Chapter 1: The Abusive Wife’s Realization

“—I am Cedric Gilbert, the one who will become your fiancé.”

It was a soft voice, yet somehow hoarse, like a boy’s.

When I lifted my face, pale golden hair and a blue as clear as the bottom of an ice-covered lake flooded my vision.

Hidden in the shadow of long lashes, that blue looked a little dark.

His expression, too, was frozen as if trapping the light inside.

Fifteen years old.

FraIL, thin, perfect only in manners—a solitary, beautiful boy.

—With those words, that figure, everything came back to me.

This is the world of a game.

The boy before me, Cedric Gilbert, is one of the capture targets from the otome game I once played obsessively, Magical Chronicle!

In my previous life, I was Japanese.
I’d buy sweet snacks and cute-packaged games on the way home from work, staying up late into the night.

Romance games and novels were the best magic to heal the fatigue of reality.

Among them, Magical Chronicle! was my favorite—a classic yet piercing story of the heroine growing and falling in love at a magic academy.

Even now, the game’s opening theme echoes somewhere in my head.

Of all the capture targets, the one who pierced me deepest was this boy.

Cedric Gilbert.

Pale golden hair, eyes like a crystalline ice lake.

A fragile beauty that seemed it would shatter at a touch.

—But now, his eyes are dark. His face is dark.

Of course they are.

He has no friends, no family.

“Um, Lady Amelia…?”

“Ah… I’m sorry, I was a little dazed.”

The memories of my past life had suddenly returned, leaving me stunned.

My favorite… yes, my ultimate bias from MagiChro in my previous life, Cedric, was tilting his head suspiciously.

Even that gesture was adorable… no.

He was startled by my current behavior.

After all, I am that Amelia Fabille.

—The worst poison wife character in the story.

…

“Phew…”

Having finished my first meeting with Cedric, I was led to a room in the mansion.

There, alone, I recalled the game’s setting for Cedric.

Until ten, an orphanage.
Too frail to run or play, always in a chair by the window.

One day at ten, his magical talent awakened, revealing his lineage.

The child Duke Gilbert had sired with a young commoner prostitute—thus, nobility.

The duke took him in with a single phrase: “If he’s useful.”

But even in the duke’s household, Cedric was alone.

A boy raised as a commoner in an orphanage couldn’t suddenly fit into noble society.

His duke father was busy, the duchess ignored him.

His legitimate older brother was capable—yet competence and character are separate; he openly despised Cedric.

Mother and brother sometimes cursed him as a nuisance, sometimes raised their hands.

Then—Cedric’s magic ran wild.

“A-ah, aaaaaah…!”

Covered in the blood of the servant who had been kindest to him since arriving, Cedric regretted it deeply.

Mother and brother suffered light injuries; fortunately, the servant survived.

After that, Cedric was moved to the detached annex under the pretext of “isolation.”

Thereafter, he lived with a scant few servants.

Servants were rotated frequently to prevent attachment.

Even without the rotation, attachment would have been rare.

Being near Cedric risked injury from another magical outburst, like the previous servant.

New faces before names could be memorized.

—Until now, at fifteen, he had always been alone.

And now, at fifteen.

Cedric is to be engaged. To Amelia Fabille.

Their first meeting, she is older—twenty.

Of all people, that Amelia was far from sane.

Striking looks that drew eyes.

Yet she neglected studies and bridal training, devoted to socializing and pleasure, lavish with money, rampant with men—such rumors swirled about the troublesome lady.

Her family lineage was impeccable; the border margrave house wanted ties with the duke, so Amelia and Cedric were engaged for political gain.

Amelia was elated at the title “wife of the duke’s second son” and in high spirits before meeting him.

But the moment she learned the boy before her was “the child of a commoner prostitute,” she raised her voice: “I wasn’t told anything like that!”

—Divorce? Impossible.

This was a deal between the border margrave and the duke.

From that day, Amelia lived in the same detached mansion as Cedric.

And day by day, she whittled him down with words, with attitudes.

“The child of a whore is filthy.”

“So frail—it’s the worst. Just die already.”

She deliberately bumped his staggering shoulder, making him fall.

She squandered the duke’s money, even embezzled the funds allotted to him to fund her escapades.

The worst wife. Poison wife.

—That was Amelia Fabille.

(And now, I am that Amelia Fabille.)

My heart thumped loudly.

In the room I was led to after facing Cedric, I checked my appearance in the mirror once more.

Fiery red hair. Amber eyes.

Glamorous, eye-catching beauty—undeniably Amelia.

The worst. Truly, the worst.

To think I’d reincarnate into my favorite game’s world as the wife of my beloved Cedric.

And as the poison wife, no less.

I couldn’t tell if I was happy or sad.

—But I’m glad I remembered now.

If I had continued as the “poison wife” per the original story, I would be ruined.

In the original route, just before Cedric inherits the dukedom at eighteen, his parents and brother are attacked by magical beasts on their way back to the capital and die.

The young head of house reorganizes the family with cold justice—and then accuses me of embezzlement.

Imprisoned, tried.

The verdict, naturally, execution.

