Serphina Richter was frail.
She was so frail that, after marrying Duke Richter—known as the Northern Monster—she secluded herself in her room for over three months.+
Alone in her curtained room, she’d crouch on the floor, pull the blankets over her head, and sleep all day.+
Occasionally, she’d wake to eat, then go straight back to sleep.+
She looked utterly lifeless.+
The only time she showed any emotion was when she caught sight of her husband, Duke Richter, and flinched in fright, swiftly turning her eyes away.+
Unlike the large-boned, muscular people of the North, the new mistress—pale and delicate—grew increasingly wan and thin with each passing day.+
The servants of Richter Mansion pitied the new mistress.+
Having lived under the bright southern sun, she must feel dreadfully gloomy now under the North’s hazy skies.+
And it wasn’t just that.+
In truth, she’d essentially been abandoned by her own family.+
After all, throughout the Empire—including the capital—Duke Richter was called a “monster.”+
A man cursed by the Beast’s Mark.+
A cruel savage.+
The Monster Duke.+
No woman wanted to marry such a man.+
Any parent who cared for their daughter would naturally refuse to send her to the Monster Duke.+
Thus, for generations, the mistresses of the Richter household had practically been sold into marriage.+
The Imperial Court, desiring the Richter lineage to continue, paid generously—so families, having disowned their daughters, sold them off.+
How could anyone not feel sympathy for that poor mistress?+
Sold by her own family, married to the Monster Duke, and now withering away in the cold, biting North.+
Of course, not everyone felt that way.+
“But isn’t that going too far?”+
“What do you mean?”+
“I mean the mistress. She doesn’t seem to treat us like people at all. Duke isn’t even that scary, yet the moment she sees him, she jumps like she’s spotted a monster.”+
“Shh! Sienna, someone might hear.”+
Though Mari hushed Sienna, she secretly agreed.+
She felt deep pity and sorrow—but also something oddly complicated.+
Having served at Richter Mansion for a long time, watching someone tremble like a leaf and slowly lose all will to live…+
It almost felt as if they themselves were henchmen in a fairy tale, serving the monster who’d kidnapped the princess.
Even though they were just ordinary servants, perfectly content with their good benefits and high wages.
Yet that momentary resentment quickly faded.+
Whenever they saw her hollow expression and eyes that grew dimmer day by day,+
“…I just hope she adapts quickly.”+
That was all they could wish for.+
And then, not long after,+
Mari, witnessing the scene before her eyes, recalled her earlier prayer.+
Did I pray too hard?+
No, honestly, I didn’t even pray that earnestly.+
It wasn’t even a proper prayer—+
Just a light, passing thought: “Geez, I hope she adapts soon.”+
So why on earth…+
“Mari, look! My Sandra Pul sprouted! Wow, I’m so proud of myself. Guess I’ve got a knack for herb cultivation.”+
…Did she adapt this thoroughly?+
Mari gave an awkward smile as she watched her mistress crouched in a corner of the garden.+
Wearing a simple dress fit for commoners, a straw hat that looked like it was picked up off the street,+
boots instead of proper shoes, and mud-streaked silk gloves gripping a trowel.+
This strange transformation had begun just three weeks ago.+
[This is the timeline separator]
I had a dream.+
A childhood dream I’d long forgotten.+
Back when my mother and grandmother were still alive—before I was sent to my biological father, Count Adelaine, and my life became stained with abuse.+
In the dream, little me rolled around on the dirt floor.+
I tumbled across the muddy ground right after the rain, laughing at the soil smearing my entire body.+
After that exchange, Mother and Grandmother burst into hearty laughter.+
I, watching them with wide, shifting eyes, joined in too.+
Loud, joyous laughter filled the air.+
Even the rustling leaves seemed to carry a chuckle.+
I woke up to the echo of that booming laughter.+
“…Ah.”
Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes, and an unshaken smile lingered on my lips.+
And then, I remembered the things I’d forgotten.+
My happy childhood.+
The lessons and teachings my mother and grandmother left me.+
And even my past life…+
…Oh, that’s a bit out of the blue.+
Honestly, I wondered why my past life suddenly surfaced like that.+
Maybe the long-buried memories spilled out so violently that, like a long sweet potato vine with roots clinging tightly, they dragged everything else up with them?+
Ah, that might actually be it.+
Whatever the case, this wasn’t a bad situation.+
The helplessness and depression that had gnawed at me since my marriage had been swept away by memories of my past life and childhood.+
The root of my despair had been life at Count Adelaine’s estate.+
After my mother died in a sudden accident and my grandmother began sensing the end of her own life,+
she took me to my biological father, Count Adelaine.+
Even if I was born from a one-night mistake, she thought he wouldn’t abandon his own daughter.+
After all, a child needed a guardian.+
I was thirteen years old then.+
To the Count’s household, I was a walking calamity dropped right into their midst.+
The Countess hated me so much she could barely restrain herself from devouring me alive, and the Count himself treated me like vermin.+
Their daughter, Laura, though ashamed of my existence, took pleasure in it—+
because she was the kind of child who found joy in others’ misery.+
Honestly, it was unfair.+
Yes, deeply unfair.+
My mother had no idea Count Adelaine was married when they met.+
He’d happened to run into her at a restaurant, pretending to be single, and seduced her—and my mother simply fell for it.+
After all, despite his rotten core, Count Adelaine looked perfectly respectable on the outside.+
So yes, my mother had merely brightened up for a moment—she wasn’t guilty of anything.+
After that one night together, when she learned he was Count Adelaine and already married,+
she kicked him hard in the groin, then left with my grandmother—+
carrying me in her womb.
