The definition of beauty changes depending on the era, country, and various other factors. Perhaps one could call it "beauty according to historical context"?
For example, the famous Heian beauty standard: A broad forehead, narrow, almond-shaped monolid eyes, plump and round cheeks, a small, delicate mouth, a well-defined, small nose, fair skin, a full-figured body—and most importantly, long, lustrous hair.
The world I’ve been reincarnated into follows the same standard.
Here, long, sleek, and glossy hair is the absolute criterion for being considered beautiful.
Now, let’s focus on the three great beauties of this kingdom:
The "Lovely Lady," Annamaricia, with her golden hair.
The "Charming Lady," Cerisean, with her silver hair.
And the "Beautiful Lady," Sherilia—yes, that’s me.
Though that title will only last until tomorrow.
Tomorrow, during the grand evening banquet at the royal palace, I will be falsely accused by my fiancé, the Third Prince, condemned in front of everyone, and forced to have my hair cut.
I suddenly remembered it all.
It wasn’t as if I fell down the stairs, fell into a pond, or experienced a great shock—no, I was simply drinking tea when my memories of my past life returned to me. Just now.
—Calm down, me.
I slowly sipped my tea, letting it moisten my throat. Another sip. Then, I took a deep breath and organized the memories of my previous life. Luckily, I was in my room. As I steadied my breathing, I fought to suppress the anger that was threatening to twist my face into a snarl.
This is the world of a romance novel.
Right now, it’s the introductory part. The hero and heroine will only appear after my wrongful accusation. It will serve as a casual conversation topic for them—something along the lines of, “Did you hear about that dreadful incident?” Essentially, my hair is to be sacrificed just to provide fodder for their dialogue.
Fine. No, it’s not fine, but I can tolerate that.
What I can’t tolerate is—
A year ago, I was on the verge of being engaged to my childhood friend, the fourth son of an earl and a physician. But then, the royal family intervened.
At that time—and even now—the Third Prince was doting on the daughter of a baron. Spoiled by his overly indulgent mother, the Queen, he pleaded to make the baron’s daughter his fiancée. The Queen, who adored him like a sugar-coated treat, agreed.
But the one who panicked was the King. He intended to marry the Third Prince into a noble family for political gain, strengthening the royal family's influence within the kingdom. A baron’s house was of no use for this purpose, especially given the poor reputation of the baron, who was the father of the girl.
Thus, the King issued a royal decree, forcibly betrothing me, the only daughter of a marquis, to the Third Prince.
It was an outrageous act, akin to a natural disaster. But a royal decree cannot be opposed. Both my father, the marquis, and I were dissatisfied, but we resolved to accept the Third Prince as my fiancé out of a sense of duty and responsibility as nobles.
The Third Prince, however, felt differently.
Unable to rebel against his father, he vented all his frustration on me, treating me like a punching bag for his grievances.
Though he never resorted to physical violence, he subjected me to a torrent of malicious insults and spread baseless rumors. He painted me as the villainess who had forcibly torn apart his “true love” with the baron’s daughter. Though society was aware that our engagement was the result of a royal decree, some found it amusing to compare me to the popular trope of a villainess from a play.
I endured that for a year, only for it to culminate in tomorrow’s wrongful accusation.
I finished my tea and stood up, heading to my father’s study.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Father, it’s Sherilia. May I come in?”
Hearing my polite knock, my father responded gently, as he always did for his beloved daughter.
“Yes, come in.”
“I need to speak to you about the Third Prince.”
My father’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“Has that spoiled prince done something to my dear Sherilia again?”
“No, it’s about something he’s about to do.”
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