My usual day has always been very full and simple.

When I wake up at dawn, the first thing I do is wear my ragged clothes.

I work as a servant, so not only dresses but also any decent clothes are wasteful. Originally, my only dress was white, but it turned into a black-grey dress with oil stains and ragged fabric with time. With this, I can do dirty work without hesitation.

Draw water from the courtyard well. Make 20 round trips. Repair the house… etc.. anything…

I usually started the day adding firewood to the furnace and starting the fire. I put the dough that was prepared last night in the oven and start the cooking. I made some stew with vegetables and sausage before the bread is baked.

Later, I visited everyone, including the servants and my parents, brother and sister and wake them up. I did the laundry while they have breakfast.

A merchant’s request came. I bought some ingredients, then hand over my bread and fabric and receive more money than I paid.

When I return inside, everyone had already finished their meal and no one was there.

I gathered the little leftovers on everyone’s plate, and made my breakfast eating it with some cold soup. My breakfast has always been full of vegetables and very delicious because my father dislikes vegetables.

After I’m done with those tasks, I enter my room and head to the desk to study.

… Sister died yesterday.

… My life disappeared a week ago.

On the way to know her fiancée, the carriage tumbled into a river and was swallowed by the turbulence and disappeared. It was close to the royal capital, so a fairly large search was performed. But they couldn’t find her. On the fifth day, my parents became certain of my sister’s death.

Much earlier than the glamorous wedding, a silent and complete family funeral said goodbye to my sister forever.

We had a lot of engagement petitions here and there for her. My father wrote a letter to all of them. First of all, thanking them for asking her hand in marriage and politely informing of her death.

I sign father’s name on the envelope. For many years now, I have been writing his letters.

I stand up after finishing and prepare for lunch. Today’s family menu is some soup of onion and zucchini, pumpkin salad, and bread. For myself, I fry the vegetable skins and cut ends with fat and some bread. I eat it while standing. Delicious.

I returned to my room while my family was eating and worked again until evening.

I make dinner and clean up the dried laundry. I return to the dining room, but unfortunately, there was no food left today. Have only hot water, so I clear the dishes, polish the floor, scrape the ashes from the furnace, and set aside the dirt and organic waste for garden fertilizer.

Boil water for the bath of the family. Then, I clean the bathroom.

I sprinkle some manure and ash over the vegetable garden. Harvest vegetables, then chop wood.

-After that, head to the bath. The hot water was crisp. I wiped my wet body with old clothes. The ragged work clothes are now wet and I leave them on the well for laundry cleaning.

My hair is much harder than straw, and duller than a black cloth.

Then I return to the mansion, dragging my tired and cold body.

I can’t go to sleep yet. After calculating the balance of the day and putting it on the books, I write down my father’s schedule for tomorrow …… and the bread for tomorrow must be prepared.

Oh, but I want to read a little book.

One page, one line, one character. I want to go to sleep after reading some texts.

My sister told me the story of a distant foreign country -while recalling… the name must have been “Red Cat Zubaro”- She performed it with so much enthusiasm. I want to read it…

As soon as I entered the main floor of the mansion, I was suddenly hit with a bang.

“I wish you had died!”

It was my mother.

“Oh my cute Anastasia. Why did you die. Why …!”

Mom screams and hits me.

Over my cold cheeks, I can see that mother’s hands hurt.

Father is just looking. I remain silent and continued to be struck by mother.

Even children who aren’t cute aren’t abused. This is the first time my parents did this without meaning. But there was no surprise.

It was not surprising the unreasonable violence or being told to die on behalf of my sister.

“You killed Anastasia? Did you work on the carriage? You pushed the carriage into the river. So you killed My Anastasia.”

“It’s your fault! Kill people! Die! You die!”

……Oh. Poor mother.

Anastasia was a treasure for mother. She was a flower. She was an angel.

Poor mother. I understand your feelings. I’m also sad because Anastasia died.

Poor anastasia … because she was too cute. Mother whose angel was robbed is really poor.

I hate being beaten because it hurts.

But compared to the dead Anastasia. Compared to mother’s chest pain.

Suddenly the beating stopped. When I opened my eyes, Dad was holding her hand.

“Stop it now, it will only hurt you”

“Even if it hurts, I can never see her face again. Anastasia is dead.”

“No, no, don’t do this. Because Mary is going to the Count of Granado.”

“I?”

I thought what I heard was wrong. But my father looked straight at me and told me.

“Mary, replace Anastasia, that’s your compensation for surviving.”

Atonement. What atonement, Father.

What sin did I do?

I have not killed Anastasia. I have not even been on the same carriage. If I survive, is it a sin? Is your, brother, or mother being alive also a sin?

Oh, I see.

It’s no good because It’s me.

I won’t be even if I want… Anastasia.

The beautiful, cute, bright, Anastasia.

I also like to be loved, kind, and demanded by everyone but I’m not her.

---

“Plak…”

“Mary?”

There was a quiet, gentle voice calling me.

When I woke up, I was wrapped in a blanket naked and laid on a bench.

In that state, Tunica is rubbing my back. Mio is combing my hair.

As I looked around, Mio narrowed her eyes.

“Did you take a nap?”

“… I was sleeping …?”

“Yes. Did you get hurt?”

“No … I feel good”

“Mary, please sleep a little more. I’m just applying the cream throughout your whole body.”

Tunica says. I closed my eyes again.

“――Well, be at easy. Leave your beauty treatment to me.”

“… Mary is so beautiful …”

Their voices get farther away.

This time I did not dream.

But the next time I woke up, a dream-like world was spreading far more than a dream.

— More of all the novels tomorrow!

Translated by Djurasico (dot) home (dot) blog