1 For three years I stood by my husband guarding the Northern Frontier. Upon our return, he brought only his deputy's widow and children. "He died saving me," my husband claimed. "Caring for them is my sacred duty." He gave me a wooden hairpin while installing them in the General's mansion. When frontier wars raged, they feasted in luxury while I fled through wilderness with our children. Enemy scouts slaughtered them while I foraged. When General Joseph arrived, he shed no tears. "The title needs an heir," he said. "Liz's son will do." "Don't worry," he added. "Even if I marry her, I'll always love you most." I drew my dagger and ended it all. Then I awoke—back on the day my children would die. … The moment I realized I had been reborn, I dropped the basket and sickle in my hands. I quickly disguised my two children, and together, we slipped out the back of our small dwelling. Perhaps they had grown accustomed to this life of constant flight and hardship. They were obedient, quiet, and cooperative. Their very maturity, born of suffering, only deepened the well of my hatred for Joseph. I had once promised him that I would never return to the Capital without a letter from him. This time, for the sake of my children's lives, I would break that cursed vow. I sold the jade pendant he had given me when we were betrothed—our token of true love—and scraped together enough money for the long journey. After more than two weeks of jolting travel, we finally stood before the imposing gates of the General's Manor. "Insolent beggars! The General's Manor is no place for you to linger! Be gone, before our swords lose their patience!" The guards, assuming we were peasants seeking alms, moved to drive us away. They only stopped when I produced the official token of the General's household. "Wait here. I will inform the General and his lady." The guard took my token and disappeared inside. Half an incense stick later, a familiar voice, laced with annoyance, drifted from within. "How could a beggar have the General's token? Did you even..." Lady Liz's voice died in her throat the moment she saw me. I, too, stared at her, momentarily stunned. Her skin was fair and delicate, her gown fashioned from shimmering silks from the South. Her hair was a cascade of expensive pins and jewels. My children and I were dressed in coarse, patched tunics. Our skin was rough and chapped from the harsh frontier climate. No wonder the guards had mistaken us for beggars. In three years, aside from the cheap wooden pin he’d given me at our parting, Joseph hadn't sent us a single coin, not a single morsel of food. All his thoughts, all his resources, had been lavished upon Liz and her children. Liz was clearly thrown by my sudden appearance. Her lips opened and closed, but no words came out. It wasn't until Joseph appeared behind her, his face a mask of impatience, that the tableau broke. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me and the children. "Aurelia! What are you doing back in the Capital?" he hissed, grabbing our arms and frantically pulling us inside the manor. "We had an agreement! I told you I would write when it was time for you to return! Why didn't you honor our arrangement?" I ignored his questions, my brow furrowed. "Why did the guards at the gate call Lady Liz 'my lady'?" Joseph flinched, his gaze darting away from mine. Liz, who had followed us in, quickly interjected. "Aurelia, dear sister, don't misunderstand. It's just the servants. They speak out of turn." She added, her voice dripping with false humility, "The only true lady of this manor is you." I could hear the bitter resentment simmering beneath her words. Joseph nodded eagerly. "Yes, that's right. The servants are foolish. Aurelia, you know my heart belongs only to you." I was too weary to expose his lie. I simply led my children deeper into the manor. Just then, a small boy dressed in rich brocade ran out from one of the inner rooms. He threw his arms around Joseph's legs. "Father!" he chirped. "You promised you would teach me swordsmanship today!" I recognized him at once. It was Liz's younger son, Conrad. Three years ago, he had been a scrawny, timid child. Now, he was the very picture of a pampered young nobleman. My own children, by contrast, were little more than skin and bones. To get a single mouthful of food, they had to walk miles with me every day, digging for wild vegetables. Swordsmanship? Even learning to read and write was an impossible luxury. Liz, seeing the storm gathering on my face, quickly pulled Conrad away. Joseph came to me, taking my hand in a placating gesture. "Aurelia, please don't be upset. The boy fell terribly ill a year ago, and all he did was cry for his father. You know it's because of me that he has no father. I felt so guilty... I let him call me 'Father' to comfort him." I remained silent. My silence made him nervous. "Aurelia, you've always been the most understanding of women. Surely you wouldn't be angry with a child?" 