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Chapter 01
It was a traffic accident.
KWAANG!
A horrifying pain followed the horrifying sound.
But thankfully, the pain stopped quickly.
‘So this is… how I die….’
My vision was blurry.
I blinked several times, but eventually even the strength to keep my eyelids open disappeared, and I closed my eyes.
And although I was certain I had died, I opened my eyes again.
Huh?
Am I alive?
‘But… where is this?’
Blink, blink.
After opening and closing my eyes a few times, my hazy vision gradually cleared.
Walls and furniture I had never seen before, and even unfamiliar scents.
It was definitely a strange place.
“Madam! You’re awake!”
I turned toward the voice.
A man with short silver hair and glasses came into view.
At first, I thought he was elderly because of the silver hair, but he wasn’t.
He was actually a young man with a tall, slender build.
“Do you recognize who I am, Madam?”
‘Why does this person keep calling me Madam?’
Madam? What is this, the Joseon Dynasty?
“You, go inform the Duke. Tell him Madam has just regained consciousness.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
As the silver-haired man gave an order to someone behind him, I heard the hurried footsteps of a young woman.
“Where is this—”
Gasp. I had tried to ask where I was, but the voice that came out was not the one I knew.
“This is the Wiltson Ducal Estate in Dempsha, Madam. Not long after returning from the Imperial Capital, you developed a fever and remained unconscious with a high temperature for the past three days.”
“…The Wiltson Ducal Estate of Dempsha?”
“Do you not remember?”
The silver-haired doctor looked at me with worried eyes.
The name sounded strange, but oddly familiar.
I had definitely heard it somewhere before.
‘Where did I hear it?’
My memory was hazy.
Then it happened.
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind.
A terrible thought.
A chill ran through my entire body.
‘No way. That can’t be possible.’
My shoulders instinctively tensed from the dreadful sense of unease.
Gathering my courage, I asked the silver-haired man,
“…Who owns this estate?”
“The owner of this estate? Are you referring to me?”
A black-haired man entered through the door that had swung open.
He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a muscular physique.
“Zekron Wiltson.”
Hhk—
The moment I heard his name, I couldn’t exhale the breath I had drawn in.
Every muscle in my body stiffened with tension.
‘Duke Zekron Wiltson!’
I repeated his name in my head.
If my memory was correct, he was the male lead of the romance fantasy novel Sheridan’s Praying Night, which I had read before I died.
“Your husband.”
Husband?
Then does that mean I’m his wife?
His deep blue eyes quietly stared at me.
His persistent gaze made it hard to breathe.
“Madam! What’s wrong? Are you having trouble breathing? Exhale! Here, follow me. Huu… haa… huu… haa….”
The doctor hurried closer as I failed to breathe properly from shock.
With wide eyes, he exaggeratedly inhaled and exhaled.
I followed him, repeatedly breathing in and out.
“So she hasn’t fully recovered yet.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Her fever has gone down and she has regained consciousness, but I believe we should continue observing her condition.”
“Could there be something wrong with her head? Brain damage from the fever or something?”
Zekron narrowed his eyes as he scanned my face and questioned the doctor.
‘What? Brain damage? That’s basically calling me crazy, isn’t it? Seriously.’
That instantly snapped me back to my senses.
Anger surged inside me.
Calling someone insane right in front of them?
I glared at him fiercely.
The muscles on his face twitched slightly under my gaze.
“It doesn’t seem like she’s completely gone. She reacted when I mentioned brain damage.”
“She was unconscious for quite a long time, so there seem to be some issues with her memory. I’ll conduct further examinations.”
“Then carry on.”
Zekron abruptly turned and walked away.
And the man who was supposedly my husband disappeared without even saying a single word to me.
It was a remarkably cold and indifferent exit.
Once the Duke left, the doctor said he would bring medicine, and the maid left to prepare a meal.
I was left alone.
In the now silent room, the crackling sound of firewood burning in the fireplace echoed softly.
Blankly.
Still lying neatly on the bed, I stared up at the ceiling.
The luxurious wallpaper with its ornate patterns was striking.
‘No way!’
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again.
The scenery before me remained unchanged.
‘Again!’
I tightly shut my eyes once more and reopened them.
Nothing changed.
This time, I pinched my cheek.
“Ow!”
It only hurt.
The ornate wallpaper, the large bed, and the crackling fireplace all remained exactly the same.
“W-What the hell is this….”
I could barely even speak properly.
Huu… haa… huu… haa….
I took several deep breaths again.
Getting out of bed, I planted my feet on the floor.
I could clearly feel the soft carpet beneath my soles.
I slowly moved my legs and took a few steps forward.
They were definitely my legs, and I was definitely walking.
I stood in front of a mirror.
A beautiful woman was reflected there.
Her features were delicate and elegant against pale skin.
Long red hair cascaded beautifully down her back.
‘Is this a dream? Am I dreaming about the novel I was reading right before I died?’
Yeah, it must be a dream.
I nodded while staring at my reflection.
The woman in the mirror nodded back at me.
‘In this dream, I guess I’m the male lead’s wife.’
