Chapter – 07
Staggering under Tasha’s urging, I headed to my bedroom. After finishing my bath, I painfully endured Tasha applying an ointment containing mint to my legs and massaging them before finally lying down.
“Miss Liberita, I’ll turn off the light now.”
“Ugh. Thank you always, Tasha.”
The door, well-oiled in its hinges, closed without a sound.
Just before the light from the candlestick Tasha was holding disappeared through the crack in the door, the shape of the gift package I had intended to deliver if I met Writer Ibvir was faintly visible on the bedside table.
Just once. A short interview with Writer Ibvir had been published in a weekly magazine. It was truly an interview as precious as a single drop of water in a drought.
In that interview, there was a part like this: when the writing doesn’t flow and it’s tough, the writer changes their mood by having a glass of low-alcohol wine with a heavy mouthfeel after a bath.
As soon as I saw that, I immediately secured a bottle of the best 26-year-old vintage wine I could get my hands on. I had stored it away, intending to give it as a gift if I ever met the writer, thinking this might be the opportunity.
‘Just in case. What if I accidentally run into the writer at the theater!’
Lest I forget to bring it on the day, I had asked Tasha earlier to bring it from the warehouse beforehand and reverently placed it in a shaded spot next to the bookshelf.
Even if it ends up being a sentiment I cannot deliver, it doesn’t matter. The very process of preparing the gift for the writer was precious and fun in itself.
I started to get so excited that it made me forget the mood ruined by the Marquis.
“Goddess, I’m going crazy! It’s not like I’m manic or anything!”
In the middle of the night, my heart, pounding with excitement, throbbed as if five shots of coffee had been injected directly into my esophagus. Unable to sleep, I shot up, lightly ran three laps around my bedroom, and then lay back down on the bed in a straight line.
My excited breath came out in pants.
‘Now that I think about it, I haven’t had coffee once since possessing this body.’
Thinking of the past, my feelings grew wistful.
Having lived my life gulping coffee like it was the water of life while working constantly, my possession in this novel came to me with a slightly different meaning.
I worked overtime, and overtime, went to work on weekends, and worked overtime again… I was diagnosed as being at a dangerous stage for arrhythmia. Eventually, on my way home after working overtime that day, I was hit by a car that ran a red light and died feeling hollow.
And then, I ended up possessing a character in a novel I read as a hobby in my spare time, so I guess you could say it’s the start of my second life.
Perhaps because I’m a possessor, I could feel that Liberita’s original soul had departed to the afterlife.
In that case, since I, who abruptly possessed an empty body in another dimension, am a living person, shouldn’t I live my life to the fullest?
Moreover, Liberita was very healthy. She was just timid in personality, but had no chronic illnesses, good eyesight, and her teeth were fine. Her face was quite innocent and pretty too.
And what I wanted to do with this life was… to rest and do nothing.
Use my Duke father’s title to avoid working as much as possible. Just breathe and play.
I decided to trust the wealth of my second life’s family, my looks, and my health, and be as idle as possible.
But what is this? The problem sprouted up from a completely unexpected place.
As the image of the Duke of Ruahr, who seemed to be trying to steer the wheel in a route different from the original for some reason, came to mind, my exhilarated heart finally calmed down a little.
‘Is it just my mood?’
Living in an unfamiliar world, pretending to be one of them while wearing the skin of an alien, wasn’t as hard as I thought.
I guess people’s lives are similar everywhere. For me, someone from an Eastern Confucian country whose spirit was tempered by hellish company life, accepting life as a member of a ducal family was nothing special.
After falling into the pond because of Vivian and barely surviving, maintaining the amnesia concept and having to learn etiquette again from the beginning was the hardest part. But even that, when I considered it to be about the difficulty level of preparing for a notoriously tough certification exam, was quickly accepted.
‘I thought if I did that much, I’d be able to relax and loaf around!’
But my wish didn’t come true. From some point on, Duke Ruahr began giving me successor education, just to a degree unnoticeable to others.
