Chapter 3.1

Lyla hated snow.  

Whenever it snowed, her mother, who was from the East and weak to the cold, would cough more severely.  

She despised the snowy mountains too.  

The mountains were full of dangerous beasts, like the bear that had torn Lyle apart.  

She hated the North, surrounded by falling snow and snowy mountains.  

She hated it with all her heart.  

This place was filled with nothing but despair and sorrow.  

But having never once ventured outside, she had no experience of a world beyond the North.  

She could only live on, blaming her cowardly self for not daring to leave.  

You must grow stronger, Lyla. It doesn’t matter that you’re a girl. We’re twins. Twins born from splitting one soul into two. So you’re just like me. We’re no different at all.  

You must grow stronger.  

Survive, and protect Father.  

Survive, and carry on the family name.

Lyle’s last words were no different from a curse.  

‘Brother, you’re such a fool. You were born with all the good things, and yet… how could you leave me behind and go first? How could you even be faster at dying than me? I still need you.’  

Though she knew it wasn’t right, her young heart couldn’t help but resent him.  

It wasn’t Lyle’s fault.  

How many people could remain composed in the face of such a harsh reality?  

And Lyla was still at an age where her baby fat hadn’t even disappeared.  

‘I’m sorry, Brother. I shouldn’t blame you. I still have a long way to go.’  

To become like you, my brother.  

Lyla sniffled and inhaled deeply.  

Then, she washed her bruised arm in the stream.  

The water was as cold as ice, making her entire skin sting more than the bruise itself.  

“Ugh, it’s freezing…”  

Shivering, Lyla rubbed her injured arm vigorously.  

Northern men, whether children or adults, were all eager to flaunt their strength.  

It was truly a world of survival of the fittest.  

Since the Earl of Cardia was branded a deserter, Lyla had become the weakest of the weak in the North, even looked down upon by commoner children.  

“Oh dear, Young Master!”  

“…Please don’t tell Father.”  

When Lyla returned home, her nanny was startled at the sight of her and made a fuss.  

Lyla felt sorry for worrying her.  

After the Countess and her child had died, the servants began to quit one by one, saying that the house was cursed by the devil.  

The only ones left were the nanny, who had cared for the twins since birth, the butler, whose eyesight had grown so poor that he needed Lyla’s help with the ledgers, and a few servants who hadn’t yet found other jobs.  

That winter was particularly harsh.  

Even her father, a Northerner, had to surrender to the cold.  

“Cough, cough!”  

Her father’s coughing grew worse by the day.  

His condition showed no signs of improvement, and neither the illness nor its cause could be identified. The doctor merely repeated the advice to reduce stress.  

In the end, they bought every remedy rumored to be effective. Surely one of them would work. Compared to the value of her father’s life, money was no issue.  

No, in truth, money was an issue.  

Eventually, Lyla sought out a job agency.  

The agent’s gaze was not kind as he looked at her.  

It was understandable. Most young nobles from fallen families became knights to earn money.  

But Lyla couldn’t do that.  

She was too weak.  

With her frail-looking physique, the agent seemed reluctant to introduce her to any dangerous work.  

“You’re said to be good at arithmetic… Madame Romette happens to be looking for someone. Why don’t you try there?”  

“Thank you!”  

The job Lyla managed to secure was bookkeeping for a noble family.  

Though it was called bookkeeping, she wasn’t actually managing the household accounts.  

Her duties were limited to checking for omissions in the ledgers, organizing messy receipts, running errands for the lady of the house, and keeping her company.  

Thanks to Lyla’s polite demeanor, word spread quickly, and soon, job offers poured in from various places.  

Her income increased enough to cover the cost of medicine.  

It felt like hope was finally within reach.  

“Don’t overwork yourself.”  

“Thank you, Madame.”  

A few kind noblewomen, moved by Lyla’s circumstances, treated her warmly, almost like their own child.  

They admired how mature she was, despite being the same age as their children.  

“Don’t try to win over my mother, you wretched brat!”  

“Is a married woman your type? You perverted bastard!”  

But the children of these noblewomen were different.  

Jealous of the attention their mothers gave Lyla, they often bullied her.  

Eventually, Lyla quit that job.  

The main reason wasn’t the bullying.  

She was used to being hit, and insults could go in one ear and out the other.  

The real reason was the noblewomen who had treated her kindly.  

