“What now?! If the Duke finds out, we’re all dead!”
Panic spread through the hallway.
“Are you okay?”
A pleasant but unfamiliar voice accompanied the concern.
Eatrith, who had been silently watching the stunned maids slumped in shock, turned her gaze toward the direction of the voice.
Under the morning sunlight spilling through the window stood a boy about her age.
The first thing that caught her eye was his fluttering, pale pink hair—like cherry blossoms in full bloom.
“Yes. I’m all right.”
Who is he?
Her brows furrowed slightly without her realizing it, as she failed to recognize him. The boy’s eyes shifted in an odd way at her expression.
Eatrith, who found herself staring into animal-like, glinting lemon-colored eyes, finally remembered who he was.
Louis Eurean.
‘If I recall correctly, the son of Marquess Eurean.’
Marquess Eurean was the master of the Mage Tower, commanding a multitude of powerful mages. His house had long been known for producing exceptional archmages.
Which meant this boy was none other than the future marquess—and future archmage—Louis Eurean.
“…”
But that was all.
The Eurean family had always been known for maintaining strict neutrality.
‘Though, that was always just a public front.’
In reality, they were quick to identify which faction held the power and maintained friendly relations accordingly.
The true reason the Eureans remained a powerful lineage wasn’t just their magical prowess—it was their political acumen.
Because of that, mages were often spoken of as untrustworthy.
‘So this time, they’ve decided to align with House Bellanel?’
Or perhaps Louis was simply a friend of Heddon’s—the one who was already being falsely hailed as the next duke.
From the perspective of Eatrith, a knight who had once sworn an oath of loyalty, the behavior of mages lacked any sense of honor.
It was no surprise she held little fondness for the Eureans.
Knights and mages were fundamentally different—especially in how they viewed loyalty.
Even if her own loyalty had been placed in the wrong person and led to her death.
“…”
Louis just looked at her in silence.
The silence dragged on, and with nothing more to say, Eatrith turned to leave.
“Wait.”
“What is it?”
The soft touch brushing her sleeve made her sharply pull her arm away.
The gesture might have seemed rude, but the boy who resembled cherry blossoms only smiled brightly and pointed downward.
“The floor.”
Scattered shards glimmered in the sunlight, lying broken atop the crimson carpet.
“Come this way.”
He reached his hand out again with a warm smile.
“There’s glass—you’ll get hurt.”
At his words, Eatrith glanced between his outstretched hand and her own worn-out shoes.
Her soles were so thinned out it was almost better not wearing shoes at all. Still, her expression didn’t change.
“I’m fine.”
It was a short, flat refusal.
She walked past him, stepping carefully to a spot where there were no shards.
Louis’s expression subtly shifted again at her unwavering demeanor. She could feel his soft, sharp gaze following her.
Eatrith sensed his growing curiosity, but she didn’t speak first. Of course not.
‘I’m not curious about you.’
Before her regression, she hadn’t learned much about Louis. But she remembered suspecting he was quite close to Heddon and Muriel.
They had sent him invitations without fail whenever House Bellanel hosted a banquet.
‘A Eurean mage—and Heddon’s friend. That tells me everything I need to know.’
And if he wasn’t one of their friends, but someone simply trying to curry favor with House Bellanel, then he was even more shallow.
Either way, she had no interest in dealing with him.
When their eyes met again, Louis smiled brightly, folding his eyes into a charming crescent.
It was the kind of smile that could melt glaciers—yet to Eatrith, it seemed frivolous.
‘Of course. Just as I thought.’
So this pink-haired boy must be the latter. One of those shallow, loud-mouthed types.
“Well then, I’ll be going.”
“Oh—wait, you’re leaving already?”
“What is it now?”
His persistently cheerful voice tugging at her back was starting to get annoying.
She was tired. Arta’s nagging, Vivian’s provocation—and now this. All on the first day of her return.
“You speak like a knight.”
Louis’s eyes gleamed with interest.
