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Episode 2
Even after saying it out loud, it still didn’t feel real.
Going back to the past out of nowhere?
It was ridiculous.
Honestly, it would be more believable if all of this were just a dream.
But the shocking things didn’t stop there.
The next moment, a sudden headache hit me, and I grabbed my head.
Knowledge I had never encountered in all seventy-three years of my life came flooding into my mind like a tidal wave.
New employee. Commute time. Smartphone. Crosswalk. And… a traffic accident.
My knees buckled from the confusion.
Then I finally realized everything.
“I was reincarnated.”
My hands trembled as the realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.
I repeatedly rubbed my face, trying to calm the shaking throughout my body.
Then I yanked hard on the servant bell cord beside the bed to call someone.
A maid arrived shortly afterward.
She was a young girl of seventeen with brown hair and brown eyes.
I recognized her immediately.
Mary?
Old memories slowly resurfaced.
After my husband’s funeral, when Bliss and I had been thrown out of the Arista Marquis household because of the schemes of the retainers, Mary had been the only maid who looked after us.
She carefully spoke.
“My lady, did you call for me?”
“What day is it today?”
“Pardon?”
“I know it’s spring, but I can’t remember the exact date.”
“My lady… what’s wrong? Today is the late Marquis’s funeral.”
Mary answered, unable to hide her concern.
Only then was I finally able to accept everything I had thought was a dream.
Including the young face reflected in the wall mirror.
The woman in the mirror had dull silver hair and light blue eyes.
She looked terribly shabby, unable to properly eat or take care of herself.
To organize the chaos in my mind, I muttered quietly.
“So, if I put everything in order… after dying on Earth, I was reincarnated as Charlotte D. Arista of the Baskervina Empire. Then after being murdered by Bliss, I regressed to the day of my husband’s funeral.”
My goodness.
How could something like this happen?
I held my cheeks in shock.
Seeing that my condition was far from normal, Mary asked,
“My lady, are you alright? Should I call a doctor?”
“No. It’s not necessary.”
“But you really don’t look well…”
“I’m fine. Please leave.”
“My lady?”
“Go!”
I practically chased Mary out of the bedroom.
The moment she disappeared, I slid down against the tightly shut door.
Remembering my past life’s knowledge after regressing is one thing…
My throat suddenly tightened.
Even now, I can’t believe that Bliss had poisoned me.
But even amidst all this confusion, one emotion remained crystal clear.
Anger.
I would never forget it.
The sight of my son smiling as he looked down at me writhing in agony on the floor before my death.
That vivid smile.
My death—the death of the person who loved him most in the world—had brought Bliss happiness.
As I silently cried from betrayal and rage, I felt more sorry for myself than ever before.
Of course I did!
Did anyone know how hard my life had been?
“After becoming a widow at twenty-eight, do you know how hard I worked to make my only son a duke?! I raised him all by myself! I suffered through everything imaginable! So why do I have to die?! Why?!”
I pounded my chest with my fists.
Tears fell like heavy rain onto the floor.
“Bliss! Even if I didn’t give birth to you, you were always my son! How could you kill me? How could you do that to me with your own hands?!”
Sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, I made a vow.
I would never die such a miserable death again.
And I made another promise.
I would get revenge on Bliss immediately.
That’s right.
The very first thing I would do after regressing was take revenge.
I’ll show you.
Grinding my teeth, I stood up and flung open the bedroom door.
Mary was still standing in the hallway.
Apparently, she had been worried about me.
I shouted firmly.
“Mary! Bring Bliss here!”
Mary looked at my face, which was covered in tears and fury, but simply nodded without saying a word.
How long had I waited?
Soon, the sound of small footsteps entered the bedroom along with Mary.
The owner of those footsteps was an eight-year-old boy.
He looked exactly like a baby angel from a temple mural.
Curly golden hair that curled at the ends.
Blue eyes.
Pale skin like freshly baked bread.
Soft, chubby cheeks.
The sight felt strange.
The son I knew wasn’t this tiny child.
The son I knew was a dignified fifty-three-year-old duke.
Bliss’s growth had been built upon my youth and my sacrifices.
And after all that suffering to raise him, he poisoned me?
At that moment, the child suddenly spat on the floor near my feet.
“What, Charlotte? Why did you call me?”
For a moment, my thoughts stopped.
Bliss’s rotten personality didn’t stop there.
“Tch. Why aren’t you lowering your eyes?”
I let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Haha. My dear child. No wonder you grew up into the kind of son who kills his own mother. The warning signs were there from the beginning. That’s right. You were always like this. I was the only one who pitied you and felt guilty toward you…”
“What are you muttering to yourself? Are you crazy?”
I immediately strode toward Bliss.
I smacked him sharply on the backside.
Before my regression, I never would have dreamed of doing something like that.
No matter what trouble Bliss caused, I had raised him with nothing but love.
