“Hah—! No, don’t!”

Gis woke up with a gasp, his breath catching in his throat at the sound of his name being called. 

Having shot up in bed, now grown tall after passing through puberty, he sat clutching his blanket and breathing heavily.  

His whole body was trembling, drenched in cold sweat, and his black hair clung to his face, sweat and tears streaming together down to his chin and dripping off.  

Just then, Gerard from the palace, who had come in for the prince’s regular checkup, was startled by Gis’s condition and rushed over.

“Your Highness, are you all right? Please, breathe slowly and deeply.”

Gerard wiped the moisture from Gis’s face and loosened the tie around his neckline to help him breathe more easily.  

Following his instructions, Gis took deep breaths until his chest rose and fell. Once he had calmed down and regained his composure, Gis spoke.

“I’m all right now. The dream was just so vivid, it startled me.”

“There are still several days left until the late Crown Prince’s memorial day—did you already have that dream?”

Gis shook his head silently.

“Then why…?”

“There was a woman in my dream. Someone I don’t know.”

“A woman?”

“She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She was older than me, and in the dream, I was an adult too.”

Gis told Gerard everything he could remember about his dream.  

About the woman who, despite trying so hard not to love, he ultimately succumbed to in a single night, resulting in the conception of the imperial bloodline—and the misfortune that befell her.  

After listening intently, Gerard spoke with a serious expression.

“I wonder if the side effects of this potion you’re taking are causing you mental stress and sleep disturbances. How about stopping it for a while?”

Several golden potion bottles Gerard had brought were placed on the table beside the bed.

“I can’t do that. This potion…”

Gis bit his lower lip before continuing.

“I’ll keep taking it, so please prepare more.”

Gerard looked at Gis with pity.  

A sixteen-year-old boy, at an age when he should be curious about the opposite s*x, fiercely fighting himself with strict self-control. The shadow of the late Crown Prince always following him.

“How about spending the eve of the late Crown Prince’s memorial somewhere other than the palace this time? Maybe a change of scenery will help.”

Gis nodded at Gerard’s suggestion.

“I’ll try a few things. Until I find what works.”

“I’ve left a week’s worth of potion. I’ll take my leave now.”

“Thank you, Sir Lefford.”

Gerard bowed and exited. Once the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, Gis, who had been sitting upright, slumped forward helplessly.  

The composure he showed in front of Gerard vanished as he clutched the fabric over his heart as if to grip his own heart.  

Because the pain of holding the woman’s corpse in his arms and screaming in his dream wouldn’t fade away.  

If loss could carve out one’s heart even in dreams, then in reality, he must never love any woman—at least not until the imperial curse was broken.

“Something like that must never happen in my future.”

He steeled himself to shake off the memory of last night’s dream.  

Even knowing the woman’s death was only a dream, his shoulders trembled ever so slightly as he fought not to sob.  

A ray of morning sunlight broke across his lonely back, shattering into sadness.

*   *   *

As her vision darkened, even the scent of flowers disappeared. Of course, since she was dead. But what was this? The damp sensation on her face—why could she still feel it even after death?

“Bea, Bea!”

This voice, desperately calling her by her nickname instead of her full name…

“Huh?”

Beate’s eyes flew open.  

The fragrant thicket of Beatus Virgo was gone, and before her stretched a sparkling lawn, glittering like gold dust in the morning sun.  

Beate was lying face down, her cheek pressed to the edge of a shallow puddle in a hollow of the grass.  

She quickly raised her head and saw the face of a young girl reflected in the puddle. Just like in her previous life, she had returned to being thirteen years old.  

This was the garden of “Larre,” the orphanage attached to the Sacred Independent State of Belia’s Great Temple.

‘Why does this keep happening to me?’

As Beate staggered to her feet, someone came running up from behind.

“You disappeared all of a sudden—I’ve been looking everywhere! Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

It was Chelsea, Beate’s best friend at the orphanage.  

A girl with fresh, light green hair like the lawn and pretty eyes like pink flowers blooming in the fields.  

In her previous two lives, they had lost touch when Beate was adopted into the Grand Duke’s residence.  

Kind-hearted Chelsea, worried as if it were her own problem, brushed the dried grass and dirt off Beate’s clothes.

“Oh no, you’re a mess. It’s almost time to go to the audience room—if you go like this, the head priest will scold you.”

That’s right. Today was the day the Dowager Grand Duchess made her unofficial visit.  

She would gather five girls recommended by the orphanage and choose one to adopt.  

Beate vividly remembered the chillingly sharp gaze with which the Dowager Grand Duchess had scrutinized each of the five girls in her previous life.

[This one will do. Send the others away and leave only this child.]

At the request of Juana, the true power behind the Travitas Empire and Lady of the Kaplin Grand Duchy, the head priest instructed the nurse priests to send away all the other children except Beate.  

Chelsea was the last to leave, unable to tear herself away.  

She wanted to stay with Beate, but had to be dragged out by a nurse priest.  

Neither of them knew this would be their last moment together, so they didn’t even say a proper goodbye.  

When even the priests had left, only Juana and Beate remained in the audience room.  

Juana spoke only the most necessary words, mostly commands, with no small talk or roundabout speech.

[Take off all your clothes.]

[What?]

Beate, startled, asked again, but was met only with an unyielding silence.  

With trembling hands, she slowly removed her outer garments.  

Standing in her underclothes, shivering like prey before a predator, Juana gestured for her to turn around.

[Turn around once.]

Beate slowly turned in place.  

Juana watched in silence.  

Skin as flawless and luminous as a pearl, long, honey-gold hair with a sweet sheen, and eyes with a mysterious violet hue like rare colored diamonds.  

She was only thirteen, and her simple clothes hid her figure, but Juana saw through it all.  

This girl would grow into a woman capable of captivating Gis Carcier Gnoui, the future emperor, and become the most valuable piece in the game for her son, the future Grand Duke, and herself.

[You’re beautiful.]

It was a sincere compliment from Juana, who almost never expressed personal feelings.  

It was the first and last praise Beate ever received from her.

“Bea, what are you thinking? We have to go.”

Beate, lost in memories of her past lives, snapped back to reality as Chelsea tugged her hand.  

If she let herself be led by Chelsea now, the same scenes would play out again.  

A life raised under Juana, the Lady of the Grand Duchy, performing her commands.  

No matter what choices she made regarding the emperor, her fate would always end in death.

‘In this life, I must never get involved with the emperor. To do that, I must avoid meeting the Dowager Grand Duchess.’

Beate let go of Chelsea’s hand.

“Chelsea, you go ahead. I’ll wash the dirt off my face at the fountain and catch up.”

“Should I come with you?”

“No, if you’re late too, we’ll get in even more trouble. Just say I suddenly had a stomachache and went to the infirmary for a bit.”

“Okay. But don’t take too long, come quickly.”

“I will.”

‘Sorry, Chelsea. I lied to you too.’

Watching Chelsea’s back as she walked alone toward the orphanage’s main building, Beate felt heavy-hearted.

‘But in this life, we won’t be separated again. I’ll make sure to contact you.’

Resolute, Beate ran without looking back.  

If things were the same as before, supply wagons from outside would be arriving at the north back gate just before the Dowager Grand Duchess’s visit, delivering goods to the temple on a regular schedule.  

Near the priests’ quarters were the temple’s storage, the entrance for outside wagons, and the stables for the horses.

She had to escape before the head priest or the nurse priests came looking for her—she needed to get as far away as possible.

‘To do that, I have to hide in one of the supply wagons. Whatever it takes, I’ll get on a wagon headed to the imperial capital.’