PDTVD 08

Chapter – 08  

The Prince of Misfortune

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Father.”

Lifting the hem of my dress slightly, I bowed gracefully.
When I raised my head, my eyes met his—and I froze in surprise.

Father’s expression was one I had never seen before.
It carried something almost tender—nostalgic, perhaps—with a trace of what could only be called affection.

“You look just like her…”

He murmured something, but before I could catch the rest, Janet shrieked,
“Impossible! What kind of magic did you use!?”

So I never heard the end of his words.
But judging by Janet’s reaction, my appearance must have passed the test.
Anne, who had helped me prepare, had sighed again and again, saying,
“You look so beautiful, my lady… truly.”

The past three days of detoxing, polishing my skin with the butler’s skincare products,
and studying how to bring out a healthy glow in my makeup had paid off.

“What? You’re mixing pigment into the cream!?”

“That’s right. You apply it lightly before the white powder so it adheres better—and adding color makes the complexion look healthier.”

“Wait, you even mix pigment into the powder!?”

“Of course. Pure white powder looks ghostly and flat. A pink base warms the complexion, and yellow or orange around the eyes hides dark circles. A little pearl powder under the cheeks gives a soft highlight to disguise hollowness… though it feels like a waste to use.”

Anne had been fascinated by every word.
Her eyes had practically turned into gold coins again—she was clearly planning to make money off my advice.
I was considering charging her a consultation fee when a large hand suddenly appeared before me.

“Let’s go, Olivia.”

Father’s green eyes looked down at me.
I couldn’t read what he was thinking, but there was no coldness in them.
Nervously, I took his hand and climbed into the carriage.

Though his hand was gloved, it felt strangely warm—
as if I were touching it for the first time in my life.

◆

“So this is the royal palace! How magnificent! If I were royalty, I could live somewhere like this too!”

Janet’s face gleamed with ambition.

The moment we stepped out of the carriage, she was gushing with excitement.
Meanwhile, I only wanted to go home.

To think that even in my second life, I’d end up here again.
If possible, I wanted this to be the last time.

“Hey, isn’t that the captain?”
“It is! The captain’s here!”
“Captain! Weren’t you taking the day off today?”

Men in black uniforms began to gather around Father.

They wore short cloaks over their armor—
his subordinates from the Second Knight Order, no doubt.

“I am off duty. I’m here to attend an audience with His Majesty.
Return to your posts; don’t mind me.”

He waved them off curtly, but they didn’t move.
Strange. Wasn’t anyone afraid of him?

For someone always so stern and unreadable,
I would’ve thought people kept their distance.
But… could it be that they actually respected him?

“So today’s the audience, is it?”
“Then that young lady must be the daughter of House Irvine—”

Suddenly, all eyes turned to me.

“This is…!”
“She’s stunning.”
“Like a goddess descended.”
“She’s the spitting image of the late Lady Irvine.”
“Yes, the ‘Jewel of Igbern’—they look identical.”

They murmured among themselves, and I couldn’t make out all of it.
But their stares were unsettling.

Feeling exposed, I quietly slipped behind Father’s broad frame.
Someone whispered “A goddess… no, an angel,” but that had to be my imagination.
There was no angel here—only a supposed villainess.

“Nice to meet you, brave knights!
I am Janet of House Irvine!”

Janet suddenly shoved past me and bowed energetically.
She beamed as she said,
“I’m so grateful to you for taking care of my father!”

The knights exchanged awkward glances.

“Didn’t the captain only have one daughter?”
“Ah, remember? He married the late Commander’s widow a few years back…”
“Oh, so this is the stepdaughter, then.”

Janet’s smile stiffened at their lukewarm response.
Trying to recover, she stepped forward again and began speaking rapidly.

“I’ve always admired the knights’ bravery!
All the ladies at tea parties can’t stop talking about you—”

She rattled on and on, leaving the knights looking overwhelmed.

And while all their attention was on her—
I realized this was my chance.

Carefully, I backed away.
No one seemed to notice.
As Janet kept talking, I slipped into the crowd of nobles coming and going,
then ducked into the garden to the right.

“My dear scheming stepsister, how useful you are.
All right—time to move before anyone notices.”

My destination: the Crown Prince’s residence.
My goal: to stop his assassination.

In the otome game The Saint Who Saved the Kingdom,
the First Prince didn’t even appear by name—he was already long dead.
But here, in reality, he was alive.
A real person with a name and a fate of his own.

If I could keep him alive, maybe it would change my own destiny.
Even if it didn’t, standing by while knowing he would die would haunt me.
So I would save him—for my conscience, and for myself.

I had visited the Crown Prince’s palace many times in my first life as the prince’s fiancée.
I knew the way by heart.

Passing through a rose garden in full bloom,
I crossed a small bridge over a stream and came upon a tall hedge.
Beyond it lay the Crown Prince’s quarters.

In front of a floral arch stood a statue of the Creator God, Demiur.
I couldn’t resist lightly tapping its head.

It was at the perfect height for that—not because I bore a grudge.

“Honestly, the real Demiur looks nothing like this.
Just a cheeky little brat through and through.”

In art and scripture, the Creator was always depicted as a serene, androgynous adult
in long robes, the hood casting a divine shadow.
He looked almost like the Virgin Mary from my previous world.

The real one, though, had neither the dignity nor the grace—
just a pint-sized god with a bad attitude.

If I’d had a permanent marker, I would’ve drawn on the statue—
a mustache, spirals on the cheeks, maybe some nose hair for good measure.

Regretting my missed opportunity, I stepped through the floral arch.
A sweet scent of blossoms drifted around me—

“Who’s there?”

The voice came from within a gazebo draped in ivy,
surrounded by blooming white lilies.

It was a boy’s voice—steady, clear, neither high nor low.

He sat at a table with an open book, looking up at me.

Soft black hair framed his face,
and beneath it, eyes of deep celestial blue—
the unmistakable mark of royal blood.

“You are…”

His eyes widened as they met mine.

(So this is him…)

The prince of misfortune—
the first prince, unseen in the game or in my first life—
was right before me.