RMSBD 01

Chapter – 01

I Got a New Mother

I stood in the rain, wearing a black dress and black shoes, clinging to my father’s—Count Musel’s—legs.

Even at three years old, I understood. My mother, who used to smile at me so warmly, was now sleeping in a cold stone coffin buried in the ground. And she would never wake up again.

It happened when she went shopping—a drunken driver’s carriage crashed onto the sidewalk. It was so sudden, so senseless. Neither I nor my father even got to say goodbye.

Now, we didn’t need umbrellas. Neither I nor my father, because the rain was already washing away our tears.

A year later, my father remarried. The maids said she would be my “stepmother.”

She was nineteen—to me, a stunningly beautiful adult woman. Why would my father… well, Father was handsome, but he was already over thirty… I didn’t understand why she would become his “second wife,” another word I’d heard from the maids.

Though the mourning period was over, she wore a gorgeous dress with black as the base and red accents. Red lipstick suited her perfectly—a beautiful woman with black hair and ruby-red eyes.

“Shelil, greet her. This is Linaria, your new mother from today onward. From now on, listen carefully to what Linaria says and obey her.”

A year since Mother passed. Father had started avoiding me. Breakfast and dinner were shifted to different times, and the head maid took care of everything around me. It had been days since I’d even seen Father’s face.

And then suddenly, this young stepmother appeared. The maids didn’t look pleased, but her ruby eyes were smiling softly at me.

“Nice to meet you. I am Sheryl Musel. Please take care of me.”

I didn’t know whether to call her “Mother” or by her name, so I avoided addressing her until I learned what she preferred.

At that point, I had neither good nor bad feelings toward my stepmother. A child’s time moves much faster than adults realize. It wasn’t that I didn’t remember my late mother—but I also didn’t feel any urge to reject my new mother.

“You really aren’t cute at all, are you?”

Those were the first words directed at me, spoken from her petal-like lips painted with red rouge, while her gentle eyes smiled.

I was so shocked I froze. My real mother always used to hold me and say, “My adorable Sherry.” But now, this young stepmother, smiling sweetly, had flatly declared that I wasn’t cute.

“Call me ‘Mother,’ dear. Sheryl, I look forward to getting along with you.”

How exactly was I supposed to get along with her?

My mind was in turmoil, but Father didn’t rebuke my stepmother’s words. Perhaps the reason Father had been avoiding me was that I wasn’t cute after all.

“Yes… Mother.”

“What a good child. From now on, we’ll eat together, have tea together. You must have been lonely all by yourself until now.”

My new mother, who had just called me uncute, knelt down and embraced my small body.

Soft. Warm. She smelled lovely.

If someone so beautiful and kind said so, then I must truly be uncute.

But she also called me clever. Maybe if I behaved well, followed Father’s instructions, and obediently did as I was told, I could become at least a little better.

From that day on, my awkward, disjointed days began.