It wasn’t their fault.  

It was just…  

Whenever they treated her like their own child, it reminded her of her late mother, and she couldn’t stop the tears.  

And seeing other families living happily together made her throat tighten.  

There was a time when her family had been like that too.  

So she ran away.  

She cowardly fled from happiness she could never return to.  

After that, despite the agent’s objections, she only took on the hardest jobs.  

She worked in forges, handling fire, or carried meals deep into the mines.  

It didn’t matter. The harder the work, the better.  

Physical exhaustion kept her mind from wandering.  

She pushed her body to the limit, leaving no room for other thoughts.  

It was ironic, using physical suffering to find a semblance of peace for her mind.  

***

“Hmm~, hmm~.”  

That day, Lyla was in an exceptionally good mood.  

On her way back from delivering food to the mines, she had discovered some herbs.  

And these weren’t just any herbs—they were rare ones that only grew in the North.  

‘You really won’t sell it to me? You’ll regret it! You won’t get this price anywhere else.’  

An herbalist had offered her a generous price, but Lyla, after confirming the herb’s efficacy, ran straight home.  

If her father took this herb, he might survive the winter.  

‘Just wait a little longer, Father!’  

Lyla carefully prepared the medicine and brought it to her father.  

Indeed, the herbalist had been right. After consuming the herb, her father’s dull eyes began to regain their vitality.  

A few days later, he could even walk without assistance.  

It was a happy change.  

And that happy change became the problem.  

While wandering around the house on his own, her father happened to see his son wrapping his chest with bandages.  

It didn’t take long for a parent to recognize a child they thought had died.  

“Lyla?”  

“Ah, Father!”  

Startled, Lyla hurriedly dressed.  

“Lyla… what on earth were you thinking?”  

Her father’s face slowly contorted.  

His skin turned pale again, his empty gaze lost focus, and his legs trembled.  

Lyla hugged her collapsing father, but unable to bear his weight, they both fell to the floor.  

She wrapped her arms around him and desperately shouted to keep him conscious.  

“Father! Stay with me! You can’t leave me!”  

“All this time… pretending to be Lyle… cough, cough! Gah!”  

Her father began coughing violently, as if he would die at any moment.  

The last time their eyes met, her father’s were filled with tears.  

But he didn’t even have the strength to cry.  

He left her with only these words before he passed away:  

“I’m sorry, my daughter.”  

What on earth… was he so sorry for?  

***

Lyla was left alone.  

The enormous debts incurred from her father’s treatment were barely repaid by selling the Earl’s estate.

She was thrown into the world with nothing.  

Sleeping in a corner of the square, she was discovered by the guards and had to flee multiple times. Once, she was so hungry that she joined the beggars to beg for food.  

‘If only Lyle were alive.’  

Lyla sat with her back against the corner of a building, staring blankly into space with hollow eyes. She no longer had the strength to blame anyone. All that remained were regrets and self-reproach.  

‘Why did I have to survive…?’  

Her father had died because of her. If her identity as Lyla hadn’t been discovered, he might have lived a few more months, or even years.  

Lyle should have been the one to live.  

Unlike her, Lyle was strong and courageous. He would have taken responsibility for their father and preserved the family. He wouldn’t have wavered so weakly like she did.  

Lyla buried her face deep into her knees.  

Perhaps it would be better to die than to cling to life so miserably. At least inside a coffin, she could rest in peace.  

She wished she could sleep peacefully for just five hours. Ideally, in a warm bed with a cozy blanket. And when she woke up, she wanted to warm herself with a bowl of hot soup.  

‘Maybe I should sell the title.’  

Not long ago, Lyla’s uncle had come to see her when she was dressed in rags and living on the streets.  

He proposed that if she declared herself dead and handed over the title of Earl, he would provide her with a monthly allowance.  

In truth, the title of Earl was useless to her as a woman. She could stop her clumsy disguise as a man and live as a woman again.  

But if she did that…  

‘I wouldn’t be able to use the name Cardia anymore.’  

Lyla was already considered dead. If her identity as Lyla was revealed, her uncle would exploit that fact to cut off her financial support.  

If that happened, the Cardia family would completely disappear from the world. Her father would forever be remembered as a coward, and her mother and brother…  

Ah, how unjust it was.  

It was unbearably frustrating.  

How pathetic was she, unable to do anything!