~Chapter 2~
Even though I said it out loud, I still couldn’t believe it.
Going back to the past? That was ridiculous. It made more sense to think this was just a dream.
But the surprises didn’t end there.
Suddenly, a sharp pain filled my head, and I clutched my head tightly.
I was flooded with knowledge I had never encountered in my entire seventy-three years.
“New employee, work hours, smartphone, crosswalk, and… car accident.”
I collapsed to my knees in confusion, but only for a moment.
Finally, everything became clear.
“I’ve been reincarnated.”
My hands trembled as the realization struck me like lightning.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my shaking body.
Then, I pulled the bell next to my bed with all my strength to call for a servant.
After a while, a maid came in.
She was a young girl of seventeen with brown hair and brown eyes.
She looked familiar to me.
“Mary?”
Old memories began to resurface.
Mary was the maid who helped me and my son Bliss after we were kicked out of the Arista Marquis family estate due to the scheming of the retainers, right after my husband’s funeral.
Mary spoke cautiously.
“Did you call for me, Madam?”
“What day is it today?”
“Excuse me?”
“I know it’s spring, but what’s the exact date?”
“Madam, are you alright? Today is the funeral of the late Marquis, isn’t it?”
Mary’s voice was full of concern.
At that moment, I accepted everything I thought had been a dream.
The reflection of the young woman in the mirror with no wrinkles was me.
The woman in the mirror had grayish-silver hair and pale blue eyes.
She looked shabby, having neither eaten properly nor dressed well.
I muttered to myself to organize my thoughts.
“So, to sum it up, I died on Earth, was reincarnated as Charlotte D. Arista in the Baskervina Empire, and after being murdered by Bliss, I’ve returned to the day of my husband’s funeral.”
How could this be?
I held my face in my hands, feeling completely lost.
Mary noticed something was off and asked again.
“Madam, are you feeling alright? Should I call the doctor?”
“No, there’s no need.”
“But you don’t look well…”
“I said I’m fine. Now go.”
“Madam?”
“Hurry!”
I practically pushed Mary out of the room.
As soon as she was gone, I collapsed against the closed door.
“Being reincarnated and remembering my past life is one thing…”
But my throat felt tight like I couldn’t breathe.
I still couldn’t believe that Bliss had poisoned me.
Yet the anger in my chest was undeniable.
I would never forget it, not for as long as I lived.
My son looked down at me with that smile as I writhed in pain on the floor—laughing as I died.
The son I loved more than anything in this world was happy at my death.
As I silently sobbed, filled with betrayal and rage, I felt incredibly pitiful.
Of course! How had I lived all these years?
“I became a widow at 28, struggled endlessly to make Bliss a duke, went through so much hardship raising him alone… and for what? Why should I have died like that? Why?!”
Overcome with frustration, I pounded my chest with my fist, unable to bear it.
Tears streamed down my face, hitting the floor like heavy raindrops.
“Bliss! Even though I didn’t give birth to you, you were always my son! How could you? How could you kill me with your own hands?!”
I sobbed uncontrollably, barely able to breathe, but then I made a vow.
I would never die so pathetically again.
And I decided right there and then that I would get my revenge on Bliss.
Yes, revenge. As soon as possible.
“I’ll show him!”
I stood up, still fuming, and flung open the door.
Mary hadn’t gone far. She must’ve been worried about me.
I called out confidently.
“Mary! Go and bring Bliss here!”
Without a word, she nodded, clearly understanding my mood.
How long did I wait?
Soon, little footsteps entered the room with Mary.
It was an eight-year-old boy.
The child looked like an angel from a church painting.
His golden curls, blue eyes, pale skin, and plump cheeks were exactly like that.
But I felt strange.
This wasn’t the Bliss I knew.
The Bliss I remembered was a strong, imposing Duke in his fifties.
Raising him had been my life’s work.
‘And that son killed me?’
Just then, the boy spat on the ground in front of me.
“Ugh, Charlotte. Why did you call me?”
I froze for a moment.
But Bliss’s bad attitude didn’t stop there.
“Tch. Are you going to lower your gaze or not?”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“Hah, my son. No wonder you grew up to kill me… You were always like this, and I was the fool for feeling sorry for you.”
“What are you mumbling about? Are you crazy?”
I marched straight up to him and smacked him hard on the backside.
Before my return, I’d never have dared do such a thing.
No matter what trouble Bliss caused, I had always raised him with nothing but love.
Only now, I saw the truth.