‘That’s true… not exactly how a child should speak.’
Her current speech wasn’t at all what you’d expect from a young noble girl.
Eatrith had spent fifteen years wielding a sword. Naturally, she was more familiar with uniforms than dresses, gear than jewelry, and blunt words over delicate ones.
“So, do you have a problem with that?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait! Do you know where Yuri’s room is?”
She frowned at the boy who again stepped in front of her—but then paused.
That single name from his lips stirred an unpleasant memory.
‘Yuri’s room.’
It was the name of a grand hall located in the southern wing of the ducal estate.
Though the glittering crystal chandeliers and golden floors were well-known, the most beautiful feature was the glass walls that surrounded it.
Thanks to the flawless, clear glass, one could see the outdoor gardens in every season from inside the vast hall.
Yuri’s Room was the symbolic heart of House Bellanel, where important banquets, heir training, and ceremonial dinners took place.
‘Which meant that, as a bastard, it was a place I was never allowed to enter.’
Eatrith had lived in House Bellanel for over ten years. But she had only entered Yuri’s Room once in her life.
The maids would chatter about how beautiful the hall looked whenever the seasons changed. In spring, it was said to be painted with flowers, and in summer, filled with lush greenery.
‘Even the maids who cleaned the place were allowed inside. But I never once was.’
A bitter smile crept across Eatrith’s face.
Even the one time she had been there was hardly a pleasant memory.
She had been around seven years old, and her room had run out of firewood.
Wandering in search of an unused room that might still retain some warmth, she had unknowingly stepped into Yuri’s Room.
—Wow…
The moment she saw it, she had gasped in awe.
There hadn’t been any warmth there either, but the sight alone had made her forget the cold.
She immediately understood that all the praise from the maids hadn’t been exaggerated.
‘It really was like stepping into a world enchanted by snow-white magic.’
The little girl had stood alone, watching snowflakes fall like flowers in the vast white hall, completely entranced.
Until nine-year-old Heddon and his father, Joseph, discovered her.
—Father! Isn’t that Eatrith?
—What?! How dare that brat step foot in here!
Terrified by the heavy footsteps stomping toward her, Eatrith backed away—but it was useless.
Joseph seized her by the scruff and dragged her out of the room.
—Please, I can’t breathe…!
His grip choked her soft throat and delicate skin.
—This is not a place for filthy wretches of unknown birth like you to defile!
Eatrith’s eyes welled up with tears from the pressure of Joseph’s angry hands.
As she was dragged away, she looked pleadingly at Heddon for help.
But he remained silent, unmoved.
Even as she was thrown roughly into the wall, Heddon didn’t say a word.
—Don’t you dare try to step foot in Yuri’s Room again! My brother won’t tolerate it either!
At that final threat, she was too scared to lift her head. Every time Joseph invoked the name of Duke Kaidel Bellanel, she always felt the same.
Worse than the choking was the pain of the duke’s cold stare.
Kaidel was the kind of man who could make you feel worthless with a glance alone.
‘I never want to feel that way again…’
In the end, Eatrith hadn’t said a word that day. She just quietly nodded her head.
Only after Joseph stomped away did she whisper faintly.
—Brother, why…
Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you tell him I was there?
There were so many things she wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.
A sudden, instinctive fear of the answer held her back. And her instincts were right.
—Eatrith, Yuri’s Room is a place for members of House Bellanel and those granted permission.
Thud. Her heart felt like it had dropped through ice.
—Aren’t I part of House Bellanel?
“I’m your family too… just like Muriel.”
Looking up at Heddon with desperate eyes, she silently begged for affirmation.
But no answer came.
Instead, the corners of his lips twitched.
—You were the one in the wrong, weren’t you?
With feigned sternness, Heddon approached the fallen Eatrith and crouched.
Grabbing her chin in one hand, he forced her to meet his gaze.
—You stepped into a place you weren’t supposed to, didn’t you? Am I wrong?
