress and accessories for the day. That was the bare minimum.
If anything was out of order, I’d throw a tantrum all day. The difficulty of guessing my inconsistent wake-up times was never my concern.
At least, not until yesterday.
“I-I’m so sorry!”
The maid who brought the wash water knelt and bowed her head.
If this were the old ‘me,’ I’d be yelling in a rage. But the current ‘me’ didn’t feel particularly angry.
‘It’s just a bit of an awkward situation.’
As I pondered how to handle this, I looked down at her. Her hands, clasped together between the folds of her skirt, trembled pitifully. Covered in small wounds, her hands shook with fear.
“Your name?”
“…Pardon?”
“I asked what your name is.”
Apparently not expecting the question, she looked up at me with wide eyes. Though probably older than I was now, her face was still youthful, her baby fat not yet gone. Her sun-darkened, shiny skin revealed she belonged to the lowest rank of maids.
Even among maids, there were ranks. Broadly speaking, they were split into two categories: those who did menial labor like laundry and dishes, and those who directly served their masters.
The latter, who stayed close to the nobles, were called ladies-in-waiting and often looked down on the maids who did chores.
‘Though to nobles, all of them probably seem equally low.’
Maids who did manual labor worked mostly outdoors, and naturally their skin darkened from the sun.
By contrast, ladies-in-waiting hardly went outside. Their duties mostly involved grooming their masters or running small errands. They had their own hardships, but compared to the laborers, they had more time and money—enough to maintain their appearances.
“M-my name is Marie, my lady.”
“Alright, Marie. So what are you doing here?”
Chapped lips, a sun-darkened face, hands cracked and worn.
Marie was undoubtedly a menial laborer. Not someone who would be assigned to fetch my wash water or help with my grooming.
This society was strictly divided by hierarchy. Royals at the top, followed by nobles, then commoners, and at the bottom, slaves. The gap between classes was so great that a noble could kill a commoner on the street for no reason and not be punished. At most, they’d pay a fine, but it wouldn’t be considered murder.
Those who thought of themselves as noble were extremely picky about who served them. Since these attendants handled their personal grooming, they expected a decent appearance and minimum intelligence.
I was the only legitimate daughter of a powerful marquis family. The only ones allowed to serve me were my wet nurse, who had shared milk with my mother, and carefully selected ladies-in-waiting. A laboring maid had no place at my side.
“W-well… the nanny… I’m sorry. It was my fault.”
Marie’s face turned deathly pale in an instant. Just one word from me could mean her life. She threw herself at my feet, begging.
“Please, my lady! Spare me!”
What would the old ‘me’ have done?
I looked down at her trembling figure and wondered. Most likely, I would’ve screamed, “How dare someone so lowly!” and thrown a fit.
‘Even if I showed mercy, it would’ve meant a beating. Worst case—execution.’
Right now, I was just shy of my eleventh birthday. The perfect age for being a spoiled brat. No longer an innocent infant, but not yet a sensible adult. I had no self-restraint or compassion.
Pampered by servants always catering to my whims, what could I possibly have known? I broke anything I disliked and tormented anyone who crossed me. To me, even ladies-in-waiting weren’t human. Bionne, as she was until now, had never realized that they too could hurt and cry.
I think I need to keep my tissues handy for this one