Chapter 01
“Princess, please… will you marry me?”
I stared blankly at the person who had just said that.
A man was kneeling on one knee before me.
He was beautiful. His pale skin was smooth like porcelain, and his dark hair, tinged with blue, seemed to hold the night sky within it.
Beneath his black hair, brilliant golden eyes looked straight at me.
His slightly gaunt face and shadowed eyes exuded a strangely decadent charm.
To be this handsome at just eighteen… by the time he’s in his twenties, he’ll be a heartbreaker shaking the entire empire.
I found myself imagining his future and bit my lip, overcome by mixed emotions.
His name was Tristan.
A young duke who had recently been granted his title.
And the male lead of this novel.
“Did you just ask me to marry you?”
Even though I knew, my voice trembled as I asked again.
“Was that directed at me?”
Tristan’s eyes sharpened slightly at the unease in my voice.
I tensed like a cat cornered by a tiger.
Sometimes Tristan looked at me with a very peculiar gaze. He’d furrow his brow slightly and examine my face as though I were a stranger.
Normally I treated him casually, but under that gaze, I couldn’t help but feel nervous and restless.
“Of course. Who else would I propose to, if not you, Princess?”
Tristan said it so firmly that I suddenly wanted to run away.
Of course, I liked Tristan. I’d liked him for longer than he could imagine. And more than anyone, I wished for his happiness.
Which is exactly why I couldn’t do this.
“Tristan, do you love me?”
A faint frown appeared on his forehead.
Don’t make that face. It’s scary.
It was obvious that Tristan didn’t love me. If he did, he wouldn’t glare at me every time I said something dumb.
“How many nobles in this empire marry someone they love?”
Instead of answering my question, he asked one of his own.
He wasn’t wrong. In a world where political marriages were the norm, a duke marrying someone he loved was nearly impossible.
But that’s exactly why you shouldn’t settle. You’re not someone who compromises here.
“Why are you saying this?”
As I tried to figure out how to persuade him, his voice suddenly turned sorrowful. For a moment, I thought my heart might stop.
“You saved me.”
He reached out his hand. I hadn’t meant to, but the moment his golden eyes welled up with tears, I was compelled to reach out too—almost as if hypnotized.
He took my hand and pressed it to his cheek, gazing at me with desperation.
“Are you going to save me and then abandon me?”
I couldn’t say a single word.
I wanted to tell him: I’m not your destined one. You’re meant to love someone else. But the words wouldn’t come out.
So I screamed internally.
What the hell is going on?!
You’re not supposed to be like this! We’re not like that…!
When did things start going so wrong?
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Where did I mess up…?
To explain from the beginning—
One morning, I woke up inside a novel.
Inside the romance-fantasy novel, The 13th Princess.
“This can’t be real…”
I looked in the mirror, unable to believe it, and slapped my own cheek.
It hurt. A lot. This was real.
Tears welled up in my eyes, though I couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or pure shock.
Sniffling, I stared at the mirror.
A strange little girl stood in the reflection. A child who looked terribly pitiful.
With cascading golden curls and wide blinking eyes, she could’ve looked like a doll—
—if she had at least 10 more kilograms on her.
She was short, heartbreakingly thin, her dress slipping off her fragile shoulders. Her skin and hair were dry and rough, and there was a visible handprint on her cheek.
The mark came from me, just now. But somehow, on such a pathetic face, it looked perfectly natural.
Like a little Cinderella straight out of a fairy tale. Misery clung to her like a second skin.
But this girl wasn’t some scullery maid or street beggar.
Her name was Lucillia El Esperuza.
The 17th princess of the Esperuza Empire.
“This has to be a dream!”
I clutched my head, trying once again to escape reality.
No, no way. This can’t be real! Of all the romance-fantasy novels out there, why The 13th Princess?
The 13th Princess was a political intrigue story that followed the titular 13th princess, Imelda, on her path to becoming emperor.
Her competitors? Her countless siblings—eighteen of them, to be exact.
So including Imelda, that made nineteen royal siblings.
The problem was that, for a romance-fantasy novel, this one was absurdly brutal.
The Esperuza royal bloodline was, frankly, insane. In the long history of the empire, not a single emperor had inherited the throne peacefully.
It was always a bloodbath. Kill or be killed. The last one standing became emperor.
Forget calling it a broken family—this was a horror story soaked in blood.
And I had been dropped right in the middle of it.
Not even as the protagonist. Just a side character.
“Well… Lucillia isn’t the worst…”
I sighed deeply, trying to recall the original story.
For some reason, I didn’t just remember the plot—I also had access to Lucillia’s own memories. So grasping the situation was easy.