His eyes were ruthless, demanding her agreement like a bird pecking its prey to death.
Eatrith, pinned by his gaze, clutched her skirt tightly.
The fabric was thin and worn, the cold biting through it—but her hands were clammy with sweat.
“…Yes.”
Only when Eatrith gave the answer he wanted did Heddon smile faintly.
—Right. So you just need to be more careful from now on.
—I’ll speak to Father for you.
—Thank you… Brother.
Eatrith pressed her lips together tightly, holding back tears. She convinced herself that the look of disgust she had seen in Heddon’s face earlier had just been her imagination. Back then, at seven years old, all she could say was thank you.
‘What a fool I was.’
Recalling that day, Eatrith let out a cold, dry laugh.
It was laughable now, how she had been pushed around by people who pretended to be kind one day and turned cruel the next.
‘Back then, I thought Heddon and Muriel were my entire world.’
But in truth, he was a coward who couldn’t even fight despite becoming a commander, and she was a two-faced traitor.
‘Come to think of it, didn’t Vivian say Heddon invited his academy friends over today?’
Yes—Vivian had mentioned that earlier.
At the moment of her death, Eatrith had longed to face Heddon again. She had vowed that if she ever did, she would drive her sword deep into his chest, just as he had ordered done to her liege.
In her previous life, Eatrith had died first. She had despaired at the thought that she would never confront Heddon again unless he too died and joined her in hell. She had raged at being unable to avenge Adrian.
‘But now, things are different.’
Now, she would take everything back—piece by piece, slowly and thoroughly.
‘Let’s start with a crack in his pride.’
By now, Heddon’s circle was likely gathered in Yuri’s Room.
With that useful bit of information in mind, Eatrith looked directly at Louis standing before her. A faint, unintentional smile curved her lips.
“I know where Yuri’s Room is. Shall I take you there?”
It was Louis’s turn to falter.
“Well… thanks. I’d appreciate it.”
His reply came a beat late, but in typical mage fashion, Louis quickly returned to wearing a relaxed smile.
Eatrith turned and began walking.
Then, suddenly—
“You can’t just walk away like that!”
It was a shrill cry, trembling so much it cracked like a bleating goat.
Eatrith turned her head slightly to find Vivian still sprawled on the floor, pale and limp. It looked like her legs had given out completely.
“…Was that vase really so valuable?”
Eatrith muttered indifferently.
Isobel, the duke’s youngest sister, had died giving birth to a bastard child.
‘That’s the only thing I know about my mother.’
Nothing else—so of course, she had no idea if the vase held any sentimental value.
She didn’t particularly miss her, nor did her heart ache with longing. Without any memories or traces, there was nothing to grieve.
‘The duke never told me anything about my mother.’
It was an unspoken taboo. She had never even seen a portrait, so she didn’t even know her face.
She could only assume she resembled her mother, judging by how Duke Kaidel trembled in fury whenever he looked at her.
So the broken vase meant nothing to Eatrith.
“You’re the one who broke it. What do you expect me to do about it?”
She responded coldly. She had only stated the obvious, but Vivian looked as if she had been slapped.
Leaving behind the shattered fragments and the two panicked maids, Eatrith walked away.
She could already picture her false brother joyfully boasting about Yuri’s Room to his friends, completely unaware.
Eatrith walked on without pausing, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.
—
“Still, are you okay?”
Louis asked as they neared Yuri’s Room.
Eatrith, who had been silent the entire time, turned to face him.
“You’re hurt—your forehead.”
Noticing his golden eyes flicker toward her forehead, Eatrith raised her hand.
“Oh.”
She touched the area and saw a faint trace of blood. With a casual look, she brushed it off as nothing.
It was far too minor to even consider an injury.
But the boy shook his head in disapproval.
“Leave that thing behind. You’re hurt—why are you still trying to clean?”
“That thing?”
Louis pointed to her hand.
Only then did she realize she was still holding the mop.
After living as one with her sword—sleeping with it, eating with it, moving with it—it had become so natural that she hadn’t noticed.