Judging from this story, there was clearly only one culprit:+
Count Adelaine himself—my biological father—handsome on the outside but rotten to the core.+
Yet instead of confronting her husband, the Countess chose to vent her rage on me.+
A filthy attic room.+
Meager meals.+
Mockery and bullying from the maids.+
Endless verbal abuse and beatings.+
Amid unrelenting violence, I gradually forgot the bright, sparkling days of my childhood.+
It was as if mold growing in that sunless attic had spread into my mind, taking complete control.+
The abuse culminated in my marriage to Duke Richter.+
The Monster of the North—feared by all.+
When the Emperor declared he’d grant immense wealth and power to any family willing to provide a bride for that monster,+
Count Adelaine and his wife rushed to claim a number, desperate to seize this golden opportunity to sell off their thorn in the eye—me—for a high price.+
And so, I was sold.+
For the first time, they smiled at me.+
“Go and die for us,”+
their bright smiles seemed to whisper.+
I was terrified of my husband.+
Afraid of the Monster Duke who’d bought me.+
I couldn’t adjust to the cold North—it felt as if everything here was strangling me.+
It felt like this place was my final destination after being cast away by the world.+
A massive pit.+
A vast swamp.+
An endless fall dragging me downward, destined to claim my life—my personal hell.+
My grave.+
That’s what the North had been to me.+
But now, it’s different.+
“Actually, the real hell was Count Adelaine’s estate.”+
Because the shadow of my lost childhood had draped over me, life at the Count’s estate had become my normal.+
Even though a far more ordinary and peaceful life had once existed, I’d started to accept the abuse as natural.+
Adapted to Manhwa
Thus, the moment I was cast out from that “normal,”+
I perceived this place as hell.+
In truth, the real hell had been Count Adelaine’s estate—while the people of Richter treated me with careful kindness.+
They fretted endlessly when I refused to eat, worried I’d lose my eyesight from staying buried in blankets all day.+
Whenever they tried to draw back the curtains to let in sunlight, and I flinched uncomfortably,+
they’d startle in alarm and immediately close them again.+
How could this possibly be hell?+
Moreover, there was clear, undeniable proof that this place wasn’t hell.+
This was an important realization that came along with recalling my past-life memories.+
Namely:+
“Wow. My husband is the male lead!”+
My husband—the Monster Duke—was the male lead of a romance fantasy novel titled “Water the Second Flower.”+
So does that make me the female lead?+
Absolutely not.+
I was a side character.+
The male lead’s wife, who believed the North was hell and slowly withered away in sorrow.+
The first wife the male lead, unable to bear watching any longer, eventually sends away with generous alimony and a place to stay.+
Having lived with the bitter belief that no one would ever love him, the male lead received one final, crushing nail in his self-esteem from me—his former wife—before I left.+
As a result, the main story turned into a relentless field of bitter sweet potatoes.+
The male lead, his self-worth utterly shattered, proceeded to dig himself into an enormous hole—and the female lead matched him shovel for shovel.+
With both of them excavating like mad, it wasn’t just a pit they were making—it was practically an underground bunker.+
I remembered vividly how my heart pounded while reading it—only to realize now it was all my own karmic debt.+
Well, no help for it.+
If it’s my karma, I’ll clear it myself.+
Recalling the original story and comparing it to how I’d behaved over the past three months, unbearable guilt surged through me.+
The thought that, because of me, someone suffered deep wounds and dug himself into such a catastrophic hole left me profoundly ashamed.+
And besides… frankly speaking…+
I really liked that novel!+
I’d cheered so passionately for the male and female leads!+
When the two finally stopped their endless self-sabotage and kissed outright, I’d shouted for joy.
Anyway, what matters now is this:+
I can stop their epic, shovel-wielding chaos.+
A beautiful, trauma-free farewell.+
I’ll part ways amicably like friends—no hard feelings—and cheer on their love from the sidelines.+
…Oh. I’m starting to sound like someone out of Hollywood.+
With that thought, I emerged from beneath my blankets.+
Soft light seeped through the curtains the maids had drawn.+
It felt like a spotlight shining on me, heralding a new life.+
…Guess I really am the Hollywood type.+
