'Bjornne Rossa Elliott.'
As if watching a play, at some point I realized that I was watching the life of a woman.
She was born as the legitimate daughter of a Marquis.
Her pretty looks and the power of her secure family were enough to make her arrogant. She was the center of attention wherever she went, and her surroundings were always overflowing with people praising her. Even at the moment she rose to the highest position for a woman, she thought it was only natural. That was her place, and no one could covet hers.
'The foolish woman.'
It was solely her own delusion, and that delusion did not last long.
As time passed, her life, which had been rising unhindered, began to go downhill. Her once-lofty position became a sharp, gleaming blade that strangled her, and the crowd that had praised her transformed into a pack of wolves tearing her apart as they lunged at her.
Until the very last moment, she wailed in injustice. Cursing the world, she coughed up blood.
A mockery escaped my lips at her foolishness. Why does she crave their love? Why does she covet what is not hers?
'I can just leave behind those who don't love me.'
As if letting go of her last breath, her body collapsed, scattering red blood. Just as she thought it was the end, she slowly raised her head.
A deep green light, shining transparently like a jewel, stared directly at me, drenched in madness. Her lips, painted red as if glistening with blood, moved slowly.
"Don't forget. I am you. Lee. Ji. Ah."
Pitch-black darkness enveloped me.
***
Act 1. Bjornne Rossa Elliot
My hazy mind slowly awakened. The life of a woman—laughing, crying, and screaming—unfolded like a panorama. I slowly opened my eyes.
The dim darkness of dawn was engulfing the room. Lying down, I held my hand to my eyes. I saw a white, soft hand.
“It’s small.”
I slowly clenched and unclenched my hand a couple of times. My hand faithfully followed my will.
I sat up and took my feet out from under the covers. Sure enough, my white, soft-looking toes wiggled as I tried to do. I spread my palm open again. I looked at my wiggling feet once more.
It felt familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar.
I completely pulled my feet out from under the covers and slipped them into the slippers under the bed. The cold air of dawn and the soft drizzle
The sensation of the fur inside the soft slipper was thrilling.
'That really woke me up.'
I rubbed the soles of my feet against the slippers, savoring the tickling sensation of the fur. It was a realistic sensation, proof that it wasn't a dream.
I straightened my slippers and moved. Even in the darkness, my body familiarized itself with the thick blackout curtain covering the window. I grabbed one side of the curtain and pulled it back with all my might.
Contrary to my expectation that it would slide away with a rustling sound, the curtain flapped once widely and returned to its original position, covering the window. For a moment, I was bewildered by the incomprehensible situation.
'Why? Why?'
I lifted one side of the curtain with my hand. Although it was dim, a fairly bright light illuminated the room. With the curtain pulled back, I looked at the seam where it hung.
Instead of the familiar curtain rail, hooks protruding from the wall were firmly securing the curtain. This, too, was a familiar sight.
I secured both curtains to the hooks protruding from the side of the window frame and turned around. A large amount of light, as big as the window itself, illuminated the room. After confirming that the sunlight was shining into every corner of the room, I looked for the mirror, which was my original purpose.
The mirror was sitting quietly in its place, exactly as I remembered it.
I slowly moved my feet and stood in front of the mirror. My golden-brown hair, which looked like blonde in the sunlight, cascaded down to my waist and swayed.
In the mirror, a child with sparkling dark green eyes was blinking. With the corners of their eyes slightly upturned, they looked like a haughty cat with quite a feisty streak.
I raised my finger and gently pressed the cheek. The baby's characteristic plump cheeks slid in and out elastically.
It was a face that was familiar yet unfamiliar. I tried pulling on the cheek. The cheek, like a sticky rice cake, stretched out, accompanied by pain. It was a look younger than I remembered, or perhaps exactly as I remembered it.
"Bjornne Rossa Elliott."
A familiar yet unfamiliar resonance lingered in my mouth.
I slowly looked into the mirror again. The image of the chubby-cheeked child had vanished, replaced by the face of an adult.
The face was reflected in the mirror.
'Don't forget. I am you.'
Green eyes steeped in madness were staring straight at me in the mirror. Her red lips slowly parted.
'Lee Ji-ah.'
In an instant, her figure vanished, and the face of a woman exhausted from fatigue appeared.
It was a face different from the one just moments ago, yet so familiar.
I watched her life as a third party, as if watching a play.
Am I the return of the deceased Bjornne? Am I Lee Ji-ah, who wanted to escape her boring daily life? Or am I the young Bjornne who has seen the future? Which came first, and which came later?
Before I knew it, young Bjornne was staring intently at me in the mirror.
"Perhaps all of this isn't a memory, but just a dream."
