Chapter 1: Even If It’s Just One Day, I Want to Live in a Proper Place
The Whitehouse family’s mansion was famous for its beautiful exterior and elegant interior.
It was renowned enough that the mansion itself was referred to simply as “Whitehouse.”
But today, the place was in complete disarray — loud footsteps echoed down the hallways, accompanied by shouting voices.
“Oh dear! What are you doing? Leave that alone!”
“Step aside! Interfering with the Royal Supreme Court’s duties is punishable!”
Laborers with sturdy builds had stormed in under the authority of the Royal Supreme Court.
The servants were frantically trying to stop them from taking away the furniture and valuables.
But the mansion’s owner was nowhere to be seen.
That was because the trade ship that Count Whitehouse had boarded had recently sunk.
“What… is going on?”
Just then, a fragile voice came from the staircase on the second floor.
With light brown hair nearly golden, and beautiful green eyes — it was Marianne Whitehouse, the deceased count’s younger sister.
“It’s the young lady!”
Everyone stopped what they were doing as the slender woman descended the stairs.
“She’s finally come out of her room!”
The maids were so moved they clasped their hands together.
“What exactly is going on?”
As Marie looked around with her pale eyes, a man who appeared to be in charge stepped forward.
“Lady Whitehouse, please forgive the intrusion. The Royal Supreme Court has ordered a foreclosure against the Whitehouse family. We will be seizing all property and goods belonging to the count’s estate.”
“W-What…?”
Marianne’s mouth fell open at the thunderous news.
The man continued, not expecting a reply.
“My condolences. Continue!”
“Yes, sir!”
With that, the workers began moving the furniture out of the house in perfect coordination.
The servants could no longer intervene and could only look nervously at the young lady.
“W-Wait a moment…?”
Marianne looked around with a bewildered expression.
Her arms trembled slightly, unable to hide her shock.
Then came a whisper from the crowd.
“Tsk tsk, they say she lived as a recluse for seven years. No wonder she only just came out of her room.”
The tone was a mix of pity and mockery.
“Even after hearing about the count’s death, she locked herself in? How immature.”
Priceless paintings were taken off the walls. Furniture disappeared. Even the crystal chandelier adorned with gemstones was taken down from the ceiling.
Objects flew past Marianne on both sides.
“This can’t be happening…”
The maids beside her fretted and wrung their hands.
“Miss, if they take everything, what will become of you?”
But others only clicked their tongues with scorn.
“She already killed her parents and sent her brother to the grave too. Now she’s destroyed the whole family.”
“What happens to that Count’s daughter now?”
“Who knows. I heard the count left behind a mountain of debt. The family is ruined, so she’ll probably hit rock bottom.”
It was only then that Marie, regaining her composure, looked around in disbelief.
“What did you just say…?”
Furniture and decorative items were being carried out in a frenzy all around her.
“What on earth is happening…?”
In truth, until just a moment ago, she had been a modern-day interior designer.
On the day her struggling interior design business finally went bankrupt, she drank her sorrows away — and when she woke up, she was in a completely different world.
Still disoriented and confused, she was suddenly told the family had gone bankrupt.
Something that could only happen in a novel was now happening to her.
“Sigh…”
But being quick to adapt, she took a deep breath and began to think rapidly.
“Marianne Whitehouse…?”
The Whitehouse family was a name she vaguely recalled from an R-rated romance novel called How to Seduce a Superior Husband.
Strangely, she had also inherited some of Marianne’s memories.
“Aren’t people who fall into books usually rich characters?”
She glanced at a hallway mirror and was relieved to see she at least had a beautiful appearance — soft brown hair and emerald green eyes.
But her skin looked dull and her eyes were sunken.
“No seriously, if I was going to fall into a book, why couldn’t I have been the main character?”
The heroine of the original story was a princess named Laila.
At a ball, she fell in love at first sight with a mysterious man wearing a black mask.
The only clue to his identity was that he was a noble from the neighboring kingdom of Leongrad.
Determined to find him, the princess set off for Leongrad.
“I never finished the book, so I don’t know how it ends…”
Anyway, the princess didn’t like the décor of her temporary residence, so she eventually ended up staying at Whitehouse.
She assumed the plot continued with the masked man and the princess falling in love and marrying.
“Of all possible roles…”
She had become a background character.
And dropped into the story right as the family went bankrupt.
“Come on, hurry! We need to finish this today!”
“Miss! What do we do? What do we do?!”
The workers rushed around. The servants panicked.
But Marianne only stood there, deep in thought.
Or rather — she knew there was no point trying to stop them.
Whitehouse was going to become the heroine’s residence later.
Now that the auction process had begun, there was no brilliant idea to save it right away.
“Seriously… I always dreamed of being a landlord, living off rent. And now I lose my house the moment I reincarnate?”
She mumbled, and a servant gave her a puzzled look.
