Chapter 2
“I’m warning you—do whatever you want, but do it quietly. If you’re going to go mad, do it quietly. If you’re going to die, then die quietly.”
I was roughly thrown into the room.
The man slammed the door shut after casting a look of pure contempt at me as I collapsed to the floor, having lost my balance.
“…What the hell?”
The one stunned was me.
“I said, what the hell?!”
I lashed out into the empty air, the anger hitting me too late.
“Let me out! Open the door! I said open it!”
I pounded on the door with all my strength.
There was no sign of life on the other side—he must’ve taken precautions.
No matter how much I twisted the doorknob, it wouldn’t budge.
Exhausted, I sank to the floor. Nothing made sense.
After staring blankly into space for a while, I found myself drifting back toward the mirror.
The disheveled blonde woman I had seen earlier was still standing there, now looking even more of a mess.
I lifted my hand, and so did she.
I tucked my messy hair behind my ear, and the woman followed suit.
“…Ha.”
It was hard to believe, but by now I had no choice but to accept it—that wasn’t just some woman. That was me.
Just because the situation was incomprehensible didn’t mean I could sit here stunned forever.
First, I needed to understand what was going on.
“What’s the last thing I remember?”
Asking myself questions was a long-standing habit of mine.
Even if the obstacle ahead seemed impossible, breaking it down step by step would often reveal a sliver of a way out.
“I was home. I remember coming home from work.”
And then what? I must have fallen asleep without eating.
That had become my routine lately. The moment I had a second to breathe, dark thoughts crept in.
Especially that night—it had been the anniversary of my mother’s death.
“…Mom.”
I shook my head, trying to banish the face forming in my mind.
Had I died?
I’d seen it in dramas and novels before—a bizarre coincidence where two souls die at the same time and end up switching bodies.
They’d said Cecilia had attempted poisoning multiple times before.
Had she woken up in my body?
If so, then… I’m sorry. While Cecilia’s cause of death might’ve been poison, mine was probably overwork.
At least she had a grand house and a nanny who cried for her.
But Cecilia, waking up in my body, would find only a moldy, damp room where no one came, no matter how much she screamed.
“I hope you went straight to heaven.”
I whispered it under my breath, hoping to soothe the guilt of my unintentional trespass in her body.
“If this is a new life… I’ll have to adjust.”
One of the tragic gifts—or curses—of someone who’s suffered too much misfortune is that they can adapt quickly, no matter how unreal the circumstances.
I returned to the vanity I’d abandoned in surprise earlier and began searching through its drawers again.
They were overflowing with glittering jewelry.
I pushed the trinkets aside carelessly, searching for something that might give me insight into Cecilia’s life.
“Ow!”
A sharp pain—it was a paper cut. The culprit was a thick notebook.
“A diary?”
No wonder the vanity was such a mess. She must’ve piled on all the jewelry to hide this.
I flipped to the first page.
“Imperial Year XXXX, X Month X Day…”
I paused briefly, puzzled by the unfamiliar date format. But soon, I was swept up in the contents of the diary.
Cecilia had married Count Linton at sixteen. A marriage arranged by her parents for political gain.
“…There’s another woman in Edgar’s life.”
That one line made me stop reading.
It was enough to explain why Cecilia might have tried to end her life.
Love is just an emotion.
Like happiness, joy, sorrow, or despair—it should pass eventually. But love, uniquely, has the power to destroy.
Love brings happiness, love brings joy, love causes sorrow, and love drives despair.
Even experiencing one of those at a time is overwhelming, but love delivers them all at once—and never leaves, even when you’re done with it.
I finally moved my eyes to the next sentence.
“She’s an actress at the theater. Edgar sees her every day. I wonder what kind of face he makes for her. He always looks angry with me—does he smile when he’s with the woman he truly loves?”
“…He smiled, Cecilia.”
I answered, even though I knew she couldn’t hear me.
I knew—because I’d seen my father do the same thing.
The diary, though thick, contained nothing beyond Edgar.
Cecilia cried, despaired, and was crushed because of him.
On the rare days they didn’t fight, she would feel a brief glimmer of hope. But those days were few and far between.
“I don’t want to love him anymore. It hurts too much. If this is what love is… please, let me stop.”
The diary ended abruptly.
She must’ve poisoned herself again—and this time, she didn’t fail.
I closed the book and stood up. In the mirror stood a pale woman.
Still unfamiliar. Still too strange to accept as myself.
“Now, I am Cecilia.”
I repeated the words slowly. As I did, Cecilia’s emotions began to seep into me.
A woman who reminded me of my mother.
It wasn’t that I thought of Cecilia as a replacement for my mother. But I didn’t want her to meet the same end.
Not anymore—because now, I was Cecilia.
