Day One: Encounter
In a room filled with worn-out chairs, desks, and shelves that seemed out of place, the storage space was dimly lit and covered in dust. Despite its considerable size, it always felt chilly.
There was no bed, only a few rough, thick blankets and a worn-out cushion with a hole. The room had just one small window, placed high up, which made it dim even during the day, with the air feeling stagnant.
I found myself on the floor of this room, and right in front of me stood two girls in beautiful dresses, which looked out of place in this setting. They had surprised expressions on their faces.
One of the girls pushed me, and I fell backward, hitting my head on the floor. The pain was intense, and I couldn't make a sound. Apparently realizing their mistake, the two girls quickly backed away in a fluster.
"Hey, I'm not the one to blame!"
"That's right, it's all your fault!"
With those words, they angrily left the room, their footsteps fading away.
I lay on the dusty floor, holding my aching head, feeling utterly lost. As stars danced before my eyes from the impact, unfamiliar memories flooded through my mind.
What's happening? Is this really me?
This is so strange. It's a different world, after all.
A different world? Yes, a completely different life from here.
So, what's my name?
I am Lucienne La Vérie, the third princess of the Vérie Kingdom.
...This can't be true, can it?
As I suddenly sat up, I felt a wave of dizziness.
I covered my face with both hands, trying to bear the throbbing pain in my head, which hurt in various ways.
I began to wonder about my previous self before becoming who I am now. In my past life, I had carelessly slipped on some stairs during winter and fallen. The fact that I had no memory after that fall made me question whether I might have died at that time.
However, my immediate concern was the current situation.
The two girls who had rushed away moments ago looked strangely familiar. They bore a striking resemblance to the elder princesses of Lucienne from an otome game I adored and played in my previous life. In the explanations about the former royal family mistreating Lucienne, there were even illustrations depicting the young Lucienne being pushed by the princesses.
While I had my present memories, the memories from my previous life were surfacing. This place seemed identical to the otome game I used to play in my past life. Not only the name of the country but also the presence of those princesses I had just seen was uncannily similar.
The behavior of the reigning king, my father, who ruled with an iron fist, and the extravagant spending that was draining the treasury had become unbearable. This had pushed the discontented subjects to stage a coup and seize power from the king.
Amid the execution of most royals, Lucienne was the only one spared, thanks to her lineage and previous treatment.
Lucienne's story began with the king's involvement with a maid from the Earl's household. Her mother tragically passed away during childbirth, and Lucienne, born with the king's blood, was accepted as the third princess. However, her father, the king, had shown little interest in her, having merely dallied with her mother.
The queen, along with her children, the prince and princesses, treated Lucienne harshly, subjecting her to meager meals, tattered clothes, and sporadic violence. The maids in the inner court could do nothing to defy the royal family and often turned a blind eye to Lucienne's suffering.
It was only during the coup that Lucienne's true identity came to light. Despite her royal and noble lineage, her life had been marked by abject poverty, akin to a child from the slums. This, ironically, played a role in her survival.
Following the coup, Marquis Fayette, the leader, ascended to the throne. To prevent the exploitation of Lucienne's royal blood, she was adopted as a foster daughter into the Fayette family.
However, Lucienne continued to yearn for love, even from her new family, but couldn't find it. Instead, she developed an attachment to her stepbrother and fiancé, who, in return, paid her no attention.
To complicate matters, both her stepbrother and fiancé began to show an interest in the game's protagonist, the heroine. Lucienne felt that she was losing them to the heroine, so she started to resent and harass the heroine, taking on the role of a malicious antagonist.
The game's story began when Lucienne was fifteen and entered school. She believed that she and the heroine were the same age, as she remembered the heroine stating her age as fifteen at the game's outset.
But then, I have to wonder, how old am I now?
Searching for answers in Lucienne's memories proved futile. She rarely left her room and had never celebrated a birthday, leaving her age a mystery.
The original story mentioned a change in kings ten years ago, and with no coup in sight, Lucienne was likely not even five years old yet.
I take another look at the palm of my hand.
It's so tiny, scarred, and I seem too skinny for a child.
