Episode 1. The Fateful Carriage Accident
Clatter.
The old carriage jolted suddenly.
Four women dressed in full gowns bounced up in the air, their bottoms rising before crashing back down onto the cushions.
It wasn’t anything new, so there wasn’t even the slightest reaction on Anri’s face.
Already used to it, Anri bounced elegantly, hands resting calmly on her lap. Not a wrinkle was out of place as she landed perfectly back on the seat.
“Ack!”
But the other three women weren’t so composed. They flailed about, trying and failing to regain their balance.
As the carriage quickly steadied, Lady Catherine, Viscountess Wentworth, fussed with her dress irritably.
Her disapproving eyes immediately turned toward Anri, who sat diagonally across from her.
“This useless carriage is just like your father.”
“Still better than having nothing, Mother.”
Anri purposefully emphasized the word mother, curling her lips into a refined smile.
That subtle mockery did exactly what she intended—it irked Catherine.
“Yes, you’re right. Better than nothing. One day, you’ll understand—how even a half-dead husband is better than none at night… Ack!”
Catherine bit her tongue as the carriage bounced once more.
Her biological twin daughters, Candice and Eunice, clung to their cushions desperately, but to no avail. The cushions slid, tossing them around like dolls.
Truly, this carriage was a disaster every time they rode it.
Anri clearly remembered when this carriage was new.
Ten years ago, when she was eleven, it was one of the most luxurious models that had to be reserved six months in advance.
But her father, Viscount Wentworth, paid extra to get it in just two months—for her mother’s birthday.
She could still remember how radiant her mother’s silver hair had looked as she smiled with joy.
It was a pure white, high-class carriage that had suited her mother perfectly—as if it were custom-made just for her.
But that joy and shine were long gone now.
This was now nothing more than a burdensome antique for the financially declining Wentworth family.
“One day I’m going to burn this damned thing for firewood.”
Catherine clicked her tongue and snapped open her fan.
Eunice, as always, silently watched the tense exchanges between Anri and Catherine. Truthfully, more than nervous, she was quietly curious—what kind of witty comeback would Anri throw this time?
As expected, Anri didn’t even blink.
“If only you hadn’t bought so many necklaces you never even wear, Mother, we could’ve easily afforded a second-hand carriage by now.”
Her voice was calm and graceful, her smile perfectly serene.
Catherine was already used to Anri’s cheeky remarks.
“Tsk tsk. The carriage is as pathetic as the daughter it carries.”
“Leave it be, Mother. She’s just wasting her breath ag—Ah!”
Candice, glaring at Anri, and Catherine, fluttering her fan, both smacked their heads on the ceiling as the carriage jerked again.
“Driver!”
Catherine shouted out the window, though it was doubtful the coachman could even hear her.
Good job, Lily.
Anri smirked in satisfaction. Lily was the name she had given to the carriage—her ally in tormenting her stepmother and stepsisters.
Catherine had married her father three years ago. Candice and Eunice were her daughters from a previous marriage.
The three of them had matching curly brown hair—clearly blood-related.
In contrast, Anri’s appearance made her look like a complete outsider.
Her delicate, pink hair flowed from under her bonnet in wide, graceful waves.
Anyone who heard Anri’s story would think, What a Cinderella! But Anri didn’t have Cinderella’s gentle temperament.
If her older sister Candice took something of hers, she made sure to get revenge. If her stepmother scolded her, she always talked back.
If there was one silver lining, it was that her second sister Eunice didn’t bully her—if anything, she seemed to envy Anri.
Her long, slender neck and limbs, her doll-like pink hair—all of it fascinated Eunice.
Even now, Eunice was sneaking admiring glances at her while Candice glared like Anri was beneath her.
Anri couldn’t care less about either of them.
“Let’s adjust the waistline on the new dresses, shall we? Especially you, Eunice.”
At Catherine’s sudden declaration, Eunice gasped in horror.
Her plump hand, halfway into the biscuit basket, froze in midair.
“You do realize we’re going to a ball to find a bride for the Duke of Briston. Surely, you’re not planning to go looking like that?”
