Chapter 2: Here we go back to the beginning...

Chapter 2: Here we go back to the beginning…

The Storn Empire, or Gladstone Empire as it's formally known, derives its name from the royal surname—a detail

“Ethel pov”

“ I've gleaned from my study of historical texts. This world is one steeped in magic and swordsmanship, where the arcane arts hold sway alongside martial prowess. Unlike in my previous life, magic here isn't shunned; rather, the power wielded by the Magic Tower rivals that of the ruling family. Strangely, the influence of the temple and church pales in comparison to their counterparts in my past existence. Behind the veneer of smiles and civility lies a society rife with hidden layers, much like a poison pill waiting to unravel if one lacks moral fortitude.

At the heart of the empire lies the imperial family—an emperor, three sons, and a lone daughter, the youngest princess. While their interactions may appear smooth to outsiders, those privy to the truth know it to be merely a facade.

The empire is divided into four principalities—east, west, north, and south—overseen by respective dukes. My father holds the title of Grand Duke of the North, younger brother to the current emperor. Presently, the Tower Master reigns supreme, his mastery of magic unmatched.

As I ponder these details, I find myself perplexed by the unexplained phenomenon of being reincarnated once again, despite having experienced death in my previous life just two years prior. This deviation from the norm confounds me, as does the weakness and fatigue that plague my current form. It seems the original Ethel suffered from neglect by her father, a circumstance exacerbated by her apparent lack of magical prowess.”

“Pov end “

Gazing skyward, Ethel draws a deep breath, contemplating her next course of action. Restoring this body's health and strength must be my priority—a task that demands my immediate attention.

"I have a lot of experience from my past life, so it shouldn't be difficult to learn swordsmanship and martial arts. Let's look on the bright side. Despite her limited magic, this body responds well to my abilities, which means I can improve,"

 Ethel mused, contemplating her newfound circumstances.

Rising from her chair, Ethel pressed her fingers against the mirror's surface, reaffirming her new identity. However, a sarcastic smile played across her lips as she reflected on the endless cycle of reincarnation.

"Alas, I wonder when this nonsense will end. I'm so tired of being reborn again,"

 she muttered a mixture of annoyance and anger etched onto her features until a knock interrupted her thoughts.

"My Lady Duchess is requesting your presence. I'm here to assist you in getting ready,"

the maid's voice broke through Ethel's reverie.

Ethel quickly composed herself, wiping away her grim expression with a gentle smile. "Enter."

Concern flashed in the maid's eyes as she observed Ethel's pale complexion.

"My lady, are you alright?"

"It's nothing, don't worry," Ethel reassured her, though her mind was elsewhere.

"If the Duke had summoned me, would you have already informed him?" Ethel inquired, prompting a nervous response from the maid.

"Yes, my lady, your condition is of utmost importance," the maid replied earnestly.

With a light laugh, Ethel dismissed the concern. "Let's proceed. I'll lead the way."

"But, my lady, you must prepare," the maid protested anxiously.

"I have no need. I'm simply visiting my father; I'm not attending the Royal banquet," Ethel stated firmly, running her fingers through her luscious black hair.

The maid hesitated before reluctantly acquiescing to Ethel's request. "Lead the way," Ethel commanded, exuding a newfound confidence that surprised the maid.

As they walked, Ethel admired the opulence of the palace, remarking softly on its beauty. Glancing at the maid, she noted the stark contrast in their personalities with a wry smile.

"Personality differences are quite evident, aren't they?"

Determined to live on her terms, Ethel resolved to embrace her individuality for the first time, experiencing the fear and thrill of authenticity. "Check is complete," the maid announced, signaling their arrival.

Ethel stood in awe of the grandeur before her, her eyes widening at the sight of the ornate door and opulent surroundings. As the door creaked open, Ethel's heart skipped a beat, her hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Is this how Ethel feels? No, these are my own emotions. But why do I feel this connection? Who is behind that door?"

 Ethel's thoughts raced, her mind consumed by a whirlwind of uncertainty.

"Oh my princess, oh my princess, what can I do? Is everything alright?" Anna's voice trembled with concern, but Ethel remained impassive, her icy demeanor unfazed by the maid's worry.

Ethel lost in her thoughts, shook herself back to reality and responded in a soft, weary tone, "Oh no, nothing, I just got distracted for a moment." Her words lacked warmth, a stark contrast to Anna's genuine concern.

Gathering her composure, Ethel turned to face her father and offered a respectful salute. "Good evening, Duke. Did you summon me?" Her tone was polite but distant, devoid of any hint of familial warmth.

As she looked up, she couldn't help but notice her father's distant expression. "Who dismisses their daughter like this?" Ethel wondered silently, her cold exterior masking the turmoil within.

Pushing aside her inner turmoil, Ethel addressed her father directly. "You seem disappointed. May I ask why?" Her voice was cool and detached, revealing little of the tumultuous emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Her light laughter filled the air as she pondered, "Perhaps it's because I addressed him as Duke and not Father?" Yet even her laughter held a hint of frostiness, a barrier to keep others at arm's length.

The Duke regarded her with a friendly gaze, inquiring, "Why are you smiling, Ethel?" His concern was evident, but Ethel remained guarded, unwilling to let down her defenses.

"Oh, it's nothing important," Ethel replied casually, though her heart was heavy with unspoken questions. Her words were dismissive, a shield against the vulnerability threatening to surface.

Suddenly, the Duke's demeanor shifted, his expression filled with concern. "Please, have a seat, Ethel. I've heard about your illness or memory loss. Are you alright? How did this happen?" His worry was palpable, but Ethel remained aloof, unwilling to let him see her weakness.

Surprised by her father's genuine worry, Ethel couldn't help but wonder, "Does he truly love me?" The question escaped her lips before she could stop herself, her tone betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the frost.

"What do you mean, Ethel? Of course, I love you. After all, you're my daughter. But has something happened to make you doubt my love?" The Duke's words were reassuring, but Ethel remained skeptical, unwilling to let herself believe in his affection.

Tears welled up in Ethel's eyes, washing away the bitterness that had clouded her heart. These tears, though not her own, reflected the genuine emotions of Ethel's past self. But she quickly composed herself, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

Feeling a comforting warmth envelop her, Ethel found herself pulled into her father's embrace. His worried yet tender expression brought a sense of solace to her troubled soul, but she remained distant, unwilling to fully let him in.

"He's not a bad man. Can I trust him?" Ethel silently pondered, her guarded facade beginning to crack ever so slightly as she allowed herself to be held by her father.

But as quickly as the joy had come, reality set in once more. "This warmth doesn't belong to me. It's Ethel's," she realized with a pang of guilt, bowing her head in shame. Her heart remained cold, untouched by the fleeting moment of connection.

"I'm sorry for taking advantage of her emotions like this," Ethel murmured apologetically, her tone betraying a hint of remorse. But her expression remained stoic, a mask to hide the turmoil within.

At that moment, a sense of relief washed over the Duke's troubled features, and Ethel rose to her feet. "So... Excuse me," she said softly, her voice devoid of emotion as she turned away, retreating into the safety of her icy facade.

To be continued in the next chapter...

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