My hair has grown long, all the way down to my knees, and without any access to a bath, it's gotten pretty dirty.
And of all things, I've been reborn as a princess, the same one who, in the original story, used to torment the game's heroine.
...But really, could Lucienne's life have started off any more challenging?
I can't believe I've managed to survive this far.
Oh, but there was that maid who secretly shared food with me; I remember now.
However, she got caught, and it seems she had to quit her job. Lucienne still carries the memory of that guilt with her.
"...I'm hungry."
Thinking about food brought back memories, and I realized I haven't had anything to eat since the day before yesterday.
The girls from earlier are my half-sisters, the first and second princesses of this country. They often joined the queen in mistreating me, and they've been oppressing me in the inner court for a long time.
They took away my meal the day before yesterday, so I've been trying to silently ease my hunger with well water.
"My head hurts..."
The back of my head throbs with pain after the impact.
I touch it and feel a sizable bump.
I need to head to the well regardless.
I want to quell my hunger, and I'd like to cool down that bump.
With a ragged cloth in hand, I quietly leave the storage room and make my way to the well located at the back of the inner courtyard.
Considering how high the sun must be by now, it's unlikely the maids will be around.
My small body, battered from punches, kicks, and shoves, aches in various places.
Nevertheless, I manage to walk and eventually reach the well.
I place my hand on the edge of the well and take a deep breath.
Then, I toss the bucket, which was sitting by the side, into the well and grasp the attached rope. It's quite heavy, but I slowly pull it up. As the bucket comes into view, I wind the rope around the well's post and draw the bucket closer.
I dip my face into the bucket to drink the water.
It stings a bit, as if I've cut my mouth.
Afterward, I soak the cloth I brought and wring it out before pressing it against the bump on the back of my head.
The bump must have been warm, as the refreshingly cold cloth feels soothing.
I lean against the well and take a seat.
The cloth would probably warm up too quickly if I returned to the room, so I'd better chill it here.
As expected, the cloth warmed up rapidly. I take it off from the back of my head and dip it back into the bucket.
...
I find myself unconsciously using it to wipe my arms.
I mean, my body is quite dirty.
Once I notice it, I can't ignore it. I use the cloth to wipe my face, limbs, dip it in the water, and then clean beneath my clothes to remove the dirt. The water is surprisingly dirty.
But I feel a bit fresher.
As I tip over the bucket outside the well to dispose of the grimy water, a shadow casts over me.
I'm startled and accidentally drop the bucket, which rolls onto the ground.
When I turn around, there's a young man standing there.
Men are not supposed to be here in the inner courtyard.
Upon closer inspection, for some reason, the young man is also intently peering down at me.
Then, without uttering a word, he takes three steps to the right.
So I move my face in the same direction.
Next, he takes three steps to the left.
And, just like before, I shift my gaze the same way.
The young man's gray eyes widen in astonishment.
"Can you see me?" he asked.
I nodded.
I quickly checked to see if I still had legs.
...Yes, I do. I'm not a ghost.
"Come over here," I said, taking the young man's hand. We moved away from the well and headed towards the walls surrounding the inner courtyard.
The area around the walls was filled with trees and bushes, making it surprisingly easy to hide.
We nestled into the shadows of some nearby bushes and crouched down. The young man followed suit.
"Listen, this is the inner courtyard, and men aren't supposed to be here," I explained.
Judging by his clothing, he didn't look like a noble.
He had soft, chestnut-colored hair, gray eyes, and a piece of cloth covering his mouth. He wore a scarf-like item wrapped around his neck, as if to conceal his face. It was strange, but I felt like I had seen him somewhere before.
...Wait, is he smiling?
The young man placed his hand on the cloth covering his mouth and lowered his head slightly, his shoulders trembling with a hint of laughter.
"You should leave quickly; it's better that way. If they find you, they'll be really angry," I advised.
The young man lifted his head and inquired, "Won't you let me go?"
"No, it's not that. I haven't seen anything, met anyone, or spoken to anyone. So, I don't know anything about you, and I won't tell anyone."
"Is that so? You seem quite clever," he remarked, squinting his eyes.
...Perhaps he smiled?
