Chapter 3

　　It was the past. She had returned. Again, she had survived. She had survived, but…

　　Tears streamed down Laila’s temples.

　　“Why?”

　　Her voice trembled violently.

　　“Why?”

　　She couldn’t believe it. No, she refused to believe it.

　　“Why? Why go to such lengths? What did I do wrong?”

　　Laila began to wail.

　　The person she had encountered on the forest path right before returning to the past again. It was that man. The hero who saved the world.

　　But to Laila, he was nothing more than the enemy who had killed her once before. That man had appeared before her again and taken her life. No matter how many times she thought about it, she couldn’t understand.

　　She had left the family so early and run so far away… But he had gone out of his way to track her down? And kill her again?

　　Then what was she supposed to do now?

　　If she couldn’t escape his vengeful blade no matter when or where she fled, was she simply destined to die? Just because she was a Hildegard?

　　“No, no! I don’t want to die! Why do I have to die? What did I ever do?”

　　Laila screamed as her tears flowed endlessly.

　　What exactly had she done wrong?

　　What was her sin? Not stopping the atrocities committed by her villainous father? Standing by and watching?

　　But that line of thinking had a crucial flaw.

　　It wasn’t that she didn’t stop him; it was that she couldn’t.

　　Laila never possessed the power to stand against a villain like her father. So she couldn’t dare to step forward, forced only to watch.

　　Was that truly turning a blind eye? Was it such a great sin? Enough that she deserved to die twice over? Enough that she couldn’t be left alive…?

　　“Or… or is it because I’m a Hildegard? Is that my crime? But it’s not my fault my name is Hildegard! I hate it too! It’s awful! If I could, I would have changed my name long ago…”

　　Change her name. Laila, who had been wailing frantically, froze. There was a way to change her name. More accurately, a legal means to replace her family name with something else.

　　I just need to get married.

　　Laila bolted upright in bed.

　　How did I never think of this?

　　In this kingdom, every noblewoman’s family name changed the moment she married. Once a married woman, she would bear her husband’s family name instead of her father’s. She had only ever considered the law to be an absurd discrimination, yet now it felt like a lifeline lowered into a deep pit.

　　Laila searched her memories. An old story came to mind: when an entire noble family was dragged to the execution block for treason, the daughter who had married early and taken her husband’s name was the sole survivor.

　　This is it!

　　Laila rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Perhaps because she had found hope, her tears stopped immediately.

　　The marriageable age for a noble lady was usually in her early twenties, but there were plenty of ways to marry earlier than that. The easiest was to someone—anyone—so desperate to marry her that he would insist.

　　Laila’s gaze swept over the full-length mirror. The girl reflected in the glass was extremely pretty despite her young age.

　　In the past, far from taking care of her appearance, she had intentionally dressed plainly to hide her natural beauty. She had judged that to live a long life, it would be best to avoid drawing attention as much as possible. But now…

　　Laila pulled the bell cord by the bed. Before long, a maid came into the bedroom.

　　“Did you call for me, Miss?”

　　“Please draw me a bath. And could you mix in a fragrance that brightens the skin?”

　　A few days after her nineteenth birthday, Laila held a grand wedding. Her groom was a count known as the wealthiest man in the kingdom.

　　There were two problems. First, the count was in his fifties. Second, he was marrying for the second time after being widowed.

　　It’s fine. To survive, I can handle this much…

　　All the way down the aisle, Laila felt she was going to be physically sick, but she managed to soothe herself by imagining a future where she lived safely to the age of ninety.

　　When she first saw the face of the count who would become her husband, she was met by a wave of repulsion, but she somehow managed to overcome that as well.

　　Thank goodness I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.

　　It was only because the wedding dress was too tight, but it ended up helping greatly.

　　And so Laila became a countess at a relatively early age…

　　“You wench! How dare you look your husband straight in the eye?”

　　Within half a year, she regretted it.

　　I should have thrown up back then.

　　She should have spewed it right in his face. If she had, then she wouldn’t be getting slapped in the morning for some ridiculously trivial reason.

　　It would have been better to be punished for ruining the wedding. At least that would have been over with right away…

　　Laila lamented bitterly. Her new husband had a very significant flaw she couldn’t have imagined before the marriage. Namely, his habit of hitting.

　　The count was a madman who would strike his wife at the drop of a hat. He only revealed his true nature half a year after they were married, and Laila could easily guess why.

　　After six months have passed since the marriage, a woman can only get a divorce with her father’s consent.

　　Marquis Hildegard had already received Laila’s dowry from the count. No matter what happened, he would never agree to a divorce between Laila and the count.

　　Thus Laila continued her unhappy married life…

　　Would it really hurt that much to be beheaded at the execution grounds?

　　One day, she suddenly resolved to obtain poison. There was a valid reason.

　　“Are we going to have to clear out another corpse from the mansion at this rate?”

　　“Shh, watch your mouth! Someone might hear.”

　　…Another?

　　They saw misfortune knows no bounds. The former countess, who was known to have died of illness, had in fact died for a different reason. She had been beaten to death by the count. She had been slapped and fell, and a table corner just happened to be right where her head landed.

　　Whether I die on the scaffold for murdering my husband, or get beaten to death by him…

　　If she was going to die either way, wouldn’t it be better to choose the former? So that night, Laila had resolved to commit her first crime in her life—murder, no less—and had managed to obtain the poison.

　　“Aargh!”

　　The count was murdered by an intruder who appeared in the bedroom in the middle of the night. While he might have been a stranger to the count, he was a far too familiar face to Laila. He was the man who had now appeared to take Laila’s life for the third time.

　　Laila stared blankly at the man’s handsome face as he revealed himself behind the fallen count. She felt a profound sense of injustice. But it wasn’t because the man had come to kill her even after she had married and changed her family name.

　　If you were going to come, you could have waited until tomorrow…

　　She had gone through hell to get that poison… Disappointed that she couldn’t execute the count herself, Laila closed her eyes before the vengeful blade could turn on her.

　　A belated sense of futility washed over her. Everything felt meaningless. Truly everything…

* * *

　　She had returned to the past.

　　Opening her eyes on the bed, Laila did nothing. She just repeatedly slept, woke up, slept, and woke up. How much time had passed?

　　“Miss!”

　　Suddenly, someone shook her awake with rough hands. Laila, who had just fallen asleep, forced her eyelids open.

　　“…Marie?”

　　She recognised the face of the person who had barged into her bedroom as her personal maid, Marie.

　　“Oh my goodness, my lady. What are you doing still sleeping? Please, get up quickly!”

　　Marie usually didn’t interfere with Laila’s schedule. Since she was five, sleeping and waking had become Laila’s own responsibility.

　　As if unable to understand Marie’s actions, Laila curled her body like a crescent moon and whined. “Why are you waking me…”

　　“Why? Do you really not know? The Marquis will be arriving at the castle any moment!”

　　So what. Whether he comes or not, what do you want me to do about it…

　　Laila thought rebelliously to herself before suddenly realizing.

　　Ah, right. I have to go to greet him.

　　There was an old unwritten rule in Hildegard Castle. Whenever the head of the family, Marquis Hildegard, returned from a long trip, his children were to gather together and welcome him back.

　　Laila had never once broken that unwritten rule until now.

　　She had been terrified of the punishment she would receive the moment she broke it.