PHATFO 01

[Chapter 1]

“Who… are you?”

Saying I didn’t know him was a complete lie.

But I had no choice. I heard that once Ahfwyn regained his royal status, he killed anyone who remembered his past.

And seeing how his shoulder was soaked in blood, it didn’t seem like just a baseless rumor.

“You seem like someone I’ve never seen before.”

I blinked my eyes, trying to look as innocent as possible.

I didn’t show any fear. Overreacting toward someone I just met wouldn’t be smart.

But then—

“Do you really not remember me?”

Ahfwyn staggered as if he was deeply shocked.

His desperate face looked like he’d been hurt terribly.

“Yes, not at all…”

I stayed firm. My life was more important than a moment of sympathy.

“Then, I’ll be going—”

I turned to leave.

“It’s okay.”

But before I could run, he pulled me into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my back and rested his chin on my shoulder. His breath, so close to my face, was shockingly warm and sweet.

“Even if you don’t remember…”

Thump, thump. I could feel a heartbeat that wasn’t mine, along with the strong smell of blood in the air.

“I’ll make sure you remember me.”

And with that—I lost consciousness.

The Beginning

To explain why I was trying to avoid Ahfwyn, I had to start with what happened before I came back to life.

Because that was when I met him for the first time.

My cousin, Charlotte, the only daughter of Count Rohilton’s family, had a strange hobby. She would buy slaves, beat them until they died, then replace them with new ones.

Ahfwyn was one of those slaves.

Later, I found out—Charlotte had developed that twisted hobby because of me.

She felt inferior to me because I was the real daughter of the count, not her.

When I was four, too young to understand the world, my parents died in an accident. Then, relatives I had never met before suddenly came to the Count’s house and started treating me terribly.

It was all because of money. They thought they could profit by intimidating a little child.

That’s when my uncle came to see me.

“You poor thing. You must’ve been so scared. From now on, live with us. I even have a daughter your age—you can be like sisters.”

I was fooled by his sweet words and signed the papers he gave me. Only later did I find out those papers made me legally his daughter.

By the time I realized how things worked, the title and fortune of the count’s house already belonged to my uncle.

He saw me as a nuisance, but he couldn’t throw me out—he had only inherited the estate on the condition that he raised me.

They used me to boost their image. Taking care of a niece who wasn’t even their responsibility made them look generous and kind.

So they raised me like a noble lady. I wasn’t forced to do hard labor. I wore fancy dresses and even went to balls.

But that was only on the surface. They didn’t give me a proper education, afraid that I’d use my knowledge to take back what was mine.

I didn’t resist them either. I thought it was my fault for being naive and losing the family estate.

Still, Charlotte was always anxious.

Since she couldn’t touch me directly, she took out her frustration elsewhere.

“How dare someone like you try to take my place? What makes you so special?!”

The countess helped support Charlotte’s sick hobby by calling in a slave trader she had known since her younger days.

Then, one spring when I was seventeen—

“You call that three months? This one didn’t even last half a month! Did you know that?”

Charlotte yelled at the slave trader.

“How dare you sell me a defective one? What, are you getting greedy now that you’ve had a taste of money?”

“Of course not, young miss. Oh dear… why did he have to die so quickly?”

The slave trader nervously rubbed his chubby hands, watching her expression.

“‘Healthy and strong’? Yeah right! Are you saying it’s my fault he ended up like that?”

“Oh no! Never, miss! How could a delicate lady like yourself ever be at fault? It’s that weak slave’s fault, dying like that! So, as a token of apology, I’ll give you this one for free. How does that sound?”

Charlotte was one of the nobles who bought the most slaves. The trader was desperate to stay on her good side.

“Let me see.”

“You truly have a kind heart, miss… I’ll bring him right away.”

He signaled to his assistant, who dragged in a man chained up.

That man was Ahfwyn.

His body was a mess, like he had been horribly abused. He hadn’t even been washed and was covered in dust.

And yet, his handsome face still stood out. The dirt and rags only made him look more pitiful.

“What do you think of his face? Even Lady Tersha begged to have him, but I thought of you and brought him here instead.”

The trader grabbed the man’s shoulder to lift him up and show him off.

“Don’t touch me.”

But only for a moment—Ahfwyn shook his head and brushed the trader’s hand away.

“As you can see, he’s got a fiery temper… but that just makes him more fun, doesn’t it?”

“What the… so you’re just giving me an untrained slave? Are you kidding me?”

“Well, his face is… I mean, never mind. If I find someone better, I’ll definitely bring them here first. No matter who it is, you’ll get to see them before anyone else. How about it?”

Charlotte wasn’t actually mad. She was just pretending to be offended because accepting it right away would hurt her pride. The slave trader knew this very well.

“Fine. I’ll let it go just this once.”

“Thank you, miss. Truly, no one is luckier than you…”

“Enough. If you’re done here, get lost. I’m going to be busy now. You there—take him and lock him in the basement.”

Charlotte pointed at a servant and gave her order.

“Yes, miss.”

At the time, none of us knew.

That he was a royal who had lost his memory—

“Aaagh!”

“Madam, get back—!”

“Please, at least spare my daughter…! She didn’t know what she was doing! Take me instead—AARGH!”

“What nonsense. You’re a sinner too. How dare you talk about taking someone else’s punishment?”

“Mother! MOTHER! P-please save me! I really didn’t kno—KYAAA!”

“Fire! Fire!”

—That he would regain his memory and status after four years and return as emperor, destroying the count’s family.

The day the mansion burned down was the day my hateful uncle’s family died… and the day I died, too.

One of the servants, loyal to my uncle, stole valuables from the house, locked the doors, and ran away.

They must’ve thought they’d be spared by offering the count’s family as sacrifices to Ahfwyn.

So I was trapped in the mansion—

“Open it! Please, open…!”

—pathetically pounding on a locked door, until I was swallowed by the flames.

I was only 22 years old.

What a pointless end.

“Huff…”

I took a deep breath—and was shocked to realize I could breathe.

The feeling of air filling and leaving my lungs… it was something only the living could feel.

‘Didn’t I die?’

The memory of flames crawling up the walls was still vivid. But the room I lay in was clean.

Even my hands, which had been burned trying to open the hot door, were perfectly fine.

‘Was it a dream?’

But the heat that had choked my lungs had been too real…

With that thought, I started doubting everything I saw around me.

As I sat there in a daze—

“Giving me an untrained slave? Are you messing with me?”

—I heard a familiar voice from outside the window.

It was Charlotte.

I clearly remembered her head rolling on the floor… yet now she was shouting like nothing had ever happened.

Then I realized her words sounded familiar.

I looked outside and saw the slave trader bowing in front of her.

“Well, his face is… I mean, never mind. If I find someone better, I’ll bring him here for sure.”

It was the same slave trader.

He was holding a chain, and at the other end of it… was a man I recognized.

‘…Ahfwyn.’

The man who had turned the mansion into a burning hell was now just glaring at the trader, standing there helplessly—as if he had no choice.

That gaze, the trader’s groveling, Charlotte’s annoyed tongue click, even the damp air—everything reminded me of the day Ahfwyn first came to the mansion.

‘This can’t be real.’

I definitely died.

But not only was I alive—I had come back four years in the past.

How… is this even possible?