Why on earth?
‘Father, you’ve looked at so many land deeds that you shouldn’t be senile at your age.’
According to Liberita’s diary, which I found rummaging through the bedroom on the first day of possession, it was written that his attitude towards his daughter, as well as any talk about the family successor and otherwise, showed no interest in her whatsoever!
But Duke Ruahr thoroughly swore those close to him to secrecy and even showed me several of the family’s account books.
Is it because I’m an extra possessor that I can’t just loaf around in a world that throws historical accuracy out the window? Is this what all other young ladies normally do?
I wanted to gauge that question a bit by socializing with peers. That was also one of the reasons I wanted to stay in the capital a bit longer even after the debutante season ended.
Although, of course, so far, instead of socializing, I’ve only gotten into a fight.
I had lied through my teeth, saying I wanted to meet various peer young ladies in the capital and build my refinement, and I recalled my father’s expressionless face as he gave me a generous allowance without a word of complaint.
Remembering that face gave me a strange feeling.
The original timid Liberita was terribly afraid of her father, who was indifferent and cold-blooded enough to be considered a stranger. In the midst of this, the Duchess, who could have mediated the father-daughter relationship, had divorced and left the family home.
Perhaps because of that, when I, in my current state, confidently asked my father for necessary pocket money or acted familiarly with him, his cold expression would often subtly change.
Even a few days ago, Duke Ruahr unexpectedly sent a letter with the content, ‘Think carefully and slowly about marriage.’
It was quite unexpected. Why is my second life’s father acting like this? Is he planning to find the most beneficial match for the family and marry me off?
‘Well… if he says to marry late, I’ll delay it as much as possible. Sure. No need to rush anyway.’
Having no romance-related aspirations about marriage itself, I thought that as long as my marriage partner wasn’t a complete mess of a person, their looks were just average and acceptable, and the in-laws treated me decently enough, I would quietly accept my duties.
‘Ah, and add that they don’t mind my liking for Writer Ibvir. If it’s to that extent, I probably wouldn’t need to bother running away.’
Is that too unromantic? For something that’s supposedly marriage, is it okay to go about it like this?
Acquiring the title of mistress is just like getting promoted from deputy manager to manager. If you think of it as changing companies, your mind will be at ease. There’s nothing to expect, and nothing to be disappointed about.
I’m already planning an escape route from my husband’s household for when it seems like it’s genuinely not working out. So, worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet and losing sleep over them will only build up my stress.
That’s all there is to it.
I tossed and turned while having these dry thoughts.
‘Please adapt to me, my second life’s father.’
I’m also trying hard to adapt to the role I must play as a possessor.
……So, could you maybe turn a blind eye when I cause trouble because of my fangirling?
The tedious debutante schedule is all over. Now, for the next month, for the plays based on Writer Ibvir’s original works, and to find fellow fans similar to me, I will live.
I neatly arranged the disheveled blanket, pulled it up to my chin, and closed my eyes calmly, organizing my thoughts.
Isn’t this a reasonably happy and peaceful possessed life?
***
A stain had appeared on my peaceful possessed life.
The Safranette Theater was the largest, oldest, and most conservative private theater in the Kingdom of Aizar, so there had been much talk about adapting Shell Ibvir’s works into plays and staging them.
‘But in the end, they quietly took their seats one by one, right?’
As an investor, I had received tickets for good seats on the first day of the play. Thanks to that, I was sitting in a first-class balcony seat, looking down at the packed seats and clicking my tongue vigorously.
In the seats that required spending some money, people who were clearly nobles were laughing haha hoho, waiting for the play to start, as if they found something amusing.
Of course, there would be nobles who like Writer Ibvir.
But most of the people in those seats were ones I had seen during my debutante season. The majority were those who had actively participated in and scoffed at remarks disparaging Writer Ibvir.
In the midst of this, I made eye contact with the Marquis of Orellerno, who was in the balcony directly opposite mine.
