“To be frank, I know that Your Grace has no intention of getting married.”

A clear, ringing voice echoed through the sitting room.

Duke Esperanza, Jack, let out a dry laugh. It was only natural. After all, standing before him was a nine-year-old girl with messy hair.

“…Young lady, you have quite the imagination.”

“Lucian Floyd.”

“……”

“Oh, or is it Lucian Cyclid now? You’re planning to pass on the dukedom to him and step down, aren’t you?”

The words that followed almost caused him to lose control of his expression for a moment. Barely maintaining his smile, he sneered subtly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you think I’d hand over my title to some insignificant collateral line?”

His words carried an unintentional hint of menace, born from the sense of crisis he felt.
It was a chilling aura that could make even adults hold their breath.

But the girl was unfazed. Her light blue eyes, contrasting sharply with her untidy light brown hair, were strikingly calm.

With eyes that seemed hollow and empty, she stared straight at him and spoke.

“If he were truly just a ‘collateral,’ then yes, I suppose. But he isn’t, is he?”

“Young lady.”

“My mother will be your shield, and I will be his.”

Jack, in a threatening tone, tried to silence the girl, but she hurriedly cut to the chase before he could. Fortunately, that was the right choice.

The murderous aura that had been so intense it seemed he might draw his sword at any moment subsided slightly.
He frowned and spoke in a confused voice.

“…What?”

“First. By marrying my mother, Your Grace can avoid external pressure regarding marriage. Bringing in a wife will bring up the issue of children, and that could jeopardize your ability to pass the title to Lucian.”

The girl, who had quickly laid out her reasoning, paused to catch her breath before continuing.

“And second. Lucian is, after all, officially a ‘collateral.’ If you suddenly name him as your heir, there will undoubtedly be opposition.”

“……”

“And to marry Your Grace, my mother must be unmarried and without children, correct? So…”

“…You want me to pretend to adopt you, as if to suggest that even a collateral like Lucian would be a better option?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Hah, look at this.”

Jack’s frown deepened further. Realizing at last that the girl was serious, he dropped his mocking tone and spoke gravely.

“If you do that, people will tear you apart. The capital’s people are crueler than you can imagine…”

“Does that really matter? If I can’t escape the Marquisate, my mother and I will just be used and discarded anyway.”

The fact that a mere nine-year-old could speak so calmly about death left Jack at a loss for words.

He stared at the girl, unable to describe the feeling that overcame him.

The girl, Laviela, met his gaze head-on and drove her point home.

“So please, propose to my mother, Your Grace.”

Because only you can save her.

*

1. The Circumstances of the Villainous Mother and Daughter

It was a day when the snow fell so heavily it seemed it might collapse the tower.

“Libby, please. Open your eyes…”

As always, I had a fever that day, and my mother sat beside me, endlessly shedding tears.

‘It hurts…’

Every breath I exhaled felt scorching hot.

Perhaps because of the fever, my mother’s crying face blurred and sharpened repeatedly in my vision.

It hurt so much, and I was so exhausted that I even wondered, ‘Am I really going to die this time?’

[What… is this!]

But ironically, at that moment, instead of death, fragments of memories from my past life returned to me.

***

“Libby, maybe you should rest a bit more? I can do the dishes on my own…”

“No, it’s fine. I’m all better now.”

I could feel my mother fidgeting nervously beside me. I casually replied and focused on washing the dishes.

Each movement of the sponge produced a squeaky sound as the plates became spotless.

I suddenly stopped and stared at the shiny plate in my hand.

The sensation of washing dishes, the sound, and even my reflection on the plate were all so vivid.

‘…To think this is the world of a novel.’

“Sigh.”

“Oh my, look at you.”

I sighed so deeply it seemed I might collapse to the ground. My mother laughed brightly, teasing me about how a nine-year-old could sigh like that.

She looked like the queen of fairies from a legend.

Her long green curly hair cascaded down to her waist, and her deep blue eyes were as beautiful as the night sea in a fairy tale.

‘Sigh…’

Seeing her only doubled my frustration. Fearing she might tease me again, I swallowed my sigh this time.

If the memories of my past life were real, then this world I lived in was the setting of a novel called ‘The Princess’s Man.’

And I was…

‘It still feels like a lie, no matter how I think about it.’

I was the daughter of the villainess in the novel.

Not only that, but I was a frail girl with an incurable disease, destined to die young.

“Cough.”

Was it because the thought was so absurd? I suddenly started coughing.

As I lowered my head and coughed, my mother’s face, which had been smiling just moments ago, instantly turned pale. She urgently grabbed my shoulders.

