Chapter 2.
Regression, Possession, Reincarnation, My Ass
After quite a commotion, they concluded that Madam must not have fully recovered yet. They left Hajin alone in a quiet room, telling her to rest.
Madam… Marquis…
So, my wife, Diabella…?
Before leaving, Hajin had overheard them whispering about her condition—using names she recognized.
Madam = the Marchioness = Diabella = me? A = B = C = D. So that means… I’m Diabella?
***
[Before you start webnovels, memorize this: the 3 essentials of romance fantasy. 회빙환.]
[I’ve heard of raw fish sashimi, but 회빙환? What’s that supposed to mean?]
[Lol not sashimi. It’s short for regression (회귀), possession into a book character (빙의), and reincarnation (환생). The trend these days is book possession.]
She remembered a KakaoTalk conversation she’d had with her friend before reading.
Ah, so this is book possession!
…Yeah, right. My ass.
You expect me to just accept this nonsense?
[If it’s book possession, the heroine always wakes up to a maid calling out for her.]
〈Madam! You’ve woken up!〉
That was exactly the first thing she’d heard when she opened her eyes.
[And once she comes to her senses, she looks in a mirror. And what does she see? She’s become an absolute beauty.]
Hajin nervously approached the mirror. The room was so large, it felt like her legs would give out before she even reached it.
“Ugh!”
When she finally looked into the mirror, she covered her mouth.
“An ultra-beauty…”
Her skin was like porcelain. Flowing down in glossy waves was long, deep wine-red hair—the kind often called goddess hair.
Her eyes took up a third of her face, huge and sparkling like rubies. A tall, sharp nose. Full cherry-red lips.
Hajin turned her face at different angles, admiring every detail. It was a proud, intellectual, glamorous beauty. Especially when she slightly lifted her chin and lowered her gaze, her long lashes and sculpted features looked breathtaking.
“Diabella.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror, whispering the name of this body’s owner. “Dia” for diamond, “Bella” for beauty. A name combining the greatest jewel and beauty itself. The face in the mirror deserved it. She felt like she was falling in love with her own reflection.
To live with this face…
Not bad. Actually, amazing. Hajin thought. When else would she live with a face like this?
Thinking more—she was also the Marchioness. Which meant… complete golden spoon! Jackpot.
Just look at this room. If a single room was this big, how huge was the whole house?
Even the bed she woke up on was larger than her entire dorm room. And this wasn’t even the main house.
From what she remembered of the original novel, this was called the “small mansion” by the servants—a townhouse in the capital. The Marquis’ real home was the massive Marquis’ Castle in the domain.
But Diabella, who loved city life and shopping, preferred the capital residence. The Marquis traveled between the two. The whole drama of her drinking poison had also happened here, in the capital house.
If this ‘small’ mansion is like this, just how big is the main castle?
Hajin’s eyes sparkled as she looked out the window. Even the visible portion of the estate was massive.
But wait… maybe this isn’t all good…?
She suddenly remembered the webnovel she’d read before bed, and the nasty comments she herself had left.
[Diabella? Diablo fits better. The people gave her the perfect nickname. She’s more than a villainess—she’s trash. If I had that much money, I’d never live like her, damn rotten—!]
Diabella… Diablo.
That was the nickname people cursed her with in the novel. More wicked than a demon.
And this beautiful face, this immense wealth—yet doomed to die, abandoned.
Hajin had entered the story unexpectedly, reviving a character who should already be dead. But so what? This huge mansion and castle—all of it meant nothing, since she was destined for divorce.
Damn it.
***
After rolling around on the vast bed clutching her head, Hajin finally decided to accept reality.
The truth was, Hajin adapted quickly. And she was tough. That’s how she had managed to survive in reality—paying her tuition, rent, and living expenses alone without her parents’ help.
But worrying about tuition while lying on a cramped, squeaky dorm bed was very different from worrying while rolling on a bed this size.
I want to cry, throwing a Chanel bag on the ground. I want to slam a Maserati wheel and scream.
Like that old internet phrase—these were the spoiled worries of the rich.
If she really had possessed a character here, she needed to get a grip.
And just like the hate comment she had once written in drunken spite, she swore—if she had this golden spoon, she would never live like the original Diabella.
She started prioritizing w hat she needed to survive here. Naturally, first on the list: assets.
Divorce? Fine. But how much money could she take with her? That was the first thing to figure out before planning her new life.
Looking around, Hajin spotted a cord next to the bed and tugged it.
In European dramas, pulling these calls the maid. It’s like ringing the bell at a Korean BBQ place. “Excuse me, please change the grill, auntie~”
She giggled, then grinned when a maid really did appear.
“Who manages my assets? Call that person here.”
The maid, shocked by her polite tone, bowed deeply and rushed out.
***
“My Lady’s assets…?”
The butler—with a hollow wound around his swollen eye—nervously asked.
“Yes. If I divorce, how much money can I take with me?”
The Marchioness was speaking politely to him! The maid had rushed in pale-faced saying Madam was acting strange, but this was beyond strange.
“…First of all, the tax you collected from the bell tolls—you probably can’t take that. The Marquis knows about it now, and he’s very angry…”
The butler sweated bullets, glancing at her every moment—afraid she might throw another fan or bottle at him.
“Haa, the bell tax. Ha! Unbelievable.”
Her shoulders shook with laughter. The butler turned pale.
Was she about to throw something even heavier this time?
“Wasn’t that insane? Who in their right mind taxes the sound of bells?”
“…?”
The butler had no idea how to respond. Maybe it was better to just beg for a swift death.
“…Ah, sorry. It still doesn’t feel real here, so I think I’m not adjusted yet. You know how in dreams you say whatever without hesitation? I think I’m in that state now. Words just come out. Sorry.”
Seeing the endless question marks all over his face, Hajin explained.
“I mean… the old me must have been out of her mind. I think taxing bells was totally insane.”
She smiled brightly. The butler shivered. The Marchioness, speaking so kindly—it was terrifying. His whole body shook.
Is this a new way to torment me? Or maybe… is she being kind just before killing or expelling me?
Either way, it was a bad omen.
“Maybe falling sick has brought me back to my senses. So don’t be so scared. Now then, forget about that tax. How much is my net worth?”
“Please wait a moment! I must fetch the account book to be sure there are no mistakes.”
The butler, who had been looking for a chance to grovel for forgiveness, dashed out, relieved he was still alive. He quickly returned with the ledger.
“According to the records… When Madam married, you brought a dowry of twenty million marks.”
“Twenty million marks? …That’s about two billion won?”
As an economics major, Hajin had always been sharp with money and numbers. Even though she had skimmed the novel, she remembered its currency clearly: one mark equaled about 100 Korean won.
“Yes, and the Marquis added another twenty million marks. So, in total, Madam’s net worth is forty million marks.”
