Chapter 1: The Baron's Wife (1)

Awakening to find herself thrust into the pages of an untitled novel, Eliza Javier—a rising star in the field of law—was momentarily at a loss for words. Though known for her steely resolve and unyielding demeanor within the confines of the trial court, she harbored a secret passion for romance-fantasy novels and an unconventional fascination with the deceased. This morbid interest had taken root in her at a tender age of eight, shaping her path towards criminology before ultimately pursuing a career in law.

As she emerged into consciousness inhabiting the body of Kristen Vortigern y Montclair, Eliza found herself confronted by the striking visage of her new persona—a woman adorned with long, silky ebony locks, brown eyes that mirrored her own, and a beauty that belied the turmoil within. Yet, it was the subtle detail of two small moles beneath her right eye, akin to teardrops, that confirmed Eliza's suspicion of her entanglement with the pitiful character from the novel she once perused.

"This is unbelievable..." she murmured, grappling with the surrealness of her situation.

Kristen Vortigern y Montclair, wife to Emperor Allan Vortigern and reigning Empress of the Empire of Eldoria, stood as a central figure in the narrative. Allan, the novel's male protagonist, had relegated their marriage to mere formality in the aftermath of war—a union orchestrated by Kristen's avaricious and morally bankrupt parents. Their marital bond had deteriorated irreparably upon Allan's encounter with Arabella Everhart, the novel's female lead—a noblewoman whose extraordinary beauty was matched by her wisdom and compassion.

In the aftermath of war, Kristen endured harrowing ordeals at the hands of both rebels and her own husband, leaving her scarred and broken. Her descent into despair only deepened when she found herself ensnared in a web of exploitation by noblemen, reminiscent of the horrors she endured during the conflict. Silenced by the author's narrative to focus on a burgeoning romance the male and female lead, Kristen's tragic end came swiftly. Her final act is a leap from the highest tower of the Empire on the eve of their seventh wedding anniversary.

Her poignant parting words with the Emperor a day before her demised is tinged with regret and resignation: "Forgive me, Your Majesty. Should fate grant me another life, may our paths never intertwine again."

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In the quiet solitude of her uncle's cabin, Eliza immersed herself in the pages of books, seeking solace and understanding amidst the unfamiliar world into which she had stumbled. As she awaited her uncle's return from his hunting expeditions, her thoughts occasionally remembered her uncle, hoping against the odds that he would return with no more small fishes anymore, but luscious meat.

"I hope Uncle Sam will not hunt those little fishes again or I'll break his leg for real this time!", she mused, her tone tinged with equal parts exasperation and affection for her well-meaning but bumbling guardian.

On one occasion, driven by a desire for variety and sustenance, Eliza dared to try her hand at hunting, only to incur her uncle's wrath and ignite a fiery exchange between them.

"Why would you risk yourself like that? What if you were the one hunted instead of the hunter? Have you no sense?" her uncle admonished, his words sharp with concern and frustration.

Eliza bristled at the insult to her intelligence, her pride as a formidable lawyer wounded by his implication of incompetence. "How dare you belittle me! If not for my efforts, we would be resigned to a diet of those wretched fish indefinitely. Is it too much to ask for a taste of meat from time to time? Why must you be so selfish?"

Despite the tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked meat filling the air, their shared meal remained untouched, overshadowed by the weight of unspoken grievances and simmering tension. In the ensuing silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire, Eliza and her uncle grappled with the unspoken truths that lingered between them, each yearning for understanding yet unable to bridge the divide that separated them.

"Do you have such a fondness for meat?" her uncle inquired, his voice hesitant.

She hesitated before responding, irritation evident in her silence.

"Yes, indeed. My affection for meat knows no bounds. Pork, beef, goat—I savor them all!," she declared, her enthusiasm palpable.

"I promise to hunt for our sustenance tomorrow, so please..." her uncle implored.

She arched a skeptical brow. "What again?"

"Please, forgive my shortcomings," he pleaded, his tone laced with genuine contrition.

She paused, momentarily taken aback by his sincerity.