2 In my last life, Joseph had used those exact same words. Five years ago, the enemy launched a surprise attack on our camp. It was his deputy, Liz's husband, who had thrown himself in front of Joseph, saving his life. With his dying breath, the man had entrusted his wife and children to Joseph's care. From that day forward, he brought Liz and her children to live with us. At first, he and Liz maintained a semblance of propriety. Any needs she or her children had were communicated through me. He doted on our own children. Liz and I even managed a cordial relationship. But somewhere along the way, his focus shifted entirely to her. If Liz or her children so much as coughed, he would shamelessly stay by their side all night. Yet when my own children needed their father, he would always use the excuse of military duties. Then came the King's order for him to return to the Capital. He told me that Liz, a widow with two young children, would face gossip and hardship if left alone. He reminded me of his deathbed promise to his deputy. He would take them back to the Capital first, he said, and send for me and our children later, when things were settled. I understood that a debt of life was paramount. I agreed without hesitation. I never imagined that his "later" would mean three full years. I never imagined he could be so heartless as to completely abandon his own flesh and blood, while cherishing another man's. I had written to him, my letters filled with hopeful questions about when he would send for us. I never received a single word in reply. In my last life, I understood his burden. I sympathized with his difficult position. I was grateful for the sacrifice Liz's husband had made. So no matter how hard life on the frontier became, I gritted my teeth and endured it with my children. Every time they asked when their father was coming, I would invent excuses for him. During our time on the run, I would rather eat wild roots with them than sell the jade pendant he had given me. And what was my reward? The cold corpses of my children and a letter of divorce. Even the title of Young Lord, which rightfully belonged to my son, was to be stolen by hers. How could I accept that? How could I not hate him? So, in this new life, I would rewrite our destiny. Just as I was about to speak, Liz's soft voice cut in. "Brother Joseph, Sister Aurelia, perhaps you can have your private conversation later. The children are hungry. Let us eat first." The staff had no idea I was coming today, yet the dining table was laden with roasted fowl, fish, and glistening meats. This, clearly, was their everyday fare. My children's eyes lit up at the sight of the feast. They began stuffing food into their mouths without a shred of decorum. Their manners were crude, uncultured. But I did not stop them. I knew how long it had been since they'd had a full meal. But some are not so understanding. "Mother, why are we eating with three beggars? It's disgusting!" Liz's older daughter, Celia, glared at my children with open contempt. I had no patience for it. I slammed my chopsticks down on the table with a loud crack. "Who are you calling a beggar?" Seeing my fury, Liz quickly scolded her daughter. "Celia! How dare you speak to the lady of the house that way? Apologize at once, or you'll have no dinner." Celia's face was defiant. "Why should I apologize? I'm not wrong!" "Fine, I won't eat! I'm sick of this food anyway!" With that, she stormed off. Liz offered me a perfunctory apology, then took her son Conrad's hand and followed her daughter out. Joseph, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, looked furious. After the meal, he had a maid take my children for a bath. Once we were alone in the dining hall, he finally spoke. "Aurelia, when are you and the children returning to the frontier?" I gave him a strange look. "Why would we return? We have no intention of going back." The moment the words left my mouth, I heard the sound of a teacup shattering just outside the hall. I looked up to see Liz's retreating back. A flicker of worry crossed Joseph's face, and his tone became frayed with impatience. "What do you mean you're not going back?" "Aurelia, we had an agreement..." I cut him off. "Joseph, you have killed countless enemy soldiers. Their families see my children and me as targets for their revenge. And how am I, a lone woman, supposed to raise two children on the frontier? If you send us back, we will either be murdered by your enemies or starve to death." My voice hardened. "And do not forget, they are your flesh and blood." Joseph frowned. "I sent men to protect you. I sent money and grain every month. How could you not be able to care for the children?" 3 "When did you ever send men to protect us? When did you ever send us money or food?" "Do you have any idea that for the past year, my children and I have been hiding from your enemies, living on nothing but wild vegetables?" "You're disgusted by how our children eat, by their lack of manners? Have you ever once stopped to consider why they are this way?" My barrage of questions silenced him. After a long pause, he finally mumbled, "I'll go find out what happened." He turned and strode away. That afternoon, Joseph came to my room, his face a mask of embarrassment. He explained that he had given Liz control of the household finances. The responsibility of caring for me and the children had been delegated to her as well. But, he claimed, she had been so overwhelmed with managing the manor that she had simply... forgotten about us on the distant frontier. "Forgotten?" The excuse was so absurd I almost laughed. "Did she truly forget about three living, breathing people, or did she see an opportunity to eliminate us so that she and her children could take our place?" My tone angered him. "Aurelia, the fault lies with my negligence. Blame me if you must, but Liz is innocent." "She has to manage this entire manor for me and look after her two children. It hasn't been easy for her." His words were the final straw. "You say it hasn't been easy for her? Then what about the three years of suffering my children and I have endured?" "If life in the General's Manor is so difficult for her, why don't you send her and her children back to the frontier?" Seeing my refusal to back down, Joseph's anger flared. "Can you stop being so unreasonable?" "And don't you forget," he spat, "if it weren't for Liz's husband, I would be dead!" I let out a cold laugh. "And don't you forget, if it weren't for my father taking you into his army, you'd still be begging for scraps somewhere!" He fell silent. The room was thick with tension.
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