I Refuse This Life, Your Highness!

“Ah, no, not at all. How could I possibly…”

Erma’s eyes darted nervously, clearly startled by the way events were unfolding. He must have been as shocked as if a plant had spoken to him. Those gleaming, darting eyes were as unpleasant as those of a monster.

“Send Boen and Resilly to my room immediately. Tomorrow, gather all the staff in the hall. I’ll choose them myself.”

“Understood…”

As Erma bowed deeply, I felt a faint sense of triumph.

Boen and Resilly were among the few people who had helped me during the three miserable years I spent in this castle in my previous life. They were the only ones I could truly trust.

Some other staff members had tried to help me as well, moved by either pity or reverence, but they all met their end at Erma’s hands.
This time, however, I intended to protect them.

“Where are they now?”

“Are you referring to Boen and Resilly?”

I frowned, making it clear I had no patience for repetition.

“They both work in the storage rooms, so they should be there.”

“Summon them at once.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Watching Erma scurry off with his lackeys—those who monitored, belittled, and tormented me—I felt a satisfying sense of catharsis.

I turned my gaze to the grand bedroom of the duchess. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, warmly welcoming me.

The duchess’s chambers were bright and fragrant, with an inviting warmth. In my past life, I had used the same room. Yet no one, save for my personal attendants, ever knew that beyond those ornate doors, my space had been dark, damp, and suffocating.

One day, Erma replaced all the curtains under the pretense that the room was too cold. The new curtains were so thick that neither light nor air could penetrate them. My room became so dim I had to keep lamps on during the day, though there were never enough to make the space adequately bright.

The heating was another issue. The coals and braziers beneath my bed frequently went out, and the fireplace rarely burned for long. It always felt as if someone was deliberately dousing the flames.

The blankets, though appearing plush, were insufficiently filled with feathers, offering little warmth.

The incense in the room gradually changed too, becoming cloyingly sweet and strange. Though others didn’t seem to notice, I was certain something had been added to it—likely poison that clashed with my blood.

Even my meals were tainted with subtle doses of this poison. While the attendants and staff dined on elaborate dishes prepared by the cook, I was given bland, insubstantial meals barely fit for survival.

The changes came slowly, almost imperceptibly. By the time the servants began stealing my food, I had grown too timid to even demand proper meals.

I had no one to confide in, thanks to Erma. Beyond my personal attendants, who were his lackeys, the rest of the castle staff treated me as if I were invisible. They greeted me politely but fled as if I were cursed the moment I tried to speak.

Complaining to my attendants was futile. Their hollow responses of “We’ll take care of it” changed nothing.

As my health deteriorated, I sank deeper into helplessness until I was too cowed to voice any complaints.

“Open the curtains.”
“The sunlight is too strong right now. I’ll open them later.”
“Open them now.”
“Strong sunlight isn’t good for you, Your Grace.”
“I said open them!”
“Sunlight is harmful, Your Grace.”

That’s how it always went.
If I tried to open the curtains myself, I was admonished, told that it was unbecoming of a duchess to engage in such tasks.
Erma would then swoop in, lecturing me about decorum and dignity.

Even leaving my room for a walk was difficult. The fear of running into the absent Duke—who always seemed to return unexpectedly—kept me confined. He terrified me to the point I couldn’t bear to face him. I only wanted to avoid him.

Perhaps I could have appealed to him about my situation, but my pride wouldn’t allow it.
How could I, a duchess, beg for help from a man who treated me as if I didn’t exist?

Perhaps, deep down, I feared I might lose that pride altogether if I met him.

So, I remained trapped in my room, drowning in despair.

Alone in the bedroom, I sank into the couch, leaning against the cushions.
Though my body was as healthy as it had been at twenty, emotional strain made me feel weak and battered.
My entire body ached, my heart raced, and dizziness overtook me.
Burying my head into the cushions, I felt the beginnings of a headache creep in.

How long had I been like that?
A knock on the door jolted me.

Boen and Resilly?
If Erma were with them, I didn’t want him to see me in this state. Slowly, I adjusted my hair and propped myself against the cushion before replying.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and in walked Erma—alone.

“Why are you alone? Were they not at their posts?”

“Well… Your Grace, I ask for your understanding. Those two are of far too low a status to serve you personally.”

Ah.

A small smirk played on my lips.
This was Erma’s typical approach. He would agree initially, then later return with excuses, wearing an expression of false remorse.

