Now, Go Ahead And Stamp It

Blink, blink.

Opening her eyes, Ellen stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment.

Then again, blink, blink.

‘Ah…’

She blinked for a while, trying to clear her foggy head, and when she did, she looked around absentmindedly.

The room was familiar.

Unless it was intentionally decorated the same way, this was the room of the Duchess of Krembel she knew.

‘What, why…?’

Surely she’d been in prison earlier.

She fumbled for her last memory.

And being dragged out, I was–

“… Breathe!”

Ellen gasped and nuzzled the nape of her neck.

Unless she was insane or dreaming a ridiculous dream, this neck, now at her fingertips, had clearly been cut.

That bitterness. The rage.

The death, death, death.

With trembling hands, Ellen touched the back of her neck, then her uvula, then beneath it to her beating chest.

It was fine.

Her gaze moved.

Arms. Legs.

All was well.

Ellen took a quick step forward.

One quick step and she nearly lost her balance.

Her ankle stung a little, but she couldn’t believe it was even there.

She sat up and stared straight ahead as if she’d just come out of a daze.

In the mirror, she saw a lady with all her limbs intact, her neck in place, and a clean-cut appearance as if she hadn’t been through any trouble.

It was Ellen herself.

* * *

After standing there in a daze for a moment longer, Ellen came to her senses.

She circled the room once.

Familiar wallpaper, familiar curtains.

The bedding, the armoire, the table, the carpet, all filled with things she didn’t recognize.

This was the room of the indispensable Duchess of Krembel.

‘What is it?’

Ellen didn’t know how she had found herself in this strange place.

It was strange to be in this room, and it was strange that all of her belongings were still there.

It didn’t make sense that the belongings of someone executed for treason would be preserved.

Moreover, this is the home of the man who had personally ordered her execution.

Well, more accurately, it had been, but either way, the fact remained that this was a ridiculous situation.

It was then.

“… What’s with that vase?”

An object caught Ellen’s eye as she paused to think about the absurdity of the situation.

A gift from her father, the Earl of Kryant himself.

It was an old, long-lost object that she used to stare at with her jaw clenched on days when she felt like she was having a bad day.

It was so precious, she remembered it clearly.

“… That thing was definitely broken.”

Ellen remembered that day again.

Here, in this isolated place, is an object that reminded her of her family just by looking at it.

And so it was.

The day the vase that had been sitting perfectly in the center of the table fell and shattered, she couldn’t stand it.

A dish is served with an ingredient that wasn’t supposed to be there. My favorite dress keeps getting ruined by having is washed wrong.

All her commands were ignored.

But she endured.

She was an unfamiliar mistress from the outside.

Killian was too busy to know the exact circumstances.

But–

[How can you be so sloppy that you break a vase in the center of the table, not by the window?][I’m sorry, my lady!]
[I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard you say you’re sorry, and I’m going to take this one very seriously, so make sure you know that].
[My lady!]

A few words were exchanged before a frowning Killian appeared from one side of the parlor.

[What is the fuss?]
[… This maid made a mistake and I was just asking for it].
[It seems like the tension has been broken now. Go fetch some Triasan porcelain. That should be enough.]
[But this is…]
[Does that not satisfy you? Then bring out whatever you wish, and let there be no more loud noises in the mansion].

As always, her authority as a mistress was nothing more than a shiny decorative peach, which was good only for show.

She couldn’t even get the punishment right.

“… But then why was the item already gone by then?”

Really, no way.

Ellen swallowed dryly.

This can’t be happening, she thought, even though it was so ridiculous.

Not with her eyes open like this, anyway.

Ellen scanned her surroundings again with calm eyes.

Anything that might tell her what was going on.

A calendar.

February stretched out before her.

She flipped to the front page. The year 767 of the Imperial calendar.

An occasional diary.

She flipped to the last page.

<January 28, 767. It snowed. It snows quite a bit here, and it’s hard to see the landscape covered in flakes, which is always a shame. Our castle was so beautiful in winter…>

Stopping in January 767.

A letter to and from a friend.

The last one is also postmarked January 767.

She opened the envelope and checked the contents.

<…Ellen, don’t come alone without a partner, bring even a fool from our household and come in. It’s not strange for close families to do that…>

The familiar handwriting of a close friend.

And a noticeably younger appearance.

Mulling over the clues for a moment, she finally came to a conclusion.

It is now the 767th year of the Imperial calendar.

