“Pretty, so pretty. Where could my dear Miss’s beauty ever go? Even just waking up, you still look flawless.”

Benjamine fawned over Cecilia with exaggerated flattery.

“Nanny.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Is this the villa on Sein Hill?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“We left five days ago, and we’re on our way to Lagos Castle, right?”

“…Yes, Miss.”

Benjamine hesitated slightly before answering.

Cecilia, hearing her nanny’s response, felt even more certain.

She was no longer the Cecilia of forty, who had been dragged to the guillotine one fateful day.

She had been executed, and now she had come back to life, having traveled to the past.

The Cecilia who was alive now was twenty-one years old.

She had married about three months ago.

This was her third marriage.

“…Nanny, I want to sleep a little longer.”

“Shall I close the curtains again?”

“No, it’s… fine.”

“Oh dear, Miss, you seem so drained. Shall I stay by your side until you fall asleep?”

Cecilia shook her head.

“Very well, then I’ll step out. Please call me if you need anything.”

Even after hearing the door close, Cecilia sat there, lost in thought.

She raised the mirror she held in her hands once more.

The woman with honey-colored blonde hair stared back at her from the mirror.

Her wavy hair glistened with a soft, moist sheen, and her eyes sparkled like topaz.

Depending on the angle, the golden hue of her eyes appeared as if they were pure gold.

This was why descriptors like ‘golden’ and ‘honey’ always accompanied her.

Her flawless, fair skin and lips as red as rose petals completed her beauty.

People praised her appearance endlessly.

There were countless rumors about her, but no one disputed her beauty.

Cecilia’s gaze darkened as she stared at the reflection.

The corner of her lips curled ever so slightly.

A flicker of sorrow and self-mockery passed through her.

Looking back, her beauty had been her downfall.

Her life had begun to unravel from her very first marriage.

If she had been more ordinary-looking, she wouldn’t have been sold to a senile grand duke at the age of twelve.

If only her first marriage hadn’t ended the way it had, perhaps things would have been different.

Had her old husband lived a few more years, maybe the world would have forgotten about her.

After his death, she could have lived out her days quietly, enduring just enough misfortune.

But would the world have really left her alone?

She had two treasures that everyone coveted: her beauty and her wealth.

As a child, she hadn’t understood what happened to those who possessed treasures they couldn’t protect.

‘Now, what should I do?’

Before her death, she had never wished to live.

Her resurrection felt more like a curse than a blessing.

‘God, why did you bring me back? I just wanted everything to end.’

Her situation was like a tiny boat adrift on a vast ocean.

Nothing in her life had ever been in her control.

The world had never left her in peace.

By the time she stood on the guillotine, she had been utterly exhausted.

‘What could I even do… Why, why…?’

The bright and innocent twenty-one-year-old Cecilia no longer existed.

Now she understood just how powerless she was.

She knew how fleeting the things she had once enjoyed were.

Tears began to fall as she started to weep.

It felt like she was trapped in a dark cave where nothing was visible.

She would wander and wander, only to die miserably again.

 

❖ ❖ ❖

 

Several days passed.

At first, Cecilia had been confused and terrified.

‘Am I already dead? Am I seeing visions after death?’

But for some reason, she had felt a strange sense of certainty.

Everything she was seeing and feeling was real.

‘Was it all just a prophetic dream?’

No, the events that had unfolded were far too specific to be dismissed as mere foresight.

And a prophetic dream wouldn’t have changed her as a person.

Cecilia could sense her own transformation.

The memories of her forty-year-old self had layered over her twenty-one-year-old soul, making her into a completely different person.

After a few days of peace, Cecilia gradually regained some calm.

The human heart was truly fickle.

At first, she had cursed the gods, asking why they had brought her back, but now, she no longer wanted to die.