The Emperor’s Illegitimate Child.

For an illegitimate child born into the imperial family, where status was everything, the future they faced was harsher and crueler than a bitter winter wind.

Neither a member of the imperial family nor an ordinary citizen of the empire – that ambiguous status was Ludmila’s lot.

Unable to belong to either side, she was always ostracized and despised, but she was not without use.

She grew up steadily as a mouthpiece for the imperial family.

The emerging nobility grew to match the dawning of a new era.

Based on their overwhelming wealth and influence, they expanded their power and sparked revolutionary winds in the quiet empire, but to the conservative imperial family and existing nobility, they were seeds of discord.

However, unable to ignore them, some of the great nobles made efforts to win over the imperial family to their side. The surest means for this was, of course, marriage.

There was no need to spread rumors that the once young illegitimate child had grown into a dazzlingly beautiful young woman as an adult.

Her platinum blonde hair, as if proving her bloodline, was exceptionally beautiful, and her blood-red eyes were on everyone’s lips.

Those rumors naturally reached the ears of Kedilen Erdi, the Minister of Commerce, who was called the focal point of the newly emerging nobility.

The day he showed interest in Ludmila, she could no longer be called Hilard.

She had to append the surname Erdi.

In the end, the marriage was successful. A well-matched pair. A beautiful couple.

One was a young great noble, while the other was born of noble blood, albeit only half.

Moreover, Ludmila’s etiquette and manners were beautifully refined, as if to rebuke those who claimed such things were vulgar relics of a bygone era.

She became the epitome of a noble lady.

However, that was only how it appeared on the surface.

The future that unfolded for Ludmila with her marriage was the life of an emotionless doll, filled only with the pain of oppression.

All Kedilen needed was her bloodline.

Though appointed Minister of Commerce, the Erdi Marquis family was originally an obscure provincial nobility.

For the newly emerging nobility, mostly comprised of provincial nobles or wealthy commoners, bloodline was essential.

However, from power struggles with the old nobility to the contemptuous attitude towards the new nobility, it was difficult for them to seize power.

In the midst of this, Ludmila appeared as the best catch.

How could they not be pleased? But the greedy man was not satisfied with her status.

When drunk, he would curse that half of Ludmila’s blood was base, and rage that her being only half-noble prevented him from attaining higher positions.

When sober, he would order Ludmila to study endlessly, demanding she become an even more perfect noblewoman.

Meanwhile, he would have private meetings with women of seemingly respectable status. These were the actions of a man who had neglected his wife from their wedding night.

Three years. Violence and oppression, pain and torment. The doll, Ludmila, who had struggled desperately in despair, ended her short life.

Gossipmongers who like to chatter at newsstands in broad daylight often say that Ludmila was an unfortunate woman.

That she wore long-sleeved clothes even in midsummer to cover her bruises, they say.

Such talk, as is often the case, is dismissed as nonsense since its origins are unknown.

One might even get a sound beating for being drunk and slandering the beautiful couple, warned to watch their tongue.

But who would have known?

“…in. …ess…in!”

That all their nonsense was actually the truth.

“It’s morning, Marchioness!”

Sharp voices breaking the silence caused eyelids to lift quickly.

The revealed red eyes and pupils were tense, as if frightened by something.

Ludmila’s eyes were fixed on the plain ceiling devoid of any ornate chandeliers. Her eyeballs slowly rolled at the unfamiliar sight.

Familiar objects and scenery entered her vision. Her constricted pupils gradually relaxed, and the tension left her rigid body.

Ludmila, who had been stiff as a fallen mannequin, slowly raised her hand to her face.

“Are you awake, Marchioness?”

At that moment, a familiar voice sounded along with the noise of blackout curtains being drawn open.

Warm, gentle sunlight poured into the dimly lit room.

Eyes accustomed to darkness squinted slightly at the sudden sunlight, but it was enough to rouse her body.

Sitting askew on the bed, Ludmila leaned heavily against the headboard, her body still weighed down by sleep. She turned her head.

Her gaze fell on the old woman standing by the window where sunlight was streaming in.

“…Emma?”

“Yes, it’s Emma. The nanny who begged the Marchioness all day yesterday to please wake up early and get ready today.”

Emma grumbled, moving her wrinkled lips busily as she rolled her eyes.

The book placed on the bedside table made her white eyebrows twitch.

“You said not to worry, that you’d wake up on your own and to trust you, so this foolish nanny believed you completely.”

“Em…”

“But it seems the Marchioness forgot my plea and read books late into the night again, oversleeping. Just like you forgot about General Sedrick’s retirement ceremony today!”

