Chapter 3.
I Woke Up and Got 4 Billion Won
“I Woke Up and Suddenly Had 4 Billion.txt”
It was the kind of title that would get a million views.
Yes!
Hajin clenched her fist. If she got divorced, she’d walk away with 4 billion won?
Alright, fine. From today, I am Diabella, and Diabella is me. From now on, the two are one and the same! Everyone should address me that way.
Hajin—no, Diabella—declared in her heart, even if no one was listening. Her eyes gleamed with the determination to make this her reality, whether or not it was “real.”
Just to be sure, she asked the butler again.
According to his explanation, this country had a dowry and settlement system for wives.
Even if a woman divorced or became a widow, the system ensured she would not be left destitute.
When a woman married, she brought a dowry from her family. The husband was required to match that amount for his wife. The total of those two sums was what she could take with her upon divorce or widowhood. Basically, like a life insurance payout.
In the Luten Empire, before marriage, a woman used her parents’ money. After marriage, she could only use her husband’s money with his permission. Unless divorced or widowed, it was rare for a woman to have assets of her own.
Okay, deal! Divorce is pure profit.
Why on earth would she refuse a divorce? It wasn’t like she suddenly felt burning love for that man she’d just met.
Well… okay, his face was unrealistically handsome. Thinking of her husband’s face, Diabella unconsciously swallowed. Raymond de Crimton, Marquis. Just as described in the novel, he was like a living painting.
Ahhh! What’s wrong with me? Why did I just swallow like that?
No one had heard her inner thoughts, but embarrassed, Diabella buried her face and stomped her feet. Watching this, the butler’s complexion went pale.
“Madam, the Baron’s daughter wishes to see you.”
At that moment, a maid announced a visitor.
“You may go.”
Relieved, the butler bowed out quickly. Diabella ordered the guest to be shown in. Whoever it was, she’d just meet them first.
“Marchioness! Are you alright? I was so worried something terrible had happened!”
…Who?
Diabella couldn’t recognize her, so she carefully observed instead of answering.
Bright blonde hair. Big, slightly drooping eyes that looked kind. Small, delicate nose and lips. The picture of an innocent noble lady.
If Diabella was a dark rose, this girl was a fragile white rose.
Like a villainess and a saint side by side.
Then it hit her. This was the only friend Diabella had in the novel. The one who, with her kind heart, captured the Marquis’ affection and replaced Diabella after her death.
“Angeleca Miles, the Baron’s daughter?”
“Yes, it’s me. Why do you look at me like it’s our first meeting? You haven’t forgotten me, your most loyal companion and friend, have you? Perhaps you haven’t fully recovered yet?”
Her big eyes looked like they might spill tears at any moment. She fussed over Diabella kindly.
…Strange.
This was the same Angeleca that everyone in the novel praised as angelic.
Her tone and gestures certainly seemed kind—but something didn’t feel right.
She’s supposed to be my dearest friend. I’ve woken up, yet she doesn’t seem happy about it?
Yes. She sounded worried, but it didn’t feel sincere. Behind her gentle eyes was a flicker of curiosity, of probing, as if she wanted to dig something out.
As if she were… disturbed that someone who should have died had lived?
Diabella said nothing, only staring at her.
When something is suspicious, directly confronting the other person often makes them defensive and hide more. But sometimes, silently staring with an “I already know” look worked better.
Like the saying: the guilty conscience pricks the heel.
“Ah, well…”
There it was.
Despite all her hugging and “thank goodness you’re alive” talk, Angeleca couldn’t endure the silence and finally broke.
“I just don’t understand. I prepared the fake poison exactly as we discussed. So why did you become so gravely ill…?”
Well, look at that.
***
Before possession, in the novel, Diabella had tried to avoid divorce by drinking fake poison. But someone had switched it with real poison, and she died. After that, the Baron’s daughter married the Marquis and became the new Marchioness.
That was as far as Hajin had read before falling asleep—she didn’t know what came after.
The culprit was never revealed in the novel.
Diabella thought.
She had assumed it was just one of the many people who hated her. Or perhaps the Marquis himself, fed up with her tricks, had arranged it.
But… he didn’t seem that cold-hearted.
She remembered his cold voice but warm hands and eyes.
No. Get a grip.
Maybe it was just because he was so handsome, but she couldn’t stop recalling his face.
Still, to think the culprit was this close.
