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Chapter: 04
The Dead and the Survivors
“Feigning illness ends here, Iana. You have damaged the dignity a princess should uphold. From now on, spend the next month in the mansion in seclusion.”
Having finished his words, the Duke turned and left the room.
Alice pursed her lips, thinking to herself that she had assumed Iana must have been pampered since she seemed to have such a temper, but apparently that wasn’t the case. She briefly glared at the back of the Duke as he left, speaking so casually in a way that would have been deeply insulting if Iana had heard it. Then Alice turned to Rue, who was kneeling in front of her, and said:
“Stand up. I was mistaken.”
Alice, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to fully explain her own situation and uncertain if anyone would understand even if she tried, rose with a weary expression. A strange illusion of heartache lingered as if her chest still hurt. Rue, watching Iana carefully rub at her chest, cautiously spoke up.
“Milady, are you alright?”
Iana had always been quite upset whenever the Duke spoke to her in that manner. She would throw things and lash out at nearby maids, but today, her demeanor was so calm that Rue’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What do you mean? Ah! It still hurts a little around here.”
Alice, now in Iana’s body, brushed her chest and replied. Rue, startled as if waking from a shock, leapt to her feet.
“Oh my, I can’t believe I just forgot myself. Milady, I’m sorry! You’ve only just gotten up. I’ll fetch the healer immediately.”
Finally alone, Alice slowly began moving. Before she had lost consciousness, Iana had also collapsed. Other than a slight headache, her body seemed fine. Well, having carried around an 87-year-old body for so long and suddenly having a young, vibrant body—how could it feel anything but wonderful? Her previously heavy body now felt astonishingly light, and a faint smile crept onto her face.
And her appearance—how could anyone ignore it!
Alice, standing before the mirror, turned a full circle. Her smooth black hair flowed like dark curtains, and her mysterious violet eyes looked intelligent. It was exactly the kind of appearance Alice loved.
Laughing foolishly at her reflection, Alice quickly sobered. This was no time for indulgence. Though she had regained a youthful body and an appearance she had never experienced, Alice’s 87 years of experience warned her: nothing in life comes free, and what is easily gained is easily lost.
She didn’t know how she had become Iana, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t suddenly return to being Alice Lemarchand. Frowning at her reflection, she noticed Iana’s delicate forehead furrowing slightly.
“This might not be entirely pleasant,” she murmured.
Alice’s strong, prominent features meant that a small frown would command attention and respect, whereas Iana’s delicate face could only look slightly sulky even when frowning.
‘Iana Marseille.’
‘The Social Witch,’ ‘Villainess,’ ‘Carl Gosling’s Sunflower.’ Alice recalled the notorious reputations that Iana Marseille carried.
“Hmph!”
Alice immediately understood. With this face, the girl must have learned to assert herself sharply to maintain even a shred of dignity under such a father. Anyone lecturing a newly awakened daughter about a princess’s dignity would not have fulfilled Iana’s requests willingly. This pretty, delicate girl could only learn to express herself in such a way.
“By the way… if I’m in this body, then where did this girl go? Surely not—!”
Alice clamped her mouth shut and swallowed a quiet scream. Surely, the young girl hadn’t entered her own decayed 87-year-old body? That would be a grossly unfair situation worthy of a jail sentence. How frightened would the girl be?
As Alice wandered the room, worried about Iana, Rue returned.
“Milady, the healer has arrived.”
“Bring them in.”
Rue, seeing Iana sitting quietly on the bed as before, relaxed. Had Iana thrown a tantrum or collapsed while Rue was gone, she might have been summoned by the head maid and beaten for failing her duties. Rue could endure the beating, but losing her place in the mansion would be unbearable. She thought of her family at home, waiting for her wages. Though the work was tough, being Iana’s personal maid came with a high salary, which was why there were always applicants lined up.
Smiling, Rue led the healer into the room. The healer began examining Iana meticulously—checking her temperature, listening to her heartbeat, and even glancing at a clock, moving busily about.
“How are you feeling?” Rue asked the healer.
“Considering she was clinically dead, her recovery is remarkable. Her heartbeat is normal, and there are no other particular concerns. However, she was not in perfect health before, so ensure she rests adequately and takes any antidotes with plenty of water.”