“The duke condemned his own wife”—that cruel label deepened his trauma and rumors, strengthening his shadowed appeal as a capture target.

He was popular as that cold character, but if that route happens, I die.

To avoid death, I must steer away from that path.

But there’s no way I could ever bully my beloved Cedric.

Even just now, seeing him once—he was truly adorable… I wanted to hug him and pat his head so badly.

But I held back. Yes, no touching the shota.

That’s an otaku’s resolve.

“—The execution route can be avoided. But if I let my guard down, I’ll die.”

I muttered it under my breath.

It felt like raising my own death flag, but it was like a motivational spell.

…Yeah, I don’t want to die. Bullying my bias is out of the question.

So I’ve decided.

I won’t be a poison wife.

I’ll protect my bias.

I’m his wife now, but I won’t get complacent with that position.

Anyway, I’m a mob character; he’s a main capture target.

Even if I avoid the execution route, separation is likely.

So if possible, I want to be in a big-sister position, giving him peace of mind.

The first strategy for that—eating dinner together.

Yes, just a meal. But still, a meal.

With that thought, the moment I stepped into the dining hall, my mouth fell open.

…Huge. Well, I knew that.

It’s a noble mansion, so of course it’s big.

But this in the detached annex’s dining hall?

It’s bigger than the dining hall in my family’s border margrave estate?

A chandelier blazed from the high ceiling; an overly long table was draped in white cloth with silver candlesticks.

A vase in the center.

The seating for just me and Cedric was clearly too spread out.

To me, who had just remembered my past life, it was like the space itself was saying, “Be nervous.”

When I took my seat, Cedric quietly sat across from me.

His spine was perfectly straight. His movements flawless.

Yet… he was still a fifteen-year-old boy.

His body was slender and delicate.

But his manners alone rivaled an adult’s, without a single gap.

Well, such perfection only stoked my protective instincts.

Rather, just the existence of Cedric stirred my protective instincts.

Seeing the plates brought out, I widened my eyes.

Wait, the portions… his is clearly less than mine.

“…Lord Cedric, your portion seems small. Are you all right?”

I ventured cautiously.

Cedric answered shortly, eyes downcast.

“This is my usual amount. It’s fine.”

Curt. But expected.

In the original, he almost never opened up and chatted happily with anyone.

“I see. But eating plenty is important, right? Nutritional balance, too… ah, not that I’m forcing you.”

I hurriedly followed up.

I can’t give my bias the feeling of being managed.

But I want to say it. He’s frail, after all.

“Vegetables are good, but a little meat, too…”

“I’m not good with greasy foods.”

Cut off sharply, almost overlapping.

“I see. Then how about fish? It’s easy to digest and nutritious—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

…Conversation over.

It was like a string phone snapping.

I hadn’t expected to be rejected this hard.

No, I was prepared to be disliked, but this coldness still stung.

Yet… even his “indifference” looked adorable to me—I’m truly a terminal otaku.

Cute is justice. My bias’s indifference is precious.

As I desperately kept my smile, Cedric suddenly spoke.

“…I’ve heard the rumors about you.”

“Eh?”

“You may enjoy yourself as long as you don’t trouble the duke’s house. Just keep the late-night outings in moderation.”

…So he knew my rumors.

Well, original Amelia was indeed devoted to socializing and pleasure.

In truth, before the engagement, she had been playing around… mainly gambling, drinking, that sort of thing.

To me, who remembered my past life, the “me” before felt like watching original Amelia’s memories.

But precisely because of that, I know the rumors of philandering with men were false.

The duke’s house knew I was “playing,” but they absolutely confirmed there was no “premarital relations.”

If there had been, Amelia would never have been allowed to marry into the duke’s family.

Well, original Amelia did do such things with other men after marrying him…

But now is different.

I’ve remembered.

I have no intention of abandoning my position as my bias’s wife, and I refuse the ruin route.

“Thank you. But since I’m now engaged to you, Lord Cedric… I’ll graduate from playing around.”

I said it with a bright smile.

However.

Cedric’s blue eyes widened, then narrowed sharply the next moment.

“…What is your goal?”

“Eh?”

“It’s useless to flatter me. I will never hold power in the duke’s house.”

W-wait. What’s with that misunderstanding?

I’m not flattering him.

I just want my bias to be healthy…

“I-I’m not thinking anything like that!”

I denied it in a panic.

But his cold gaze didn’t waver.

“…I see. Thank you for the meal.”

He stood smoothly.

Half the bread remained on his plate, and the soup was barely touched.

“Lord Cedric, you’re not eating more?”

“It’s fine.”

With that short reply, he left.

Even his footsteps were quiet, like a shadow.

…Phew.

Left behind, I sighed while staring at the steam from the soup.

My heart was still pounding from the tension.

Eating across from my bias alone made my palms sweat terribly, and then that wall of rejection.

He’s tougher than I imagined.

But I can’t give up just because the wall is high.

I don’t want to die here, and above all… I don’t want to make my bias cry.

“…A long battle, huh.”

My quiet murmur was swallowed by the soup’s steam.