Chapter 1

This Life, Please

Behind his appearance, which was every bit as breathtaking as a gift from the gods no matter how many times one saw him, pale pink plum blossoms—the flowers that heralded spring in the Billoa Empire—were blooming profusely.

His dark blond hair had been smoothly brushed back, revealing perfectly proportioned features that looked as though they had been meticulously carved by a sculptor. His blue eyes were clearer and brighter than the sky, while his broad shoulders bore the unmistakable contours of a body honed through training.

Fwoosh—!

Leonard elegantly unfolded the newspaper.

Following the movement, Count Seymour’s brown eyes shifted toward him.

It was just as the count began to furrow his brow that—

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

Leonard’s languid voice drifted leisurely across the table.

“Your Highness. Did you happen to find an interesting article?”

“Does it look like I did?”

“You’ve been so focused on it. You even postponed your morning schedule…”

Normally, no matter how much I recommend it, he never reads.

What got into him this morning?

Count Seymour had been grumbling inwardly as he watched Leonard leisurely skim through the newspaper, but at his master’s words, he was brought back to reality.

“There is something I’m curious about.”

“What is it?”

Count Seymour’s eyes became wary.

From experience, whenever his master suddenly brought up something unrelated to the flow of the conversation, it usually led to an unpleasant outcome.

A faint smile appeared at the corners of Leonard’s lips.

“I heard you absolutely hated books and newspapers.”

“I did?”

“They say your anecdotes at Froling Academy were quite famous. Apparently, everyone was astonished when the man who supposedly hated even the word ‘study’ graduated at the top of his class.”

“Who spread such ridiculous rumors…?! I read newspapers and books every morning as soon as I opened my eyes. I still do!”

Count Seymour’s eyes widened. He squirmed in his seat like a wronged colt, completely forgetting about etiquette and dignity.

Behind the newspaper, Leonard’s lips curled crookedly upward.

“Hmm. Then why did such a story reach my ears?”

“It is slander. There is no way someone who hates studying and is lazy could become Your Highness’s faithful aide!”

Count Seymour declared firmly.

“Is that so?”

“Of course! Absolutely!”

His head bobbed up and down without a moment’s hesitation.

Leonard folded the newspaper he had been reading in half and handed it to Count Seymour.

He raised one corner of his mouth and smiled leisurely.

“Then take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

“Pardon?”

“A count who reads the newspaper every day should be able to figure it out, shouldn’t he? Tell me what can be inferred from this article. If your thoughts happen to match mine, I’ll even help you find the culprit who dared slander you.”

Count Seymour had no idea why he had to do this, but with a bewildered expression, he began reading the tiny black letters printed across the page.

“‘Those seeking wealth and honor are flocking to Brwin’…? This is…”

The article was, more precisely, about the flood of marriage proposals pouring into the Brwin ducal family.

At the end of the article, the reporter added that Viscount Tyrone, acting as her guardian, was seriously narrowing down the candidates while taking the young duchess’s opinion into consideration.

As Seymour slowly read through the article, Leonard drank a glass of freshly squeezed fruit juice.

“You found this article interesting? This is hardly welcome news for us.”

Count Seymour wore a dissatisfied expression.

At the same time, Leonard’s lips curved upward on one side.

“So, what do you think?”

Count Seymour clicked his tongue inwardly at his master’s nasty habit of already knowing the answer while probing him for his thoughts.

Looking at Leonard, who sat leisurely with his chin resting on one hand against the table, he continued.

“It may interfere with our plans. The reason would be the young duchess’s marriage prospects.”

“And?”

“If the young duchess marries, ‘Fairy Garden,’ which is already raking in money across the continent, will no longer remain her secret. That goose laying golden eggs will either be sold or hidden away.”

He shrugged.

“Either way, for us, who were considering cooperating with the Brwin family, it would put us in quite an awkward position.”

Leonard slowly picked up on his words.

“It’s an assumption that doesn’t take every variable into account, but it’s not entirely wrong.”

The heir to one of the ducal families of the Billoa Empire.

Isabella de Brwin.

Following that familiar name, Leonard grasped at a fragment of a long-forgotten memory.

She had been sixteen.

There had been a time when he had bristled with sharp thorns because of his hostility toward his father, the former emperor, keeping everyone around him on guard. He had said cruel things as though daring someone—anyone—to give him an excuse, hurting people and acting unreasonable.

And yet, there had been a little girl who, despite her small stature, had fearlessly said everything she wanted to say.

‘Who are you? Who do you think you are to stay here without permission?!’

