Serpina Richter was timid.

She was so timid that she secluded herself in her room for over 3 months after marrying the Duke of Richter, known as the monster of the North.

Curled up alone in a curtained room, she covered herself with a blanket and slept.

Occasionally she would wake up to eat and then sleep again.

It was an utterly lethargic state.

The only time she showed emotion was when she would startle at the sight of her husband, the Duke of Richter, and avoid his gaze.

Unlike the large-boned, muscular people of the North, the pale and delicate new mistress was growing thinner and paler day by day.

The servants of the Richter mansion felt sorry for the new mistress.

Living under the gloomy sky of the North after living under the bright sunshine of the South must be quite depressing.

And that’s not all.

She was essentially abandoned by her family.

After all, the Duke of Richter was called a ‘monster’ throughout the empire, including the capital.

A man cursed by beasts.

A cruel beast.

The monster duke.

No woman wanted to marry such a man.

Naturally, parents who cared for their daughters did not want to send them to the monster duke.

Thus, for generations, the mistresses of the Richter family were women who were essentially sold off.

They were abandoned by their families and sold in exchange for sufficient compensation from the imperial family, who wished for the Richter family to continue their lineage.

So how could they not sympathize with that pitiful mistress?

Sold by her family, becoming the bride of the monster duke, withering away in the cold and bitter North.

Of course, not everyone felt this way.

“But isn’t it too much?”

“What is?”

“The mistress, I mean. It’s like she doesn’t even treat us as human. And the duke isn’t even a scary person, but she startles as if she’s seen a monster whenever she faces him.”

“Shh, Siena. Someone might hear.”

While hushing Siena, Mari also sympathized to some extent.

Though she felt sorry and pitiful, she also felt strange.

As someone who had worked at the Richter mansion for a long time, seeing a person trembling and losing their will to live like that…

It felt like becoming a minion of the monster castle that kidnapped a fairy tale princess?

They were just ordinary servants satisfied with good welfare and high wages.

But the resentment was momentary.

Seeing her haggard face and eyes losing their light day by day.

“…I just hope she adapts quickly.”

That was all she could pray for.

And, some time later.

Mari recalled her past prayer as she witnessed the scene before her eyes.

Did I pray too hard?

No, honestly, I didn’t pray that earnestly.

It wasn’t even a prayer to begin with.

I just lightly wished, ‘Oh, I hope she adapts quickly.’

But why.

“Mari, did my Sandra flowers sprout? Wow, I’m really proud. I guess I have a talent for growing herbs.”

…Did she adapt to this extent?

Mari awkwardly smiled as she looked at the mistress crouching in the corner of the garden.

Wearing a comfortable dress that commoners would wear, and a straw hat that looked like it was picked up from somewhere.

Wearing boots instead of shoes, and silk gloves covered in dirt while holding a trowel.

This bizarre change began just 3 weeks ago.

I had a dream.

It was a dream of my childhood that I had forgotten.

The time when my mother and grandmother were still alive, before I was sent to live with my biological father, Count Adeline, and endured a life marked by abuse.

In the dream, my young self was rolling on the ground.

Rolling on the muddy ground right after the rain, I burst into laughter seeing the mud all over my body.

My mom and grandmother exchanged such words and then laughed heartily.

I, rolling my eyes between them, laughed along.

The large laughter echoed all around.

Even the rustling of leaves seemed to carry the sound of laughter.

I woke up hearing the echo of that booming laughter.

“…Ah.”

Tears were forming at the corners of my eyes, and an indelible smile lingered on my lips.

And I remembered things I had forgotten.

My happy childhood.

The lessons and teachings my mother and grandmother left for me.

And even my past life.

…Oh, this is a bit random.

Honestly, I wondered why I suddenly remembered even my past life.

Did it get uprooted along with the forgotten memories that were bursting out, like sweet potato vines with long tails attached?

Ah, that could be it.

Whatever the case, this wasn’t a bad situation.

The feelings of helplessness and depression that had been eating away at me since my marriage were pushed aside by memories of my past life and childhood.

The root of my depression was my life at Count Adeline’s mansion.

When my mother died in an unfortunate accident, and my grandmother began to feel her life coming to an end.

Grandmother took me to my biological father, Count Adeline.

She thought that even if I was an illegitimate child born from a one-night mistake, he wouldn’t abandon his daughter.

Because a child needs a guardian.

