Chapter 4: The Villainess Regresses

“I knew it.
There is no such thing as a god.”

“Lady Claudia, I understand your grief, but a duke’s daughter must not speak so irreverently.”

‘Oh, be quiet.
I’m a “former” duke’s daughter anyway!’

Irritated at having the past brought up, Claudia shot a sharp glare toward the voice.

And when she saw the familiar face standing there, she was stunned.

“Why… are you here?”

“Tomorrow will be an early morning.
Your personal maid came to me in tears, saying you would not fall asleep.”

The head maid, her gray hair neatly tied back, looked even younger than the last time Claudia had seen her.

‘Wait, what brand of cosmetics is that from?
No, that’s not the point.’

“You were dismissed when Father brought his mistress into the house, weren’t you?”

The head maid, who had been expressionlessly urging Claudia away from the window and toward the bed, finally frowned.

“I do not know who told you such a thing, but no such fact exists.
Furthermore, it is noble custom to observe one year of mourning after losing one’s spouse.”

‘Yes.
That is why Father brought his mistress and Fermina to the estate exactly one year after Mother’s funeral.’

At the time, Claudia had despised her father from the bottom of her heart for not only having a mistress but also fathering a daughter the same age as herself.

And what made it worse was that he lavished affection upon the mistress and Fermina in a way he never had upon Claudia or her brother Virgil.

Just recalling it made her blood boil.

“Now then, many mourners will arrive tomorrow.
Though it pains you, Lady Claudia, you must greet them alongside Lord Virgil.”

Only then did Claudia realize she was looking up at the head maid.

By the time the woman had left the estate in her previous life, Claudia had already grown taller than her.

Confused beyond belief, she slipped into bed as instructed.

“Tell me, Martha… how old am I?”

Though she looked at her strangely, the head maid Martha answered without hesitation.

“You are fourteen.”

“…Mother has passed away, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.
It was the epidemic.
Shall I bring you some hot milk?”

“No.
Leave me alone.
I will rise properly tomorrow.”

Martha bowed her head and left the room.

The scenery visible from the bed was unmistakably her own chamber within the ducal estate.

‘What is going on?
I attended Helen’s funeral—’

She had clung to the gravestone in the rain and cried.

‘After that, I fell ill… ah, that’s right.’

Her body had already been weakened when she caught the disease.

It was not one typically associated with courtesans, but working in service meant constant exposure to epidemics.

‘I died of the same cause as Mother.’

In the end, no one was at her side.

It had been Claudia herself who had refused visitors, fearing she might infect them.

Just as her mother had died alone at fourteen.

‘Mother must have departed alone as well.
How lonely she must have been.’

At the very least, Claudia had felt unbearably alone.

Neither the luxurious furniture nor the glittering jewels had brought her any comfort.

‘…Does that mean the capricious god truly exists?’

Why had she died and returned to the age of fourteen?

‘If anything, I wish I had been sent back to when Mother was still alive.
Though I hated her back then.’

Her mother had been relentlessly strict in Claudia’s upbringing.

Martha had been the same.

As a child, Claudia had been convinced the two of them despised her.

Now she understood that the opposite had been true.

The opposite of love is indifference.

Had they truly hated her, they would have left her education entirely to tutors and never involved themselves.

Her mother had simply demanded perfection so that Claudia would never be looked down upon by other noble ladies.

So that she would not be dragged down by the existence of her father’s mistress and illegitimate daughter.

‘Judging by Martha’s reaction, Mother must have known about the mistress.’

It was not uncommon for male nobles to keep mistresses.

In a society harsh toward women living alone, it was almost a status symbol for a man of means to act as a patron in that form.

Often the woman in question was a widow struggling to survive.

In her father’s case, however, it had simply been the result of indulging in romance.

Etiquette and education were weapons for a woman.

Her mother and Martha had only tried to teach her that.

Just as Helen and the other senior courtesans had.

‘Mother, this time I will not make the same mistakes.
I will answer your love and start over.’

She closed her eyes and folded her hands over her chest.

Even if she was merely dreaming conveniently from a sickbed, she solidified her resolve.

‘At this age, Helen should not yet be working at the brothel.
I will stop myself from ever being sent there.
And Fermina… I will not allow her to have her way.’

The ignorant and foolish young Claudia was gone.

The one here now was Claudia, a grown woman who had lived through life at a brothel.

Yet body and mind were separate.

The child Claudia, who had once thrown tantrums, quickly fell asleep the moment her emotions settled.