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Chapter 01
From: Marisel Manua
Governess Application
To: His Excellency, Grand Duke Morgan Ergana Johaim
“Please make sure this reaches His Excellency, Grand Duke Morgan Ergana Johaim!”
A slender, elderly servant with streaks of white hair took the envelope Marisel handed him.
Though she said nothing, Marisel’s eyes gave one last, silent insistence.
Porl felt a slight weight in her gaze, but a strange earnestness brought a gentle smile to his face.
“I will deliver it safely,” he said, tucking the envelope under his arm and bowing politely.
Watching her walk away, he thought it unusual. In sixty years of serving the Grand Ducal House, he had never seen a young noblewoman deliver a letter herself.
And Marisel had a reason for personally visiting: to improve her chances of being accepted as a governess.
A good impression—or even a strange one—was worth remembering. That was the point.
She needed this governess position desperately.
And the timing was perfect.
In the story “The Grand Duke’s Obsession”, the male lead Morgan was adopting his orphaned niece, Fleur, and needed a governess.
Marisel, now inhabiting the life of Lee Hetak, thirty-five, was in a shocking reality to survive after reincarnation.
“Miss, I still can’t get used to this,” Emma said.
“There’s no rush. Just take your time. I almost died and came back. Isn’t it better that I’ve changed?”
Emma worried silently. How much had happened while Marisel lay in fever?
For a moment, she hadn’t even breathed. Just remembering that sent shivers down Emma’s spine.
“Emma, this is a chance given by heaven. I must live a different life now.”
Marisel, having submitted her application, decided to wander through the market for a little refreshment.
She thought as she walked. Marisel, a twenty-year-old young noblewoman of the Herman Empire, starting her second life.
She was nothing but an extra. Her family was extra-level too.
The story was a common romance fantasy: a stubborn love between the Grand Duke and the Saintess, the male lead obsessed with the female lead. Fun to read.
The noble houses crushed in the Fleur kidnapping were irrelevant—just devices to show the cruelty of Marquis Zelcova.
Now, inhabiting Marisel, Zelcova was the biggest threat, even more than Morgan.
Zelcova framed Marisel’s family, the Manua Marquises, to be wiped out by the Grand Duke.
Though Zelcova would eventually be removed by the male and female leads, until then, safety meant staying under Morgan’s protection.
If she could survive one or two years as a governess at the Grand Ducal House, the Manua family could live.
For Marisel, this governess position was essential for survival.
“I just hope Morgan calls me for an interview…”
The dice had been cast. Some divine power—or whatever had allowed her a second life—might grant her a favor.
She stepped into the bustling market, refocusing and beginning to explore.
The fragrant scent of fruit wafted through the air.
“Emma! Let’s buy some apples!”
“What? Eat apples here in the street?”
“Why not?”
Marisel grabbed Emma’s hand and led her to a fruit stall.
Then—
A sharp scream pierced the air!
They froze and turned toward the sound.
The crack of a whip followed.
A coach stood there, and a rough-looking coachman was whipping two children.
“Stop that!” Marisel shouted urgently.
The coachman paused, glancing around.
The whip cut the air with a sharp hiss.
Without thinking, Marisel kicked off her shoes and threw one with all her strength.
Thud!
The shoe hit the coachman’s wrist, knocking it down.
His face turned red and purple in rage.
“Who dares?!” he bellowed, glaring at the crowd.
Everyone avoided his gaze, afraid of his temper.
The coachman grabbed the shoe, flinging it angrily.
“Who threw this shoe?!”
“That would be me! I threw it!” Marisel growled, stepping forward boldly.
Even missing one shoe, she walked confidently, like a model on a runway.
The crowd murmured in surprise.
“Who is she? A noble?”
“She’s beautiful, anyway.”
The wind blew, making Marisel’s platinum hair flutter gracefully. She looked like a savior ready to strike down evil.
The coachman instinctively stepped back, fear creeping in.
“You—the one who threw the shoe. What are you going to do?”
His voice was low, smiling eyes hiding the terror within.
The coachman stammered, unable to speak properly. A noblewoman throwing her shoes for commoners? Impossible.
Was she really a noble? A wealthy commoner?
And if she was the owner of the shoe, she should be limping—yet she wasn’t.
Confused, he instinctively dropped to the ground.
“I-I’m so sorry, miss! Please forgive me!”
Marisel crossed her arms, looking down at him.
“Your name and house?”
“H-Hans, I’m a coachman for the Arthur family.”
“Very well, Hans.”
He kept his head bowed, waiting for instructions.
Marisel lifted her skirt slightly, pointing to her foot. He quickly put her shoe back on.
Emma watched in shock. Marisel, kind and gentle by nature, had never spoken harshly to anyone below her rank.
“By the way, the owner of this carriage seems far kinder than the one they serve. They stayed quietly inside. Take them there.”
Marisel acted with deliberate calm—recognizing the carriage belonged to a house of equal rank.
She had acted first, leaving the aftermath for later. A higher noble might have complicated things.
‘My curiosity always gets me into trouble!’ she scolded herself.
‘But how could I ignore kids being whipped right in front of me?’
The coachman bowed deeply, trembling.
“The carriage is empty. I’m just bringing Miss Kierahn…”
‘Kierahn? Who’s that?’ Marisel thought, drawing a blank.
She decided to memorize noble houses later at home.
‘Even when helping, you have to see the place you’re stepping into. What if it were a higher-ranking noble?’
She thought of her good deed as heaven’s help.
“Luckily, your master didn’t suffer any harm.”
The coachman fell flat again, bowing.
“Stand up!” Marisel commanded.
“Yes, miss,” he said quickly, standing at attention.
“Even if the children misbehaved, whipping is not the way, right?”
“Yes, miss. I was wrong. I won’t do it again.”
“Good. And since your whip already taught them a lesson, you apologize to the children and quietly leave.”
“Yes, thank you, miss.”
The coachman bowed repeatedly, relieved by her mercy.
The children apologized to him and Marisel before he hurried away.
“That nasty fellow ran off!”
“Well, that was satisfying!”
“Never seen a noble help commoners like that before.”
“True. Even I haven’t.”
The crowd, seeing the villain gone and only the boys remaining, dispersed with murmurs.
