Maria knocked once, and then opened the door, stepping back to allow me entry.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of leather and wood. The room was grand, filled with bookshelves, velvet curtains, and portraits of ancestors who likely had no problem with oppression and tyranny. My ancestors, I reminded myself.
There, at the massive wooden desk, sat Duke Shelberg. The same cold, calculating man I had read about. His piercing eyes never left me as I entered, and he didn't rise. He didn't need to.
"Elizabeth," he greeted me, his voice as sharp as a dagger. "Sit."
I moved toward the seat opposite him, careful not to falter in my steps. I was still adjusting to this body, this role. The corset was tight, and my movements felt stiff, but I had to play the part. I was Elizabeth now.
The Duke's gaze swept over me, assessing me, as if he were examining an object, not a daughter. "You've been causing trouble again."
I blinked, doing my best to hide the panic creeping into my chest. "What trouble?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the unease bubbling inside me.
The Duke leaned back, his fingers tapping on the desk as he stared at me with disdain. "You're causing a wreck at the tavern, you little haysst."
I blinked, confusion clouding my mind for a moment. What the hell was he talking about? What did that even mean? But I couldn't show any hesitation. I had to act the part — the part of Elizabeth, the lady who was always in the wrong.
"I'm sorry, Father." The words slipped out of my mouth without thinking, almost instinctively. It didn't feel like me apologizing. It felt like Elizabeth trying to salvage her reputation. But something about that response didn't sit right. I wasn't sure why, but there was a pit in my stomach that I couldn't ignore.
The Duke's cold eyes narrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his expression turning skeptical. "I know you won't s-... What? Came again?"
I took a deep breath, my mind racing. I had to stay composed.
"I didn't mean to cause any trouble at the tavern," I said, the words careful, measured. I kept my gaze steady on the Duke, but inside, my heart was thundering. "It was just... a misunderstanding."
I had no idea what I was even talking about. A misunderstanding? What was I supposed to be getting into here? What the hell had Elizabeth done at the tavern?
The Duke stared at me, clearly not convinced. He tilted his head, studying me with those cruel, calculating eyes. "A misunderstanding, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, giving a low chuckle. "I suppose that's one way to put it. But if you think I'm going to let you off the hook that easily, you're gravely mistaken."
I tensed, my heart dropping into my stomach. Was he about to punish me? Was this how Elizabeth's life always went full of harsh rebukes, endless expectations, and terrifying moments like this?
The silence between us was heavy, thick with tension. I couldn't stand it.
"I'll make sure the tavern issue is handled. You won't hear about it again, Father," I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze, trying to sound like I actually knew what I was talking about. But inside, I had no clue how I was going to fix this.
The Duke studied me for a long time, his eyes narrowing as if searching for any hint of insincerity. Finally, he gave a single nod.
"See that you do. And if I hear anything further about your misunderstandings, Elizabeth..." He let the threat hang in the air, his voice cold and unforgiving.
I swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "I won't disappoint you again, Father."
It wasn't a promise I could make. But it was the only thing I could say in the moment to avoid making things worse.
He gave another dismissive nod and gestured for me to leave. "You're dismissed."
I stood up, bowing respectfully, but my mind was already racing. I had no idea what to do with myself now. I wasn't Elizabeth, at least, not really. And I had no idea how I was supposed to fit into this world, or how to escape this awful role I had been thrust into.
But one thing was clear: I couldn't let the Duke's threats hold me down. I had to find a way out of this.
…
Meanwhile…
Behind the thick wooden door of his study, Duke Leon Shelberg leaned back in his chair, his sharp gray eyes still fixed on the spot where his daughter had just stood moments ago.
Then, unexpectedly—
He laughed.
A dry, amused sound, rare and sharp. The butler outside flinched.
"I can't believe it," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "My daughter actually apologized."
He wasn't hallucinating, right? That was Elizabeth. The same daughter who once slapped a nobleman's son across the face because he stepped on her shoes. The same Elizabeth who once told a royal envoy his mustache looked like "two dead rats dancing."
And today… she said "I'm sorry."
It was almost too strange to believe. Which was why he had to confirm it for himself.
Earlier that morning, a report came to him about Elizabeth "causing a scene" at Elden's Tavern. Plates were broken. People were shouting. The kind of chaos his daughter had a notorious reputation for.
But when Duke Leon sent one of his spies to verify, what he found was quite the opposite.
"She… just ate stew, my Lord. She didn't say a word to anyone."
"That's all?"
"Yes, my Lord. She paid in full and left quietly."
No insults? No broken chairs? Not even one slap?
"…No, my Lord."
Leon didn't believe it. So he pushed her. Confronted her. Pressed her like he always did, to see if she'd blow up, shout, kick something—
But instead, she said something else.
"I'm sorry, Father."