I heard a voice calling my name from somewhere.
As I relaxed my grip, the young man stood up straight and ventured out of the bushes. I hastily followed him.
Trespassing into the inner courtyard, especially for a male, would result in harsh consequences. To be more precise, they would be executed without any inquiries.
Nevertheless, the young man continued to walk resolutely toward the source of the voice calling me.
I wanted to stop him, but our differing strides made it impossible for me to catch up.
Soon, the voice was right there.
"Wait...!"
"Lucienne!"
A woman in a lavish dress appeared around the corner. It was the heavily adorned queen. She noticed my voice and stared at me with annoyance.
Oh no, what should I do?
"Did you sneak out of your room again? Breaking the rules! As a child of that woman, you're exceptionally skilled at annoying people!"
The queen, walking toward me with anger, curiously walked right past the young man on the side for some reason.
Huh?
Then, she stood in front of me and raised her hand.
Before I could react, she slapped my cheek. I felt the heat on my face more than the pain.
She then grabbed my long hair without mercy.
"Come on, walk faster! Go back to your room! That's why I hate stubborn children like you!"
With her grip on my hair, she dragged me along the hallway towards the storage room.
The young man I had glimpsed earlier was staring at us.
I don't really understand, but it's a relief that he wasn't found.
Feeling a bit relieved, I let out a weak smile, and the young man's eyes widened again.
Simultaneously, I was slammed hard onto the ground.
"Why are you laughing? It's creepy!"
I was abruptly kicked in the back.
Her heeled shoes caused a sharp pain in my back.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced.
A hidden character recently added to the original game.
A young man skilled in dark arts, an assassin with excellent stealth abilities.
...But for a hidden character, he wasn't very hidden.
As my consciousness waned, I thought of this vaguely.
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
The queen, excessively dressed in an indecorous manner, strolled down the hallway.
After she disappeared around the corner, Lefebvre peered at the face of the unmoving child lying on the floor.
Slight, barely noticeable movements indicated that the child had likely fainted.
Upon closer inspection, their dirtied body was covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts.
Judging from the queen's behavior, such mistreatment appeared to be a regular occurrence.
Lefebvre had observed this up close earlier; this child probably had royal blood.
Their hair was a common shade of brown, but their amber eyes had a unique, gem-like beauty only seen in the royal family. These amber eyes were a shared trait of the current king and his second son, a mere ten-year-old prince.
Understanding this, it became clear that the child was indeed the king's offspring.
(...I see.)
The second prince is the king's child from a concubine.
The queen had one son and two daughters, but none of them inherited the amber eyes.
Based on the child's treatment, it's likely that the queen isn't their mother.
Our promiscuous king occasionally indulges with beautiful court ladies and maids, and this child may be the result of one such liaison. It's an ironic twist that they inherited the amber eyes.
As Lefebvre observed the child's face, a maid arrived. She picked up the child and took them away with little regard.
Despite the rough handling, the child remained unconscious.
Following the maid, Lefebvre arrived at a door.
Upon opening it, Lefebvre found himself in a plain, rather dull room.
The room was dusty, with very poor lighting.
In one corner, the maid placed the child on a shabby, tattered blanket.
Without a backward glance, she exited the room.
Once her footsteps had completely faded, I took a closer look around the room.
There's just one small, high window in this dim, musty room. It's quite spacious but filled with broken and worn-out furniture. The wallpaper is peeling, and there isn't even a rug on the floor.
It feels like a prison.
In one corner, a small child lies on the floor.
Lefebvre touched the fabric beneath the child, and it was stiff, rough, and uncomfortably thick. Even in the slums, they don't use fabric this poor.
Lefebvre watched the child, who was taking slow breaths.
She had long, unruly brown hair down to her knees, a tired complexion, and clothing as worn as the blanket. The sleeves and hems were too short, leaving her feet bare.
The soles of her small feet bore countless tiny scars, ranging from old to fresh ones.
(...How can she manage to smile under such dire conditions?)
This child, who had been roughly treated by the queen, looked at Lefebvre and smiled with relief, seemingly because they weren't discovered.