Eatrith moved to lean the mop against the wall, but then she froze.
What did he mean, ‘clean’?
“Tell the head maid and get your wound treated first.”
“……”
“Also, do they just let maids your age get bullied here without doing anything?”
Such kind concern. It would have been well-placed—if only it had been directed at the right person.
‘He thinks I’m a maid.’
Eatrith let out a breath of incredulous laughter.
Well, she was wearing clothes that had once been high-quality but were now faded, and shoes that were too small and badly worn.
And she was holding a mop.
It wasn’t unreasonable to mistake her for a maid—though the mop had really been used as a stand-in for a practice sword.
“I’ll take care of the wound myself,” she said, setting the mop aside.
“And I’m not a maid.”
“Then who are you?”
He looked genuinely clueless.
Eatrith sighed softly.
‘So I really was invisible in this house.’
Even the heir of the well-informed Eurean mage family didn’t know who she was.
More accurately, Marquess Eurean must have deemed Eatrith Bellanel not even worth gathering information on.
“I am…”
Just as she began to speak, someone else called her name first.
“Lady Eatrith, what are you doing here? If Young Master Heddon finds out, he’ll throw a fit!”
It was a maid pushing a cart carrying a tea tray. It appeared to be a tea set meant for Yuri’s Room.
“You know you’re not allowed in Yuri’s Room, right? If I don’t stop you from entering, I’ll be scolded by the nanny and Prince Joseph!”
Annoyed and afraid, the maid let out a heavy sigh and clicked her tongue.
“Come on now, step aside. Don’t block my way.”
Before Louis could even move, the maid reached out to pull Eatrith by the shoulder. Or at least, she tried to.
“Take your hands off me.”
Eatrith gave a short, sharp command.
That was all it took. The maid instinctively recoiled, pulling her hand back in a hurry.
It was definitely the same insignificant bastard child she had always known—yet something about those red eyes sent a chill down her spine. There was a pressure in her gaze, as if her eyes were drenched in blood.
Even Louis, who had been watching the scene with his chin rested on one hand, felt the tension vividly.
‘Eatrith Bellanel, was it? Come to think of it, I heard the Duke’s younger sister had an illegitimate child.’
Until now, he hadn’t paid much attention to the information. He never thought it was worth caring about.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Louis masked his surprise.
Eatrith brushed off the spot where the maid had touched her. Then, with a slight motion of her chin, she pointed at the elaborately engraved tea tray atop the cart.
“That for Heddon?”
“Yes.”
Having confirmed Heddon was inside Yuri’s Room, Eatrith tilted her head slightly and gave a command.
“Open the door.”
The maid squeezed her eyes shut, but she had no choice.
There was no way she could look into those eyes and refuse. She didn’t have even a sliver of that kind of courage.
The door to the grand hall, engraved with antique patterns, opened without a sound. Sunlight streamed out from the crack, reaching all the way to where Eatrith stood in the hallway.
“Of course, Prince Bellanel already wields magic!”
“He’ll surely become the academy’s top knight!”
Praises, so sickeningly sweet they soiled the air, spilled from within the room along with the light.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far… Not that you’re wrong. Hahaha!”
Among all the noise, only one voice pierced sharply into Eatrith’s ears.
“There he is.”
Eatrith murmured, having located her target with ease.
That idiotic face, grinning from ear to ear, stood out. The sunlight pouring in from all sides glinted off Heddon’s oily forehead and dirty blond hair.
Though the door had opened, the maid simply stood in the doorway without entering, drawing curious glances from within.
Eyes first turned to the maid holding the cart handle, but then—as if prearranged—they all landed on Eatrith.
Even in worn clothes, the girl with blood-red eyes looked as sharp as a honed blade. She didn’t seem like a living girl at all, but rather, a blade forged in iron.
“What’s everyone staring at…?”
When his friends suddenly fell silent and stared at the door, Heddon followed their gaze.
