New Place, New Rules

With a shout from the coachman, the carriage started moving. As soon as it did, we hit a large pothole, and I almost fell off my seat. I quickly grabbed the armrest to steady myself.

My carriage was definitely in worse shape than the one the blonde boy was in. It wasn't just the color—there was also a faint smell of sweat lingering in the air.

Three attendants, dressed in fine clothes, sat with me. Their faces were stiff and expressionless, making it hard to start a conversation.

I figured this must be a carriage meant for attendants.

A carriage for the attendants to pick me up? I couldn't have been more pleased. The family that adopted me must be incredibly wealthy—so wealthy that even their servants had their own carriages.

I asked as gently as I could, "May I ask where we're going?"

But the attendants didn't answer. They remained silent, like wooden mannequins. It seemed like they would only respond to the boy.

I found myself missing the kind caregiver back at the orphanage in my past life. She always answered my questions. I even remembered how she once read to me—a romance novel, I think it was called The Crown's Fall.

That book had a pretty dark story. The only princess of the kingdom, Ekaterina, fell in love with Cedric, the eldest son of a duke, at an engagement banquet for her royal brother and the duke's daughter. But Cedric turned out to be a heartless love cheat.

It was a pretty educational read, warning against falling too deeply in love, but the story was filled with deceit, betrayal, and murder—it really wasn't meant for children.

I had forgotten most of the characters, since it had been six years since my rebirth. A child's memory doesn't hold onto everything. But I still clearly remembered the duke's adopted daughter, the orphaned girl.

Maybe it was because she, too, was an orphan with a tragic fate. Her story had sparked the little sympathy I had left.

I even remembered how the caregiver had once asked me if I felt sorry for that character.

I had answered, "Of course, she's pitiful. She was deceived by a scumbag and used as a pawn by her brother. And did you notice? Even the author doesn't seem to like her. Since she's just a side character, her death is brushed over quickly."

The caregiver had murmured, "Maybe the author didn't realize what was happening to her until it was too late."

I could see the sorrow in her eyes. She seemed to really feel for that story—so much so that she even defended the irresponsible author.

When she was sad, her blue eyes would dim, like the ocean covered by a storm. Her gaze broke my heart, and I couldn't argue with her anymore. Instead, I just held her hand to comfort her.

It was then that she suddenly wiped her eyes and looked up with resolve. "Can you save her?"

Although her pitiful expression made me want to give a positive answer, I knew deep down it was impossible. How could I save a side character from a finished novel? How would I even get into that world? The book was already over—how could I rewrite it? Was she even worth saving?

There were too many problems with the idea; I didn't even know where to start.

But the caregiver completely ignored the confusion in my eyes. She gripped my hand tightly and said, "I beg you. Please go save her—and save that foolish version of me too. Please, say 'yes.' You're my only hope!"

She held onto my hand so firmly that I realized just how cold it was. Was she sick? Was that why she was saying such strange things?

Seeing her eyes full of sorrow, I couldn't bring myself to disappoint her, so I agreed to her request, almost as if I were comforting a child.

Her hand gradually warmed up, and that warmth spread through me, touching my heart. I was surprised that my words worked like medicine…

But her expression remained just as sad.

"Thank you, and... I'm sorry. I hope that one day, you can forgive me." After saying this, she fell silent. Her sea-like eyes regained their shine, and then, a tear, as big as a bean, dropped onto our joined hands.

She seemed so guilty.

After that day, I never saw her again. It was as if no one at the orphanage remembered she had ever been there—this was unusual because she was so beautiful, no one could have ignored her.

Only I kept her crying face firmly imprinted in my memory.

Later, I left the orphanage. Strangely enough, I never saw that book again. I thought back on the times when the caregiver read to me, and those memories kept appearing in my dreams, in my thoughts.

I was sure that the book had no publisher or author's name on the cover, so it probably wasn't an official copy. Maybe it was just a random online story she had printed out.

Speaking of that book, its title confused me. At the end of the story, the main character, Ekaterina, regained her power and rebuilt the kingdom. It seemed like a perfect ending, but the book was titled The Crown's Fall.