This child was rotten from the start.
Look at him now.
Every time I hit him, he cursed and swore at me, telling me to die, that he’d throw me away, that he’d get revenge on me.
My clever little son.
He knew just how to break my heart with the cruelest words.
But this time, I wasn’t having it.
I was furious, but also thankful to God for giving me a second chance.
I was no longer the soft-hearted marchioness I once was.
Just wait and see. This time, I won’t sacrifice anything for anyone!
And…
“Bliss Arista! Are you going to live your life properly or not?!”
***
That afternoon, I finished preparing for the funeral.
I wore a black dress and veil, though they were cheap and old.
Despite the Arista family’s wealth, I was too poor to afford anything better.
I was 28, and so broke I couldn’t even get a proper black hat.
As I finished dressing, Mary came in.
“Madam, the young master says he won’t attend the funeral.”
“He must be too upset to calm down.”
I said it calmly, but my lips trembled in anger.
‘Upset, my foot. He’s just sulking because I spanked him!’
But I wasn’t surprised.
Even before in my past life, Bliss hadn’t attended his father’s funeral.
Back then, I’d excused it, saying it was because he was too young and in shock.
‘Not this time!’
I knew how much criticism Bliss would face later for not attending the funeral.
And not just Bliss. I was blamed too.
I remembered the gossip from a banquet long ago.
Their words still stung.
***
“The Arista family turned out like this because of that woman, the former Marchioness. How could a mother raise her child like that?”
“I heard the Duke didn’t even attend his father’s funeral. What a disgrace.”
“Well, the woman isn’t even his real mother.”
“Of course. If she were, would she have raised him like that?”
***
Bliss’s mistakes were blamed on me. It was unfair.
‘What did I do wrong?’
Raising a child isn’t entirely in the parent’s control.
I tried my best to teach Bliss properly.
‘How was I supposed to stop him from growing into a spoiled brat?’
The amount of tears and sweat I shed raising him could fill an entire gym.
‘It’s unfair!’
Who were they to judge me? They were just as troubled by their own children!
Anyway, I went to find Bliss myself.
As expected, he had locked himself in his room.
Knock knock.
Before I could even speak, Bliss shouted from inside.
“I’m not going to the funeral! I won’t go! And if you ask again, I’ll rip your mouth off, you stupid maid!”
He must’ve mistaken me for Mary.
But seriously—
‘Dear God, is that really what an elementary school-aged child should say?!’
I felt a bit dazed, and after counting silently to three, I turned the door handle.
I was determined to drag Bliss out, even if I had to force him.
But the door was locked.
I heard the handle rattling uselessly, and then Bliss started laughing from inside.
“Ha, ha! You idiot! Fool!”
“What kind of idiot calls someone else an idiot?!”
“Charlotte?”
“…Don’t call me by my name so carelessly when you’re out of your mind!”
“No! Don’t come in! Just wait! When I grow up, I’ll beat you too!”
It seemed that for the first time in his life, Bliss was really angry at the love his mother had for him.
Well, I regret it too.
After all, it wasn’t the 8-year-old Bliss who killed me—it was 53-year-old Bliss. And I know my son very well.
If he were truly stubborn enough to break his spirit, I wouldn’t have suffered so much raising him.
Besides, whipping a child isn’t a good idea.
Contrary to what many parents think, the parent-child relationship can one day reverse.
I vowed never to beat Bliss again.
Then I angrily struck the door handle of the room with the silver candlestick mounted in the hallway.
Sure, breaking property is still violence, but what can you do?
After all, reality is far from ideal.
“And right now, I must attend my late husband’s funeral first.”
Hmph.
Anyone who complains can wait until they’ve raised a 53‑year‑old son who never listens to his mother!
‘I can’t endure this hell twice on my own!’
Before I knew it, the door handle was completely shattered.
I threw the now-useless silver candlestick on the hallway floor and, with a burst of anger, kicked open the broken door and stormed in.
The moment I entered, I saw Bliss’s bedroom, which was so huge it was hard to take it all in.
His room was many times larger than my own miserable room, decorated with all sorts of expensive and beautiful things.
‘It really shows—the late Marquis cared nothing for his wife but adored his son.’
Startled by my sudden appearance, Bliss, who was lazily sprawled on his bed, sat up in shock.
He hadn’t even changed out of his mourning clothes yet.
The look on my only son’s face was deeply hurt.
“Keep hitting me, you fake mother! I’ll pay you back when the real mother gets her turn!”