“Excuse me…” Iana began to speak cautiously.
“Yes, Milady. Please go ahead.”
“When I collapsed, I happened to see Alice Lemarchand, the Marquess, coughing up blood…”
The healer’s expression briefly darkened before speaking.
“The Marquess passed away immediately. The banquet was canceled at once, and the palace is in turmoil investigating the matter.”
Iana’s expression darkened. Rue and the healer, unsure of the reason, began checking her body again, worried she had become unwell. Annoyed by their fuss, Iana raised her hand to stop them and asked again.
“Then, who has inherited the Marquessate of Lemarchand?”
“Of course, Mellen Lemarchand. The late Marquess Alice Lemarchand openly acknowledged him as the heir and brought him along everywhere, did he not?”
“Damn it! That bastard!”
Alice muttered a curse under her breath. Rue and the healer’s eyes went wide. Iana, elegant and subtle in her insults, usually preferred indirect methods, making it hard to tell if she was complimenting or cursing. But here she was, letting a proper curse fly, and Rue had never seen her do this before.
“Milady!” Rue exclaimed in shock. Surely the poison had affected her brain. She looked at the healer with concern. The healer tilted his head and felt Iana’s forehead. No fever. Her pronunciation was perfect, and she seemed fully aware of the Marquess’ affairs. Was there really a poison that only made one good at cursing? Perhaps she’d hit a very specific part of her head when she fell—making her able to curse skillfully.
“So, what about the Lemarchand Guild?” Iana asked next.
“Well…” Rue looked at the healer, who then stared blankly at Iana before replying.
“I wouldn’t know. Milady, since you collapsed and fell at my feet, how could I possibly know the Marquess’ affairs? It is unfortunate that the Marquess passed, but that is all. Presumably, the guild is now under Master Mellen, the new head.”
Not precise, but it seemed plausible. The healer ignored Iana’s continued colorful language, packed up his kit, and left Rue in charge of the medicine.
“Here,” Rue gestured toward Iana’s head, meaning she should examine it, too. But the healer shook his head.
“Sometimes there could be aftereffects. Her speech is clear, and she remembers the Marquess collapsing, so she should be fine.”
Still unsure, the healer looked at Iana again and added to Rue:
“Nonetheless, it’s best to keep a close eye on her for the time being.”
Once the healer left, leaving only Iana and Rue, Rue looked at her with concern.
“Milady, please let me know if your head hurts at all.”
Alice, displeased with Rue’s concern, snorted and turned her head in thought. There was no doubt that Mellen had a hand in her sudden suspicious death. Memories of his dubious actions surfaced one by one. She should have noticed back then. But her old body, though outwardly normal, was riddled with aches, and she had been too weary to care. Even when Mellen acted suspiciously multiple times, all she did was quietly ask a few people around. In hindsight, they were all under Mellen’s influence, so it would have been difficult for them to tell her the truth.
“This is why when you get old, you might as well just die,” she muttered, as she often did, before bursting into incredulous laughter. Her old body was gone, and her original body had already died. My, oh my—words have power, indeed. Old sayings never lie.
“Milady, Prince Karl has sent a gift.”
It had already been a week since Alice entered Iana’s body. After an early dinner and some rest, Rue entered with a small bouquet and a tiny box.
‘Ah, what a miserly fellow,’ Alice thought.
For a prince, the gift was surprisingly modest. The bouquet was tiny and unimpressive—any roadside wildflowers arranged would have seemed more thoughtful. The card nestled between the flowers was almost comically elaborate, filled with flowery words wishing her a speedy recovery.
Turning from the card, Iana eyed the small box from Karl. It looked so small and shabby that she wasn’t even curious about its contents.
A gift should reflect the sender’s sincerity, after all. Judging by this, Karl evidently did not care much for Iana. She tossed the box casually onto the table and lay back on the bed.
“Milady, I said it was from Prince Karl,” Rue repeated, bewildered by Iana’s indifferent reaction. She emphasized Karl’s name, thinking that, in the past, Milady would have reacted with joy. Rue worried if something was wrong with her head.
