Chapter 1. Lobelia Lives Again
“Lobelia, look closely. That man will be your husband.”
Lobelia Boscobel, only sixteen, couldn’t take her eyes off the tall man standing before her.
‘He’s beautiful.’
Was this what it meant to fall in love at first sight?
Tall, confident strides, sharp eyes matching his dark red hair, and large hands that had gently escorted her earlier.
Everything about him pulled Lobelia in.
“What are you doing, Lobelia? This is His Majesty the Emperor. You must greet him.”
Lobelia’s fiancé was the young Emperor of Holy Brunfelsia.
Ostro Sirin de Lopundia.
As she bowed politely, Lobelia suddenly felt ashamed of her plain, dark blonde hair. It didn’t seem to match with him. It was such a common color.
“As expected of the Lady of Boscobel—beautiful, just like the rumors,” the Emperor said with a soft smile.
Lobelia’s face turned red with embarrassment.
In front of everyone, the Emperor sang a song of love as a proposal, and the story of it was passed down for years.
“Lobelia. My dear Laura.”
Lobelia loved the way he said her name. His voice was so sweet, she fell in love again every time she heard it.
She believed this love would last even after marriage.
On her wedding day, she dreamed of a happy future.
“Your Majesty, I love you too.”
“Don’t call me that. Call me by my name,” the Emperor said, kissing her golden hair.
With a shy smile, Lobelia whispered softly in his ear, “Ostro.”
The Emperor smiled, clearly pleased by the way she said his name.
He gently stroked her cheek with a loving touch. Lobelia remembered how kind and soft that hand was.
“No one else will call me by name—only you.”
“Of course,” Lobelia replied playfully, kissing him.
That night, filled with kisses and laughter, was like every other night. She believed it would always be that way. But…
When did things begin to change?
Maybe it started when the Emperor began having nightmares.
“Ugh… No… No! Aaaah!”
“Ostro! Ostro! What’s wrong?!”
“Call the Priestess…! Cecilia!”
One day, he started having terrible dreams. Every time the Emperor screamed and thrashed in his sleep, Lobelia tried to calm him, but it was never easy.
He whispered love before bed, then woke up screaming. It never stopped being shocking. And every time, he called for the priestess, not her. It wore her down.
“I’m sorry…” he would say, after meeting with the priestess.
Even though she was tired, Lobelia would still embrace him. It was the only comfort she could offer to the man she loved.
“Ostro, tell me what you’re dreaming about. Maybe I can help.”
She gently patted his shoulder, but he always shook his head.
“Laura, this isn’t something you can help with.”
“But…”
“Just try to sleep.”
It repeated endlessly. Every time he woke up from a nightmare, she asked, and every time he refused to answer.
She felt hurt and frustrated. It broke her heart to see the man she loved suffering and running to another woman for comfort.
“Please, just tell me. Why is this happening?”
“It’s not your concern!”
“But I need to know! Because I love you!”
At her words, the Emperor trembled, then suddenly burst into tears and clung to her.
That night, Lobelia finally learned his secret.
“It’s the prophecy I was given at birth. It’s haunting me.”
Lobelia held his hand tightly, listening closely.
“They said someone will kill me.”
“What?!”
Lobelia gasped in shock, and the Emperor gave her a bitter smile.
“Isn’t it ridiculous? The Emperor of a great empire afraid of being killed. Laura, I’m scared… truly scared…”
“Ostro!”
She imagined him trembling in fear each night. It hurt so much to picture it.
She made up her mind—she would protect him.
“I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not so meaninglessly!”
“It’s okay, Ostro. I’ll stay by your side.”
“Oh, Laura!”
He pulled her close. On the white bed, the two of them held each other tightly.
That night, comforted by love, everything changed.
“You’re pregnant?”
She had a child inside her.
At 23, Lobelia placed her hand over her stomach in shock.
She was happy. Maybe this child would bring peace to her troubled husband. But from the moment he heard about the pregnancy, the Emperor changed.
He stopped coming to her.
“I’m here to see His Majesty.”
Lobelia, unable to bear it any longer, went to see him. But she always received the same reply.
“We’re sorry, Your Majesty. His Majesty doesn’t want to see anyone.”
He never let anyone in—except one. The priestess, Cecilia.
Lobelia felt despair at the cold treatment. But she endured for the sake of the baby. She kept hoping: once the baby is born, he’ll change.
Every time she walked down the hall, she heard whispers behind her.
How pitiful. How sad. But no one stood up for her.
Everyone said it was the will of the gods.
In Holy Brunfelsia, the gods held more power than the Emperor himself. And since he stayed with Cecilia, the priestess, no one could stop him.
Lobelia bit her lip and endured. She carried the baby alone for ten months.
“Waaah!”
She gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Lobelia cried, holding her child.
She was overjoyed. She thought now, finally, the Emperor would come.
The maids and guards all congratulated her.
But the baby’s father never showed.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty. A gift for you.”
The day after the birth, a young knight brought her flowers.
