EPISODE 3
Among the memories that surfaced was information about the House of Sharon.
One of the jewelry shops Arrieta had visited turned out to be Sharon Jewelry, run by the Sharon family.
It had only appeared briefly—to show off the heroine’s family wealth or the male lead’s extravagant spending—but it had appeared nonetheless.
“But usually, in these ‘extra character transmigration’ stories, the transmigrator ends up with the male lead… or a major supporting character. Sometimes even someone from the heroine’s family.”
Leticia began listing the main male characters from the original story.
The Crown Prince Mathias, Arrieta’s eldest brother Alexander, and her second brother Achill.
“…All of them are garbage. Damn it.”
Mathias was the classic obsessive male lead; Alexander, a darkly possessive brother with a sister complex; and Achill, a hot-blooded fool—also with a sister complex. All three, of course, came with the typical tragic backstories expected of romance fantasy men.
Even considering that decent men were rare in romance fantasies, how could not a single one among the three major characters be normal?
“No way. Even if they were the last men on earth—absolutely not. I’d rather die.”
Just imagining those men being obsessed with her—or still obsessed with the heroine—made her shiver.
With a deep sigh, Leticia started recalling all the typical romance fantasy clichés, running simulations in her head.
1. If she tried to ‘redeem’ one of them?
→ He’d just become obsessed with her instead of the heroine.
2. If she tried to befriend the heroine?
→ He’d obsess over her under the excuse of “being concerned for the heroine.”
3. If she ignored them completely?
→ “You’re the first woman who’s ever made me feel this way.” And then—obsession again.
“No, maybe the heroine’s brothers are different.”
Sure, they worship their little sister—but that didn’t mean they’d become obsessed with Leticia just because they got married.
“If I ever got into a fight with Arrieta, they’d definitely take her side.”
A husband who always sides with someone else—perfect textbook example of the “husband from hell.”
“Damn it…”
Whether they obsessed over her or the heroine, every path in this miserable romance fantasy world led to a bad ending.
Why were there only such garbage clichés tormenting her?
Maybe they wouldn’t actually happen—but considering that the most unrealistic cliché, “transmigrating into a novel,” had already come true, who knew?
“…Right. Don’t get involved. The best plan is not to get involved.”
After a few minutes of thought, Leticia reached a firm conclusion. Thinking longer would only waste time.
“Avoid the main characters as much as possible. If contact is unavoidable, keep it brief.”
If she treated them differently in any way, that dreaded ‘You’re the first woman who—’ cliché might trigger. So she would treat them exactly as everyone else did.
“Good. That’s how I’ll live my second life. I was born pretty, rich, and noble this time—I’m not throwing it away because of some lunatic men!”
Thus was formed Leticia’s life philosophy at the age of six.
***
A few days after setting her life philosophy, Leticia’s private tutor finally arrived—not that she had been waiting eagerly.
“Nice to meet you, Lady Leticia Sharon. My name is Helena Bluebell, and I’ll be your tutor from today.”
“Hello, I’m Leticia of the House of Sharon. Please take good care of me, Teacher.”
The tutor, who looked to be just past twenty, didn’t seem strict or unpleasant.
Thankfully, she wasn’t one of those ‘evil tutors’ from cliché noble stories, the kind who torment the heroine—something even Arrieta had suffered through. Leticia relaxed slightly.
“Have you ever taken etiquette lessons before, Lady Leticia?”
“No. You’re my first tutor.”
(And my freedom just ended today…)
Leticia muttered inwardly, words she could never say aloud.
Fortunately, Helena didn’t seem to notice; she continued speaking warmly.
“That’s all right. The greeting you just gave wasn’t improper at all.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Introducing your family name and your own name, and saying you look forward to learning together—that’s basic etiquette.”
“That’s a relief. I just copied what my siblings usually do.”
Leticia smiled brightly, and Helena nodded approvingly.
“Excellent. Etiquette is best learned by observing those around you.”