Despite the pain from her hair being yanked and the fear from the violence she endured, she offered a faint, relieved smile.
(...Is this acceptable?)
After ensuring the absence of anyone nearby, Lefebvre extended his hand toward the child. He quietly chanted, and a faint light gathered in his palm.
To his surprise, the light was immediately repelled.
"Huh?" Lefebvre blinked in confusion.
He tried the incantation once more, but the result was the same: the magic was repelled.
Startled, Lefebvre touched the child's forehead.
The small body showed no sign of magic whatsoever.
While variations in magic quantity were common, humans typically possessed magic from birth. Having little magic or being unable to perform magic was not unusual, but Lefebvre had never encountered a human with absolutely no magic.
(...I see. So that's why this child isn't treated as a royal.)
Despite inheriting the distinctive amber eyes of the royal family, this child, who should have had a significant amount of magic if they were truly of royal blood, had only a trace, barely noticeable.
"I'll have to report this..."
The child, who was not supposed to have any magic, was not mentioned in the preliminary discussions. Lefebvre's skill couldn't affect them, and the child smiled with innocence, unlike anyone he had met before.
"Letting her die would be a bit difficult."
Pulling out a healing salve from his pocket, Lefebvre rolled up the unconscious child's clothes and started tending to her wounds. After all, he would have to sneak into the inner courtyard for work for some time.
Might as well take the opportunity to observe the child up close.
Once he had quickly treated her wounds, Lefebvre left the dusty room.
With that emaciated body, she'd be on the verge of death soon.
(...First and foremost, she needed some food, right?)
Lefebvre squinted, let out a silent chuckle, and uttered the name the princess had called.
"Lucienne, huh?"
He had stumbled upon something quite fascinating after a long time.
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
I woke up in a room that I recognized as the storage room. I was lying on a makeshift bed made of cloth, and when I turned on my side, my whole body ached. The rough fabric touched my cheek.
With a bit of effort, I managed to slide my arm between my body and the fabric, slowly propping myself up.
"Ugh..."
My back hurt as much as the back of my head.
Oh, right, I had been kicked by the queen. I gritted my teeth against the pain and realized something strange.
Something seemed amiss when I tried to move. I tugged at my collar and peered beneath my clothes.
Huh?
I lifted the hem of the tattered dress and examined my body. After all, I was the only one in this storage room. Gauze-like bandages covered various parts of my pale, emaciated body.
I carefully peeled a corner of the gauze from my stomach, revealing a murky dark green substance beneath it. When I touched it with my fingers, it felt sticky.
I brought my finger closer to my nose.
...Oh, this is probably some kind of ointment.
The herbal ointment had a faint, distinct scent. It seemed to be applied to concealed wounds and bruises under my clothes, making it feel like small cloths were stuck all over my body.
I tried to revisit Lucienne's memories, but living here and receiving wound treatment like this was a first for me.
...Could it be the maids?
Most of the maids in the inner courtyard avoided actions that would displease the queen, so they had ignored Lucienne's numerous injuries for years. It didn't seem plausible that they were providing treatment now.
...Is it him?
The last person I saw, the young man with chestnut hair and gray eyes.
He was a hidden character in the otome game "In the World Where Light Shines with You," a highly skilled assassin belonging to the Dark Guild. While he looked much younger than in the original game, his appearance as an assassin hadn't changed, so it was likely him.
Currently, this world's timeline is about a decade earlier than the original game, so the characters should all be younger.
...Well, that's a problem.
The hidden character, Lefebvre Nicholson, was officially announced about two weeks before I probably died. At that time, only his full-body standing and face, name, and profession were revealed. His personality wasn't known, and he was supposed to appear in a special edition separate from the main game.
Moreover, I died before it was released.
Honestly, besides appearance, name, and occupation, I don't know anything else about him.
...But since he treated my wounds, he might not be such a bad person.
At least, he seems kinder than the maids in the inner courtyard.
I adjusted my dress and contemplated.
Setting aside the fact that he's a hidden character, I'll thank him when I meet him next.
The discomfort remains, and the pain persists, but my injuries seem slightly better than usual.
For now, let's focus on healing my wounds.