The carriage suddenly came to a stop, and I snapped out of my daze, realizing we had arrived.

I jumped out of the carriage—yes, jumped, since my legs weren't long enough to clear the carriage's height—and the attendants just ignored me.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing—less attention meant fewer troubles.

When I looked up after getting out, I was stunned by the sight in front of me.

Amidst the rolling hills stood a magnificent estate. The grand gates were wide enough to let six carriages pass through at once, and stone walls surrounded the property like loyal guardians.

The ornate stone carvings at the entrance were covered in intricate crests, showcasing an impressive history.

At the center of the estate stood a Gothic castle, with the main building flanked by square spires and fortified towers.

The layout was imposing, exuding an air of cold authority and grandeur.

I had never seen such an extravagant and magnificent estate. What kind of person would have a place like this?

A middle-aged man, dressed elegantly, came forward to greet us. The blonde-haired boy exchanged a few words with him, and then the man turned to approach me. It seemed like he was the estate's steward.

The boy walked off without a second glance, and I couldn't help wondering why, after spending so much money to acquire me, he hadn't even looked at me once.

The steward bowed to me and said, "I am Wilfred Lockridge, the steward of the Duke's Castle. May I have your name, My Lady?"

Finally, someone with manners! Hmm? The Duke's Castle? I had to make a good impression.

I scrambled through my empty mind and made an awkward curtsy. Then I pointed to the direction the blonde boy had gone and said, "The young gentleman mentioned that from today onward, I'll be called Ysabel."

Wilfred nodded, seemingly pleased with the name. He said, "Very well, My Lady. Please follow me to your room."

I followed the butler closely, walking through the vast garden and into the building.

Every few steps, I passed a golden-armored statue, standing silently by each archway as if on guard. The marble floor reflected the light from the crystal chandeliers, making me feel as though I were walking through a fairy-tale palace.

"Your room is right here," Wilfred said in a low voice.

The door slowly opened, revealing a spacious bedroom. I froze at the threshold, unable to associate this luxurious sight with the word "home."

The marble floor was flawless, without a single crack. The enormous room was furnished with opulent furniture, including a vanity, a wardrobe, and everything else one could need.

On the vanity, there were jewelry boxes sparkling in the light, some even inlaid with gemstones.

The best part was the huge bed, which looked like an oyster with its wide-opened mouth. The bedding was so fluffy that it seemed almost unreal.

I couldn't resist the urge to jump onto it and feel its softness, but since Wilfred was still there, I had to force myself to stay composed.

Back at Lilymorn, all the children had to squeeze onto one bed, and I'd practically grown up there, so I'd never known what it was like to sleep in a bed like this—something out of a fairy tale.

Before, whether I could even turn over in bed depended on luck, but now—happiness had come so suddenly. I hadn't expected to be this lucky.

The butler's voice was kind: "From tomorrow, you will be the Duke's adopted daughter. Remember to introduce yourself with the Velmont name."

Oh my God! I'm a lady now! Lady... Velmont? Wait a minute, why does that name sound so familiar?

What was even stranger was that the Duke had chosen a remote place like Lilymorn to adopt a child? There must be no shortage of orphans, even beautiful ones, in the big cities.

And I hadn't even met the Duke yet. This whole adoption process felt like opening a gift—completely bewildering. Does he do this often? Does he just "bulk order" children?

I hesitantly asked, "Are there any other children in the family besides me?"

Wilfred smiled, speaking to me as if explaining something to a child. "You must have met the Duke's son, Young Master Cedric, and there's also Lady Annalise, the Duke's eldest daughter."

"...Cedric?"

That... CEDRIC VELMONT?

Wilfred must have thought I was just getting used to the name, and after explaining a few more details, he left, leaving me alone in the room.

It wasn't until now that I realized how slow I was to catch on. "Cedric"—that name hit me like a lightning bolt, making my hairs stand on end.

This wasn't the start of a beautiful new life—it was the beginning of a brand-new hell.

I was in the world of The Crown's Fall—Cedric Velmont was the cruel villain, and I was his adopted sister, the tragic side character who was used as a tool and then discarded!