Chapter 7
For a moment, Ophelia couldn’t believe her ears.
What did he just say?
“If you can truly say that there wasn’t even a trace of choosing me just to escape that situation, go ahead. Say it.”
Ophelia wanted to refute him.
That she had chosen him because she loved him. That the affection she showed him—did it really seem so shallow?
But no words came out.
Just a moment ago, she’d been stuttering through her sentences. It wasn’t as though her throat was choked.
But her mouth simply wouldn’t open.
“…You should go. I hope this never happens again.”
And just like that, Ophelia was dismissed—and she cried for a long time.
A political marriage, he said. How could he see her that way?
Was her love really that shallow?
Had people thought she was trying to die in water shallow enough to barely reach her ankles?
But for her, this was the first time loving someone—and the first time being loved.
That was her best.
She had never even learned to open her heart. How could she love someone deeply?
She didn’t know that one shouldn’t die for such shallow love.
She thought everyone drowned at that depth.
If she was to blame for anything, that was it.
Even so, the shock didn’t go away. Since that day, Ophelia lost her voice.
She couldn’t speak proper sentences in front of people.
Even when the palace servants were replaced, and she gradually adjusted to Ronen.
Ophelia lived in silence for a whole year, until—funnily enough—a small incident broke the spell.
“Ophelia, it’s been a while. Oh, I suppose I should call you Lady Consort now.”
“…Al… ley.”
The court mage at Ronen Castle had changed.
They say mutism is caused by psychological issues—and that turned out to be true.
Just the presence of someone familiar had improved her condition so quickly.
‘It took a while to fully recover, though…’
Back then, she was simply overjoyed to be able to talk in front of another person.
At the very least, she could shed the disgrace of being known as the stammering fool of Ronen.
That experience, while painful, left Ophelia with a single lesson:
‘You can’t rely on someone else to escape reality.’
People change easily—and you can’t get comfortable with change.
People may offer clues, but they’re not the solution.
She hadn’t known that at the time. But now, she did.
‘So this time, I need to change things myself.’
Two days had passed since meeting Ian.
Ophelia had observed how much the current events aligned with what she remembered from the past.
And she realized—her memory was more accurate than she expected.
Even the cream of mushroom soup served at breakfast that had gone bad—it was exactly the same.
Only one thing was different: the gazes surrounding her.
‘It felt like everyone was watching me.’
She was no stranger to judgmental stares, but these past few days, the glances had felt different.
Almost like she’d chopped her hair off overnight—filled with confusion.
Of course, she had an idea why.
‘Someone must’ve seen me jump.’
That was the only difference from the past.
Maybe rumors were going around that the First Princess had finally gone mad.
If she’d known this would happen, maybe she should’ve just pinched her cheek and left it at that.
Ophelia briefly regretted it, but quickly let it go, true to her calm nature.
After all, today was the day she was leaving for Ladin—and people would soon lose interest in someone they no longer saw.
‘Even if not, it doesn’t matter.’
If her plan succeeded, she’d never return to this palace again.
Ophelia tightened the straps on her travel bag and straightened her back.
There was a commotion outside.
‘Come to think of it, today’s the day Ian leaves too.’
She and Ian had left the palace on the same day in her past life, so it must be true again.
Back then, she’d been so focused on heading to Ladin that she only learned about it afterward.
Not that knowing ahead of time made much difference now.
Her past life had been painful, but in some ways, it helped her.
She’d gained the mental resilience to brush off most things.
Like, for example, when her spoiled half-sister suddenly stormed in, yelling.
“Ophelia!”
Yet Ophelia remained calm.
She set down her bag and looked up.
Unlike Ophelia’s simple attire, her half-sister Cadellia was dressed flamboyantly from head to toe, her face flushed red with rage.
To be fair, this wasn’t all that shocking.
Cadellia, born two years after her with the Emperor’s full favor, had always been spoiled. She’d long used Ophelia as her emotional punching bag.
Still, something felt strange.
For her to come hurling insults on the very day Ophelia was leaving for Ladin?
That hadn’t happened before.
Could this affect her plan somehow?
Ophelia hoped not as she spoke up.
“What’s wrong, Cadellia?”
“Ha! You’re seriously asking? Don’t tell me you don’t know the rumors!”
“Rumors…?”
“They say you shamelessly threw yourself at the Duke of Ronen! Do you know how humiliated I was because of you?!”
Cadellia screamed in response to Ophelia’s question.
As the most noble lady in the Millicent Empire and the darling of the imperial family, Cadellia took immense pride in her status.
And now, she couldn’t stand this situation.
Just a few days ago, she had been over the moon.
Because for the first time, she’d met a man she truly liked.
Ian Carle Ronen.
A man like a cold, black sword—just like Ronen’s chilly climate.
No matter who her father brought as a marriage prospect, she never liked any of them. But the moment she saw Ian, she fell in love.
His looks, his skills, even his status—he was a perfect match.
So she’d begged her father to hold a banquet two days ago.
She was sure that if she got a chance to talk to him at length, Ian would fall for her.
But to her dismay—
At the party, dressed in her finest, she didn’t even catch a glimpse of Ian.
Still clinging to hope, she went to see him off when he left.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Princess Cadellia.”
That stiff farewell and a light handshake—that was all she got from Ian.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
Even her father, the Emperor, had been subtly encouraging a match between them.
Cadellia had gone around salons boasting that the vacant position of Ronen’s consort was as good as hers.
And yet, Ian left without the slightest interest in her?
As she stood there in shock, staring at the departing carriage, she overheard people whispering:
—“I guess the rumors are true.”
—“You mean about the Duke and the First Princess? I thought that was nonsense.”
—“They apparently had a secret meeting at the banquet. Quite a few people saw them. That red hair isn’t exactly common.”
—“Still, why would someone like the Duke of Ronen be interested in her?”
—“Why not? She’s pretty. Maybe that’s his type. Looks like only the Second Princess was made a fool of.”
The mocking laughter pierced Cadellia’s pride.
It was already humiliating that the man she liked showed her no interest—but to think the reason might be Ophelia?
How could that low-born First Princess, whom no one even acknowledged, possibly be her rival?
She didn’t even own a proper party dress! Being compared to that shabby half-sister was insulting enough—and now what?
She was the laughingstock because of Ophelia?
Unbearable.
Cadellia shouted through her tears.
“Everyone’s talking about it! Saying I looked like a fool chasing after someone! And I didn’t even know about the rumor until after he left!”
And thanks to Cadellia’s outburst, Ophelia finally grasped the situation.
She understood why people had been giving her such strange looks.
‘So it wasn’t a suicide rumor—it was a scandal with Ian.’
Oddly enough, that came as a relief.
Since they were still calling it a rumor, Ian must not have commented on it.
Probably just people speculating after seeing them in the same place.
And now Cadellia, having heard the rumor, was throwing a fit.
‘Come to think of it, Cadellia did have feelings for Ian.’
Ophelia remembered her own wedding day from her past life—Cadellia had thrown a tantrum, sobbing on the floor, completely abandoning her dignity.
It wasn’t just because she liked Ian.
There was another reason.
“This is insane! You ruined everything for me!”
The political marriage that had originally been meant for Ophelia had been reassigned to Cadellia.
From Cadellia’s perspective, she’d lost the man she loved—and was saddled with a marriage meant for someone else. Of course she hated Ophelia.
Ophelia understood. But even so, at the time, she had felt quite pleased.
Cadellia had never failed to get what she wanted—while Ophelia often went without.
So even that small victory had made her feel proud.
But not anymore.
Ophelia’s gaze turned cold as she stared at Cadellia, who was spewing venom at her.
