"Can you hear..."

I'm sorry.

"Kuro-san!"

The girl jolted awake, greeted by immense dampness and heat on her skin. She wanted to scream, but her throat was incredibly hoarse.

It was nowhere as bad as the moment she was dying... but it was close enough. Her body was hurting all over, leaving her completely helpless.

It was a severe fever.

"Dying?"

It was a weird dream that kept coming to her every once in a while. And, surprisingly, the thought of death became increasingly less terrifying.

It was sad.

It was because the dream kept expanding, retelling the story of someone... a girl, a maid. Was it her, in her previous life or something? That might be very well the case.

Even so... the world in the maid's memory was different to her own. It was much more advanced and society was far more complicated.

When she tried to explain it to herself, the phrase 'future world' came to mind. However, because she had been led to believe that reincarnation would involve being reborn in the future, it didn't make any sense that she had been reincarnated in the past. Both from a philosophical and religious viewpoint, it seemed irrational: not even death and rebirth can defy the flow of time, or so she had always been told.

Weird.

It took three days for the young Lady to recover. But when she recovered, she felt a sudden rush of excess energy which she should put into something productive.

But what?

Little by little, she began to take notice of the situation around her. Something that she brushed off before began to bother her. But the most important part is she grew increasingly uncomfortable with the attention given to her.

Was it always like this?

"Remind me, did I always have this many attendants?" she asked the Head Maid of the household.

"It was your request, Milady," the Head Maid respectfully yet firmly answered.

"Right, I remember. However, I cannot in conscience waste the maidservants' time on meaningless tasks beyond what's necessary. Please cut their numbers by three fifths."

"Three fifths?" The confusion became more apparent. That was actually less than what the young Lady had had before she'd started making somewhat excessive requests. "Not half?"

"Three fifths. And take note, I only need one person assisting with my bath," the Lady repeated.

As she said this, the young Lady unrolled her hair. Four drill-shaped curls fell on her back while smooth long bangs draped over her cheeks.

After all this time, the young Lady finally became healthy enough to bring back her signature – perhaps even ridiculous – hairstyle. Of course, in this day and age, signature hairstyles became something as a status symbol: if you had an elaborate hairstyle, it was because you could afford to have one.

"I'll see to that." The Head Maid bowed her head and retreated from the room.

It's was a pretty ridiculous change of tune, considering the Lady's bath staff was the group that had been beefed up the most. It was superfluous, even.

Little did the Head Maid know... the young Lady had, indeed, seen a future. A future of her own undoing...

The young Lady was destined to be a villainess. This fact slowly revealed itself to her as she began to process the dream she'd had over the past two years.

If that was the case, then she should start to change...

Things only get weirder after this conversation happened. The young Lady was known to be selfish and stubborn. Though, with her intelligence and talent, there was no reason not to grant her a bit of leeway.

But most striking of all was when the chambermaids found the young Lady actually trying to clean her own room with a broom and a feather duster – and doing it splendidly, leaving them nothing to do and at a complete loss of words.

The news of young Lady's odd behavior didn't take long until it reached the ears of the household matriarch, the Marchioness of Lustre: that is, none other than the young Lady's mother.

"She cleaned her own room?!" The Marchioness's voice was a mixture of astonishment and disappointment. "What was she thinking?"

"Milady, my apologies... the young Mistress is sweeping the training field..." One young Maid reported, her voice full of terror. "We tried to dissuade her, but..."

The air turned cold as the Marchioness gritted her teeth. Her anger was palpable, and the tension lingering in the manor's corridor was thick enough you couls cut it with the proverbial knife.

"I always give her some lenience and follow her whims... but this time, she has crossed the line."

The Marchioness hurried outside to the training field at the back of the Manor. There, she saw her daughter wearing her training attire with a shovel in her hand. She wasn't alone, as their manservants were helping her.