She pushed away his face from her mind and looked at Angeleca with cold eyes.
“…Who do you think it was?”
“I-I don’t know. I was told it was just something to make you fall asleep.”
No. More like, something meant to kill in one blow.
Caught off guard, Angeleca paled, clearly never expecting Diabella to question her so directly.
“You mean to say you gave me a drug of unknown origin?”
“I-I’m sorry! I had no evil intent! I only wished to help you avoid divorce!”
Why was she raising her voice now?
Angeleca glanced nervously at the door, raising her voice further. When footsteps approached, she burst into tears.
“The Marchioness asked me for fake poison for her play! I only followed her orders!”
Bang.
The door opened at that perfect dramatic moment. The Marquis, Raymond, entered.
“What nonsense is this! To blame an innocent Baron’s daughter for a play you yourself staged!”
Wow. Talk about timing. He should be an actor.
“That’s right.”
Diabella stood.
“I am willing to take responsibility for staging such a play.”
“Don’t start with your usual denials of guilt, or saying you didn’t know—wait, what?”
Raymond’s mouth fell open. He had expected her to shamelessly deny it.
“No. The fault lies in me for not obtaining the right drug. The Marchioness is not guilty.”
Surprisingly, Angeleca quickly defended her once Diabella admitted fault.
“Yes, it was Lady Miles’ mistake.”
Diabella nodded.
“…What?”
Angeleca’s head snapped up.
“Haa. Weren’t you just saying it was all your wife’s fault? Did I mishear?”
Raymond frowned in irritation. He was tired of her constant trouble-making and excuses.
“Yes, I admit my fault. I staged the play to avoid divorce. But surely that’s not a crime worthy of death? And yet, someone dared to give me real poison.”
His frown deepened.
“Poison? But you are standing here alive.”
“No. What I drank was truly poison. I nearly died. It’s a miracle I survived. If you don’t believe me, ask the physician.”
In the original story, she did die. So of course it was poison. But because she had possessed Diabella, the story had twisted, and she had lived instead. That was why Angeleca looked so shaken now. Diabella was convinced.
***
Raymond knew she had indeed been critically ill. But he had assumed it was her own reckless farce gone wrong. That was why he had felt only anger and weariness toward her.
He had worried about her—yet felt betrayed and exhausted, believing she had toyed with him again. He had never considered that someone else’s scheme might be involved.
“Yes. It was poison.”
Without waiting for his response, Diabella pressed on.
“It was an attempt at murder. Not just against me, but a threat to the entire Marquis’ household. Who’s to say such a bold culprit wouldn’t target you or the Lady Dowager next?”
“I-I truly didn’t know! I thought it was only a sleeping draught… sob…”
Her tears poured like a river. Diabella looked down at her with clear disapproval.
Angeleca trembled pitifully. Most men would be swayed by such a sight.
Well? What will you do? Side with her again, like in the novel?
After all, in the original, the moment Diabella died, he had married Angeleca. She wasn’t expecting much.
But to her surprise, Raymond’s eyes were cold as he looked at Angeleca.
“Lady Miles. Where did you obtain this drug?”
“F-from… an old peddler in the marketplace…”
Ah, so a nameless old man, conveniently untraceable?
She really thought she could get away with that? Did she still think her tears would save her?
“You must at least remember his face and appearance?”
Raymond ignored her tears and pressed her in a harsh tone.
“He wore an old robe, I couldn’t see clearly… sob.”
She never finished a sentence properly.
“You mean you gave the Marchioness a suspicious drug from some vagrant without even verifying his identity?”
Boom! His thunderous shout made Diabella flinch. What was this?
“How dare you treat our Marquis’ household this way! Belop, take the Baron’s daughter and investigate her thoroughly!”
From behind Raymond, Belop, his shadow-like aide, stepped forward.
Of course. He wasn’t worried about her—he only reacted when she mentioned threats to the Marquis’ house and the Dowager.
“…And you, Madam.”
Huh? Me, what now?
“How will you atone for staging this farce? Surely you don’t mean to wriggle out with mere words again.”
Of course not. She already had her answer prepared.
Diabella looked into his deep green eyes and sharp profile. When her gaze fell to his red lips, she involuntarily swallowed again.
No! Don’t be distracted. Think of the 4 billion.
“As atonement for staging the play… I will divorce you.”
So hand over the 4 billion.
Give me the money.
