Chapter 3
Since my own face was the one I’d practiced makeup on the most, doing Rosalyn’s makeup inevitably ended up making her look somewhat like me. Not quite twins, perhaps, but close enough to pass as sisters.
‘Let’s stop thinking such unlucky thoughts.’
Last of all, I put on the newly bought shoes.
It was the first time I’d ever worn shoes that fit my feet so perfectly. So this was how comfortable a shoe could be, when it neither pinched nor slipped.
The finishing touch was a necklace I’d swiped from Rosalyn’s jewelry box. While packing to come up to Herona, I’d seized the chance to steal a thin gold necklace — selling it wouldn’t have come close to covering the restitution, so I simply put it around my own neck instead.
‘Now then, shall I go out and enjoy a wonderful day?’
Dressed up like a noble young lady, I returned the key to my inn room and walked the streets, my newly bought little bag swinging back and forth.
I could feel the way people’s gazes toward me had changed.
Maybe it was because none of this felt the least bit real, but I felt like the heroine standing on a great stage, just like in the daydreams I used to have.
‘[Look over here, just once!]’
‘[I love you!]’
I used to dream of a future where the audience chanted my name and threw flowers, and I’d pick one up and bow gracefully in return.
‘When I first arrived in Herona, that dream had felt like it was right within reach…’
It seemed this particular stage wasn’t going to end so splendidly, though.
After blaming my thoroughly pitiful lot in life just once, I ate delicious cake at a lovely tea shop, read a book on the lawn, and took a walk along the riverside.
Why did the happy hours always pass by so quickly?
Finally, I stepped into a fine restaurant and ordered the “today’s special,” and as I tasted the wonderful dish set before me, I let out a small laugh.
What was the name of the dish again? I couldn’t even remember.
But I doubted I’d ever forget that incredible flavor, even in death.
I turned my head to check the clock.
It was now five-thirty in the afternoon. I had barely an hour and a half left before I had to return to the cell.
My plan afterward was to buy a bottle of strong liquor from the shop up ahead, down it in one go, and then throw myself off a bridge — so I didn’t think I’d be pressed for time even if I lingered here a bit longer.
But then people started murmuring.
‘What’s going on?’
Everyone was looking outside and whispering, so I craned my neck and saw black smoke rising in the distance.
“Sounds like there’s a big fire somewhere.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly something a woman planning to die in an hour and a half needed to worry about.
I was still debating whether or not to drink the coffee the staff had brought, tilting the cup in my hand this way and that, when it happened.
A group of police officers burst in out of nowhere, asked the owner for his understanding, and began scanning the room as if searching for someone. Their sharp gazes made my body stiffen.
‘Surely they haven’t come for me already? There’s still time left, isn’t there…?’
But as if mocking that hope of mine, they spotted me and came straight toward me. Watching them glance back and forth between a piece of paper in their hands and my face, I realized this must be what people called a sketch portrait.
Everything went dark before my eyes. Being dragged off here would be the worst possible ending! I shouldn’t have taken my time!
The man who looked like the most senior among the officers who’d reached me spoke.
“I’m Sergeant Louis Fidelo, from the second division of the police headquarters. You’re Lady Rosalyn Tessis, aren’t you?”
…I’m sorry, who?
I blinked, unsure how to respond, and he continued, his expression grim.
“You’ll need to come with us right away. There’s been a fire at your residence — everyone but you has died!”
“What?”
A shrill sound escaped me before I could stop it.
“What— what do you mean by that?”
“The exact cause of the fire isn’t clear yet. The flames seem to have spread abnormally fast, so it appears no one managed to get out in time.”
That’s not what I asked, you idiot!
If the entire Tessis household was dead, why were they looking for me?
Wait. Just now, they’d definitely asked if I was Rosalyn…
As I was gripped by a strange sense of unease, another officer, wearing a troubled expression, spoke to me gently in a low voice.
“I know this must be a great shock, my lady, but you’ll need to claim your parents’ remains so a funeral can be held.”
“M— my lady?”
“…You are Lady Rosalyn Tessis, are you not?”
In that instant, my mind snapped sharply into focus.
For some reason, these people had mistaken me for Rosalyn.
Which meant — if I became Rosalyn Tessis, and the dead Rosalyn became Emma Hampton… then I wouldn’t have to pay the restitution, would I? I wouldn’t have to die!