"Just what in tarnation are you doing, young Lady?" The Marchioness barked her reproach as she approached her daughter. "I didn't give birth to a maidservant! Nor did I raise one as my daughter!"

"You're mistaken, Mother." Her daughter assumed a respectful position and bowed. "I was simply cleaning up the mess I made."

"Mess?"

"The young Miss was a little harsh on her training recently, Milady." The Head Maid reported truthfully. "The field was so roughed up that it looked almost like a battlefield a few hours ago."

"Even so, we have people for that." The Marchioness felt conflicted. She saw the terrified manservants. They were all expecting punishment for their failure to stop the young Lady. "I won't punish them, but consider this a warning. If you keep doing menial things like this, they will be held responsible."

The young Lady opened her mouth and closed it again. It was as if she wanted to argue but decided not to... and the Marchioness found it unsettling. Her daughter used to be very outspoken, even against her parents. And only the Marchioness was both strong and stubborn enough to keep her in line.

Her father had already given up.

"I understand. I won't do it again," the young Lady said, "because I don't want them to be punished for my wrongdoing."

Regardless, the young Lady was never this docile in front of her mother. And furthermore, her reasoning was absurd: she did this for the maids' and servants' sake? The young Lady was never, ever this altruistic.

"Who are you and what have you done to my daughter?" The Marchioness pulled her sword out and pointed it at the young Lady.

"Milady, perhaps you need to calm down." The Head Maid panicked and tried to dissuade her Mistress. "It's not as if the young Mistress become like this overnight..."

"You're right. Perhaps I have spent so long out of the house that I have lost sight of my own daughter's growth." The Marchioness took a deep breath. "But if she has really grown up, I would like to see it with my own eyes." She gazed at her daughter for a moment. "Pick any weapon and come at me like you want to kill me."

The young Lady was agape. "Is that... an order?"

"Yes. It was an order," the Marchioness affirmed. "Don't expect me to hold back, either."

"Please, get me a short lance."

The short lance is a peculiar weapon, roughly as long as a sword but with a conical body. It is an anti-armor thrusting weapon, not general-purpose armament. It has no bladed edge. Therefore, its primary attack method is predictable. It is also hefty, heavier than swords of the same length. Its primary feature is the hardened tip that is both strong enough to pierce thin metal armor and smooth enough not to get stuck. It seems strange, perhaps even counterintuitive, yet it is ultimately a weapon with insidious and brutal nature: it is a weapon designed solely to slay armored demons.

And indeed, it was the favored weapon of the prideful young Lady. She boasted strength beyond her peers. She could wield a short lance as fast as many warriors did a longsword.

What made the Marchioness suspicious was her battle stance. Her daughter had always been the aggressive... perhaps even reckless sort. She always took an offensive stance. As if she was a predator cornering her prey, unwilling to let go.

However, this time, she put on a relaxed guard. 'The fool' or 'iron door' was a position where the warrior took a seemingly loose stance with a slightly higher center of gravity, less bent on the knee, with their weapon lowered towards the ground. It was a sword stance focused on making fast responses and counters. It was a reactive position designed to bait an unsuspecting enemy into charging.

However, the young Lady should know that the Marchioness was anything but unsuspecting. She grew up and inherited her position, not through genes alone, but had been fighting in the name of the Kingdom for decades.

This stance shows how cautious the young Lady is, without showing any weakness.

So the Marchioness pretended she took the bait and made an amateurish overhead strike to test the waters. However, before they could clash, the Marchioness switched her movement and changed it to a rightward slash.

The young Lady raised her short lance and deflected it with ease, her eyes unblinking. Her face showed no expression at all. She twisted her lance, tried to dislodge the sword, and then thrust straight toward her mother's throat.

It was well hidden, but the Marchioness could feel her intent to kill. She dodged the lance with just a few inches to spare and struck her daughter with the pommel of her sword.

However, it was nothing but a graze.