“Pardon?”
“No, nothing…”
“Are you all right, Miss?”
“Sigh… A recluse, huh? That means no social life either…”
The woman she had become wasn’t just lacking a strong husband — romance of any kind seemed unlikely.
“Wait… the foreclosure officer didn’t issue an eviction notice, did he? Maybe the mansion isn’t part of the assets being seized?”
She rushed to review the documents handed over earlier. Indeed, the mansion was not listed.
“The mansion is bound to the count’s title. Even the court can’t seize it without the count’s consent.”
Someone explained.
“Really? So I won’t be kicked out?”
Relief washed over Marianne’s face.
“…That’s right. If I have the house and land, I can survive. A big house, a spacious garden — what more do I need?”
Even if it was empty, owning such a high-end residence meant she wasn’t starting completely from zero.
“At least that’s something…”
Of course, she was uneasy knowing the princess would eventually claim the house.
Maybe the original Marianne sold it because she couldn’t afford the upkeep.
“Oh…?”
Now that she looked around, she noticed the stained walls.
When the workers had removed the paintings and decorations, ugly nail holes and dark patches were exposed.
“Leaving walls like this is a sin.”
“Pardon?”
Ignoring the servants’ confusion, Marianne rolled up her sleeves.
“Even if it’s just for one day — I want to live in a proper place.
(Part 2): Even If It’s Just One Day, I Want to Live in a Proper Place
Marianne borrowed a brush and a dust cloth from the flustered servants.
“Miss, what are you doing?”
“Cleaning. What does it look like?”
“But the house is practically empty now…”
“So I’ll clean it even more thoroughly.”
She couldn’t understand why the servants were still here, but she let it go. It was probably written into the book that they’d stick around for a while.
In truth, Marianne was feeling her determination build as she stood in the empty hall.
“If the house really will be taken away from me later, I at least want to make the most of it while I still can.”
“And who knows? Maybe I can find a way to keep it.”
The way everyone talked, the original Marianne had no job, no education, and no social standing.
But this Marianne was different.
“I have modern interior design knowledge and a mind for business.”
She knew how to renovate, calculate material costs, and negotiate with contractors.
She had even worked part-time doing drywall repairs and basic plumbing when she started her own design firm.
“That skill set should be enough to help me survive here.”
Marianne walked over to the cracked wall in the drawing room.
“What a mess…”
The original marble fireplace had likely been removed and replaced with a wooden one.
The plaster on the ceiling was chipped, and there was a suspicious smell coming from the rug.
“It’s a good house. It just needs love.”
That was something she had said to many clients before — and now, she was saying it to herself.
She picked up a mop and started scrubbing with firm, decisive strokes.
“Miss, please, let us do that—”
“No, I need to know every corner of this house. It’s mine now.”
The maids watched with concern, but couldn’t stop her.
Even with no furniture left, the mansion was enormous.
There were three floors, with long hallways, winding staircases, and a garden so large that tending to it would require a small army.
Marianne opened the windows one by one to let in the sunlight and breeze.
Dust particles danced in the light.
“This place has good bones. That means potential.”
The words came automatically.
Then her eyes fell on a small door near the back of the hall.
It was half-hidden behind a curtain.
“What’s this?”
She opened it and found a narrow stairwell.
It led down into a cool, dark cellar.
“No way…”
She found herself staring into a long-forgotten wine cellar.
Dozens of dusty bottles lined the shelves. Some still sealed. Some valuable-looking.
She picked one up and examined the label.
“Is this… a vintage Riesling from the 1200s?”
She rushed back upstairs with the bottle in hand.
“You there! This—this could be worth a fortune!”
“What do you mean, miss?”
“This wine. I think it’s ancient. Unopened. If I can get it appraised—no, wait—this whole cellar could be a gold mine!”
Suddenly, a plan began forming in her head.
She could host small events. Rent out parts of the mansion. Sell some of the vintage wines.
If she carefully renovated room by room, she could start a boutique-style guesthouse. A noble residence turned lodging.
She had seen the concept take off in trendy neighborhoods before she was reincarnated.
“All right. That’s my goal.”
“Survive by turning Whitehouse Mansion into a luxury guest manor.”
Even if she couldn’t keep it forever, she would build a legacy. And with some luck—maybe she could buy it back or strike a deal with the royal court.
For now, she would start small. Clean. Repair. Then expand.
And above all…
“In this life, I’ll make money.”
Just then, a shadow fell across the doorway.
“…Excuse me. Is this the Whitehouse residence?”
She turned.
A tall man stood there.
Jet-black hair, sharp crimson eyes that gave off an overwhelming presence—and a military uniform with a black cape draped over his shoulder.
It was the man known in the original novel as the “Bloodstone Duke.”
A man famous for his destruction. A character who could level entire buildings without lifting a finger.
And now… he was her new landlord.