Now, Duke Leon Shelberg sat in silence, staring out the tall stained-glass window of his office.
Was she scheming something? Had she finally grown a conscience? Or… was this some new game?
He sighed, resting his chin on his knuckles.
"That girl's changing… or losing her mind. Either way, something's different."
For a long time, Elizabeth had been a problem, a beautiful, proud, sharp-tongued problem. He had once admired her fire, until it became wildfire. He didn't raise a soft daughter. But even he had limits.
"Tch… troublemaker." He muttered under his breath.
And yet…
That apology still echoed in his ears.
"I'm sorry, Father."
There was something honest in it. Something that unsettled him more than her usual tantrums.
He exhaled again, slower this time.
"Let's see how long this version of you lasts, Elizabeth." He stood, reaching for his gloves. "Because if you've changed… this empire might not be ready for it."
..
[Back to Elizabeth]
As I walked down the long marble corridor—still clutching the sides of this suffocating corset—my vision suddenly blurred.
Throb.
A sharp pain stabbed through my skull.
"Ah—!" I winced, staggering sideways, clutching my temple.
"My Lady! My Lady, what's wrong?!"
Maria's voice was panicked as she rushed to catch me. Her hands trembled as she supported my arm.
"Sh-should I fetch the physician? Should I—"
And then—
It hit me.
All at once.
Memories.
Not mine.
Hers.
Balls drenched in luxury. Screams echoing from servants' quarters. Orders barked like whips. A noblewoman with poison on her tongue and hatred in her eyes.
A mirror cracked with blood.
A girl—no, me—laughing as someone cried.
(This is… Elizabeth's life.)
I blinked rapidly, panting for air.
Maria looked at me, confused and clearly afraid I might strike her.
"My Lady?"
My lips trembled.
"I'm…" I whispered. "I'm Han So-Young… and Elizabeth. Now."
Maria froze. Her eyes widened. Then she took a cautious step back.
"Wh-what did you just say?" she asked, her voice brittle.
She looked at me like I had grown a second head.
I couldn't blame her.
In Elizabeth's memories, Maria had been slapped for speaking out of turn. Kicked once for spilling tea. She'd spent years under the heel of someone who wore silk and cruelty in equal measure.
And now?
That same woman was blinking at her with trembling eyes and… regret?
"Maria," I said quietly, trying to soften my voice. "I won't hurt you."
But she flinched anyway. Not out of hesitation but out of habit. Conditioned fear.
And in that moment, I realized just how deep the scars Elizabeth had left on this world truly ran.
A thick silence spread between us, like smoke in a sealed room.
Maria's hands calloused and shaking clutched the hem of her apron. She kept her eyes low, but I could still see them flicker with confusion, suspicion… and something worse.
Pity.
The kind of pity you reserve for someone sick in the mind. The kind of pity that meant:
You're not dangerous right now, but I'll still keep a knife close, just in case.
The woman in her eyes… Elizabeth Port Shelberg… was a villainess.
Not just some rich, bratty noble.
She was a tyrant draped in velvet. A spoiled demoness in a corset.
She once had a maid whipped for folding her gloves incorrectly. Once ordered a servant's child thrown into the cold for stuttering in front of a guest.
She had no mercy. No warmth. Only power.
And now that soul… was replaced by a Korean woman who liked ramen, soft blankets, and the thrill of fictional drama.
(What the hell am I supposed to do now?)
I was living in the body of someone people hated. Not feared like a queen—but hated like a curse.
And this wasn't a romantic comedy where I could win hearts with pastries and a cute wink.
No prince was going to fall for me just because I blushed once and tripped into his arms.
This world was cruel. Violent. Political.
The original Elizabeth dies in Volume 3. Beheaded by the empire's hero—Arthur Penrose—in the public square.
She screams. She begs. She dies alone, with no one mourning her.
And now that fate had been handed to me.
Suddenly, the corset felt even tighter.
I stumbled back, leaning against the wall, gripping the edge of a gold-trimmed console table as my thoughts spiraled.
I had no plan. No allies. No way out.
Only this borrowed body. This cursed name.
"I need to… sit." My voice cracked.
Maria nodded quickly, still wary. She motioned toward a chaise near the balcony.
I sat down slowly, trying to keep myself composed, but I could feel my heart hammering beneath the layers of lace.
(Okay, Han So-Young… breathe. Just breathe.)
Step One: Don't die.
That was the bare minimum.
Step Two: Don't act like the old Elizabeth.
If I wanted to survive, I had to rewrite everything. Rebuild every relationship. Repair the ruins she left behind.
Step Three…
Arthur Penrose.
My favorite character. The freedom fighter. The bastard prince. The one who destroys the empire and executes me in front of thousands.
(Great. The man I simped for is going to kill me in volume 3.
I buried my face in my gloved hands.
"I'm so screwed."
To be continue