“I’m good at that! My brothers and sister are desperate to teach me things.”
Of course, mostly because they didn’t want her to embarrass the family name.
That very morning, she’d been forced to listen to the entire imperial history from start to finish again—though she’d tuned out about half of it.
“I see. Then, which subject do you enjoy most? Reading, arithmetic, geography, history, music, art, etiquette, dance—anything at all.”
“I can read fairy tales! And I like moving around.”
“Fairy tales, hm? Then you’ll probably learn letters quickly.”
Helena seemed to be adjusting her lesson plan, remembering that Leticia’s mother had said the girl wasn’t fluent yet.
“Since you like moving around, how about dancing? Have you ever seen people dance before?”
“Dancing… no. I go to bed early when there’s a ball.”
At times, the Sharon family did host balls, but since Leticia was still a child—not yet debuted—she couldn’t attend. Usually, she pestered her siblings to play with her, then fell asleep early.
“But I know what dancing is! You wear pretty dresses and hold hands and spin around, right? I saw it in a picture book.”
“That’s the very basic idea, yes. But there are many kinds of dances. In high society, you need to know the Pontheon traditional dance, the Quadrille, and the Cotillon—those three are the basics. Learning the Polka or Gavotte later would be even better.”
Leticia was astonished that there were so many kinds of dances.
“Why are there so many? Arrieta only danced the waltz in the original story.”
She recalled that scene—Arrieta dancing a waltz with another man instead of Mathias, and Mathias’s jealous rage that followed.
“Y-Your Highness…!”
Arrieta trembled within his iron-like embrace.
His breath brushed her hair—possessive, suffocating. When she struggled for air, a low growl tickled her ear.
“Have I left you alone too long?”
“Your Highness, I—”
“Mathias.”
His eyes, glowing red with obsession, glared down at her.
“You called that man by his name so easily… yet can’t even say mine? How unfair.”
He lifted her hand and kissed each finger, as if to erase the traces of the man who had just danced with her.
“Don’t provoke me again. Just knowing another man touched you makes me want to tear him apart.”
“What a mess that was.”
In this world, Leticia didn’t yet know words like “psycho” or “freak,” but that was the strongest expression she could muster.
Disliking that your partner danced with someone else was one thing—but saying you wanted to tear them apart? What on earth.
“Are there really that many dances? That’s a lot to learn.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll start with the three basics first. But before dancing, shall we have lunch together?”
“Lunch?”
Leticia tilted her head. They hadn’t even started lessons yet—why lunch now?
“From today onward, we’ll have lunch together every day. You’ll be learning table etiquette.”
“Table… etiquette?”
Leticia had expected lessons about bowing and greeting, not eating. The word ‘etiquette’ made her panic a little.
But, thinking it over, it made sense. Those stiff-necked nobles would definitely have rules for eating, too.
“Today we’ll start with table manners, so don’t worry about how you enter the dining room.”
There was etiquette for entering the dining room, too?
As she followed Helena toward lunch, Leticia prayed with all her heart that lunchtime would never arrive.
***
“Are all lunches in romance fantasies this hard?”
After being corrected more than ten times, Leticia wanted to throw her fork across the table.
Unlike yesterday, when she could eat however she wanted, today she was bombarded with instructions—how to sit, where to place her napkin, which fork or knife to use, and in what order.
By the time she tried to eat, she couldn’t even tell where her food was going.
“Why can’t people just eat in peace?”
When she took a sip of juice without wiping her mouth first and was immediately corrected, she scowled and wiped her lips roughly with the napkin.
“Eating’s supposed to be relaxing! Even dogs aren’t disturbed while they eat!”
“…I’m not sure where you heard that, but nobles must eat gracefully. Especially when you’re invited to another household’s table—if you break etiquette, it won’t just embarrass you, but the entire House of Sharon.”
Leticia had thrown out an old saying from her previous life, but the answer was firm.
Sadly, in this world, nobles truly believed that manners were what put food on the table.