It was Kyle, the youngest of the guards.
Lobelia, having no siblings, treated him like a little brother.
He was a shy 15-year-old with great skill but a timid heart. Lobelia smiled and accepted the bouquet he awkwardly offered.
The Emperor still didn’t come.
Lobelia comforted herself.
It’s okay. I love this baby. As long as he grows up healthy, the Emperor will want to see him. She told herself this over and over.
But that wish didn’t come true.
One early morning, while whispering those thoughts to herself, the Emperor came.
He was drunk, not in his right mind.
He stumbled into her room, stared at the baby on the bed, and started laughing with madness.
“Hahaha!”
Lobelia stepped in front of the baby, frightened by his eyes.
“Move.”
His voice was one she had never heard before.
She knew immediately—something terrible was going to happen.
The Emperor grabbed a sword from a guard and stepped toward the bed.
Lobelia stood in his way, trembling.
“I said move!”
His voice was rough.
Was this really the man who once whispered love into her ear? Was this the man who used to call her name so sweetly?
Even in her confusion, Lobelia didn’t move.
“No.”
“MOVE!”
The Emperor shoved her aside easily.
Still, she held on to him, trying to stop the sword from reaching the baby.
His silk robe slipped from her fingers—it was too smooth.
“Why are you doing this?! He’s your son! A prince!”
She cried, gripping his robe as if it would tear.
He dragged her across the floor roughly, but she wouldn’t let go.
The baby started crying.
That’s when Lobelia saw his face.
A twisted face. A face torn between love and fear.
She held on to hope. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill his own child.
“Please! Ostro!”
She hugged him tightly, crying.
The loud cries brought the maids and guards running.
They froze at the sight.
The prince was crying. The Empress was crying. The Emperor was crying.
No one knew what to do.
Then, a sharp voice rang out across the marble floor.
“Your Majesty, why are you hesitating?”
The priestess Cecilia entered the Empress’s room.
She had been brought to help the Emperor face his prophecy.
She was also the only one allowed in his chambers.
Lobelia hated her. Just seeing her made her tremble with rage.
“Can’t do it?” Cecilia said, as if enjoying the moment.
The Emperor flinched hard—Lobelia could feel it.
He raised the sword again. Lobelia screamed and grabbed his arm.
“He’s your only child! Why would you do this?!”
Her eyes were fierce. The Emperor shouted back.
“What else can I do?! He’s supposed to kill me!”
Oh.
So that was it.
After hearing the reason, Lobelia couldn’t hear anything else. Everything felt slow, like a silent play.
My son? Kill you?
She couldn’t believe it.
“Who told you that?”
Desperate, Lobelia raised her neck toward the blade.
The Emperor, shocked by her blood-red eyes, stepped back.
“I did,” Cecilia answered calmly with a seductive smile.
Then, she gently pushed the Emperor’s back—urging him to finish.
His face twisted again.
“I can’t kill my son. Kill me instead!” Lobelia screamed at Cecilia.
But once again, the Emperor pushed her aside.
A guard helped her up. She grabbed his sword and charged at the Emperor.
“Laura!”
Seeing his wife point a sword at him, the Emperor shouted in fury.
Though she couldn’t land a blow, she succeeded in making him furious.
Lobelia prayed.
If you must kill someone, let it be me. Spare the baby.
They had lived together long enough—she knew him well.
“So you want to die? Then I’ll grant your wish!”
The Emperor grabbed her hair roughly.
It hurt so much, but she didn’t scream.
“Whose sword is this?!”
He held up the sword he’d taken from Lobelia.
A boy stepped forward, shaking.
Lobelia’s eyes widened.
It was Kyle. Sweet Kyle, who had given her flowers.
The Emperor’s eyes lit up.
“Grab her.”
He ordered others to hold the Empress down.
Maybe he couldn’t kill her himself. A trace of guilt, perhaps.
He handed the sword to Kyle.
“You do it.”
“Your Majesty!”
Kyle fell to the floor, begging not to.
The Emperor grabbed the boy and threw him at Lobelia.
She cried his name. The Emperor’s face twisted—it looked like she loved the boy.
That made him furious.
He knew he was being cruel.
But the anger, despair, and pain inside him needed release.
He grabbed the boy’s hands and forced the sword into them. The boy screamed, trying to resist.
“No!”
The crying boy and the laughing Emperor held the sword together.
That was the last thing Empress Lobelia Boscobel remembered of her life.
—
She should have died. She must have.
But… something felt wrong.
She could feel everything. Cold ground. Disgusting smell. Damp air. Loud noise. Light shining through cracks. Light?
“Gasp!”
She opened her eyes wide and breathed in like a newborn.
Normal breathing shocked her. Her stomach twisted.
“Urgh, blegh!”
She retched. The smell of garbage and waste was overwhelming. So foul, she couldn’t stop gagging.
After a while, the sickness faded. That’s when she realized—
She turned her head and saw her reflection in a broken window.
It was her.
Lobelia.
“I… I’m alive?”