I was 13 years old at the time.

At 13, I was a disaster dropped into the count’s mansion.

The countess was desperate to get rid of me, and the count treated me like vermin.

Their daughter Laura was ashamed of my birth but welcomed my existence.

She was a child who found happiness in the misfortune of others.

Honestly, I felt wronged.

Yes, it was unfair.

My mother met Count Adeline without knowing he was married.

They met by chance at a restaurant, and he pretended to be single while seducing my mother, and she fell for it.

Count Adeline had a decent appearance that belied his rotten inner nature.

That’s right. My mother just showed her face, she wasn’t guilty.

After that one-night affair, when she found out he was Count Adeline and married.

My mother kicked him hard in the groin and left with grandmother.

With me in her womb.

Judging from this story, there was clearly only one perpetrator.

Count Adeline, my biological father, who had a decent appearance but was rotten inside.

However, the countess chose to take out her anger on me instead of touching her child’s father.

A dirty attic.

Little food.

The maids’ mockery and bullying.

Pouring verbal abuse and beatings.

Amidst the countless acts of violence, I gradually forgot my bright and sparkling childhood.

As if the mold that grew in the sunless attic had taken over my mind.

The end of the torment was my marriage to Duke Richter.

The monster of the North that everyone avoided.

When the emperor declared that he would give great wealth and power to the family that provided a bride for this monster, Count Adeline and his wife rushed to draw a number.

It was a golden opportunity to sell me, the thorn in their side, for a very high price.

So I was sold.

For the first time, they smiled at me.

‘Go and die.’

I thought I heard such an auditory hallucination in their bright smiles.

I was afraid of my husband.

I feared the monster duke who had bought me.

I couldn’t adapt to the cold North, and everything here felt like it was choking me.

It felt like this place was the final destination I had arrived at after being abandoned by the world.

A massive pit.

A vast swamp.

My hell that would endlessly plunge me to the bottom and finally take my life.

My grave.

That’s what the North was to me.

But not anymore.

“Actually, the real hell was the count’s mansion.”

Overshadowing my lost childhood, life at the count’s mansion had become my normal.

Even though a more ordinary and peaceful daily life had existed, I had begun to consider that abuse as natural.

So when I was thrown out of that daily life.

I perceived this place as hell.

In reality, the count’s mansion was the true hell, and the people of Richter treated me carefully.

They were anxious when I didn’t eat, worried I might lose my eyesight from being buried in blankets all day.

They would try to open the curtains to let in sunlight, but if I flinched and showed discomfort, they would startle and close them again.

How could this place be hell?

Above all, there was clear evidence that this place couldn’t be hell.

This is an important fact I realized along with recalling memories of my past life.

Namely.

“Wow. My husband was the male lead?”

That my husband, the monster duke, was the male lead of a romance fantasy novel called ‘Please Water the Second Flower.’

Then am I the female lead, you ask?

Not at all.

I was a supporting character.

The duke’s wife who withered away believing the North to be hell.

The first wife whom the male lead eventually sent away with alimony and a place to stay, unable to bear the sight anymore.

The ex-wife who drove home the point to the male lead, who already lived believing no one would love him.

Thanks to that, the main story became a dry sweet potato field.

With the male lead’s self-esteem hitting rock bottom, he did an enormous amount of digging, and the female lead matched his pace with her own enormous digging.

With both sides digging so much, well.

It wasn’t just a hole, but an underground bunker in the making.

I remember reading it with my heart pounding, but to think it was all my karma.

It can’t be helped.

I should clear my own karma.

Recalling the original work and comparing it to my behavior over the past 3 months, an unbearable sense of guilt washed over me.

Thinking about how one person would receive a great wound and dig until their arms fell off because of me, I felt terribly sorry.

Moreover, actually…

I really liked that novel!

How much I cheered for the male and female lead couple.

I even shouted in joy when they finally stopped their arm-breaking digging and kissed.

Anyway, what’s important now is this.

That I can stop the male and female lead’s ultimate digging.

A beautiful parting without trauma.

I should stay as friends and part ways cleanly, then cheer for the love between the male and female leads from the sidelines.

…Oh. I’m kind of like a Hollywood person.

With admiration, I came out from under the blanket.

Faint light was seeping through the curtains the maids had drawn.

Like a spotlight shining on me as I start a new life.

…Indeed. I guess I have a Hollywood style.