Chapter Translation:
To be honest, I couldn’t remember the novel’s plot all that well. I only recalled the general outline.
Who could remember the details of a novel they read in a past life?
Still, I could vividly recall one thing—Siegfried, the male lead. Now that I thought about it, I was probably reading the novel because of how amusing his character description was.
Truthfully, the story wasn’t even my taste. War, revenge, a dash of romance. The keywords sounded appealing, but in hindsight, it must have been dreadfully boring. I didn’t even remember reading it properly.
Anyway, the general storyline went like this:
Siegfried, as a child, fled the imperial palace to escape the crown prince who sought his life. That crown prince, Eisa, was absolutely obsessed with killing him.
There were two reasons Eisa loathed Siegfried so deeply.
First, Siegfried was the only legitimate imperial prince born of the Empress. Although Eisa had been born first and was thus made Crown Prince, his bloodline was considered inferior.
Second, Siegfried possessed a unique power of the imperial bloodline—something Eisa did not.
It was said that the founding emperor, blessed by the gods, wielded incredible powers. His descendants inherited fragments of these abilities, and the current empire remained a divine-right monarchy thanks to those superhuman powers.
However, over time, the royal blood thinned, and so too did the powers.
And then Siegfried was born—with violet eyes, no less, a trait only seen in the direct line of the founding emperor.
So to Eisa, a concubine’s son, Siegfried was nothing short of a thorn in the eye.
In truth, Siegfried’s standing had been quite solid. Many nobles argued that the true heir had finally appeared and that the current crown prince should step down.
The nobility split in two—those accusing the faction of trying to dethrone Eisa with an unproven ability, and those claiming the crown rightfully belonged to Siegfried all along.
But while debates raged, a major incident turned the tide entirely: the Empress, Siegfried’s mother, passed away at a young age.
It happened before Siegfried had even turned ten. He was fifteen now—five years ago.
On the day the Empress died, her palace caught fire for unknown reasons. The flames raged out of control and devoured the palace.
Everyone knew Eisa’s faction had been trying to suppress Siegfried. Though no one said it aloud, most believed Eisa had something to do with the fire.
Even years later, rumors about the Empress’s death continued to circulate, though no one dared speak out.
After her death, Eisa and his mother walked with their heads held high. And that was thanks to the Emperor himself.
As with most politically motivated marriages, the Emperor had never loved the Empress. But he loved Eisa’s mother deeply.
The Emperor ignored the demands from Siegfried’s noble supporters for a proper investigation and, as if he had been waiting for the opportunity, raised Eisa’s mother to the position of Empress.
Naturally, resentment against Siegfried’s enemies grew stronger by the day.
But in an empire where imperial authority was absolute, no one dared to step forward to seek the truth.
Even the Blanche Ducal family—the late Empress’s family and the only dukedom in the empire—chose to wait and observe rather than act rashly.
Even a duke’s house could be erased from history with a single wave of the Emperor’s hand.
So it was only natural that Siegfried, who had grown up amidst such turmoil, would desire the throne. And when he returned to the palace, bloodshed would surely follow.
“…And I’m supposed to become that Crown Prince’s fiancée in the future?”
A heavy sigh escaped me. To become the villain’s wife? No thank you.
Fortunately, I hadn’t even met Eisa, let alone gotten engaged. Getting involved in political power struggles was the last thing I wanted.
What happened to me in the novel again? That, I couldn’t remember.
Regardless, I had no intention of following the plot and becoming engaged to the Crown Prince.
I was living my second life. And even though memories of my past life were hazy, one thing was clear—I hated troublesome things.
In that sense, I couldn’t forget how fiercely Siegfried glared at me.
I’d gone out of my way to rescue him and bring him to the estate, and the first thing he did was shoot daggers at me with his eyes.
Had I unknowingly triggered a death flag or something? I couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
All I’d done was save his life. Well… I may have put him in a headlock afterward.
Still, Siegfried paid no mind to my unease and stayed holed up in his room for an entire week, not taking a single step outside.
Sometimes, I’d see a physician leaving his room when I wandered the halls. According to gossip among the maids, he’d been skipping meals and sleeping all day.
I was starting to wonder why he even came here.
If he was going to sleep all day, he might as well have stayed in the imperial palace. Then again, maybe he couldn’t sleep as peacefully there.
At first, I’d been tense thinking the male lead had finally appeared, but now all the excitement was gone.
“Click.”
I clicked my tongue.
I’d spent the entire week walking on eggshells. Not that Siegfried cared—he just kept sleeping all day.
“Young lady! Goodness, look at this room. Please step out for a bit so I can clean.”
I’d planned to lounge around on my bed, reminiscing about the novel, but a maid practically pushed me out. She was determined to clean today no matter what.
I was told not to come back until evening, so I had no choice but to leave the room.
Problem was, I had nowhere to go. I didn’t want to wander around the estate and waste energy either.
So I grabbed a book and headed to the back garden. There was a quiet clearing perfect for lying down and reading.
But just as I pushed through the bushes, I stopped.
Huh. Hardly anyone came here. What were the odds I’d run into Siegfried for the first time in a week?
Clang!
“Argh, damn it. Damn that Eisa…!”
His black hair fluttered in the breeze.
Siegfried sat against a tree, clutching his wrist. Was he hurt? His face was twisted in pain.
Curious, I took a step toward him.
Wait. Did he just say Eisa’s name?
Judging by his hostile energy, now was definitely not the time to talk.
…Maybe I should just leave quietly?
Rustle.
But then my skirt snagged on a low branch. Siegfried lifted his head at the sound. It had only been a week, but seeing his face again felt strangely fresh and strikingly beautiful.
As our eyes met, he scowled. That confirmed it—Siegfried definitely hated me.
“Hello, Your Highness.”
“…”
No reply. Now this was just unfair. I hadn’t even done anything yet!
Still, walking away after being spotted would be weird, so I walked up and offered him a handkerchief.
He ignored it like it didn’t even exist. For some reason, that fired me up, so I crouched down beside him.
“You seemed hurt.”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Ah, I see. But just a moment ago you looked like you were in a lot of pain.
“But your wrist—”
“I said it’s nothing.”
Up close, I could see his wrist was red and swollen.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up halfway, revealing skin that was blotchy and inflamed. A stark contrast to his otherwise flawless face.
Now I understood why he’d worn that hooded cloak when we first met—to cover up his condition.
No wonder he couldn’t move well back when he was facing those men. I had to do most of the fighting.
I stared at his hand. Unlike his delicate face, it was large, rough, and calloused.
Come to think of it, the novel described Siegfried as a swordsmanship prodigy. I vaguely recalled him returning from war as a hero.
While I was thinking that, Siegfried suddenly staggered to his feet.
He picked up a wooden practice sword nearby and stepped forward. That must have been the clattering noise earlier.
But with a wrist like that, what was he trying to do?
I sat back and watched.
Siegfried ignored me and resumed what he was doing—swinging the wooden sword sharply. It looked like he was training.
Once. Twice. And then the third swing.
I rested my chin on my hands and tilted my head.
Something felt… off.
Could I be seeing things? But not once, not twice—three times?
Wait, wasn’t he supposed to be a swordsmanship genius? Unrivaled?
But looking at him now, Siegfried was…
“…Horribly bad at this.”
The thought slipped out before I realized it.
His stance was so obviously wrong, I couldn’t help myself.
“…What did you just say?”