Given how angry the queen was earlier, I probably won't get a meal today.
I lay down on the rough cloth.
I took a piece of fabric I had touched earlier, wrapped it around me, and closed my eyes.
...I'm so hungry.
My empty stomach aches, and I press my hand against it. Soon, drowsiness takes over.
Without resisting, I fall asleep.
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
I'm not sure how long I slept, but when I woke up again, the room was pitch dark.
It was a bit chilly, and I remained lying down, pulling the rough cloth closer around me.
The injuries from the daytime seem to be affecting me; my head aches.
When I touch my forehead, it's hotter than expected.
Seems like the injuries are causing a fever.
...That makes sense, right? For a malnourished child with no strength, having bruises all over would naturally lead to a fever.
But my throat is so dry.
When I attempt to sit up, my body sways unsteadily.
...Ugh, I feel sick.
I curl up on the cloth, face down.
I'm thirsty, but it seems impossible to go to the well.
As I endure the discomfort, I suddenly sense something in the air.
Although this room is quite confined, it rarely lets in drafts, so I wonder if it's a bug or something. I lift my head slightly.
Someone is standing nearby.
It could be due to Lucienne's instinct from enduring violence, but my body trembles involuntarily.
The figure that was standing straight bends down.
"Oh, it seems you have a fever,"
The person I had been thinking about earlier was now bathed in the soft moonlight coming through the window.
I was filled with questions about why he was here, how he'd arrived, but when you're not feeling well, your thoughts become muddled.
Even after some contemplation, I couldn't figure out why he was present.
"...Did you not go outside?"
I inquired, and he tilted his head.
"Nah, I did step outside for a while."
He extended his hand toward me.
My body tensed instinctively, but I offered no resistance. Given that he was an assassin, he could end my life at any moment if he chose to.
Yet, the fact that he had tended to my wounds indicated, at least for the time being, that he didn't have any malicious intent.
A hand much larger than mine gently found its way through a gap in the fabric and rested upon my neck.
It felt pleasantly cool, and I unconsciously pressed his hand further against my neck. His fingers moved ever so slightly.
"Hmm, your fever is higher than I expected."
His large hand gently surrounded my neck. He slipped another hand under my limp body, along with the rough blanket, and lifted me with ease. I found myself cradled in his arms.
I murmured softly, "Cooold..."
The hand that had been on my neck withdrew, and I heard some rustling. Something touched my dry lips, and a faint, sweet fragrance wafted up. As I opened my mouth, the sweet substance entered.
I tried to bite it, but it was too hard to chew. After I gave up, it was removed from my mouth. In its place, something like a tube touched my lips.
When I bit onto it, the tube tilted, and a small amount of liquid flowed into my mouth.
...Water!
I couldn't help myself; I grabbed it with both hands. The tube tilted again, allowing water to flow into my mouth. I drank until I was satisfied, and when I let go, the tube moved away from my mouth.
After a moment, there was a cracking sound.
Then, something else entered my mouth. It was another fragment with that same sweet smell. Just like before, it was hard, so I rolled it around in my mouth, moistening it with saliva until it softened enough to chew.
The food was incredibly hard, sweet, and slightly salty, not particularly delicious. But Lucienne's memory considered this a delicacy, highlighting her lifelong struggle for decent meals.
When she recalled past meals, it brought to mind moldy bread, bland soups with unidentifiable bits, and spoiled fruits. Even though they were hardly palatable, she considered herself fortunate to have them.
Many days, the queen and her half-sisters were in a bad mood, and Lucienne went without food. In such moments, she resorted to drinking from the well or secretly eating scraps. She even scavenged the kitchen's trash late at night when hunger became unbearable, despite knowing it might make her sick.
Her half-sisters found this amusing and sometimes made her eat spoiled food, forcing her to do so in their presence.
In contrast, this unfamiliar food was considered delicious except for its hardness. It wasn't spoiled, didn't consist of vegetable or fruit remnants, and lacked the usual bitterness or unpleasantness. Most importantly, it had the rare sweetness of sugar, something she rarely enjoyed. The slight saltiness enhanced the sweetness.
She methodically chewed and swallowed each piece.