Catherine’s cold eyes flashed sharply.
She was determined to make one of her daughters the Duchess of Briston.
And who was the Duke of Briston?
Edwin Ascar, heir to the Briston Dukedom, had been a well-known figure even before inheriting his title three years ago.
He was famous for being the youngest, wealthiest bachelor in the kingdom, and came from one of the most prestigious noble lineages.
And yet, four years past his coming of age, he still remained unmarried.
His every move was a hot topic among high society. Rumors of love affairs surrounded him, though never proven.
The noblewomen constantly speculated: Who will marry the Duke? Will he ever marry at all?
They were desperate—their daughters had to be the ones.
So when word spread that the Briston Duchy would host a ball to search for a bride, the noblewomen were beside themselves with excitement.
Just maybe their daughters would catch his eye.
Even now, Catherine, despite their tight finances, was heading out to order new dresses.
It’s all meaningless, Anri thought to herself.
After all, he wouldn’t marry any noblewoman.
Even if no one else knew that, Anri did.
Because she had already seen the future—the pages that hadn’t yet been turned.
“Anri, don’t even dream about it. You won’t be married off before your sisters.”
“Of course, Mother.”
Anri replied with a serene smile. Eunice watched in quiet amazement.
How could she not want to marry the Duke of Briston? Her eyes seemed to ask.
He was the object of every woman’s envy.
“Ack!”
Another bump caused Catherine to bite her tongue again.
This time, oddly enough, it was a collision.
* * *
What’s going on…?
Anri pulled back the curtain slightly and peeked through the frosted window.
She saw silhouettes gathering around—her coachman and several other people.
Something had clearly happened outside.
Though their carriage often shook and bounced, it had never come to a complete stop like this.
“Looks like the damn thing finally broke down.”
Catherine’s grumbling passed through one ear and out the other as Anri closed the curtain again.
Muffled voices outside were becoming increasingly urgent.
Still, the coachman would likely come explain soon.
But even after waiting a while, the carriage didn’t budge.
Eventually, Anri stood up. Her stepmother and stepsisters had no intention of moving.
“What’s the matter, Hendel?”
Anri stepped down from the carriage and approached the coachman.
She looked around but saw no visible damage or signs of a crash.
The horses were restless, neighing and tossing their heads.
She reached out to soothe the particularly anxious brown mare.
And then—her eyes widened.
“…!”
Another carriage was facing theirs.
A tall, imposing, pitch-black carriage—easily twice the size of theirs. Four magnificent black horses stood proudly at the front.
Compared to their modest two-horse carriage, the scale was staggering.
Anri was suddenly reminded of the cars from her past life.
Though that memory had faded with her 21 years in this world, she vividly recalled the sleek lines of high-end luxury vehicles.
The carriage before her was like an imported luxury car worth as much as a penthouse apartment.
The kind only young, successful CEOs would ride in—sophisticated and exuding noble elegance.
Who could possibly own such a carriage?
It was even trimmed with gold.
“Miss.”
Hendel came up beside her.
He had worked at the Wentworth estate since her mother’s time.
“Well… um…”
But Hendel hesitated, unable to find the words.
Anri looked at him questioningly.
The brown mare she was petting kept neighing anxiously, making her ears ring.
Hendel glanced to the other side, and Anri followed his gaze.
The opposing coachman looked equally troubled.
He wore a uniform, but its quality and design far surpassed anything she’d seen.
Definitely not your average noble.
Behind him stood a tall man, mostly hidden except for his forehead.
That must be the owner…
“…”
Even with just his brow and thick eyebrows showing, she could tell he was breathtakingly handsome.
His neatly styled black hair swept back just enough to reveal his pale, elegant forehead, fluttering slightly in the breeze.
The opposing coachman finally cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped aside.
“…!”
Anri suddenly met the man’s gaze—and was at a loss for words.
A sharply sculpted face. A dangerously handsome man.
She couldn’t look away. His face had appeared so abruptly that she was stunned.
He looked like the human embodiment of that luxurious black carriage.
My goodness… Who are you?