Question marks filled my head, but I wasn't strangely confused. With memories this jumbled, one would expect a crisis of identity, yet surprisingly, my mind was perfectly clear. It was even clear, as if someone had provided the answer to a difficult problem.
I was Bjornne Rossa Elliott who died cursing the world, Lee Ji-ah who died after living a fairly uneventful life, and now Bjornne Rossa Elliott standing before a mirror, looking at her own reflection.
"Oh my!"
I turned my head toward the source of the sound at the sound of a short scream. The woman who met my eyes quickly covered her mouth and bowed her head.
"I, I didn't know you were awake, Miss. I will prepare some water for washing your face right now."
The woman vanished in a flash before I could even say a word. She looked quite surprised that I had woken up earlier than usual.
Given my usually fussy personality, everything had to be ready by the time I woke up. Not cold either.
Lukewarm water with fragrant flower petals floating in it, at a moderate temperature that was not too hot, and the setting of the dress and accessories to be worn that day were a given.
If even one thing went wrong, I would be annoyed all day long. The difficulty of having to prepare perfectly to fit my irregular wake-up time was absolutely not a consideration for me.
At least until yesterday.
“S-sorry.”
The maid who brought the washing water knelt and bowed her head.
If it were the 'me' of yesterday, I would have been furious and yelled at her, but the 'me' of today wasn't particularly angry.
It's just that the situation is a bit ambiguous.
I looked down at her, wondering how to handle this. Her two hands, clasped together between the front of her skirt, trembled pitifully. Her hands, shaking violently with fear, were covered in small wounds.
“What’s your name?”
"...Yes?"
"I asked what your name was."
As if taken by an unexpected question, she looked up at me with wide eyes. Although she was older than I am now, she had a youthful face that hadn't yet lost its baby fat. Seeing her face, smooth and shiny from the sun, she appeared to be of the lowest rank among the maids.
Even among maids, there were different ranks. While they could be subdivided further, they could generally be divided into two main categories: those who performed all sorts of menial tasks like laundry and dishwashing, and those who served directly by the master's side.
Those who served by their master's side used the term 'handmaid' instead of 'maid,' acting as if they were someone important.
They also looked down on maids who did menial tasks.
After all, everyone looks lowly in the eyes of the nobles.
The maids, who performed all sorts of menial tasks like laundry and dishwashing, spent a lot of time working outdoors. Naturally, their skin, exposed to a lot of sunlight, was bound to turn dark.
On the other hand, maids who served their masters closely had relatively little reason to go out. Their duties were limited to grooming the master or running errands. While they undoubtedly faced their own hardships, they were more comfortable in terms of both time and money compared to maids performing menial tasks. In other words, they had the luxury of grooming themselves.
"It's... Marie, Miss."
"Right, Marie, why are you here?"
Rough, flaky lips. A tanned face, the backs of her hands showing signs of cracking.
Marie was definitely a menial maid. That means she wasn't the kind of maid who would fetch water for my wash or help me groom myself.
The society here was strictly divided into classes. Below the royal family were the nobility, below the nobility were the commoners, and at the very bottom were the slaves. The gap between classes was so vast that even if a noble killed a passing commoner for no reason, he would not be held accountable. To prevent senseless killing, while fines were imposed, the crime of murder did not apply.
Considering themselves noble, they were quite picky about having attendants by their side. Since these attendants had to serve them personally, they wanted them to possess not only good looks but also a decent level of intelligence.
I am the only legitimate daughter of a powerful Marquisate. My attendants consist solely of my mother's wet nurse and ladies-in-waiting selected through a rigorous screening process. It is certainly not a position where a mere maid performing menial tasks should be attending to me.
"Th-that... Nanny... I made a mistake."
Marie's face turned deathly white in an instant. She could lose her life right here at a single word from me.
She knelt at my feet and begged.
"S-save me, Miss!"
What would it have been like if I were the 'me' of yesterday?
Watching Marie tremble uncontrollably in the same prone position, I thought. I’m pretty sure she’s a ‘lowly thing’.
She must have been furious, shouting, "How dare you!"
'Even if leniency is shown, the minimum is a beating, and the worst would probably be the death penalty, wouldn't it?'
At that moment, I was approaching my eleventh birthday. The expression 'arrogant and reckless fool' perfectly describes me. I was neither an innocent newborn who knew nothing, nor an adult somewhat tainted by the ways of the world. I had neither self-control nor compassion.
What could I have known, raised so spoiled by employees who were always watching my every move at home?
She smashed everything she didn't like and tormented people relentlessly. She did not regard the maids, servants, or even the ladies-in-waiting as human beings like herself. Until now, Bjornne had absolutely no idea that they, too, were human beings who felt pain when hit and shed tears when sad.
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