Lucillia was one of the few in the royal family who was weak in both body and spirit. Her mother came from a humble background, so she had no powerful relatives to back her either.
A weak and insignificant princess.
That insignificance was what saved her life.
While her half-siblings were obsessed with eliminating rivals, Lucillia was too unimportant to even be noticed.
Lucillia may have been weak, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew her only chance of survival was to live as though she didn’t exist.
So she chose to hide away in her small, shabby palace, living like a ghost.
I tore my eyes from the mirror and looked around.
This was Lucillia’s bedroom. Just as I remembered from her memories, it was tiny and poor.
There was only a bed, a vanity, a coffee table the size of a hand, a single chair, and a wardrobe. All of it old and worn.
The blanket on the bed looked too thin for warmth, and the chair in front of the table seemed like it would break if I sat down.
Yes, this was a small and shabby room for a princess of the empire.
But from my perspective…
“It’s bigger than a gosiwon room.”
I walked over to the window and opened it.
“A window, too.”
Sunlight spilled through the open window. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw sunlight from a room.
I muttered blankly,
“This room… it’s nice.”
In my original world, I was dirt poor.
I couldn’t afford college, so I started working right after high school. After that, I worked myself to the bone. I earned decent money.
But it never went into my own pockets. It all went to support my parents and younger siblings.
“You’re the eldest daughter.”
That’s how my parents consoled me.
It wasn’t thanks. It wasn’t an apology. But I took comfort in it. It was the only kind thing they ever said to me—and only when I gave them money.
So I worked hard. I saved every penny I could to give more to my family.
I couldn’t even afford a one-room apartment, so I lived in the cheapest gosiwon, and I ate expired food from the convenience store I worked at.
I never got checked, but I must’ve ruined my health. My body was probably falling apart.
I remember feeling unusually exhausted before I went to sleep. Way more than usual, like my body was chained down.
I must’ve died of overwork.
“…Haha.”
When I came to, I was laughing. There was nothing funny, but I laughed anyway.
Looking back, I really lived like a doormat. Worked myself to death just to give my money away—what a pathetic life.
If I had another chance, I’d live differently. No—I will live differently.
But now I’m dead, and I have to live again in this insane world full of lunatics.
As a pitiful princess, living like a ghost…
“No.”
I suddenly lifted my head and muttered.
This is a novel. Lucillia may be a tragic side character, but her life isn’t destined to be miserable forever.
I know Lucillia’s future.
“How old is Lucillia this year…?”
I had just muttered to myself, but the answer popped into my head: It’s Year 515 of the imperial calendar. Lucillia is twelve this year.
“Twelve?”
I looked down at my thin arms and legs.
“She looks more like she’s eight…”
She must’ve suffered so much that she couldn’t grow properly.
It was tragic, yes—but the past is the past. What matters is the future.
Three years from now, Lucillia will meet the person who changes her life forever.
The protagonist of this novel: Imelda.
Imelda had been like Lucillia once—living quietly, as if dead.
But when she turned eighteen, a major event shook everything. She was forced into the battle for the throne.
Determined to become emperor, Imelda took a very different approach than the others.
She sought out her weak and powerless siblings and extended a hand.
Many rejected her out of fear. Some distrusted her.
But others were moved by her sincerity, opened their hearts, and in the end—were saved.
Lucillia was one of them.
Sick and dying, Lucillia was rescued by Imelda. From then on, she vowed to live the rest of her life for her sister.
And at that moment, her hidden talents bloomed. She used them to help Imelda from the shadows.
When Imelda finally became emperor, Lucillia stood by her side with a joyful smile, offering heartfelt applause. For her victorious sister—and for herself.
Remembering all that, I nearly screamed with joy.
Isn’t this a total life upgrade?
After a rough childhood, I ride the protagonist’s coattails, everything I touch turns to gold, and in the end, I help crush our enemies and share in victory.
Technically, Imelda is the real winner for becoming emperor—but that’s not the kind of life I want.
Being emperor is exhausting, dangerous, and thankless.
Maybe it’s because I died of overwork, but from my perspective, a life like Lucillia’s—filled with quiet, real happiness—looks way better.
And now I am Lucillia.
I stood before the vanity again and looked at my reflection.
It no longer looked pitiful.
That wasn’t a sad little girl in the mirror.
It was a promised happy ending.
I smiled at my reflection. For this new me—and for the true heroine of this world.
“I’ll wait for you, Sister.”
Three years until the story begins. Just three more years. I’ll endure it—quietly, just like Lucillia always has.
Until my heroine sister comes to find me.