The maids and manservants watched the exchange with a mixture of terror and awe. They hadn't seen the two of them going all out like this for a long time, especially since the young Lady often took their sparring lightly and rarely committed to it at all.

Yet, for some reason, the young Lady smiled.

The exchange continued and the newly repaired training field began to show damage once again, from heavy footsteps as well as missing strikes... these superhuman feats left visible scars on the terrain.

"You've vastly improved," the Marchioness praised her daughter with a dry tone. "You've incorporated a more defensive technique to shore up your weaknesses compared to three months ago."

"Thank you, Mother."

Despite her prodigious skill, she knew that she was not yet a match for her mother. Thus, when her short lance flew out her hands, the young Lady didn't bother to resist anymore. She stood still, the tip of her mother's blade touching her cheek.

Yet, the young Lady still smiled happily. She was strangely excited, even. The familiar, even disgustingly bloodthirsty face she wore told the Marchioness and the rest of the Mansion staff that yes, this was the genuine article, not an impostor. Neither a spy nor another noble girl would show such a carnal thirst for a good fight. Not that it was a problem since covert genetic testing was done regularly to her...

"Please forgive me. I showed you an ugly side of mine again, Mother." The young Lady rubbed the drool off her lips, slightly flushed with embarrassment, and calmed herself down.

"No matter how you fought against it, it's in your nature." The Marchioness's face softened slightly. "Get yourself cleaned up. We'll have lunch together today. As for everyone else, clean the field. But there's no need to hurry."

The young Lady bowed gracefully and left while the manservants began fixing the damage caused by the Marchioness and her daughter.

The young Lady had indeed started to change, even if there were a lot of things that remained the same: her lust for battle, for example.

The change was not sudden at all. It was a gradual process. But the Marchioness noticed the changes were the most apparent in the last three months. It happened since her departure for an extended campaign. Though largely positive, the Marchioness found it unsettling.

In the dining room, the Marchioness waited for her daughter to come in.

"Sit down, Adrianne," she said.

The young Lady sat down on the opposite side of the dining table. She was physically refreshed, but her expression remained as composed as before.

"I see that you grew up splendidly as a squire..." The mother didn't spare any courtesy as they began eating. "What of your studies?"

"If my tutor is to be believed, it's satisfactory at least."

Usually, she would say such modest words with a tone of thinly-veiled arrogance. But today she was being honest. As if there was not a shred of pride in her...

"I've heard from the Head Maid of your behavior recently. Not only did you clean your own room, but you also started bothering the servants by doing their jobs for them."

"I apologize. I haven't behaved in a manner befitting the name of Lyster."

"Indeed, you haven't."

The Marchioness expected her daughter to at least gave a token attempt to defend her actions or some sort of justification. No matter how thin, she would accept it. Because, for all her harsh treatment of her, she still loved her daughter very much.

As a daughter of high nobility, Adrianne could do so much worse and get away with it.

Yet, the explanation never came. Adrianne took the blame without doing anything to mitigate it.

For some reason, Adrianne Valiant Lyster seemed to have grown increasingly docile... no, she might even have become submissive enough to be called a doormat. The Marchioness's husband had always been a pushover. Yet even by his standards, Adrianne's dutiful, accommodating and obedient behaviour seemed excessive.

Her husband apologized that he couldn't in conscience dictate everything that Adrianne did. Hence, no one in the Mansion had sufficient authority to stop Adrianne's penchant for doing domestic chores.

Even the Head Maid could only give strong suggestions, and Adrianne ignored them. Because Adrianne always asked the same question.

"Is that an order?"

To which the Head Maid would say, no, it was not an order. No matter if it was for her own good, Head Maid was unwilling to overstep her bounds.

While still exercising her own position in the mansion, Adrianne behaved like a maid. Not a daughter of the Marchioness.

"He might not show it, but your father is concerned for your well-being. Tell me, what's the reason for your actions as of late? Why did you start doing chores?"

