Chapter 3

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 3

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Count Modroff's death had occurred after Richardt ascended to the throne.

No matter how much of an afterlife it was, would he dare commit the grave insolence of belittling the emperor's status?

Suddenly, Iona thought his face looked strangely youthful.

She had brushed it off as the hellish life suiting a demon like him, but upon closer inspection, he seemed almost ten years younger.

Iona tilted her head back and gazed up at the ceiling.

The chandelier, which she had replaced with the trendy design popular last spring, was nowhere to be seen. In its place stood the old model that Count Modroff had used even before his death.

Iona asked in a voice tinged with disbelief.

"How old am I right now?"

Hayden, who had lifted his head in the meantime, scooted away from Iona on his rear, inching backward as he shouted.

"Have you... have you truly lost your mind? Or do you think marrying the duke is some grand promotion? Looks like the undeserved luck has driven you insane!"

Because she was about to become the duchess.

The time she had spent as the duke's fiancée had been exceedingly short. The duke had decided on the marriage without even meeting her a few times.

Putting all this information together, then, she was currently...

Back in the days when she was neither the head of the household nor the duchess—back when she was still a green twenty-year-old.

"...This can't be real."

Iona reflexively denied it.

Ignoring Hayden's noisy chatter, she rose to her feet.

She felt Hayden flinch at her movement, but she didn't care.

As if entranced, Iona walked toward the wall and stood before the large decorative mirror hanging there.

Reflected in the mirror was her youthful face.

Iona slowly raised her hand and touched her cheek. All the wounds from her final battle had vanished.

Not only that—even the faint scar from years ago near her temple was gone.

Her once chapped lips now glistened with a vibrant red hue, and the nose bridge she had thought broken was perfectly straight.

Above all, she looked young. At least ten years younger, just like Count Modroff, who was holding his breath beside her despite his actual age.

'What in the world is going on?'

It wasn't something she could explain logically.

In this surreal situation, one thing was certain: she had come not to the afterlife, but to the past.

But how?

That was when footsteps rapidly approached from afar.

Hayden always kept the servants at a distance when meeting her alone, so it probably wasn't a servant.

At this hour, the only ones who could be on the same floor without needing the count's permission were...

Soon, the study door burst open, and two familiar faces rushed in—a man and a woman, just as expected.

"Father! What's all this commotion?"

"Is something wrong? Why are you on the floor..."

The man and woman scanned the room in bewilderment.

Upon spotting their fallen father and the impudent illegitimate daughter standing beside him, hostility flickered in their eyes.

Ivonne Modroff and Nils Modroff.

The worthless offspring of a worthless man—the two mongrels had arrived.

After glaring sharply at Iona for a moment, they quickly shifted their gaze to check on Hayden's condition.

Hayden struggled to his feet with their support. Even as his children poured out their worries, he remained silent.

As Hayden's mouth refused to open, Nils finally showed his impatience.

"What on earth happened? Were you attacked?"

Nils clearly hadn't considered that his father might have been frightened by such a lowly illegitimate child.

Thanks to that, Iona momentarily forgot even the disorienting realization that she had returned to the past and burst into loud laughter.

Hayden kept glancing at her uneasily, and Nils turned to look at her as if realizing something.

Nils lowered his voice and asked.

"Iona, did you do this to Father?"

"Do what, exactly?"

"What?"

"Are you asking how Father turned into such a pathetic worm? Or why he's sprawled out in such a ridiculous state?"

At Iona's mockery, Nils couldn't hide his fluster.

Around this time, Iona had still been naive and ignorant of the world despite her position, because her family had no interest in educating her beyond training her as a useful knight.

On the contrary, they wanted her to remain deficient. That way, they could continue exploiting her under the guise of family.

And so, twenty was exactly that age for Iona.

The age when she didn't know what she could do or what she should do, and treated those vermin as human.

"Iona Modroff! Your words and actions are insolent!"

Nils couldn't contain his anger at the rebellion from his usually obedient half-sister.

His explosive outburst made even his 'real' sister Ivonne shrink back in surprise.

Iona, the actual target of his fury, calmly met his gaze without flinching.

"Nils Modroff, the insolent ones are you, a mere fledgling knight failing to show proper respect to an imperial guard knight, and your father."

Nils's expression looked almost dumbfounded as he faced the unflinching Iona.

Iona continued nonchalantly.

"Wondering why your father was sprawled out so pathetically? He tripped over his own feet. He tried to strike his daughter and got stopped, collapsing due to his own failings. Blame the father who raised her poorly or the daughter who grew up under him."

Finally, a vein bulged on Nils's forehead.

Leaving Hayden to Ivonne, he slowly rose to his feet. His throat bobbed with rage.

"You lowly wench. We accepted you into the family despite your poor conduct because of your skill with a sword, and yet you dare forget that grace and lay hands on your father?"

He strode toward Iona and raised his arm.

The moment he swung, Iona finished her brief deliberation. Then his thick hand struck her cheek sharply.

Though she braced for the announced attack and didn't fall, her ears rang.

She ran her tongue over her lower lip and tasted blood.

Iona glared at Nils with icy eyes and said.

"Father and son do the same damn things."

The reason Iona hadn't cowered even when struck by the duke's household after marriage was simple. Her family had treated her in even more degrading ways.

Consistent disdain from outsiders was easier to handle than constant verbal abuse and violence from her own blood.

"Looks like we've been too kind to you all this time, for you to act so boldly. Today, I'll personally remind you of your place."

"Right? That wench has been getting more insolent lately. Last time I asked for the crown prince's schedule, she completely ignored me!"

As her brother took a strong stance, Ivonne regained her momentum and vented her complaints.

Nils soothed his sister with feigned affection, saying he understood, then flashed Iona a murderous glare.

"Don't worry, Ivonne. I'll train her thoroughly so she never rebels like this again. Once her leg breaks like last time, she won't be able to hold her head so high."

Come to think of it, about a year ago, her leg had been broken by Nils's hunting rifle.

Iona rubbed the stinging inside of her cheek with her tongue and thought indifferently.

'I got hit for no reason.'

"Nils Modroff."

"Don't call my name so casually, you lowly...!"

"Eat this."

Iona clenched her fist and smashed his jaw before he could block.

Ivonne's scream echoed shrilly through the room.

Nils flew back like a sheet of paper from a single blow and rolled across the floor.

Having controlled her strength, he didn't pass out; groans escaped him.

His face was flushed red with pain, shock, and humiliation.

Even as he clutched his throbbing jaw, Nils cursed Iona through slurred speech.

"You... you bitch... h-how dare you hit m-me?"