Chapter 1

“Another drink here, please!”

“Oh dear, young lady. Are you sure you can keep drinking like that? You’ll make yourself sick.”

“It’s fine. I’m drinking because I’m going to die today!”

At the tavern owner’s question, thick with worry, Yvette smiled brightly and held out her empty glass.

Because of the pitch-black hood pulled over her head, only half of her face was visible.

“Still, don’t overdo it. It’s no good for a young person.”

“Yes, yes.”

Yvette nodded and let the owner’s words slide right past her.

Then she took the fresh glass the owner had brought and, without a moment’s hesitation, tipped the whole thing down her throat.

She drank so fast that the drunks around her whistled in admiration.

But Yvette paid the noise around her no mind.

The only thing that mattered to her right now was the glass in front of her. Everything else was meaningless.

After all, by tomorrow, they would all be things she would never see again.

“…Damn this life. If I had to be reborn at all, why in a body like this?”

Yvette’s face, bright with smiles until a moment ago, slowly contorted, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes before she knew it.

The drunks, sensing the shift in the air, quietly edged away from her.

At last, Yvette buried her face in her arms and wailed.

“I don’t want to die! Waaah!”

* * *

‘Yvette Blanche’ was an extra in the novel [Loving Fate].

An extra among extras, with no real page time, appearing only in three or four lines of description.

And even that description was absurd:

[Kerbel’s victims were far from few.

Because of the curse he laid on House Blanche, Yvette Blanche lost her life as well.

It was a curse: if she did not meet her destined partner by her twentieth birthday, she would die.]

That was it.

Yvette Blanche had been saddled with a ridiculous curse by a man named Kerbel.

And as if to prove it, a special tattoo was etched into her body.

A branch-shaped tattoo that started at her waist and climbed to her shoulder.

From the bits of knowledge she had picked up poking around, the magic was set so that flowers would bloom from the tattoo the moment she met her destined partner.

Which meant, in other words, that if the flowers never bloomed, she would die.

‘To be reborn in a body like this, of all things.’

Yvette thought bitterly.

It had been a week since she became ‘Yvette Blanche.’

She had been in an accident on her way home, and when she opened her eyes, she was inside a body she had never seen before in her life.

At first, waking up in this body, she thought she was dreaming.

But after about two days, she had no choice but to accept reality.

The reality that she had, in fact, become ‘Yvette Blanche.’

Once she accepted it, she worked hard to adapt to this new world.

She had worried that someone might realize she was not who she appeared to be, but fortunately, no one in the baron’s household suspected her.

If anything, they were kind to her to a degree that bordered on excessive.

‘And to think it was all because I was fated to die five days later.’

Yvette thought gloomily.

Who would have guessed she would possess this body a week before her twentieth birthday, of all times?

She still could not quite believe that death was right around the corner.

‘…What did I ever do wrong, to have to die twice like this?’

Yvette sniffled again.

Maybe it was the drink, but her feelings kept swinging back and forth.

She would be angry, then find it simply absurd. Then wretched beyond bearing, and then wronged all over again.

She wanted to demand to know what was going on, but there was no one to demand it of.

‘Talking about it would only waste my breath.’

Still hiding her face in her arms, Yvette heaved a sigh deep enough to cave in the floor.

Now only one day was left until her twentieth birthday.

With just hours to go until midnight, meeting her destined partner was next to impossible.

In the end, the only option left to her was to wait quietly for death.

‘I’m dying anyway, so I may as well drink until my nose twists and die.’

Staying sober would only make her miserable, so she would drink until she could not think at all.

Resolved, Yvette raised her glass high.

“Another glass here, please!”

* * *

Everyone has had an experience like that at least once in their life.

Waking with a start as nameless anxiety comes rushing in for no reason at all.

That was why Yvette suddenly opened her eyes at daybreak.

‘…Ah, my head.’

The first thing Yvette did upon waking was swear off drinking.

She clutched her pounding head and pushed herself up.

The blanket covering her slid down with a rustle.

‘Hmm, this blanket feels rougher than before. Did someone change it while I slept?’

Yvette, mid-yawn, stopped short.

It took several seconds after waking for her to register that something was wrong.

‘…Wait. My bed isn’t this hard.’

The moment the thought crossed her mind, Yvette’s face went visibly pale.

Not caring that her head was ringing, she shot up from the bed.

“Wh—what is this?”

Only after she had thrown the blanket off entirely did she realize she was wearing nothing but a thin slip.

That would have been fine if this were her own bedroom.

But unfortunately, Yvette was standing in a room she had never seen before.

Her mind, sluggish from the hangover, cleared in an instant.

Yvette clawed at her snow-white hair in dismay.

“Where on earth am I…!”

She forced the words out like a groan and looked around.

Even a quick glance told her this was no place a noble would stay.

She must have rented a room at some cheap inn nearby.

That part was fine.

It was more sensible than passing out drunk in the street.

The problem was that she had not rented the room alone.

“You’re awake?”

At the low voice from behind her, Yvette jumped on the spot.

Her mind went white in an instant.

‘I’m insane. I’m insane. I’m insane!’

She did not need to turn around to know the other person was a man.

‘Even if I’m dying tomorrow, this is too much. Does it make any sense to get drunk and cause a mess like this!’

Yvette bit down hard on her lip.

She had woken up after drinking herself silly, and there was a stranger in the same room?

There was only one conclusion to draw.

And at that point, Yvette stopped short again.

Something had struck her as odd.

‘…Wait. What time is it?’

Her gaze went to the window.

She had been drinking late at night.

But now the sun was blazing outside.

Unless someone had turned back time, that meant it was already the next day.

‘Which means today is my birthday…?’

Yvette looked down at her own hands and blinked slowly. Her pounding headache had vanished before she noticed.

‘Why am I alive?’

The curse on her was precise.

If she did not meet her destined partner before her twentieth birthday, she would die.

Yet somehow, she was perfectly fine.

‘I’m not dreaming, am I?’

Yvette shook her head.

Dreams were something only the living could have.

She had never heard of a dead person dreaming.

‘Then… I really am alive?’

It clearly said she would die if she did not meet her destined partner.

Just as Yvette was stewing over it alone—

A voice she had forgotten came up close behind her.

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

Yvette’s body went rigid at the sudden presence.

Only then did she remember that she had company.

‘Right. I did something reckless.’

She had been so stunned to find herself alive that she had nearly forgotten there was someone else in the room.

“Ah, sorry. There was something I needed to think about.”

Yvette cleared her throat once and turned around.

The water was already spilled; there was no scooping it back up, so she would at least salvage what she could.

But the moment her eyes met his, Yvette froze.

“So you finally look me in the eye.”

The nameless man smiled faintly.

That alone was enough to make her heart drop.

She had never been one to believe in love at first sight.

But the man before her looked capable of making anyone fall in love with him by his face alone.

Vivid features lay beneath pitch-black hair.

His sharply drawn eyes were a pale silver-blue, the pupils strikingly clear.

It was a gaze that seemed to pierce straight through a person just by resting on them.

Beneath that, his nose bridge ran high and smooth, and his relatively thin lips curved into a rising arc.

It would have been a mercy if only his face were handsome.

As if he had received God’s favor with his whole body, the man was a statue from head to toe.

‘To think a person like that actually exists.’

As Yvette stared, dazed, the man smiled brightly.

His relaxed response suggested he was used to being looked at.

“…Is there still something to see on my face?”

“Gasp.”