‘Permission? Oh, come on. Do I need permission to be here too? What kind of country requires permission for everything you want to do? Can’t we just make things a little easier? It’s a garden, after all. There’s plenty of room…’

A pretty little girl with dark brown hair, who dared to complain right in front of a member of the imperial family.

That girl had been Isabella de Brwin.

She had looked much younger than him, yet she spoke like an oddly mature child.

At the time, she had introduced herself as the young duchess of Brwin from the Billoa Empire.

Since he had never told her his own name, she probably had no idea who he was. Nevertheless, she had been the sort of person he had never encountered in the Kairan Empire, and the memory of that day would occasionally come back to him.

“…What a shame.”

She had been memorable.

And interesting.

“Pardon?”

Count Seymour looked at Leonard.

Seeing the question in his eyes, Leonard shook his head.

Even if he met her again, that honest and innocent child from back then would probably be gone.

Even if she were the same person, she would already have been shaped by aristocratic ways of thinking and living.

“It’s nothing. More importantly, what about the goods they said they were sending from the homeland?”

“Ah, I received word a little while ago. By now, they should probably be passing through the capital square.”

It was a shame that an interesting memory that had allowed him to forget reality, if only for a moment, in the bleak imperial palace would disappear.

But that was all.

“Good. Then starting tomorrow, let’s properly take charge of the merchant guild’s affairs.”

He paused.

“Oh. Put our dealings with the Brwin ducal family on hold for now.”

“On hold?”

“I mean simply to watch and wait. If a marriage alliance is formed, it may be better for us to look for another option.”

The sky was dyed red, and large crowds of people began gathering in the capital square.

Far in the distance, an endless procession of carts loaded with goods stretched along the road, while newsletters published by the Billoa Empire fluttered among the colorful flags hanging overhead.

Located in the middle of the road connecting the city gates to the imperial palace, the capital square was overflowing with people who had come to see the unusual procession.

“Wow! They said it’s a rising new power, but the Kairan Empire is really something!”

Shannon, who was inside a four-story building made of red brick, was also completely distracted by the spectacle.

“How much do you think all that is worth?”

She stretched her body forward and raised a hand.

Her slender fingers moved rapidly through the air, apparently counting the number of carts.

Having fallen from aristocratic status after her parents’ business failed and left behind enormous debts, Shannon had developed a habit of relating everything to money.

“Be careful. You’re going to fall.”

Isabella grabbed Shannon’s clothes as she precariously dangled from the window frame and warned her.

“Don’t worry. This is nothing. Even when those old debt collectors smashed up the mansion and threatened us, demanding their money, I came out perfectly fine.”

She waved her hand dismissively.

“Instead of worrying about me, why don’t you take a look too?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Isabella refused Shannon’s invitation and sat down on the dark brown sofa.

At the moment, all of her attention was focused on the succession ceremony that would take place two weeks later.

Just thinking about it was enough to make her head feel like it was about to explode.

After a while, the commotion outside died down.

Perhaps her interest had faded, because Shannon walked over to the dark brown sofa where Isabella was sitting and plopped down beside her.

“What is it? Why do you look so serious?”

“…Because it’s too quiet.”

“Hm? Ah, Viscount Tyrone? Your uncle?”

Isabella fell silent at Shannon’s question.

He was someone she didn’t even want to call her uncle.

As if she already understood, Shannon’s eyebrows drew together.

“Ugh! Why isn’t that old geezer dead yet? Maybe it’s because I curse him so much every night? He really has lived for far too long.”

At Shannon’s blunt words, the corners of Isabella’s lips lifted slightly.

She simply liked having someone else get angry on her behalf.

Knowing that she had someone on her side reassured her.

And yet, for a moment, she wondered if perhaps she had dragged Shannon into this unnecessarily.

Five years ago, in the first year after she turned fifteen, Isabella began suffering from a terrible nightmare.

Through that nightmare, she became aware of her previous life.

And she realized that the life she had been reincarnated into had already repeated itself several times.

She had been reincarnated inside a dark, miserable novel titled If I Can Save You, Please, a story that had been infamous in the modern world for having one of the worst endings imaginable.

She was the female protagonist.

Yet she had none of the advantages that usually came with being a protagonist.

Instead, she was merely exploited by her greedy guardian uncle until she met a miserable end at the age of twenty-one.

It had been unbelievable and confusing at first.

But Isabella soon realized that this was already her fourth reincarnation.

And from that very moment, she began visiting Shannon at the crack of dawn.

She told her that she wanted to live.

That she didn’t want to die.

And she begged her for help.

Amid the flood of memories pouring into her mind, Isabella needed someone she could trust.

And at that time, within the very limited circle of people she considered trustworthy, there was only one person.

Shannon.