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“ARE you okay, Mary?”
When I opened my eyes, a man was looking down at me worriedly. Despite the slight creases around the corners of his eyes, his boyish features looked youthful. Hazel hair—long and messy—framed his honey-colored eyes. He also boasted a charming mustache. Probably due to feeling self-conscious about his boyish face.
“Mary?” the man called my name once more.
Wait, who’s Mary? Aren’t I Rosemary?
My head was spinning. I couldn’t forget what I’d just witnessed. Moments ago, I’d been watching a young woman at her execution. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I must have collapsed, and this man woke me up.
“Um…” I murmured in a strained voice.
Was that my voice? It sounded both familiar and unfamiliar.
Overjoyed, the man gently embraced me. “Oh, thank goodness, Mary. I thought you wouldn’t wake up.”
He smelled of familiar pasture lands.
Yes, I know this scent.
“Father…” I mumbled.
I remember. This was my beloved father, and I hugged him. Other memories flooded back to me. My name was Mary Edigma. As the eldest daughter of a baron, I lived in a small, remote town far from the royal capital. I was eighteen years old. My mother died of an illness when I was a child, and I lived with my father and older brother.
The woman who had been executed was Rosemary Hubert—my past self.
Reincarnation? It’s like something out of a story.
Father led me back to my room, where I sat down on my bed. He handed me a cup, and I pressed it to my lips. I couldn’t suppress a bitter smile while drinking the hot milk. The trigger for remembering my past life—which I’d forgotten until now—had been simple. Despite being the daughter of a baron, I lived identically to a commoner. Thus, I’d been tending to the livestock, as I did every day.
The Edigma region was small, with few residents. No knights were stationed here. Instead, neighborhood watch groups patrolled the area. Likewise, commerce was limited, and popular items always arrived in our provincial region a few months late. In short, we were a village of farmers and fields. Our main selling points were open pastures and plentiful sunlight.
After helping Father milk the cows, I’d left to retrieve a rope from inside the cattle barn. We used this rope to gather the always-necessary firewood. As I’d reeled in the rope, a nearby cow—having been startled by an insect or something—began thrashing about. Then I was startled. I foolishly lost my footing. By some twist of fate, the rope grazed the base of my neck. At that moment, I’d collapsed and relived Rosemary’s execution in my memories.
Father found me sprawled out on the ground and was worried that I’d hit my head. However, since I didn’t have any noticeable injuries, I’d replied, “I just lost consciousness.” Of course, I couldn’t say anything about having regained memories of my past life for fear of sounding mad.
Nevertheless, Father had been terrified. Perhaps my fainting spell reminded him of losing his beloved wife to disease.
“Sorry, Father,” I said. “But I feel okay now. I’m not in any pain.”
“Really?” he asked. “Even so, you work too hard. This is the perfect opportunity for you to rest. Since you’re already in bed, there’s no need to get up.”
Father patted my head with a gentle hand, the warmth of his palm pleasant against my hair. I nodded. To be quite honest, regaining Rosemary’s memories had shaken me. When I tried to recall my past life again, it returned to me as vividly as a picture book.
As the daughter of a marquis, Rosemary Hubert was the former fiancée of Grey Dirésias—the current king. Rosemary’s strict father had trained her from a young age to become a worthy queen. Outfitted in elegant dresses, she’d learned noble manners and etiquette. Likewise, she’d had ladylike conduct drilled into her to an excruciating extent.
Her overly ambitious father had treated commoners—even those of his region—as a means of generating wealth. Similarly, he’d used her as a political tool. Though he hadn’t loved his children, she yearned for his affection, unable to rebel against him. So Rosemary had become the crown prince’s fiancée as instructed, but as a result, she’d also become a pawn in political games. In the end, her father’s schemes failed, leading to his exile. Meanwhile, Rosemary had been hanged for a crime she hadn’t committed.
I’d known of this cruel history even in my second life, for I’d been taught a great deal about the villainess Rosemary. Despite being the crown prince’s fiancée, she’d unjustly assaulted other women. Furthermore, she’d been a heinous criminal and a licentious young lady. Everyone in the kingdom remembered her as having been truly wicked. When young noblewomen received a lady’s education, Rosemary was always used as an example of how not to behave.
Rumors are terrifying things.
Truth be told, Rosemary had never so much as kissed a man. In fact, she’d been a paragon of chastity, having rarely even spoken to her fiancé. Regardless, she’d still taken the blame for a great many evils. After she’d been hanged, the truth had been covered up and buried alongside her.
Thus, the villainess had exited the stage, and at the end of a passionate love affair, the leading actors—Grey and Tia—had enjoyed a glorious wedding ceremony. This story was even made into a picture book that the kingdom’s citizens all adored.
Speaking of which, I unconsciously hated that picture book as a child.
After watching Father leave my room, I stretched out my arms while sitting in bed. In this life, I had nothing tying me down—no political conspiracies, no wicked women harassing me, and no fiancé who viewed me with revulsion.
“Nothing beats peace and quiet,” I muttered to myself.
I tied back my hazel hair, which I’d inherited from Father, and when I smiled, it reached my honey-colored eyes.
How I love my current home. It always smells of pastures, livestock, and freshly baked bread. Rosemary’s life always made me feel claustrophobic.
“I’m happy now,” I whispered to my past self.
Surely, Rosemary felt satisfied as well.