007
The Countess miscarried after the Earl’s funeral had concluded, during her questioning. She may never have known she was with child until that moment.
“Getting agitated isn’t good for the baby.”
“My lady!”
Her clenched fists were trembling. It was quite an intense reaction.
Though the Earl had been old, he was still within the age where fathering a child wasn’t unthinkable. Normally, in cases like this, most people would at least consider the possibility—Could I be…? No, surely not… But the Countess hadn’t even entertained the thought of pregnancy.
I didn’t want to meddle unnecessarily, but now that I’d started, I decided I might as well see it through. A few extra words wouldn’t cost me anything.
“Whether you believe me or not is your choice. But if you don’t want to lose the child, take care of yourself. And if possible, you should inform the Earl. Assuming, of course, that it is truly his blood.”
No parent would willingly abandon a child once they knew of its existence. Who knows—perhaps the Earl wasn’t truly dead. That is, assuming he hadn’t been murdered.
“He is your maternal grandfather.”
She looked at me with a calmness that suggested she had regained full control of her emotions. But there were things she didn’t hide—or perhaps had no intention of hiding. Her gaze burned fiercely as it locked onto mine.
“Not the Earl. He is my grandfather.”
“……”
I could understand her reaction when it came to the child. What I said about the baby being the Earl’s bloodline had been clearly offensive. Her anger was justified.
But I couldn’t understand her being angry over what I called the Earl.
She seemed more upset about my addressing him as the Earl than about the implication that she had been unfaithful.
“Titles are a matter of personal choice, Countess.”
“Why do you all… why do you always refer to him that way…?”
Ah.
Now I understood. Now I saw why she wore affection like a mask, while concealing a blade beneath it.
Women in love were often the same—blind, irrational, and sometimes greedy. She was drawn to me because I resembled the Earl, and yet she resented that I received his attention simply because I was his blood.
She loved the Earl.
“By ‘you all,’ do you mean myself and the Marchioness?”
Her expression contorted, and she stared at me as if I were incomprehensible.
“The Marchioness? But she’s—she’s your…”
“To me now, family is no different from strangers.”
I cut her off.
Before I died, I had longed for my parents’ affection. I had craved the attention of my father, the Marquess, and yearned for the warmth of my mother, the Marchioness.
As Ji-ah, I had received all that love. A father who used to walk me home from school every day, afraid I’d get lost or hurt in the dark. A mother who packed endless side dishes, terrified I’d skip meals while away.
Now, the part of me that was Ji-ah was stronger than the part that was Beonne.
And to this version of me, my family—regardless of blood—were no longer family.
Too much time had passed. I had nothing more to say to her.
That’s far enough.
I had given her a warning. What happened to that child now was up to her.
If she took my warning to heart, the child would live. If not—well, then it would end just as before.
I didn’t wish for the child’s death. But there was nothing more I could do.
“He’s your grandfather! Are you truly never going to see him again?”
She called after me in desperation as I turned away. But I left her behind and stepped into the columbarium.
“Oh, my poor lady…”
When I returned after placing the urn inside, I was met by Nanny’s tear-streaked face.
“How heartless the Madam was… How is the young lady supposed to carry on all alone… sob…”
Even when the Marchioness had still been alive, I’d lived just fine on my own. But Nanny wept like the sky had fallen.
Two maids flanked her on either side, trying to comfort her.
This is exhausting.
A wave of fatigue hit me like a crashing tide.
I hadn’t even stayed for the entire funeral. Being a child, I had only attended on the first and last day. But even that much had worn down this young body of mine.
And honestly, I had no idea what those women thought they were doing in front of me.
I sat on the sofa, watching them in silence. The cushions embraced my back and hips with comforting softness. I found myself wishing I could fall asleep right then and there.
“Nanny, please don’t cry.”
“You’ll collapse if this keeps up.”
“You have to be strong. If you fall, what will our young lady do?”
This is getting absurd.
Either they didn’t realize I was watching, or they didn’t care.
Their attempts at comfort were laced with flattery, and the more they flattered, the harder Nanny cried.
“I have to stay strong… I know I do… but—sob—my poor lady!”
I’m not even that pitiful, okay?
Anyone listening in might think I had died.
Nanny had always had a flair for the dramatic, blowing even the smallest matters out of proportion.
Of course, the Marchioness’s death wasn’t a trivial matter, but her passing hadn’t impacted me then, and it still didn’t now.
Still, I understood why Nanny was heartbroken. She had grown up with the Marchioness, almost like sisters.
To feel nothing would’ve been a lie.
I understood her grief. That’s why, even as irritation crept in, I held it back.
For now, the drowsiness was stronger than my desire to scold them.
My eyelids grew heavy, slowly descending.
Sleep beckoned from the other side, gentle and sweet—a temptation impossible to resist.
“…You can’t.”
“Move! I have to see him—”
Voices arguing reached me in my half-sleep.
They say the heaviest things in the world are your eyelids. My mind was slowly surfacing, but the weight of sleep kept my eyes shut.