The moment he saw her, his face went pale.
His chattering mouth clamped shut like stone.
“What are you doing here!”
Those were the first words he managed to force out.
Eatrith met Heddon’s furious eyes and twisted her lips into a faint smirk.
“Ah, enjoying some lively chatter with your friends, I see.”
Eatrith stared directly at Heddon as she stepped into Yuri’s Room.
“Why is she here?”
Heddon, avoiding her gaze, snapped at the maid, but she only fidgeted, unable to respond.
Eatrith didn’t care either way. She crossed the hall slowly, lightly—one step at a time.
It was the moment the years-long ban was shattered by her own will.
‘So this is what I was afraid of all along.’
Her chest felt unburdened. The sight of Heddon’s face contorting in discomfort only cleared her head further.
In the silence, the sunlight pouring from above gently wrapped around her with every step. Her silver hair sparkled like a crown of white diamonds. One of Heddon’s friends let out a hiccup—the only sound echoing through the hall.
Finally, Eatrith reached Heddon and stopped in front of him, offering a bright, yet cold smile.
“Did I come at a bad time? You don’t look pleased.”
“You…!”
Heddon’s lips twitched with rage, but whatever words he meant to say were drowned by the murmuring around him.
“Prince Bellanel, who is this lady?”
“If she’s a friend of Lady Muriel, please do introduce her!”
The guests rushed forward with excited curiosity.
“Introduce?”
Heddon’s eyes flicked around nervously, unable to land anywhere. He clenched his jaw as he realized everyone’s curious eyes were fixed on Eatrith.
He glanced sidelong at her, wary of what she might say.
Eventually, Heddon opened his mouth. Eatrith watched closely to see what kind of filth would come spilling out.
“She’s a new maid.”
He said it without even a second of hesitation.
“Well? Get to it. Pour the tea.”
The demand was as shameless as it was absurd.
Watching Heddon impatiently signaling her to serve, Eatrith acknowledged it plainly in her heart.
‘Neither publicly nor privately have I ever been acknowledged as one of the Bellanel family. Not once.’
It was clear Heddon had never even mentioned her existence to his closest friends.
He had acted like family in appearance only—secretly ashamed, treating her like a stain.
‘Not a single noble here recognizes me.’
Why hadn’t she realized that before the regression?
It wasn’t just Heddon. Muriel, their parents Joseph and his wife, even Duke Kaidel—every one of them had treated her as invisible.
‘I’ve never truly been part of this family.’
From the day she was born to the day she died. Not for a single moment.
Her chest grew cold.
It was the moment she fully grasped that her entire life had been nothing but ridicule and the cruel mockery of playing pretend family.
And yet, she felt not a shred of sorrow.
Instead, her conviction blazed to life—hot, clear, and fierce.
That’s why, for once, Eatrith smiled brightly at Heddon.
“Why the joke, brother?”
Brother? Brother!?
There was only one daughter of the Bellanel household—Lady Muriel.
The shocked murmurs surged through Yuri’s Room like waves.
Staggered by the truth now exposed, Heddon stood frozen, unable to say a word.
His wide eyes clearly begged her to stop, but Eatrith had no intention of doing so.
“A pleasure to meet you all. I am Eatrith Bellanel, Heddon’s cousin.”
Unfazed, Eatrith finished her introduction with perfect grace.
These noble heirs flocked like dogs to gossip.
She had just thrown them the juiciest bait imaginable—now they would do the rest.
As she was thinking that—
“How dare you!”
Heddon drew his sword in an instant.
“Lady Eatrith!”
“Get back!”
Before anyone could stop him, Heddon charged, sword flashing toward Eatrith.
Louis, closest to her, rushed to draw his own blade, but it was too late.
Among young nobles still untrained in real combat, whoever drew first had the upper hand.
But Eatrith was no amateur.
Whoosh!
She moved a half-beat faster than Heddon.
She dodged his wild first strike and reached toward the belt of the nearest noble.