Of course, I no longer fell for that face.

“To my knowledge, Boen is a minor baron, and Resilly is the youngest daughter of a baron. They’re not even commoners, so what’s the issue? Even if they were, Airden had no problem employing them as attendants.”

“The laws of the Iser Duchy are different.”

“……”

I tilted my head, staring intently at Erma. At that moment, anger outweighed fear.

“Are you trying to lecture me?”

My lowered voice made Erma panic. He immediately knelt.

“N-No, never…”

“I wasn’t sold into this place, nor am I obligated to follow Iser’s rules without question. Some things will change under my authority. So, you…”

Erma lifted his snake-like gaze cautiously.

“Bring them here.”

“…As you command, Your Grace.”

Defeated, Erma bowed and exited the room.

The tension drained from my body, and I slid down into the chair. Talking to Erma in that tone… it felt reckless, but surprisingly, it wasn’t as hard as I thought.

Three years ago, what had made Erma so terrifying? Why had everyone in this duchy seemed so intimidating back then?

Some time later, Erma returned, escorting Boen and Resilly into my room. A woman with light blonde hair and a man with chestnut-colored locks—they both wore expressions of confusion, clearly wondering why they’d been summoned.

“You may leave now, steward.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Feigning deference but visibly annoyed, Erma left the room. Once the door closed, I let my expression soften.

“Stand up, both of you.”

Boen and Resilly stood hesitantly. They looked just as I remembered them—their appearances unchanged since the first year they had arrived at the duchy. After that, I hadn’t been able to see them again.

Both had died not long before I was falsely accused.

“I’ll be counting on you both.”

I spoke as I had in Airden, using words that didn’t make me seem condescending but instead forged a connection. These two had never dismissed my words or treated me lightly; they had genuinely cared for me.

Even now, they looked at me with surprise and heartfelt gratitude.

“We are honored, Your Grace. We will serve you with utmost sincerity.”

Both bowed deeply.

“Good. For now… just some small tasks. Since there are no other attendants yet, I’ll need your help. Please fetch me some headache medicine—unopened. Also, could you prepare a bath?”

“Of course.”

Boen left to get the medicine, while Resilly went to the adjoining bathroom to prepare the bath. Loosening the top buttons of my uncomfortable dress, I waited as the sound of running water filled the room—a soothing melody.

A short while later, there was another knock at the door. Assuming it was Boen, I answered without looking up.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open.

“You and Resilly don’t need to knock every time. Only when it’s necessary. It’s tedious to keep saying ‘come in’ every single time—”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit risky, Your Grace?”

“…!”

I shot to my feet, the sudden motion making me dizzy. My vision darkened momentarily, and I swayed, only to be caught by a pair of large, warm hands.

It was the Duke of Iser.

“Y-Your Grace.”

“Why do you always look so startled, as if you’ve seen a ghost? It makes me worry that you’re too frail.”

“I am not frail, Your Grace. It’s just that you…”

I stopped myself mid-sentence, realizing I was about to blame his habit of appearing unannounced. That would be unwise.

“You were saying?”

“…Nothing, Your Grace.”

“I’ve heard that cutting off one’s words mid-sentence is the most frustrating habit.”

“……”

It took me a moment to realize he was joking. His expression remained neutral, but there was a hint of amusement.

“…It’s because you keep appearing at unexpected times,” I replied, trying to salvage my pride.

The Duke shrugged casually. Strange—was he always this prone to humor? Then again, I’d never been close enough to know his personality.

“What brings you here, Your Grace?”

It wasn’t the time for him to be visiting; he had seemed so busy earlier, heading straight to his study upon his return.

“I came to tell you something.”

“To me?”

My body tensed. Was he here to inform me that Behenn had been appointed as my educator? Handling Erma alone was already exhausting. If Behenn joined in, I wasn’t sure how I’d manage.

Sweat formed on my palms, and my heart raced as I braced myself. But what the Duke said next was entirely unexpected.

“Yes. Your gown for the welcome party has already been tailored. Will it suit you?”

“…Pardon?”

“We’ll be entering together, so our attire needs to match. I’m concerned the design might not reflect your preferences since your input wasn’t sought.”

Wait. What?

“Excuse me, Your Grace, but… what did you just say?”

“The design—”

“No, not about the gown. The part about the party.”

The Duke let out an understanding “Ah,” then replied calmly.

“You and I will be entering together.”