“Libby! Are you okay? Don’t tell me it’s happening again…”

“No, no. I just swallowed wrong.”

“Let’s get you some water first. Your throat might get hurt.”

Although my coughing subsided quickly, my mother nervously handed me a glass of warm water and fussed over me.

Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, looked so pitiful that it made my heart ache.

…How could someone so kind be called a villainess?

‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

It must have been a fever-induced delusion.

I dismissed the thought and tried to erase the absurd novel ‘The Princess’s Man’ from my mind.

But as if mocking my efforts, a few days later, a newspaper article appeared that matched the content of the novel word for word.

<‘Patrick Bryan Becomes Duke Bryan.’
A divine figure emerges in the face of defeat. Patrick Bryan (24), a mere soldier, recently saved the crown prince and countless soldiers during the war with Kikliss. He also slew the enemy’s commander, securing a dramatic victory for the empire.
Today, the imperial family has officially announced their decision to grant him the title of duke, causing a stir throughout the empire…>

Reading the article made my hair stand on end. I rubbed my goosebump-covered arms and glared at the newspaper.

‘So this is the male protagonist of the novel…?’

Because I already knew the contents of the article from the ‘novel’.

No matter how great his contributions in the war or his mastery of aura, public opinion overwhelmingly doubted that a mere commoner-turned-soldier would be granted a dukedom.

I had thought the same. It was one of the reasons my memories of the novel had seemed so unbelievable.

But was it because Patrick Bryan was the ‘male protagonist’ of the story?

He managed to rise from a commoner to a duke—a feat that would be impossible outside of a novel.

At this point, I had no choice but to accept it.

‘…Damn it.’

This was the world of a novel, and I had truly been born as the doomed daughter of the villainess.

***

‘The Princess’s Man.’

As the title suggests, the novel revolved around the love story between the female protagonist, the princess, and the male protagonist, Patrick Bryan.

The villains in their story were my maternal grandfather and mother—Marquis Diarmuid and Gretel Diarmuid.

‘To be fair, the real mastermind was the marquis.’

My maternal grandfather—or rather, I hated even calling him that.

Marquis Diarmuid, the biological father of Gretel Diarmuid, was a classic villain with an insatiable greed.

The Diarmuid family had originally been a barony running a small trading company.
Through successful business ventures, arranged marriages, and land acquisitions, they gradually rose to the rank of marquis.

But that was their natural limit.

A dukedom required noble bloodlines or exceptional honor—things the Diarmuid family lacked.

‘Patrick Bryan’s case was an exception. If he weren’t the protagonist, it would’ve been impossible.’

The Diarmuid family lacked both the lineage and the honor to become dukes. Instead, they had a reputation for being underhanded due to their relentless pursuit of power.

Thus, the current Marquis Diarmuid devised a plan to make his daughter—the villainess of the story—into a duchess.

If his daughter bore the heir to a dukedom, he could groom that child to influence the affairs of the ducal family.

But the marquis’s plan failed spectacularly from the start.

Because of me.

‘No one would’ve expected the villainess to have a terminally ill daughter as a hostage…’

My mother, Gretel Diarmuid, had been friends with the son of the marquis’s gardener from a young age. Their relationship eventually blossomed into love.

The marquis only found out about my mother’s pregnancy after the fact, and he was furious.

[How dare a lowly commoner defile my daughter?!]

Blinded by rage, the marquis killed my father and tried to get rid of me as well.

But my mother threatened to kill herself if he harmed me, forcing the marquis to send her to the northern region to avoid rumors.

And so, I, Laviela Diarmuid, was born in this tower.

…Technically, I didn’t exist on paper. My name was simply one my mother had given me.

Born in a remote, snowy region without even a midwife, I had been frail since birth.

When my illness reached its peak, it coincided with the male protagonist Patrick Bryan’s return to the capital.

[As a newly minted duke, he’s bound to have some weaknesses. If played right, securing the position of duchess should be easy.]

The marquis set his sights on Patrick Bryan and the newly established Bryan dukedom.

Unlike other proud dukes, Patrick Bryan, having just become a duke, was in desperate need of funds and political support to stabilize his position.

The imperial family wouldn’t provide generous rewards beyond the title, and the capital’s nobles harbored subtle resentment toward a commoner-turned-duke.

The marquis exploited this opportunity.

[If you want to save your child, do as I say.]

Using me as leverage, he forced my mother into an engagement with Patrick Bryan.

Thus, my mother became the duke’s fiancée under the marquis’s orders, with no choice in the matter.

From there, everything spiraled into disaster.