Prologue

Ever since I was a child, I kept having this strange, recurring dream. At least, that’s what I thought it was.

In the dream, I found myself in a small wooden house, staring rapturously at a square-shaped object called a television. One side of the square was made of glass, and through this glass, I was able to see all sorts of things. Landscapes. Moving pictures. Women in short skirts baring their legs.

Every now and then, I would find myself gazing into a mirror, only to see a completely different “me” gazing back—a girl with perfectly straight, black hair, dark brown eyes, and a broad, flat nose.

In reality, my hair was the color of a marron glacé, and my eyes were a dull gray-green. Sometimes I would scrutinize my reflection in a spoon and wonder if I had some sort of subconscious desire to change my appearance.

But it wasn’t until I was six years old that I started to see these dreams with exceptional clarity. I remember because it was right around then that my father took a second wife.

My stepmother was always incredibly cruel to me, but my father had never really liked children himself, so he generally turned a blind eye to my suffering. The servants all kept their distance, too, lest they put themselves at risk of losing their jobs. When I cried, I cried alone.

But once I started having those vivid dreams, I sort of... stopped caring. I stopped hoping my father would come to my rescue. And that made it easier to bear.

Unfortunately, things only got worse for me.

Three years later, after my father passed away, I was relegated to the position of servant. The culprit? My wicked stepmother, of course. She confiscated all my possessions, gave me exactly one black dress to wear (all the better to hide dirt and grime), and put me to work cleaning the house from top to bottom every single day.

I cried in secret every night, wishing she would love me like she loved my younger half-brother. But I was merely a child, so I couldn’t oppose her. If I didn’t follow her orders, I would go hungry that day, and I didn’t exactly want to starve to death.

But whenever I had those recurring dreams, my “other family” was always very kind to me. That tiny silver lining was what got me through these hard times.

As it turned out, however, my life as a servant only lasted a few months before it came to an abrupt end—the day I was adopted by a nobleman I had never met.

Unfortunately, my new father, the count of Patriciél, was by no means a kindhearted man. I was told he wanted a daughter to use as a political pawn, and for that purpose, he had paid a hefty sum to take me off my stepmother’s hands.

On the bright side, he at least seemed to want me around, and he never withheld any meals from me. I was given a wardrobe of beautiful clothes, and his servants treated me with respect. Sure, there was no affection between us, but it was still worlds better than a life of servitude.

At age eleven, I was permitted to enroll in a parochial boarding school for daughters of nobility. Now, three years later, I was living a relatively peaceful life, learning all the ins and outs of proper etiquette while hiding my dark past. And over time, those strange recurring dreams became few and far between...

◇◇◇

“Clearly, I was too optimistic.”

Sitting on the floor of my dorm room, sunlight gleaming off the white plaster walls, I curled into a ball and sighed. After reading the most recent letter from Lord Patriciél, I had barely managed to suppress a scream—and now I was in the throes of despair.

Granted, this reaction was only natural, I think, seeing as my adoptive father had just ordered me to marry a man more than twice my age. Worse still, the man in question was rumored to have three or four different lovers. I’d glimpsed him once, back at the Patriciél estate. He had the face of a bullfrog.

Mind you, I was no drop-dead knockout myself, but still—I was only fourteen. Surely a girl my age was allowed to have fanciful dreams of a handsome husband, right?!

Thinking back, Lord Patriciél had mentioned that he intended to make me an attendant to the queen. I had assumed I would be hired at the palace immediately after graduation... but I was a fool.

Supposedly, only married women were permitted to serve the queen. That way, in the event the king took one as a mistress, any illegitimate children could be passed off as her husband’s. And since national policy dictated that said children would not be considered rightful heirs to the throne, this was a convenient way to get rid of them.

Personally, not only did I not want to get married, but I really didn’t want to have to sleep with some old royal guy I wasn’t interested in just to keep my job. But the count would never let me say no. Ugh, somebody get me out of here!

On top of everything else, public opinion of the queen was less than favorable.

Queen Marianne was originally the princess of Llewyne, a kingdom that bordered our own. Llewyne and Farzia had had a hostile relationship dating back many, many years, but eventually, once both countries were completely exhausted of troops and resources, they agreed to wed their royal families as proof of a truce.

But in recent years, Llewyne had started to invade small countries to the east, and it was beginning to look like they were back to their usual tricks. Some were confident that Llewyne would leave Farzia alone, seeing as their king’s younger sister was our queen, but others weren’t so sure. Marianne refused to assimilate into Farzian culture, and rumor had it she was on bad terms with the king.

So if I became her attendant, and then war broke out between Llewyne and Farzia... I would end up on the queen’s side, right? In which case, wouldn’t everyone see me as an enemy of the state?

After everything I’ve been through, I just want to live a normal life! I don’t want to be one of the bad guys!

Just then, all the memories of my recurring dreams flashed through my head at once, rising like a tide to the forefront of my mind.

In my dreams, I was a fourteen-year-old girl with dark hair and dark eyes who lived in a country called Japan. My other self loved to play video games—specifically RPGs. But real-time combat was too fast-paced for me, so I preferred turn-based strategy games instead. That way, I could take my time.

But my all-time favorite was a game called Farzia: Kingdom at War, in which the protagonist, Alan, battled against the queen and her invading army to reclaim his stolen homeland and avenge the death of the prince.

At one point during the game’s storyline, the protagonist encountered a wicked spellcaster who sought to impede his progress—Kiara Credias, an attendant to the queen with chestnut-colored hair and pale green eyes.

Here in real life, the viscount I was ordered to marry was named Lord Credias... and if I complied, then I would end up with the same name as the spellcaster...

Wait, what?! Does that mean I’m that same villain?!

So as you can see, I was kind of freaking out.