My Husbands of my Past Lives

Back to My First Life

In but a split second, I was able to escape the darkness. When I came to, I had my arms wide, fumbling at the space in front of me, as if I had been searching for light. I quickly sat up on a plush bed.

Where was the granny?

I turned around, only to find that I was in a luxuriously designed bedroom full of brocade fabric that I only see in museums. Silk curtains hung from my canopy bed, making me feel like a princess.

I didn't think my father, the Duke of Montcroix, liked spoiling me so much when I was just a thorn in his eyes.

Wait. What did I just say?

I held my head in my hands, feeling confused by the memories that seemed to be mixing in my head. My long hair shuffled over my shoulder, and I caught a handful of purple locks. Purple?! And why were my hands and arms so small?

A memory materialized. It was of me at the breakfast table, throwing a tantrum because I disliked the food made by our household chef. I hated the smell of pork, and was adamant about my beef stew. There was also a plate of vegetables, which I shouted was only fit for peasants, and in the midst of my tantrum, I upended the whole array of dishes with my hands, the expensive china breaking into pieces as it fell on the floor. Recalling this memory which just happened this morning, I remembered I was currently 10 years old, and I had been sent to my room by my father due to my disgraceful behavior.

I was hated by everyone in this Ducal estate. Being the only daughter of the Duke of Montcroix, a very powerful noble house ranked just below the Royal family, I was spoiled rotten by my mother who had passed away a year ago. My father was devastated by my mother's death, and he interacted with me less, choosing to seclude himself in matters of the duchy and the kingdom. Maybe as a child, I thought I could garner more attention by displaying irascible behavior. But it was the opposite. I had garnered hatred among the staff, and eventually from my own father.

No matter how powerful my family was, it was irrelevant in front of the Royal family, who could choose to take back the dukedom that they had bestowed my family centuries ago. When I was nineteen, my own fiancé, the Crown Prince Arion di Visconti, was enraged by what I attempted to do to his lover, and the Montcroix name was blacklisted, and I was beheaded.

So what did I do?

It was nothing all too unfamiliar in archaic settings, to be honest. I, who was desperately in love with Arion (whose head of yellow hair now resembled the modern lightbulb), wanted to kill off his lover. Arion and I had an arranged marriage since we were children, and I believed that we would be together forever. But I was wrong. Well, to be frank, I wouldn't have fallen in love with my bratty self either. Which man, in their right mind, would love a woman with such a horrible personality? My looks weren't even sufficient to compensate such a drastic deficit.

My past self also had the reputation of being a full time stalker. I was an obsessed fangirl, and if I had a camera at this age, I would've taken snapshots of him sleeping, eating, walking, and even going to the bathroom! All I had back then were strands of his hair (that I picked up on the floor), and a lace handkerchief he had sneezed into (which I decided to keep because he was about to throw it away).

All these memories made me shudder. Was I gross or what?.

Recalling all the misdeeds I had done didn't make me pity my old self at all. All I could do was pat my old self in the back with "You've brought it upon yourself, too bad." But after numerous reincarnations, I was pretty sure I knew the distinction between 'good' and 'evil'. As long as I didn't get in the prince's way, and I didn't hire another hitman to kill off his lover (which failed, since someone told the prince of my plans), I think I could live this life again without my head rolling. Ugh, who would want to go through that all over again? I touched my neck, still recalling the cold blade against my skin.

Maybe this was what granny wanted me to do. To stay low, and to be smart. Well, I was the latter of course, though I wasn't sure if my personality would be satisfied with being the former. My goal was just to be less evil, and no killing. I could do that.

What I really wanted to know, however, was how the granny managed to bring me back like this. This was beyond anything computer generated, and all these memories, emotions, and the smell of the crisp morning air (with a tinge of horse manure) belied my disbelief. If that granny was actually some sort of witch, I wouldn't be surprised.

I stood in front of the mirror on top of my dressing table to assess my appearance. It felt really odd to see myself with such foreign European features, when I had just been a beautiful and sexy--yes, that's my ego talking--Korean woman not too long ago. I sized myself up in front of the mirror, appreciating my gold eyes, and the long eyelashes that framed it.

It felt like I was donning a costume I had worn a long time ago, and was just beginning to get used to the feeling once again. Awkward, but comfy.

"Your name is Elena," I pointed at the reflection in front of me, quirking a shapely, thick eyebrow (thank goodness I wouldn't need to apply eyebrow pencil in the future), "And you were quite the bitch."

Wow. So this was how my voice sounded like. Of course, I wasn't speaking in Korean, but in a different language that I never heard of entirely. My voice was light and soft, contrasting to the sharp eyes and mean features I was unfortunately born with. But it was rather interesting, as I could speak two languages now. I spoke Korean in front of the mirror with my foreign face, and I felt (and looked) so cool!

A slow smile spread across Elena's face, and I realized that her appearance was actually pretty good. If Elena wasn't so hung up over the prince, she could've easily given up on the engagement since he would fall in love with a Miss goody-two-shoes anyway. Elena could've had any guy she wanted, if she would just keep her mouth shut. But...even as probably hundreds of reincarnations passed, my personality still remained the same. Just that this time, I leaned more towards the scales of good (I hoped).

I sighed and rubbed my tummy. I was getting hungry. I would even kill for some of my mother's fried chicken, I swear.

It hadn't been more than an hour in this old world, but I was already aching to go back home.