"Do as you wish. But mark my words—if you return with nothing but those wretched fish, I will not hesitate to break your legs!," she warned, her tone firm.

That's how they reconciled.

One afternoon, Eliza drifted into a peaceful slumber, only to be jolted awake by a piercing scream that shattered the tranquility of the forest.

"A woman's cry? Perhaps in her fifties," Eliza surmised, her senses sharpened by the urgency of the moment. Without hesitation, she abandoned the safety of the cabin and plunged into the dense forest, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for the source of the distress.

"Found you," she exclaimed triumphantly as she stumbled upon the scene of tragedy, her fervor for justice ignited by the sight before her.

"Help..." the woman gasped, her voice trailing off into a final, breathless plea before succumbing to death's embrace. Eliza knelt beside her, confirming the irreversible stillness of her form with a somber reverence.

With a mixture of curiosity and grim determination, Eliza began to meticulously examine the woman's body, her mind racing to unravel the mystery of her demise.

"What could have caused these injuries?" she wondered aloud, her eyes alight with a fervent hunger for truth.

Meanwhile, her uncle's concern grew with each passing moment, his frantic search through the woods fueled by the note Eliza had left behind. "Eli!" he called out, his voice trembling with worry as the sinking sun cast long shadows across the forest floor.

"Eli!" he shouted once more, his heart seizing in his chest as he strained to locate her amidst the dusk. And then, at long last, his ears caught the sound he had been praying for—the distant echo of his niece's voice, leading him to her side at last.

"Uncle Sam, come quickly," Eliza whispered urgently, seizing her uncle's arm and leading him to the grim scene before them before releasing her grip.

"She's gone. Baroness Katherina Davis—the wife of the esteemed Baron Davis," she announced, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and dread as she idly toyed with the Baroness's ash-blonde curls. Her uncle intervened, swiftly wiping her hand clean with a high-quality cloth.

"Enough with the macabre games, Eliza. The wilderness is fraught with danger, and we risk becoming prey ourselves if we linger," he admonished, his tone stern with concern.

"But it's murder," Eliza countered, her words charged with conviction as she pointed out the telltale mark on the Baroness's leg.

"That bite—it's no animal attack. It's poison, intentionally injected into her body," she declared, her eyes ablaze with determination.

Her uncle recoiled, speechless with shock at the revelation. "Are you certain?"

Eliza nodded, her resolve unyielding. "We cannot simply turn a blind eye. Justice demands that we seek the truth."

But her uncle's response struck her like a blow. "Let us depart from this place. Pretend we never saw a thing—for your own safety."

Eliza bristled, her passion for justice ignited by his suggestion. "Safety? At what cost?" she demanded, her voice trembling with indignation.

"I only wish to shield you from harm. Crossing a powerful and affluent Baron could lead to dire consequences. If you come forward as a witness to finding the body, you might find yourself under suspicion as well," Uncle Sam explained, his tone pleading for understanding.

"And what then? We simply turn a blind eye to the murder of his beloved Baroness and allow her death to be dismissed as a mere accident? Your moral compass is sorely lacking, Uncle Sam," Eliza retorted, her frustration palpable.

"Eli, please," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

"But imagine if you were in the Baron's shoes. What if it were your cherished wife who had been murdered, only for the crime to be brushed aside due to lack of evidence? Would you stand idly by?" she pressed, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Uncle Sam stood silently, unable to offer a rebuttal, his expression as immovable as stone.

"Well? Nothing to say? If it were you, I have no doubt you'd be consumed by a fervent desire for justice," Eliza continued, her logic irrefutable.

Her words struck a chord, and Uncle Sam relented, agreeing to report the murder to the nearest Imperial Magistrate's Office tomorrow morning but against the suggestion of Eliza to stood guard over the Baroness's remains.

"It's too risky," he protested.

"And what alternative do you propose?" she countered.

"We must conceal the body first," he suggested.

At his proposal, Eliza's eyes lit up with excitement. "Where shall we hide her, Uncle?" she inquired eagerly.