Chapter 1 - A Life of Regret
Ah, what a life of endless regret. To have wounded so many, to have driven the innocent to their deaths...
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Though the apologies tumbled from my lips, reality remained cold and indifferent. There was only despair.
Rachel could only tremble as she stared at the coachman and her maid, both stained crimson and utterly still. She shook her head frantically, struggling to move limbs that had turned to lead. As if mocking her plight, the hulking men before her wore crude, sneering grins. The blood-slicked sword in one's hand swung downward, aimed directly at her.
The thread of my consciousness snapped, and my brief eighteen years of life came to an end.
Or so it should have been.
♢
When Rachel opened her eyes, she was in her own bed at the Marquess's estate. The sheets were pure white, the duvet soft, and morning light filtered through the curtains of the large window.
Why?
Had she been saved? No, she had certainly died then. On the way to the monastery, just before clearing the forest, bandits had ambushed them. Sarah, her maid, had refused to leave her side until the end. "Ojou-sama needs me," she had said through tears, insisting on accompanying her all the way. Then there was the middle-aged coachman, who always wore a warm smile. They had been caught in the crossfire, and Rachel had surely died with them. The stench of blood and the sensation of the sword piercing her chest remained vivid. It had been aimed straight for her heart; there was no way she could have survived.
Was it a dream? No, that couldn't have been a dream.
Then why was she alive?
As Rachel's thoughts raced, a light tap sounded at the door. She answered with a reflexive "Yes," and the door swung open.
No way. Rachel nearly screamed, clamping a hand over her mouth just in time. Her hand wouldn't stop shaking, and her face surely lacked all color. Standing there was Sarah—the maid who should have been killed alongside her.