“Yes. I am Rosalyn Tessis!”
* * *
When the dying coachman at the scene of the fire mistook me for Rosalyn, I realized that the God who had tormented me all this time had finally taken my hand.
“M— my lady… Lady Rosalyn…”
Delirious with the pain of his burns, he called me by Rosalyn’s name, seeing my matching hair color and my vaguely similar features.
And Count Brough, who appeared soon after, didn’t hesitate to call me Rosalyn either — it seemed he’d never really looked at Rosalyn closely enough to know the difference.
Thanks to that, the police never once suspected me, and I — who had merely meant to bide my time and slip away — found myself, quite by accident, turned into a noblewoman.
‘To think I’d get to enjoy such luxury in this lifetime!’
Since the fire, I had been living under the care of the Brough earldom.
The room was splendid, the staff treated me with respect, and everywhere my eyes landed was so beautiful that it left me almost overwhelmed with gratitude.
But best of all, without a doubt, was the food. Being able to eat meat whenever I wanted — it felt like I’d arrived in heaven!
‘Having to leave this behind on purpose is such a waste, it kills me.’
Part of me wanted to lick the plate clean, but I forced myself to set down my fork instead, afraid it might give away who I really was.
Just then, Count Brough called out to me. He was said to be Rosalyn’s distant relative — I’d only learned the terms for such distant kinship after coming here.
If it took seven degrees of separation, wasn’t that basically a stranger?
Rosalyn had bragged so much about the Tessis family being retainers of the Brough earldom that I’d assumed they were actually close relatives.
“Now then, I know you haven’t fully recovered yet, but… it seems there’s to be a party at the McCallen earldom soon. It sounds like a good opportunity — won’t you come along?”
It had been twenty days since the fire at the townhouse, and fifteen since the funeral.
Count Brough apparently felt that was mourning enough, and was now pressing me to throw myself back into the marriage market.
The only reason Rosalyn Tessis was in Herona, the capital of the Kingdom of Darka, was for marriage — this so-called “marriage business,” in which the barony I now held would be traded for the wealth of some man’s family, or perhaps for even greater gains.
The moment I forgot that purpose, it would only be a matter of time before this kindly-seeming distant relative turned his back on me.
‘Even so, though. People mourn a dead pet for at least a month — and here they are telling me to get over my parents’ deaths in twenty days.’
It really did seem that seven degrees of separation made you a stranger after all.
But as things stood, I had no right to refuse. Even if I meant to run eventually, for now I had to go along with what they wanted, while doing everything I could to secure my own safety in the meantime.
“I’m not sure if it would be a bother for me to come along…”
“Nonsense! Don’t you worry about a thing like that.”
Then the Countess Brough, sitting nearby, chimed in as well.
“Rosalyn. Youth is short. Even now, your golden years are slipping away. You should catch yourself a husband while you’re at your prettiest.”
“That’s right, that’s right. Who knows — some good man, moved by pity for your circumstances, might come along?”
“In fact, I’ve heard quite a few people have taken an interest in you because of what happened. You ought to think practically about it.”
So they were saying my parents’ deaths had turned into an opportunity, were they?
I truly couldn’t fathom where nobles drew the line for their so-called morals. All that pretense of nobility and virtue, and yet here they were, telling me to be practical about this.
I supposed it was easy to say, since it wasn’t happening to them.
Since we were talking practicality, I figured I might as well press a bit of it back onto them, and so I spoke up.
“I understand. Though I’m sorry to say… all the dresses I brought from Tessis burned in the fire…”
“Oh my, where has my head gone! You didn’t manage to save any of them, of course. Goodness.”
Lady Brough looked flustered, and even in the middle of the meal, she called for the head housekeeper.
“Mrs. Thomson! Once we’ve finished eating, we’ll need to take Rosalyn to the dress shop right away, so please prepare for an outing.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She gave me a smile as well, and told me she’d take me out that day to have a few dresses made.
In truth, they had already provided me with some house dresses, simple outing dresses, and a black mourning dress — hand-me-downs from their own daughter, who had married and left the household.
I’d assumed the ballgowns would be hand-me-downs too, but perhaps because of what they’d just said aloud, they decided to buy me new ones instead.
‘They really do seem determined to make a solid profit off my marriage.’
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