Chapter 1

Translator: Nox

Stalker Duchess Episode 1

Duchess Serabi de Prineus.

There was no one in the empire who didn't know her name. Nor was there anyone unaware of her misdeeds.

She was one of the many who fervently adored the third son of the current emperor, the empire's savior known as a gift from the gods—the beautiful Crown Prince.

What made her stand out among the common crowd was her highly advantageous position as the Crown Prince's childhood friend, coupled with her immense jealousy and envy.

Whenever the Crown Prince so much as glanced at someone else, she would glare with eyes full of venom, as if frost would shoot out at any moment. Several maids in the Imperial Palace had even died due to her jealousy-fueled schemes.

She constantly hovered around the Crown Prince, unable to rest unless she monitored his every move. In simple terms, she was a stalker.

Yet despite her relentless pursuit, the Crown Prince showed no interest in her—not even a single cold glance.

In this era, it was rare for a woman to court a man so boldly, so Duchess Serabi often became the subject of public gossip behind her back.

In particular, the story of her sneaking into the Crown Prince's bedroom at night only to be chased out in her undergarments amid a bone-chilling cold was still recounted endlessly among the people.

Anyone hearing this far would think, "What an irredeemable person," and move on—but there was a reason that couldn't happen.

For some inexplicable reason, I had become her.

"What in the world...?"

I glanced once more at the mirror I'd been staring into obsessively for hours.

With a sliver of hope that I might have returned to normal, I looked again, but the reflection remained unchanged.

My weary, N-year veteran office worker body from my original life was gone, replaced by a pretty girl in slightly erotic fantasy attire—silver hair, purple eyes.

A beauty mark under her eye gave off a mysterious allure. The novel described her eyes as enchanting, and it was true.

Age? Mid-teens? Maybe even younger.

She was exactly Duchess Serabi de Prineus from the book I'd read before falling asleep.

There might be plenty of silver-haired, purple-eyed girls, but it didn't take long to realize I was Duchess Serabi.

Her traits were too distinct—not just physically, but as the deranged character who decorated her room with a mannequin of her crush's likeness. And that mannequin? I'd reflexively smashed it the moment I woke up, so it no longer existed in this world.

Realizing I was Duchess Serabi, I despaired. Anyone but her—why her of all people?

She... she was about to die in an incredibly cruel way soon.

Hard to believe, but if this world was indeed the novel's, my lifespan was short.

This munchkin fantasy novel's hero was, naturally, the Crown Prince, and the heroine wasn't me but the Elf Queen he meets at age 18.

Unfortunately, Duchess Serabi was the novel's most villainous character.

Unaware of the Elf Queen's true identity, she let jealousy consume her, trying to oppose a non-human being, and suffered all sorts of humiliations as punishment.

Even after those humiliations, Duchess Serabi couldn't let go of the Crown Prince. Her obsession and envy continued until, ultimately, the very man she loved beheaded her.

The empire then forged a pact with the elven kingdom, ushering in an era of peace. Through the protagonist's exploits, humans and other races lived harmoniously in a utopia, and the survivors all lived happily ever after... That was the fantasy novel's ending.

Recapping the plot from Duchess Serabi's perspective made my mind reel, but I barely held on.

No way.

I absolutely couldn't die so pathetically.

Clenching my fists with that resolve, the door suddenly burst open. An older woman in medieval maid attire entered.

"Miss, it's time for your medicine... Huh?"

She rounded her eyes at me slumped before the mirror. Blink, blink. She stared in disbelief. Unable to bear the awkwardness, I spoke first.

"Good morning."

"Oh, Miss!"

At that ordinary greeting, the maid covered her mouth in shock. Duchess Serabi was notoriously bad-tempered in the mornings, always troubling her servants.

She never used polite language with inferiors or greeted them kindly first. All her attention was fixed solely on the Crown Prince.

"I-I'll bring breakfast right away."

Flustered and fidgeting without a response, the maid hurried out.

To an outsider, it might seem like I'd done something awful to her. Approaching the door, I overheard commotion outside.

"Why are you out already? Did you wake the miss properly?"

"She was already up. And she greeted me good morning. 'Good morning,' she said."

"What? No way. You must have misheard."

The other person responded firmly. I eavesdropped on their conversation until the voices faded.

Hmm. I'd guessed from the novel that Duchess Serabi wasn't pleasant, but this gave a sense of her usual behavior.

---

"Which dress shall we choose for today?"

"What dress?"

"For... going to work..."

"...Work?"

The familiar tiring word made me grimace reflexively.

Did I have to deal with commuting even in this fantasy world?

Seeing my displeased expression, the attending maid stepped back instinctively.

I composed myself, keeping a neutral face. The maid let out a small sigh of relief.

Did she think I'd explode? Over what? How badly had she treated the servants...?

Pondering, I recalled a fact.

I'd forgotten, but Duchess Serabi's job was as a soldier.

This fantasy world had a unique military unit: Distian, the special operations force founded by the munchkin Crown Prince at age 12. He was its supreme commander.

Supreme commander at twelve. Fitting for the world's strongest. What was I doing at twelve?

Anyway, to spend more time with him despite having no physical aptitude, she'd enlisted—something normally impossible, but she'd thrown a tantrum to make it happen.

However, as a noblewoman with a woman's body, more focused on seeming fragile before the Crown Prince than training, she'd never undergone proper drills, per the book.

Stuck to his side like glue, she was treated like an outcast in Distian and naturally despised.

I knew that, but showing up to the military in a dress instead of uniform...? Utterly insane. Rubbing my aching brow, I said,

"No need. Just something... normal."

"This one?"

The maid held up a dress that plunged deeply at the chest and cinched unnaturally at the waist—visibly uncomfortable.

Had I misspoke? I said more firmly,

"I said something normal."

"Even so..."

The maid looked troubled, bowing her head. Sighing, I rummaged through the wardrobe myself. How were all these clothes so provocative?

Serabi was 16 this year. Even if precocious, this was excessive.

If it were someone else's issue, I'd ignore it, but now it was mine.

Sighing, I said,

"Throw out every single thing in this wardrobe."

"Pardon?"

"B-But these are your favorites..."

Another maid muttered, but I ignored her, picking the least flashy—the first one shown—draping a shawl tightly over it.

* * *

Entering the room, my eyes met the Crown Prince's cold stare. Wow...

Seeing him in person exceeded expectations. The novel called him blindingly beautiful, and it was spot on.

Radiant platinum blond hair, seductive golden eyes like a succubus's. Anyone could tell he was imperial blood.

But his true majesty came not from looks or status.

Empire's savior, humanity's first dragon slayer, Distian's supreme commander.

A 14-year-old Crown Prince with unimaginable titles.

I swallowed dryly from tension. He scanned me up and down with icy eyes—rude, but unapologetic.

"You're quite modest today."

"...Pardon?"

"Didn't you always parade around half-naked?"

I knew he disliked Serabi, but this blatant hostility?

His ill will ran deeper than expected. Perfect timing to escape my fated doom. I smirked inwardly.

...

But this kid—shorter than me—why so arrogant?

I'd read he often verbally abused Serabi, but reading and hearing it directed at me were worlds apart.

His subordinates snickered behind him, agreeing.