Adrianne widened her eyes strangely but stayed quiet. "..."

"Tell me the reason," the Marchioness said firmly. "That's an order."

"Because it made me relaxed and focus," Adrianne replied, "Among other inconsequential things."

"What inconsequential things?"

"It gave me a new perspective on things that I took for granted before. This mansion and its household cannot function without everyone fulfilling their assigned roles," Adrianne said. "Of course, I didn't do it to help them or anything. It was all for my own satisfaction. And that's why, if I made you ashamed, I won't do it again."

"You actually did it of your own volition?"

"Yes."

"Alright." The Marchioness decided to let it go. "Starting today, you take care of your own room and your equipment. However, you're not allowed to clean anywhere else, neither the rest of the mansion nor the training field. Understood?"

Marchioness Marianne could detect very unsubtle signs of happiness from her daughter. She really likes cleaning that much?

"Is there anything else you want to do? Cooking? Embroidery?"

"I believe I'm a complete disaster in the Kitchen. My very existence would be an insult to the culinary arts." Adrianne cringed hard, which probably about as much emotion she could show outside combat. "If embroidery would benefit my future as a noblewoman, then I'd like to learn it as well."

The Marchioness thought of having her learn embroidery to begin with. Adrianne in the past had lacked elegance to soften her rough edges. The current Adrianne didn't need it, but it might serve as a good hobby regardless.

"If nothing else, it will be a great exercise of diligence and self-control. This is not an order, however. So feel free to think about it."

"I understand, Mother."

"Oh, and another thing." The Marchioness raised her voice again. "I don't like your forced modesty. It's as if you're dissatisfied with the name of Lyster. So show at least some pride."

"..."

"Was I wrong?" the mother asked.

"...You're mistaken, Mother," Adrianne corrected her. "I couldn't be more proud of the name Lyster. Anyone who dares to disrespect the name, they shall pay, immediately or in the future."

"However... as for my personal pride... it will just end with my own tragic demise," Adrianne explained. "Since two years ago, I keep experiencing the same dream, or perhaps you'd call it a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

"A nightmare of a bad future for the House of Lyster, but especially for myself."

"What kind of nightmare?"

"Less than two years from now, you suffer from a crippling condition... I'm not sure if it's because of battle injuries, poison, or an illness, but you end up retiring from the frontline. I learn the wrong lesson from this and become increasingly spoiled and arrogant. Years later, I die a war hero, but also in loneliness and despair." Adrianne's face turned grim. "It is still unclear to me exactly how that happened – or will happen – but I know that my personal pride is the main cause."

"How... often do you get it? That nightmare?"

"At least once every week. It's become increasingly longer and more vivid. Perhaps in time, I might actually learn the full story and how to avoid this catastrophe."

A single nightmare is nothing. Getting it twice might be a coincidence.

But to get the same nightmare again and again... for two years? Even the Marchioness could not dismiss it offhand.

The future that Adrianne had to suffer in her recurring nightmare... it was her dying as a war hero, but alone and heartbroken.

The Marchioness wasn't heartless enough to let that pass. Never.

"I understand. In that case, I will remain vigilant." The Marchioness sighed. "However, just like there's a thin line between vigilance and paranoia, there's a thin line between pride and arrogance."

"What are you afraid of is getting too arrogant for your own good," the Marchioness emphasized. "As a future noblewoman, you have to know where to draw that line. If you can't even feel proud of yourself, how will you get the respect of your subjects and your peers?"

"...I understand."

"Take your time and keep pondering about it. Only you can find the solution to your problem."

Little did the Marchioness know that Adrianne had only told her half of the story. As Adrianne stood up, she prepared for her departure.

"Just in case..."

Her goal on this short trip is to find a certain someone...

Someone who will leave a long-lasting impact on the Kingdom...

The only person who had the power to save the Marchioness. Previously a wet nurse of the Second Prince.

Madam Ruby Pucheria.