Chapter 2

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: There Is No Mercy - Chapter 01

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Everyone spoke so casually about it.

"Isn't it just excessive self-consciousness?"

The only daughter of a duke's family, with nothing enviable about her, imitating the daughter of a count's family that had nothing but money—it was absurd, they said.

Some even asked if it wasn't me imitating Bellieta instead.

And on top of that, there were those easygoing remarks like, "What's wrong with imitating her a little?"

Their words weighed me down.

No one who had actually experienced it would have uttered such things so lightly.

Having someone obsess over you, watching your every move, copying everything about you—it was never a welcome thing.

When I was young, I didn't harbor much resentment toward such behavior.

But as time passed, Bellieta's actions began to feel increasingly unpleasant.

I hid the clothes I wore, my hairstyles, my jewelry, and countless other things so she couldn't copy them.

Yet those efforts were in vain; Bellieta would appear in a dress of the exact same color and style.

Thousands of nobles at the banquet hall all witnessed it.

And they all chimed in.

"The Brilloxen Lady must really admire the Bozbon Duke's Daughter. It's hard to imitate someone that much."

In their eyes, I was just the lady imitating Bellieta—nothing more, nothing less.

Some laughed at the sight, while others mocked it.

In their gazes, all they saw was a shadow copying Bellieta, not Sierra.

"I don't want to go out into society anymore."

So I told my parents I wouldn't attend any more social events.

Father was troubled but didn't press me, and Mother understood.

Even though she herself had endured insults for supposedly using her own child to attract the Bozbon family's attention, she never showed it.

Thus, I cut ties with society, shut myself away in the territory, and continued my heir training.

The Gray Mountains, owned by our family, were rich in rare metals, gems, and iron ore.

We even had merchant guilds to manage it all.

A family swimming in wealth required meticulous oversight.

I poured even more effort into the education I'd been receiving since childhood.

Naturally, I grew distant from Bellieta and tuned out the gossip from the outside world.

But that was an illusion.

Once I stopped appearing in public, Bellieta resorted to extreme measures.

She started a dispute over ownership of the Gray Mountains.

The Bozbon Duke was the kind of man who indulged his one precious daughter's whims, no matter how hard-won she was.

So the Bellieta who had fixated on me chose a way to drag me out.

"The Bozbon family has filed a lawsuit over a contract document from 300 years ago. It's nonsense, but they've bought off the Finance Minister and Justice Minister to push it through."

An ambiguously worded contract.

They claimed the contract between the first Brilloxen family head and the then-Bozbon Duke allowed for dual interpretations.

"I can't fathom why they're bringing this up now, but the Bozbon Duke seems determined."

The Brilloxen family had wealth but no power.

The Bozbons, on the other hand, were a deeply rooted noble house.

We couldn't win if they challenged us.

For half a year, my parents grew haggard under the Bozbon onslaught, and I helped as best I could from the sidelines—but there was no solution.

Money meant nothing against power.

Were we just going to lose the mountains like this?

Just as those thoughts plagued me, Bellieta came calling.

"I'll help you."

It was the tail end of winter.

Bellieta clasped my cold hands, her eyes glistening with tears, and offered to help me.

Of course, I didn't believe her.

"Go away. I'm so desperate right now that I'm tempted to kidnap you and blackmail the Bozbon Duke. Don't come back."

I cut her off coldly.

I refused to see her and treated her harshly.

"Sierra, I'll help you."

She kept saying it, but I couldn't trust her.

Still, I wanted to protect my parents and our family.

I had no choice.

Not that I truly believed she could resolve it.

Yet Bellieta rendered the lawsuit null and void, defying my doubts.

In that moment, I fell into her trap.

Who could have imagined?

That it all stemmed from Bellieta's stubborn obsession.

And our family was merely her sacrificial lamb.

From then on, Bellieta wouldn't leave my side.

As always, she wore the same clothes, ate the same food, mimicked my every action.

She acted in ways that wouldn't make me feel uncomfortable.

Whenever the chance arose, she'd bring up that incident, reminding me she was my benefactor.

And whenever I pushed back because her obsession felt excessive, lawsuits would inevitably hit our family.

Not just from the Bozbons—disputes over ownership arose with other families and businesses too.

In the end, Bellieta would step in and resolve them again.

Others said the Bozbon Duke's Daughter liked me so much she was shielding me herself.

Far from it.

I wasn't stupid, nor lacking in perception.

I simply had no way to escape.

From her obsession.

From the quagmire pulling me in.

Without a word, Bellieta made it clear.

If I kept pushing her away, she could turn our family to ruins.

Every time I rejected her, it was my family and retainers who suffered.

I didn't want to see that.

But Bellieta's fixation only deepened, ultimately destroying my parents and family, and finally stealing my man.

I awoke in the cold, chilling depths pressing down on my body.

I looked up at the necklace floating lightly from my released neck.

The necklace gleamed softly in the moonlight.

Clutching the treasure given to me by Grand Archmage Ezekiel Roth, I closed my eyes.

And quietly asked.

If I could go back, could I repay Bellieta for everything she'd done?

Could I keep her from taking even myself?

From the profound abyss, I answered.

I would ensure not even a single hair on my head fell to Bellieta.

But what use was it now?

I'd lost everything, and to protect my last remaining possession—my name—I'd thrown myself into the water.

It was already too late.

I closed my eyes quietly and slowly drifted into sleep.

It was warm.

Unbelievably so, considering I'd just thrown myself into the pond.

Was this what death felt like?

My whole body felt at ease, strength ebbing away.

And strangely, my body was jostling about.

A familiar sensation, like riding in a carriage.

As I gradually applied pressure to my eyelids amid that feeling, a voice rang out.

"What do you mean late? You're not late yet, Sierra!"

The voice pierced through my muffled eardrums.

I slowly opened my eyes.

My heavy eyelids lifted, and through my hazy vision, golden hair came into view.

Then I realized my body was shaking.

The rattling sounds scattered my thoughts, fully waking me.

The back of my neck ached.

I raised my arm to massage my stiff shoulder and neck, opening my eyes wider.

Only then did my vision sharpen into focus.

"...What?"

Something was off.

The voice suggested I wasn't dead yet.

Well, it was deep, but not a lake or sea.

They could have rescued me easily enough.

I figured my ears were muffled from being submerged.

But where I was... was entirely different.

A carriage—that was fine.

They might have been transporting me somewhere.

My blurry vision? A side effect of closed eyes, understandable.

But Bellieta sitting calmly in front of me? That I couldn't comprehend.

The woman who had just gifted me hellish memories was staring at me as if nothing had happened.

Do you even know the words conscience or morals, Bellieta?

Yet something was strange.

The woman before me was definitely Bellieta, but she seemed... younger.

Her skin was a bit more dewy, her hair shorter.

Her cheeks still held a youthful plumpness, baby fat not fully gone—everywhere screamed immaturity.

Being generous, maybe just past eighteen?

I stared blankly before examining myself.

I expected wet clothes.

They might have dried, but I should at least be in the dress I'd worn when falling in.

But no—it was completely different attire.

Moreover, this style of dress wasn't for a noblewoman.

Far too juvenile.

"Are you hurt anywhere, Sierra?"

"What is this...?"

I blinked a few times, then pinched the flesh on my inner thigh hard.

"Eek!"

Too hard.

I'd lost control in my panic.

"My shoulder?"

And my shoulder was fine too.

Reiton had definitely stabbed it last.

The wound was deep; it should still be there.

Shoulder fine. No wound.

Amid the confusion, my mind raced, insisting this was no dream or illusion.

This stinging pain, these sensations—they weren't mistaken.

This was reality.