The urging continued towards Ludmila, still drowsy, as if scolding a tardy daughter.

Leaning back with her eyes lowered, Ludmila reacted to the word ‘retirement ceremony’.

Her lips parted as quickly as her head rose, as if a trigger had been pulled.

“Retirement ceremony…?”

“Yes, the retirement ceremony. Did you forget that the master said to prepare more carefully than ever because you must attend General Sedrick’s retirement ceremony?”

“I didn’t forget…”

“Good that you didn’t forget! Now, come out quickly. We need to hurry and get ready. How long are you going to lie in bed? Should your nanny undress you like a five-year-old?”

The nanny approached, placing her hands on her hips with a kind smile that contrasted with her words.

“Come on, get up. We’re busy, Marchioness.”

“W-wait a moment, nanny.”

As if words alone weren’t enough, Emma forcibly lifted Ludmila, who was sitting on the bed. Only Emma, who had raised her for 20 years, could do this.

Startled and wide-eyed like a rabbit, Ludmila was suddenly on her feet. Emma turned away from her and lightly pulled a bell cord.

As if on cue, the door opened and maids entered. Emma clapped her hands.

“Come on, we’re busy, so move quickly. Marchioness, today will be very hectic, so please follow along well. It’ll be harsh to make up for oversleeping. Are you prepared?”

“Wait, Emma. I’m not yet…”

“Now, to the bath!”

“Emma!”

Emma watched with satisfaction as Ludmila disappeared into the bathroom, led by the maids as if in a scene from a play.

Her upturned lips fell, and her eyes fell on the bed where Ludmila had slept last night.

Emma neatly arranged the rumpled bedsheets and blankets.

In contrast to her gruff words earlier, her wrinkled hands were extremely delicate and careful.

Smiling gently as she tidied the place where her daughter had rested, like a mother, Emma made a final check before turning away. It was the start of an ordinary day.

“This is strange.”

The designer fixing Ludmila’s hair behind her rolled her eyes at Ludmila’s brief murmur.

The designer alternately examined Ludmila’s reflection in the mirror and the scene before her eyes, moistening her increasingly dry lips with her tongue.

How many times had it been already? It seemed to be at least the third time. The designer cautiously opened her mouth at Ludmila’s words.

“Um… Marchioness. Should I perhaps call for a different designer?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, you’ve been saying that you’re not satisfied with any of the designs I’ve been doing. I’m worried that perhaps I’m not meeting your wishes.”

The focus that had blurred due to being lost in thought returned once again.

Ludmila pondered the designer’s words, furrowing her delicate brow before seemingly realizing something and letting out a low exclamation.

“Ah, I’m sorry. It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with the hairstyle. There’s just something on my mind, but I made you misunderstand. Please continue.”

“Yes… I understand.”

The designer nodded as if she understood, but judging by her drawn-out response, some doubt seemed to remain.

As Ludmila pulled up her lips again, the designer said, “It’s late, so I’ll hurry a bit,” and moved her hands busily.

Watching this scene while wearing an obligatory smile, Ludmila once again sank into thought, and her lips dropped again.

With a face as dry as a doll’s, her eyelids lowered. In the shadow cast by her long, even eyelashes, Ludmila rolled her eyes.

‘Why am I alive?’

Ludmila’s last memory was of the heavy chandelier that her husband had so cherished, as he boasted reciting a history difficult even to memorize.

That dazzlingly beautiful and shining chandelier crushed her with an unimaginable weight.

Her consciousness was cut off after hearing faint screams, shouts, and hurried footsteps. And when she opened her eyes again, she was in bed.

‘There’s not a single wound.’

In her fading consciousness, she had naturally thought she was dead.

Even if she hadn’t died, she should have been seriously injured, but when she examined her body while bathing, it was hard to find even a scratch. And above all, the retirement ceremony.

Unless General Sedrick had gone senile, there was no reason to hold another retirement ceremony just a month after the previous one. Then, this place…

Reaching one conclusion by combining the hazy memories of that day and complex possibilities, Ludmila slowly raised her head.

Her reflection in the mirror before her was surprisingly identical to herself on that day.

From the dress to her hair, even down to the jewels on her earrings.

Silently observing this incredible product of coincidence, Ludmila could see the door opening beyond the mirror.

“It’s not finished yet?”

A man wearing clothing proudly displaying his family crest embroidered in golden thread on his chest.

“You’re late, Ludmila.”

The owner of the dry, cold voice was her husband, Kedilen, who had threatened her until just before her death.

Seeing him, Ludmila’s eyes trembled as memories from before her death resurfaced.

Translation complete. 100% of original text translated.