I was confident I wouldn’t fall into the trap of love again.
“Cecilia.”
I spoke to the mirror.
“Your wish has come true. You no longer love Edgar Linton, the Count.”
I was someone who couldn’t even love her own parents.
My mother resented me until the day she died.
If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have married my father. She wouldn’t have discovered his affair because of a photo I’d clumsily hidden. She wouldn’t have gone through a bitter divorce and ended up living a life at rock bottom.
She was right. I was like a cursed doll that brought misery to everyone around me.
My heart had turned to stone a long time ago.
Once I accepted that no one would ever love me, it simply hardened on its own.
“There’s no reason for me to cry over love again.”
The woman in the mirror smiled faintly.
* * *
I only woke once the sun was high in the sky. The room looked exactly as messy as I had left it yesterday.
No part-time job to rush off to. No blaring phone alarm to jolt me awake. For once, I had slept deeply.
Just as I was about to swing my legs out of bed, someone knocked on the door.
“Lady Cecilia, are you awake?”
The voice still sounded unfamiliar, but I now understood—it was my name they were calling.
“Yes. Come in.”
Thanks to Cecilia’s diary, I had a rough idea of how to behave.
Cecilia was the eldest daughter of the Rosette Count’s family.
I had to draw on every bit of my limited cultural knowledge to grasp this society of empires and aristocracy.
“You look well today.”
The woman who entered carefully examined my face.
Her gaze made it clear—she was checking to see if I’d tried to take my life again during the night.
“Countess Rosette has invited you to afternoon tea.”
She held out a silver basin filled with gently rippling water as she spoke.
Countess Rosette—one of the few people mentioned in Cecilia’s diary.
She was the Count’s second wife, who entered the family after Cecilia’s birth mother passed away.
She didn’t seem to be the stereotypical wicked stepmother people whispered about.
When Cecilia had made several desperate choices, it was Countess Rosette who came to comfort her—so the diary said.
“What about the nanny?”
As I washed my face, I suddenly recalled the woman who had sobbed so bitterly and asked the question.
Cecilia had been better off than I was.
Despite having kind people around her, she had still chosen to end her life.
Love truly wasn’t worth it.
“The Count sent her away.”
“I see.”
“You probably didn’t know, but yesterday was chaos—absolute chaos.”
The woman was quite the chatterbox. Without even being asked, she launched into a detailed account of everything that had happened while I was unconscious.
“When the Count arrives, just apologize. No matter what. Understand, Lady Cecilia?”
“…Huh?”
I blinked, not understanding her sudden advice. She clucked her tongue and spoke to me like I was a child.
“There’s no man in the world who only looks at his wife. Like it or not, you’re the mistress of the Linton household. Even if the Count frequents the theatre, he’s still a fine husband, wouldn’t you say?”
Ah. So this world was no different.
I’d heard the same nonsense in my old life.
When my mother said she wanted a divorce, my aunt came over to talk her out of it. Then my other aunt. Then my grandmother. And finally, my paternal grandmother showed up too.
After the divorce, my mother ended up regretting not listening to them.
Thinking back, I don’t think she truly wanted a divorce.
She probably believed that if she stood her ground, my father would be shocked into coming back to her.
“The Count is a man of reputation. He’d never formally be with a theatre actress. Your position is secure—so why provoke him all the time?”
This woman probably meant every word out of genuine concern for Cecilia.
“Right. You’re right.”
I agreed as I wiped my face with the towel she handed me.
“Pardon?”
She looked at me, startled by my unexpected response.
“I was foolish. But I’ve come to my senses now. So don’t worry.”
Cecilia wouldn’t love him anymore.
“Really?”
Tears suddenly welled up in the woman’s round eyes and streamed down her cheeks.
Startled, I offered her the towel I’d just used.
“Is that really something to cry about?”
“Of course! Do you know what people are saying outside? That the Count married the wrong woman, and that the Linton estate hasn’t known peace since!”
She vented her frustration, but I didn’t quite get it.
Wasn’t it Edgar who went to see the actress every day, even after getting married?
“They say because of Lady Cecilia’s behavior, the Count stopped coming home. That sly fox of a woman is acting like she owns the place, and it breaks my heart just to watch it all happen.”
“I understand. Don’t cry. That won’t happen anymore.”
The woman sniffled and smiled through her tears.
“Now that Lady Cecilia—no, the Countess—has made up her mind, I won’t worry anymore.”
Then she hesitated, glancing at me carefully.
“Are you… okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t even flinch when I called you Countess. Lady Cecilia used to throw fits about being called that, saying she didn’t deserve the title.”
“Countess?”
When I didn’t respond right away, she called again, as if trying to confirm.
I gave her a small smile, hoping it would put her at ease.
