Chapter 3

Bertie Raspeade was born as the youngest child of the prestigious Raspeade Marquess family in the Justrene Kingdom. She inherited her mother's flaxen hair and gray eyes, and her facial features closely resembled her mother's. She was the only girl among her siblings.

It seemed that her parents and brothers had longed for a girl, and she would have been doted on. However, that did not happen.

The reason was simple: a few hours after giving birth to Bertie, her mother, the Marchioness, passed away.

Her mother was said to have been deeply loved, not only by her husband, the Marquess, but also by her sons, the servants, and the people of the fief. Her death cast a shadow of sorrow over the entire marquessate. Compounding the grief and resentment, a series of natural disasters struck the marquessate after Bertie's birth, leading to a shift in the people's feelings. They began to view Bertie as an omen of misfortune, even likening her to a demon.

After her mother's death, the Raspeade family moved their base to the capital and rarely returned to the fief. Leaving Bertie behind in the fief's manor was likely an attempt to quell the people's discontent, more so than just a matter of appearances.

However, the Marquess found it unbearably painful and frustrating to see Bertie, who so closely resembled her mother. He sent her to a separate residence. Her brothers also hated her and never came to check on her.

In the separate residence, Bertie endured constant mistreatment from the servants. Her meals were mostly moldy bread and leftovers, and it was not uncommon for her to receive no food at all. Her room was never cleaned, and her clothes, which were rarely replaced, were often too small or tattered. She was placed in an environment where her survival was a wonder.

A change in her circumstances came when she was ten years old. Since there were no eligible daughters in the ducal families, and Bertie, being from the powerful Raspeade family, was of a similar age, she was designated as the second prince's fiancée. From then on, she moved to the main residence.

However, her treatment only improved slightly.

Perhaps to avoid the revelation that the marquess family was not providing their daughter with proper meals, her food became more adequate, and she was given dresses. However, everything was provided at the bare minimum, and none of it reflected Bertie's preferences. Her father remained indifferent, her brothers continued to curse her whenever they saw her, and their relationship, which had never involved any normal conversation, remained unchanged. The servants' attitudes did not change, and they continued to treat her poorly.

The marquess family's stance was that as long as it did not become public, they could treat her however they pleased. They never treated her as a human being.

That is why, when Bertie fell ill six months ago and her consciousness was suddenly replaced by that of a stranger, they only felt a slight unease at the change in her personality. They accepted it as amnesia and never suspected that Bertie was no longer herself. Gradually, they began to accept the new person.

The fact that this stranger had her memories was deeply unsettling. The idea that someone else had been inside her body was extremely uncomfortable.

The mechanism was unclear. Minori, too, had found herself in someone else's body without understanding how it happened—perhaps it could be called possession. It was an abnormal phenomenon that she had not wished for, and it was wrong to blame her.

Still, Bertie found it hard to accept. It was something she could never come to terms with.

Minori had easily obtained what Bertie could not. And she had done so as Bertie.

If Bertie had died and Minori had continued to live as Bertie, she would have never known such a miserable feeling.

(—I wish I had never come back.)

Sitting on the window seat of her room, gazing listlessly out the window, Bertie muttered this to herself.

The day after regaining consciousness, Bertie had almost perfectly recalled the six months of memories when someone else had possessed her body.

The window seat, which had been simple until six months ago, had been improved by a maid who had gained Minori's trust, with a comfortable seat and soft, pleasant cushions. This was a consideration that had never been shown to Bertie.

As she spent time just gazing outside, the silence was broken by a knock. Bertie remained in a daze, not reacting.

Then, the door opened with a click. She had forgotten to lock it.

Glancing toward the door, she met the eyes of her youngest brother, Tristan, who visited her most frequently.

"You're supposed to be resting. Get back to bed."

"Please don't just barge in."

As she said this, still looking out the window, there was a moment of silence before a quiet voice spoke.

"I want to talk."

The serious voice seemed to tremble slightly. Bertie sighed and got off the window seat.

"Fine."

Tristan's expression relaxed slightly, as if he was relieved and pleased. However, Bertie had not agreed to satisfy his hopes.

As she walked past Tristan without going to the sofa or the bed, Tristan's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just leaving since you won't."

She smiled falsely and reached for the doorknob, but Tristan quickly stopped her.

"Alright! I'll leave, so just rest!"

Thinking that this could have been avoided if he had done so from the start, Bertie opened the door.

"Please."

She urged him to leave, and Tristan, instead of moving his feet, spoke.

"Let me say this much. The Second Prince will visit this afternoon."

The Second Prince, her fiancé. Someone must have informed the royal family that Bertie had regained consciousness.

"Is that so?"

"Are you not happy about it?"

"Of course not."

She couldn't help but respond with a short, cold voice, and Tristan's eyes widened. Bertie gently lowered her gaze.

"Please decline the visit."

"Are you serious? He's a prince, you know?"

"I am aware. He didn't even maintain the minimum courtesy as a fiancé in private, but suddenly showed interest when I supposedly lost my memory, treating me like a gentleman, as if he were a different person."

Despite the calm smile on her face, her voice conveyed a strong sense of contempt. Tristan's eyes widened even more.

"…You were treated so poorly?"

"Compared to you, he was kind. At least he didn't insult me."

Tristan seemed unable to respond, his lips tightly pressed together. He seemed to realize that it was unfair to criticize the Second Prince while ignoring their own behavior.

"But, you're all the same. There's not much difference between you and him."

They were almost the same. They treated her as a nuisance, regretted it on their own, and felt hurt on their own. Despite being the victim, she now felt as if they were the victims. They were equally insensitive.

"Anyway, I have no intention of meeting him, so please turn him away."

"…If I can't, will you leave?"

"You're learning."

She urged him with her gaze, and Tristan, though he seemed to want to say something, finally left the room without a word. Bertie locked the door securely.

That day, it seemed her brother had successfully persuaded the Second Prince, as he did not appear before Bertie.