The Duchess Wiltson was an extra-level supporting character.
Why did I have to be an extra?
If I was going to dream anyway, couldn’t I at least be the female lead?
I pouted in disappointment.
I tried recalling the contents of the original novel.
I had read Sheridan’s Praying Night relatively recently and had been deeply immersed in it, but I remembered almost nothing about the male lead’s wife.
It was natural. She only appeared briefly for one or two chapters near the beginning before disappearing.
No, correction.
It would be more accurate to say there wasn’t much worth remembering.
If my memory served me correctly, the novel never even mentioned her name.
She was only ever referred to as “the Duchess,” “Madam,” or “you.”
A noble lady, she had entered into a political marriage with Zekron.
She was frail by nature and frequently collapsed, and her sensitive personality left her suffering from nervous exhaustion.
Eventually, she died during childbirth.
After his wife’s death, Zekron remained unmarried until he reunited with Veronica, his childhood first love and the novel’s female lead, rekindling their romance. That was the main story of the novel.
The Duchess only served two purposes during her brief appearance at the beginning.
First, to show Zekron’s cold and indifferent nature toward women.
Second, to show that he had lived a dull, colorless life before meeting Veronica.
That was all.
She existed purely as a narrative tool, nothing more and nothing less.
Naturally, there was no “love” or “affection” in the marriage between Zekron and his wife.
‘Even in a dream, I end up playing the role of someone unloved by her husband who dies young. Seriously.’
My life, and even my dreams, were truly unfortunate.
A deep sigh escaped me naturally.
‘No, wait. It’s just a dream. Once I wake up, it’ll all be over.’
Smiling to myself, I lay back down neatly on the bed.
If I slept and woke up again, the dream would surely end too.
‘If I wake up from the dream… does that mean I’ll actually be dead then?’
I slowly lowered my eyelids.
Darkness filled my vision.
‘Ah… what on earth is going on?’
When I woke up again, the sight before me was no different from before.
I was dumbfounded.
“I woke up from sleep, but not from the dream. What the….”
“A dream, Madam? This is the Wiltson Ducal Estate, not a dream.”
The silver-haired doctor looked at me worriedly.
“You were unconscious for a long time, so it seems your sense of reality hasn’t fully returned yet….”
The doctor continued saying things, but none of it properly registered in my ears.
What kind of dream was this long and detailed?
I needed to sleep again.
Surely I’d wake up then.
‘Will I really?’
Whatever.
I quickly lay down and shut my eyes tightly.
When I opened my eyes again, despair washed over me.
The ornate wallpaper, the fireplace, and even the silver-haired doctor.
Nothing had changed.
‘A dream that won’t end… which means… this is reality….’
A new reality meant a new life.
No way…?
O-Or maybe!
‘I’m alive again! I got a second life!’
Even if this was the world of a novel, countless people still lived here, each living their own lives.
‘And now I’m one of them! I have a new life!’
A wave of joy overflowed inside me.
Seriously, dying at the beautiful age of twenty-five after getting hit by a car while running an errand was just too unfair!
So God had given me another chance!
I felt like dropping to my knees immediately and offering praise and worship.
‘Thank you! Thank you so much!’
But the joy lasted only a moment.
Because the silver-haired doctor explained that I was currently five months pregnant.
Excuse me?
‘Doesn’t this character die during childbirth?’
I had only just gained a new life…
And now I was going to die in five months?
A lifespan of only five months?
Ah… damn it.
With a twisted expression, I looked up toward the sky.
Of course, since I was in a bedroom, all I could actually see was the ornate ceiling wallpaper.
‘I take back my thanks! Hmph!’
Maybe my sudden shift from beaming happily to looking utterly depressed all by myself worried him.
The attending physician’s face suddenly appeared right in front of me.
“Um, Madam? Are you alright?”
His clear voice pulled my mind back to reality.
‘Right. First, calm down… then assess the situation.’
Looking up at the silver-haired doctor, I asked,
“What’s your name?”
“Hm, it seems your memory truly has been affected, Madam. My name is Matthew Lewis.”
“Matthew, what are the chances that I can safely give birth to this child?”
I stared directly at him.
I remembered this man.
He was a supporting character who actively helped the female lead in the novel, and his medical skills were quite exceptional.
“According to last year’s imperial statistics, the chances of a fetus surviving without miscarriage or stillbirth are approximately seventy percent. And the survival rate for mothers during childbirth is around eighty percent.”
“……”
“So the probability that both you and the child survive safely would be approximately fifty-six percent.”
After finishing his explanation, Matthew adjusted his glasses with a finger.
‘If the original story continues unchanged… this child fell into the seventy percent that survived, while I failed to fall into the eighty percent and died.’
Bitterness rose in my throat.
My hands trembled faintly.
Matthew must have noticed the fear on my face.
He puffed himself up confidently and said,
“Please do not worry, Madam. Though it may sound boastful coming from me, I graduated at the top of the Royal Academy’s Department of Medicine—”
“I want to live. Please save me. Please….”
I grabbed the sleeve of Matthew’s coat as I spoke.