She opened her eyes again, and now she was in the spring of her twenties, capable of anything.

* * *

The miracle hadn’t changed anything.

The Krembel mansion was still cold to Ellen.

Maids who would come in when called, but who would not take the initiative to do anything until then.

Ellen flopped down on her bed, telling herself it was better that way today.

Maybe this was an opportunity.

Another time, unexpectedly given.

She didn’t know why, but it was the phenomenon that mattered.

After all, she had a future she could never accept, a person she could never forgive, and now she had a second chance at it all.

Ellen echoed the curse she’d been repeating until the moment she’d closed her eyes.

‘With all that I am, I will bring you despair and woe.’

So you will have no dignity, no honor, and no position as a duke.

May you be so ruined and frustrated.

Something like a flame blossomed in Ellen’s eyes.

It was like a fierce flame, like the midday sun, and it brought her eyes to life.

The first thing she had to do was decide. It was just a matter of how to do it.

She murmured a two-syllable word that thrilled her at the mere thought of it.

Her father, Earl Daniel Kryant, would surely disapprove.

Even if he was a man who lusted for power, he was also a father figure.

Though her marriage had been unhappy, she remembered him as affectionate, wishing his daughter happiness and mourning their separation.

With that, Ellen made up her mind.

She would face him head-on at least once.

If she couldn’t, she could at least try to get out of the duke’s house.

Now she could really do anything.

Ellen rang her bedroom bell.

Thud. The door opened and a maid entered.

“Is there anything you want me to do.”

The greeting was a stiff polite coldness.

“Bring me a basin of water, and some paper and a pen.”

Ellen ordered, and the maid bowed and left.

The items were carried to her bedroom.

Ellen immediately shuffled through the things she wanted to write.

Killian Krembel, her husband, who despised Kryant but knew very well that he needed the money.

This will be my last gift to him here.

She signed it nicely, not forgetting to include her signature.

“I shall go now, then.”

Ellen left her bedroom with a spring in her step, different than when she first awoke.

***

BANG!

The door, which hadn’t been treated this way since Killian had taken over the dukedom, swung open with a loud bang.

Killian Krembel, owner of Krembel residence, peeked his head in to see what was in front of him.

Opening the door was Ellen Krembel. It was his wife.

“… Are you insane? It seems like you heard the advice about behavior through one ear in and out the other.”

Killian gave Ellen a pathetic glance as she walked through the door, then dropped her gaze back to her papers.

He waited for the apology that was sure to follow, but it never came.

Instead, she brought the evidence of a contract as his wife and financial supporter, the actions taken by Ellen Krembel were completely different from what he had expected.

“Of course, I am sane. I remember hearing those words vividly.”

“What is this now? The realization that you are a member of the ducal family—”

Killian’s brow furrowed at the rude remark.

He tried to say something to Ellen reflexively.

But instead, Ellen cut him off, as if she didn’t care what he had to say.

“… I don’t have it, and I don’t intend to have it.”

She lurched forward, slamming a few papers onto the desk.

“Here, stamp it neatly.”

At the very top of the pile, scrawled across the front, was ‘Divorce Settlement.’

“You’re crazy.”

Killian muttered as if he really couldn’t believe it.

The woman who looked at him like that, divorce?

Killian laughed.

It was good enough for him.

To him, Ellen Krembel had always been a woman who craved his love, and who would eventually melt at the mere sight of him.

But the woman who had now decided to drop the name Krembel was not the Ellen Krembel he once knew.

“Well, if that’s how it seems to you, then it must not be the case. All the more reason why this is necessary.”

She had already had one life, and it had ended in death.

‘But now, for me to do that. For that kind of thing?’

Ellen blurted out, feeling a new sense of humor at how insignificant Killian could seem.

Killian’s eyes widened at that.

Instead of pursing her lips as if she were hurt, she showed such sarcasm.

It was an unfamiliar feeling that could only be called shock.

He wondered if something had happened to her that her didn’t know about.

‘That’s what I need to find out later.’

Killian said, looking at her like she was a truly insane woman.

“… I have several things to point out. So reflect on what happened today when you go inside. James!”

He called for the butler who managed his mansion.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Take this woman away. One week’s probation.”

“Yes.”

Killian acted as if he didn’t care what Ellen said.

But even so, Ellen was calm.

This was her daily life.

“Self-reflection? That’s not necessary.”

Ellen spoke softly, but clearly.

“I have no desire to be a part of the Duke’s household, so I’ll leave.”