Only now did I finally realize how much of a pushover I had been.
And I finally admitted the truth.
The warning signs had always been there.
Just look at him now.
Every time I smacked him, he shouted things like, “I hope you die,” “I’ll throw you away,” and “I’ll get revenge on you.”
My crafty little brat.
Every insult was perfectly chosen to tear apart the heart of the woman I had been before my regression.
I was furious.
At the same time, I felt grateful to whatever god had sent me back.
Because I was no longer the soft-hearted former Marchioness I used to be.
Just wait and see.
This time around, I wouldn’t sacrifice myself for anyone.
And
“Bliss Arista! Are you going to keep living your life like this?!”
That afternoon, I finished preparing for the funeral.
Dressed in a black mourning gown, I completed my attire by placing a black veil over my head.
Embarrassingly enough, no matter how wealthy the Arista Marquis family was, none of that wealth belonged to me.
The twenty-eight-year-old me was so poor that I couldn’t even afford a proper black mourning hat.
So all I could do was tie up my hair, cover it with a black veil, and wear an old-fashioned, worn dress.
Mary spoke from behind me.
“My lady, Young Master says he won’t attend the funeral.”
“I suppose Bliss still hasn’t recovered from his grief.”
I answered calmly, but the corners of my mouth twitched with irritation.
Grief, my foot. He’s pouting because he got spanked a few times.
Still, I wasn’t surprised.
I already knew Bliss wouldn’t attend.
In my previous life, he hadn’t attended his father’s funeral either.
Back then, I had defended him, saying he had suffered too much emotional shock at such a young age.
But not this time.
I knew exactly what people would say about him later because of this.
And it’s not just about him.
They pointed fingers at me, too.
I remember the banquet hall from years later.
The criticism I heard that day still hurts.
“The reason Marquis Arista turned out that way is entirely the former Marchioness’s fault. How exactly did she raise that child?”
“Come to think of it, wasn’t he the delinquent who didn’t even attend his father’s funeral?”
“Well, what can you expect? That Charlotte woman isn’t even his real mother.”
“Tsk, tsk. That explains it. If he were her biological child, would she have raised him like that?”
Bliss’s mistakes always became my fault.
It was unfair.
What exactly did I do wrong?
Besides, raising children isn’t something parents can completely control.
I truly loved Bliss and never neglected his education.
What was I supposed to do if he still grew up into a complete troublemaker?
If all the tears and sweat I’d shed while raising him were collected together, they could probably fill an entire gymnasium.
It’s not fair!
And what made those people such wonderful parents?
Their children probably gave them headaches, too.
Hmph.
Anyway, I decided to go see Bliss myself.
As expected, he had locked himself inside his room.
Knock. Knock.
The moment I knocked, Bliss shouted from inside.
“I’m not going to the funeral! I said I’m not going! Ask me again and see what happens! Do you think I can’t rip apart the mouth of some useless maid like you?!”
Apparently, he thought I was Mary.
Honestly.
Dear heavens, are those really the words of an eight-year-old child?!
Feeling dizzy, I counted to three and grabbed the doorknob.
I intended to drag him out if necessary.
But the door was locked.
Hearing the handle rattle, Bliss started laughing from inside.
“Hahaha! Idiot! Stupid!”
This little brat!
“The real idiot is the one calling other people idiots!”
“Charlotte?”
“…And there you go again, calling your mother by her name!”
“No! Stay away! Just wait! Once I grow up, I’ll hit you back!”
Apparently, Bliss was still furious about receiving his first spanking.
Honestly, I regretted it too.
The person who killed me wasn’t eight-year-old Bliss.
It was fifty-three-year-old Bliss.
I know my son very well.
If getting spanked was enough to fix him, I wouldn’t have suffered so much raising him.
Besides, hitting children wasn’t a good solution.
Contrary to what many parents believe, there comes a day when the balance of power between parent and child reverses.
I swore never to raise my hand against Bliss again.
Then I grabbed a silver candlestick decorating the hallway and slammed it into the locked doorknob.
Sure, destroying property is technically violent, too.
But what choice did I have?
Ideals and reality are different things.
And right now, my dead husband’s funeral comes first.
Hmph.
If anyone has a problem with it, they can try raising a son who ignores every word his mother says until he’s fifty-three years old.
I refuse to live through that hell twice.
The doorknob broke apart almost immediately.
I tossed the ruined silver candlestick onto the hallway floor and shoved open the damaged door.
The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by Bliss’s enormous bedroom.
It was several times larger than my own shabby room and filled with expensive, beautiful possessions.
This really shows what kind of trash my late husband was. He neglected his wife, but spoiled his son rotten.
Startled by my sudden appearance, Bliss sat upright from where he had been lazily rolling around on his bed.
He still hadn’t changed into mourning clothes.
The moment he saw me, his face twisted into a scowl.
“Just try hitting me again, fake mom! I’ll tell my real mother!
