SHC02_c2 A Dramatic Before & After

C2 A Dramatic Before & After

After finishing my usual morning ritual, I start getting ready for the day.

As I mentioned, I’m the heir to the Kikunoi noble house.

Normally, a servant would come help me dress, but I declined.

“I’m five years old now,” I told them.

I pull a pair of trousers and a blouse from the wardrobe and get dressed by myself.

Then I ring the little bell on my bedside table.

The door to the adjacent room opens, and in walks a woman who looks to be in her late twenties.

Her hair is tied in a tight bun, and she wears thick glasses and a crisp maid uniform.

She gives off a very strict, no-nonsense vibe.

This is Ms. Rottenmeier.
It seems that the Kihou Empire is significantly lagging in science and technology.

Her glasses are so thick I can’t even see her eyes through them.

She pushes the bridge of her glasses up with a practiced motion, then gives me a top-to-bottom once-over.

“Buttons aligned. Everything is worn correctly. You pass.”

“Thank you for checking.”

“It’s my duty.”

She gives a polite bow. Our exchanges are always this stiff and formal.

I follow her out of the room and down the hallway to a grand dining hall—so vast  it feels more like a hotel banquet room than a family dining space.

I’m the only one seated at a table long enough to seat fifteen people on each side.

I haven’t seen my parents in over a year.

Instead, breakfast is served exactly as I request it. Thanks to my knowledge from my previous life, I’ve put myself on a strict diet plan.

Normally, the kitchen wouldn't allow a child to follow such a strict diet plan, but Ms. Rottenmeier successfully persuaded them on my behalf.

When I went to thank the head chef, he looked absolutely terrified.

“I didn’t want to, but Madam Rottenmeier insisted…” he stammered.

I used to be a total brat—screaming tantrums, selfish demands.

They probably thought I was throwing a fit over getting a plain meal. I owe them an apology.

Anyway, the meals I request follow the “MAGOWAYASASHII” principle an acronym for a balanced diet consisting of:

Ma: beans (mame)

Go: sesame (goma)

Wa: seaweed (wakame)

Ya: vegetables (yasai)

Sa: fish (sakana)

Shi: mushrooms (shiitake)

I: potatoes (imo)

I ask that my meals use these ingredients, with child-sized portions and snacks limited to fruit, so (a kind of early cheese) or daigo (like yogurt).

While I eat quietly, Ms. Rottenmeier pours me warm water and opens her planner.

“Let’s review today’s schedule. After breakfast, a walk and embroidery with Elise the seamstress.

After lunch, I gardened with Genzou, the groundskeeper. Then, after your snack, lessons.”

“Thank you. Once the walk is over, please tell Elise she can work freely until I call for her.”

“Understood.”

With a bow, she leaves the room.

Now it’s just me, alone in this massive dining hall.  Food doesn’t taste excellent when you eat it alone.

Once I’m done, a maid clears the table, and I head out for my walk.

I walk and jog through the estate gardens while humming the theme from a movie about a cat bus and two sisters who meet a forest spirit.

Alternating between walking and jogging builds more muscle than just walking, and singing helps with aerobic breathing—or so I recall from my past life.

At first, this strange behavior had the staff worried.

Some thought I’d gone insane from the fever. 

When I stopped throwing tantrums entirely, they even called a doctor.

Then a priest, in case I was possessed.

But they were wrong.

I wasn’t possessed. I wasn’t crazy. I was reborn.

Before the fever, I was a terrible child.

I threw fits, hit people, and screamed—because when I did, adults listened.

So I kept doing it, learning that anger gave me control.

But with my past life’s memories came understanding.

I realized why the adults gave in to me—not because they cared, but because they feared my parents.

They were servants. My parents—absent for over a year now—were their employers.

It wasn’t love.

The one who had truly cared for me was Ms. Rottenmeier. 

She called the other staff to my bedside when I was sick so I wouldn’t die alone.

No one loved me. 

I was just pitied.

In my past life, my parents loved me deeply.

I had a friend I trusted like a brother. Compared to that, this reality hurt—a lot.

When I recovered, the first thing I did was apologize to Ms. Rottenmeier.

But I told her I now understood how terrible I’d been and begged her not to give up on me.

Then I gathered all the household staff and apologized to them, too.

To prove I meant it, I asked to be taught what they did—so I could learn the value of their work.

If nothing else, I hoped it would show them I was serious.

But after a month or two of earnest effort, they began to open up to me.

And something unexpected happened.

It turns out my hobbies from my past life—cleaning, sewing, cooking, and gardening—translated almost perfectly to this world.

I was excellent at them right from the start. It was as if my soul remembered.

While lost in thought, I reach the farthest part of the garden.

A hidden gem only Genzou the gardener visits—a rose field where wild roses bloom freely.

Looking around to make sure no one’s watching, I take a deep breath and start singing Heidenröslein—“The Wild Rose” by Schubert.

Three days ago, I’d seen a rose so red it looked like blood. I couldn’t resist.
Now I come here every day to sing.


A rose is still a rose, no matter the world.

Beauty, it seems, transcends universes.

I didn’t mention the memories, of course.

At first, everyone was skeptical.

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Euneun: Thanks for reading!!