More fragments were placed in her mouth, tasting just as sweet. It seemed the earlier cracking sound was related to these pieces. Surprisingly, he didn't rush her; he silently observed her savoring the food.
After consuming five or six pieces, she felt full and shook her head.
"Can't eat anymore?" he said.
He nodded, removing the piece from my lips. Then, he placed a small, slightly bitter piece in my mouth, followed by a sip of water.
As my hunger and thirst were satisfied, drowsiness began to take over. The feeling of drifting off surrounded me.
He seemed to notice my drowsiness and let out a gentle chuckle, which I felt through his arm that held me and his touch on my body.
He gently placed me back on the blanket.
Reaching my hand toward his retreating form, my fingers brushed against his.
"Th...thank you," I managed to say, struggling to keep my eyelids from closing.
In response, he looked down at me, his eyes narrowing and a faint smile on his lips.
"Goodnight," he whispered in his elongated voice.
Guided by his soothing tone, I closed my eyes.
Darkness quickly consumed me.
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
A small child sleeps bundled in cloth. Lefebvre administered some fever-reducing medicine earlier, so her fever should have subsided by tomorrow morning.
Although Lefebvre treated her wounds during the day, they included not just bruises but also slightly infected scrapes. So, he expected she might develop a slight fever tonight.
As anticipated, the child did have a fever.
To my surprise, it was higher than he had expected.
She was limp and hardly moving, managing to speak only a few words, seeming quite distressed. When Lefebvre picked her up, she felt incredibly light. Her slender neck, which he touched directly, was burning hot.
It seemed like the child found comfort in his cold hands, tightly pressing his hand against her neck.
(...Leaving your neck so exposed to an assassin, that's rather vulnerable.)
Lefebvre held her close, sat down on the spot, and placed her on his lap.
He could faintly see her face in the moonlight, and it appeared somewhat blurry.
He offered her some of the food he had brought, and while she attempted to eat it, she quickly spat it out. However, when he provided her with water, she eagerly drank it.
Then, he broke the food into smaller pieces with one hand and placed a morsel in her small mouth. This time, she held it in her mouth for a while, apparently waiting for it to soften with her saliva.
The food he had brought was hardtack, a type of biscuit known for its durability, slight sweetness, and saltiness, designed for long shelf life. It wasn't particularly known for its taste.
However, this food, though not particularly tasty, was popular among Lefebvre's colleagues due to its minimal odor, ease of carrying, and lightweight nature.
The child consumed it without any complaints.
He continued to offer her food while keeping an eye on her. After she had eaten about six larger pieces, she softly shook her head, indicating that she couldn't eat anymore.
Since this food tended to make one thirsty, he gave her some more water, along with a final dose of fever-reducing medicine.
The child didn't hesitate to take the medicine, and she began to show signs of drowsiness.
When Lefebvre tried to lay her back on the blanket, she reached out toward him, her fingers gently brushing against his as a gesture of gratitude.
With Lefebvre's comforting words, she seemed to relax, willingly surrendering herself to sleep.
The storage room was quite dark, but his night vision allowed him to clearly see the child's sleeping face. Wrapped in the stiff blanket, she slept with a peaceful expression, occasionally moving her mouth.
He realized that this was the first time he had cared for a child. In the Shadow Guild, they didn't have children of this age, and the kids in the slums, although not uncommon, typically had sharp and wary expressions, as if they were constantly on guard, much like wild animals.
On the other hand, noble children were a common sight. He had infiltrated noble estates many times for various assignments, and most noble children were generally spoiled and far from endearing.
City kids were spotted occasionally, but there was something distinctly different about this child.
"...Quite an unusual child."
The sudden appearance of Lefebvre didn't trigger any alarm from the child.
He had relayed information about the child to the client when taking on this job, and it appeared that the child's presence had surprised the client. They had then instructed him to gather more information about the child.
(...Well, even without that instruction, I would have done so.)
Lefebvre casually popped the last few biscuit crumbs into his mouth and discreetly stashed the remaining food he had brought in the child's pocket, making sure it wasn't visible.
As he gazed down at the child, her breathing had gradually become more serene than before.
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