Chapter 4

To be honest, the past few days while the young lady had been bedridden were the most peaceful since Lou had come to the Ducal household. But now that the young lady had regained consciousness, it seemed that peace would end today. Unaware that her thoughts were showing plainly on her face, Lou approached Iana with an awkward,”Hehe,” laugh.

“What did you do to my room?”

Lou’s forced smile froze instantly. Before entering this room, she had braced herself by considering dozens of possibilities. But none of them included the Young Lady asking such a question. What should she do? Lou looked around with a tearful face and said,

“The room is just as it was, Miss. There’s no way I could dare change your room as I please.”

“Miss?”

Alis’s expression grew even more frightening.

‘No matter how easygoing I may seem, how dare she make light of me and mock me!’

Alis ground her teeth.

When she was younger, she had been too busy making a living to pay any attention to her appearance. Alis, who had only been a distant relative of the Marquis Remaxion, had inherited the Marquisate because, even if it was just an empty shell, the title would help her establish a merchant guild. Maintaining that title did cost a fair amount, but Alis’s judgment had not been wrong. Those who had dismissed her for being a woman or a minor noble without a title would, at least in front of the name Marquis Remaxion, bow their heads and show her respect, no matter what they truly felt. It was not a bad deal at all.

Alis, originally of plain appearance, did not put much effort into her looks even after becoming a noble. However, she never married, and since she had not become the Marquis’s wife by marriage, most nobles nonetheless called her”Madame” or”Marchioness Remaxion.”

At first, it wasn’t really out of malice—she simply looked old for her age, so people called her that out of thoughtless habit. But the more Alis bristled and refused to let it go, the more”Marchioness Remaxion” became a term of ridicule behind her back, and it eventually became her greatest weakness.

Alis had no choice but to take drastic measures. She could endure being mocked herself, but she could not allow her merchant guild’s reputation to be tarnished. She could not let the business she had built with her own sweat and blood become a laughingstock because of her.

Alis ordered harsh punishment for anyone who called her”Marchioness Remaxion” instead of”Marquis.” She cut off business, blocked financial support, and investigated even the most distant relatives to find ways to torment them. She used every petty, underhanded, and dirty trick she could think of—methods unfit for noble lips. Alis had always lived that way, and she saw no reason to change just because she became a Marquis. Nor did she think it was wrong. After all, hadn’t people treated her the same way when she had no money, power, or title?

The result was a resounding success. Now, no one dared insult her with”Madame” or”Marchioness Remaxion.” They called her”Your Lordship” or”Marquis,” bowing deeply to show their respect. At least on the surface, they looked at her with eyes full of love and respect. Of course, Alis knew they glared at her and gossiped behind her back, but she could laugh that off and accept it with a generous heart.

But now—what?”Miss?” Alis looked as if Lou had just spat in her face. When Alis glared fiercely, Lou whimpered and opened her mouth, uncertain what to do.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I won’t do it again.”

That very title,”Miss,” was the problem, yet Lou kept calling her”Miss.” Not even”Madame”—just”Miss”! Was she mocking her for being old now? She hadn’t even been called”Miss” when she actually was one. This was just… Alis was so at a loss for words that she could only glare at Lou in silence.

Lou swallowed her tears. It seemed she wouldn’t be going home quietly today. The young lady she served was staring at her with a thoroughly displeased look. Lou squeezed her eyes shut and knelt down.

Just then, a short knock sounded at the door, and it opened. There was only one person in the mansion who could enter Iana’s room without her permission: her father, Grand Duke Benoit Marseille.

“What’s going on this time, Iana?”

His voice was as cold as a northern wind. Alis turned her head toward the Grand Duke with an awkward, stiff movement, as if something in her neck was out of place. She looked as if she thought she’d heard something but couldn’t be sure.

“Iana Marseille, I asked what is going on.”

Alis forced her neck, which felt out of joint, to move and looked down at her hand. A pale, delicate hand rested gently atop the silk blanket. It was the kind of hand Alis had never possessed. She looked around her room, which she had thought only slightly changed, with unfamiliar eyes.

“It’s fun to observe, but I never wanted to become Iana Marseille.”

Alis muttered in dismay.

“That’s enough pretending to be ill. You have disgraced the dignity of a lady; therefore, you are to remain in the mansion for a month of reflection.”

Having said his piece, the Grand Duke turned and left the room. Alis stuck out her lip, thinking that, seeing how Iana seemed to have quite a temper, she must have been spoiled, but apparently not. If Iana herself had heard, she would have felt deeply wronged. Alis glared at the Grand Duke’s retreating back for a moment, then turned to Lou, who was still kneeling before her.

“Stand up. I misunderstood.”

Alis could hardly explain her situation in detail, and even if she tried, she doubted anyone would understand. With a look of utter annoyance, she got up. She still felt a strange ache near her heart. Lou, who was watching Iana rub her chest, cautiously spoke.

“Miss, are you alright?”

Whenever the Grand Duke spoke to her like that and left, Iana used to get very upset—throwing things, hitting any maids nearby, causing all sorts of trouble. But today, her attitude was so calm that Lou’s eyes widened.

“What? Oh! I guess it still hurts a little around here.”

Now that she was Iana, Alis brushed her hand over her chest as she spoke. Lou seemed to come to her senses, suddenly startled and jumping to her feet.

“Oh my, what am I doing? Miss, I’m sorry. You just woke up. I’ll call the healer right away.”

Finally alone, Alis slowly moved her body. She clearly remembered that right before she lost consciousness, Iana had also collapsed. But aside from a slight headache, her body felt fine. Well, after dragging around an eighty-seven-year-old body for so long, it was no wonder that a fresh, young body felt so light it almost made her laugh.

And her appearance—what could she say about that!

Standing in front of the mirror, Alis spun around once in place. Her fine black hair fluttered like a curtain, and her mysterious violet eyes looked clever. Truly, it was an appearance that matched Alis’s taste perfectly.

Alis, grinning foolishly at her reflection in the mirror, soon became serious. Now was not the time to be pleased. Of course, she had regained a beauty she had never possessed and a youth that had passed by before she knew it, but the experience of Alis Remaxion, who had lived for eighty-seven years, sounded an alarm against being carelessly happy. Nothing in the world was free, and things gained easily were lost just as easily.

She didn’t know how she had become Iana, but for all she knew, she could suddenly return to being Alis Remaxion at any moment. Alis frowned as she peered into the mirror. She could see Iana’s smooth forehead in the mirror creasing slightly.

“This might not be as good as it seems.”

Because Alis had bold, strong features, even a slight frown would make everyone around her shrink away and reflect on their mistakes. But with such a delicate face, even if she frowned a fair bit, she only looked a little sulky.

‘Iana Marseille.’

‘The Witch of High Society,’ ‘The Villainess,’ ‘Frederick Karl Gosling’s Sunflower.’ Alis recalled the notorious nicknames associated with Iana Marseille that had brushed past her ears.

“Hmph!”

Alis soon realized. To maintain even a shred of dignity with this face under a father like that, she must have had to throw quite a few tantrums. There was no way a man who lectured his daughter about the dignity of a lady right after she regained consciousness would have ever granted Iana’s wishes obediently. This lovely, pitiful girl likely learned to express her desires in that way because she knew no other method.

“By the way, if I’m in this body, then where has this child gone? Don’t tell me!”

Alis covered her mouth, stifling a quiet scream. Surely, she hadn’t ended up inside her own body—Alis Remaxion’s eighty-seven-year-old, worn-out shell. If so, that would be such an unfair trade that it’d be a crime worthy of the constabulary. How frightened must a young girl be to wake up like that?