Chapter 1
Bellona figured this life was already doomed.
On her twentieth loop back in time, her bad fate with Domenic still wouldn’t end.
Domenic, who’d dabbled in black magic, had turned into the blood-crazed villain he always became.
Bellona closed and opened her eyes slowly, breathed deep, and tried to steady whatever feeling—disappointment in herself or just plain resignation—that had settled over her.
“Is this how I give up so easily?”
Normally she’d be the one who didn’t fear him and would stand up to him, so staying quiet like this felt wrong—almost sad.
Over her many lives, Domenic sometimes watched her with this weird, stubborn look, and that used to bother her.
Bellona shook her head and tried to shake off the gloom. For some reason, she felt really bad.
“Next life I won’t lose so uselessly.”
She took a bottle from her pocket, popped the cap, and downed it in one gulp.
The colorless, tasteless liquid slid down her throat and felt like a fire spreading inside her.
“What are you doing?” came a voice.
Bellona looked at Domenic, who’d grabbed her wrist late, but all she felt was relief. Seeing his flustered face—rare and still so vivid—was actually satisfying.
She didn’t like how he always acted bored and arrogant, like everything was under his control. That made this even sweeter.
“Running away,” she said.
That little pleasure—plus the tiny joy of sticking it to Domenic—vanished fast and darkness closed in, swallowing her mood.
So ended Bellona Rozentin’s twenty-first life.
***
“What went wrong?”
On a lazy spring day, Bellona Rozentin woke up in the count’s garden, realized where she was, grabbed her head, and fretted.
She was really tired now.
From her red hair in the teacup’s reflection to her young face, everything about this return point was the same as always.
“I’ve done this more than ten times.”
When she was first born into this world she was fine—she was a supporting character who was the heroine’s close friend. Confident because she knew the future, she helped both heroine and hero.
But even the life she thought was perfect still ended in death.
Just like the first time, she’d grown old, lay in bed remembering the past, thought “this’ll be my final rest,” and then found herself back in the familiar garden.
Next she tried giving up entirely.
She called that loop a “rest,” played the villain Domenic lightly, and ended up with the poison ending again.
“There’s nothing left to try…”
After twenty-one regressions, life twenty-two.
Staring at the clear sky and thinking seriously about the problem felt pointless.
Then—
“Miss, is something the matter?”
Bellona stared blankly at her maid Rose, who poured tea and asked the same question she always did.
“I want to complain to God,” Bellona said.
“Then why not go to the temple?” Rose suggested.
The word “temple” made Bellona pause.
“Temple?”
It made her think of someone—the eternal villain, Domenic.
He became a villain because he learned black magic.
‘I never really paid attention to Domenic before, for a reason…’
Domenic was born the emperor’s sister Olivia’s son. After being orphaned in a staged fire, he escaped with a maid and later ended up in the temple orphanage, not knowing he was noble.
He was mistreated for his red eyes and eventually learned black magic. By the time he was an adult, Bellona had already started looping.
And oddly enough, today was the day he planned to kill the temple priests who’d abused him as a child. Redeeming him might be impossible, but there was one hope: he hadn’t yet lost his soul completely to black magic.
“If I can’t save him, maybe I can at least stop him from going completely mad,” she thought.
If she could make him less wild, he might at least stay within some limits, even if he still betrayed her later.
Besides—
“I died for you once. In the next life, why don’t you try holding my hand? If you try to stop me, maybe you’ll do fewer crazy things.”
“Like who cares. Dream on.”
For some reason that conversation kept playing in her head—the words Domenic had said right before she died in the previous life.
‘Even if we hold hands, we’d both be ready to betray each other.’
Still, if she could make him less insane, maybe betrayals would stay somewhat sane.
Bellona, deciding to try something new, stood up.
“Rose, let’s go.”
If there was any chance to break free of this never-ending loop and finally die properly, Bellona was ready to act.
***
It didn’t take long to reach the temple.
She got off the carriage, stood before the white temple, sighed, and told Rose quietly,
“I want to be alone—ask for a private prayer room. And make it the quietest, the one at the very end.”
Rose hurried off and Bellona watched her go, wondering where Domenic might be already—he was probably here somewhere.
“Priest said the room at the end of the corridor is free. You can use it.”
“Good.”
Bellona walked toward the room, told Rose to wait, and after the door shut and the quiet settled in, she pulled up the carpet on the floor.
A hidden wooden door to a downstairs passage appeared.
“This is why I asked for this room.”
She’d heard that priests who survived Domenic’s purge had escaped through secret passages.
There was something she needed to get before meeting Domenic.
“This place is a dust pit.”
She felt along the wall and moved down the dark corridor until she reached the end, grabbed a doorknob, and opened it.
Bright light poured from above, stained glass throwing colorful beams everywhere. The sacred hall opened up—clean and empty, the echo of footsteps loud.
Bellona walked out without hesitation and climbed the steps to the altar.
“Which relic was it again?”
This wasn’t just the altar; it was where the temple kept its relics.
She casually picked up and inspected the items laid out on either side.
“This cup is fake—no holy power; the sword is useful but… ah, it was that necklace.”
She found a thin silver chain with a clear gemstone and smiled, satisfied.
Squeak.
At that moment a door opened behind her and someone walked in—she’d timed it perfectly.
She didn’t exactly love Domenic, but she didn’t hate him without reason either.
“…Who are you?”
His black hair and unforgettable deep red eyes caught her attention.
Some called those eyes ominous; others called them mesmerizing.
Bellona tended to think they were mesmerizing.
When she stayed silent, Domenic’s guarded face twisted into that familiar annoyed look, and she smiled slightly.
“I can tell you something you don’t know.”
She hadn’t come here for nothing—she was sure she could interest him enough not to kill her right away.
‘What an ironic fate.’
Domenic was actually the child of Princess Olivia and Duke Roxseln, the emperor’s beloved sister’s only son. Right after he was born there was an assassination disguised as a fire—he lost his parents, escaped with a maid, and later that maid died too. He ended up at the temple orphanage, unaware of his true status.
Bellona looked him in the face and said plainly,
“I know your secret, Domenic.”
“What secret? Tell me now or I’ll kill you.”
The worst possible first meeting.