I didn’t feel any need to fight it.
So I let myself drift again.
—
If Nanny had truly needed me, she would have woken me already. But no one had made any attempt. That meant I could sleep a little longer. I was ready to surrender myself once again to sleep’s seductive pull. It was always dangerously alluring, and I would’ve gladly let myself sink into its depths—if not for the increasingly loud commotion nearby.
“Step aside.”
“My lady doesn’t wish to see you.”
“I’ll hear it from her myself.”
“If you persist, I’ll call for the knight.”
Nanny was arguing with someone. I tried to ignore them, but the voices grew louder and more agitated.
There was no woman in this house who could argue with Nanny. She had been the Marchioness Eliont’s milk sister and came to House Eliont as her personal maid when the Marchioness married. After I was born, she became my nanny and naturally assumed authority as head of the maids.
No one in the household dared defy her. The Marquess rarely involved himself in domestic affairs, and the Marchioness had little interest in the day-to-day running of the house. In reality, Nanny had run the household for years. Among the maids and servants, no one questioned her. The only people who could stand up to her were the Marquess, myself, and the steward.
Fighting with the Marquess was out of the question. And I wasn’t about to.
Which left only the steward.
But the steward was a man. And the voice arguing with Nanny belonged to a woman—and one I found strangely familiar.
I couldn’t ignore it any longer. With a groan, I forced my heavy eyelids open. Annoyance prickled beneath my skin.
“If nothing else, I’m her maternal grandmother. Surely that gives me the right to see her.”
“And someone like you thinks that gives them the right—!”
“What’s going on?”
I cut across Nanny’s words, stepping into the hallway.
I understood that she disliked the Countess, but openly disrespecting her was unacceptable. Whatever had happened in the past, the Countess was now a noble. For a commoner to speak that way to a noble was not just improper—it was dangerous.
“It’s nothing, my lady. You must be tired. Please, go rest.”
Nanny rushed over, blocking my view with her large frame and trying to usher me back into the bedroom. I sidestepped her and walked straight toward Countess Pison, who had been kept from entering by the maids.
“We seem to be meeting quite often today, Countess.”
“My lady!”
Nanny called out, her tone sharp with disapproval. It was written all over her face—she clearly didn’t approve of what I was doing. I ignored her, motioning toward the Countess.
“Don’t just stand there. Come in.”
The maids who had been blocking the Countess fidgeted nervously, darting glances between me and Nanny. I scowled at them, but they still hesitated, seeking Nanny’s approval instead of mine.
“My lady, that woman—”
“Who are you calling ‘that woman’?”
“M-my lady…?”
Nanny blinked, startled by the cold edge in my voice. It must’ve shocked her—this version of me was entirely unfamiliar to her.
Eight years. I had been Empress for eight years. In that position, dignity alone wasn’t enough. You needed presence. Authority. The ability to crush a person with your voice alone. The moment you appeared weak, especially to those beneath you, they would seize on it like a weapon. And they would cut you with it.
I had once known nothing but how to beg. Like a child whining for toys.
And people had indulged me. The more they pandered, the more entitled I’d become.
I never realized they were mocking me behind my back. I believed their expressions, their words, without question. I was special. Chosen. Of course they loved me.
I had no idea it could all be a lie.
And when the lie shattered, it was hell.
The mouths that once praised me now spat curses. The wealth and power I had given them were used against me. In that pit, I had to learn how to survive. Alone.
I still had power. And I had learned how to wield it.
A cold voice, an imperious command—those were the weapons of someone who could not afford to be weak.
They feared me.
At the very least, no one dared speak carelessly in my presence anymore.
That’s how I lived, as Empress, for eight long years.
“If you don’t plan to keep your mouth shut, then leave.”
I turned to Nanny, voice steely.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Once, I would’ve run to her defense without a second thought, like a child clinging to her skirts. But not anymore. No matter how cold I seemed, this was the better way—for her sake as well.
If the Countess made an issue of this, it would escalate. She was a noble. Nanny, a commoner. That gap mattered, here more than anywhere else.
If the Countess formally requested that Nanny be punished, House Eliont would have no choice but to comply.
Nanny had clearly insulted her.
And insulting a noble was a criminal offense of the highest order.
“M-my lady, how… how could you do this to me?”
She looked utterly devastated. Her lips trembled.
To her, I was still the child who had clung to her and obeyed her every word.
No wonder it felt like betrayal.
I didn’t want to waste time watching her fall apart. I turned to the two maids still blocking the Countess.
“You two. Take Nanny out of the room.”
“…Pardon?”
“My lady!”
Even with my command, they looked only to Nanny. That alone told me how deeply I’d been wrapped in her shadow.
I’d known, of course. But not how bad it truly was.
Back then, I couldn’t see any of this. But now—now I could see everything with terrifying clarity.
Because now, I was more Ji-ah than Beonne.
And Ji-ah knew how to look at the world with clear, unflinching eyes.
