Chapter 1
Turning Back Time
A dazzling chandelier.
Elegantly dressed women and neatly suited men gathered in small groups, chatting. Beneath their feet stretched a pristine red carpet, and above their heads, the chandelier scattered light like starlight, gently raining down.
The thick scent of perfume filling the enclosed space was almost suffocating.
Suppressing the nausea rising in my throat, I wandered around—
‘Found him!’
A man entered my sight.
Black hair with a faint bluish sheen, as if it held the night sky. Beneath it, a smooth forehead, blood-red eyes, a sharply defined nose, and a clean jawline.
Seven golden badges—symbols of his family’s achievements—were pinned to his chest.
There was no mistaking it.
Duke Alfonso Raypier.
‘Good!’
Once a predator finds its prey, it moves without hesitation.
I sprinted toward the duke standing in the distance, pushing past billowing dresses and sturdy legs.
“Katarina!”
Even the desperate voice calling me from behind—I ignored it.
Like a madwoman, I ran straight into the duke and collided with him headfirst.
Though I crashed into his long legs with all my strength, he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, his cold, emotionless gaze fell upon me.
The people around him panicked instead.
“Wh-what is this child…?”
“Duke Raypier, are you alright?”
“Whose child is this?!”
Amid the commotion, I looked at him—and he looked at me.
At his pale, cold face, I smiled as brightly as I could.
A wide, beaming smile.
“Daddy!”
My voice rang clearly through the hall, and in an instant, everything fell silent.
A crack finally appeared in the duke’s indifferent eyes.
Just as his eyes widened slightly in shock, strong arms wrapped around me from behind and pulled me away.
“Katarina!”
A slender, delicate hand cupped my cheek and turned me around.
The handsome face disappeared, replaced by a beautiful, gentle one.
Long, flowing silver hair and eyes bluer than sapphire.
My older sister, Lacey Lils, held me tightly, anxiously checking me over.
“Katarina, are you okay?”
“Yes, sis!”
Of course I was fine.
The ones who shouldn’t be fine were the duke and my sister.
Because I did this for them.
“…Really, you… I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace.”
After confirming I wasn’t hurt, my sister stood and bowed deeply to the duke.
Pushed behind her, I pricked up my ears.
“Lady Lils, do you know what your sister just said to me?”
“…I don’t know what she said, but I sincerely apologize.”
“She called me… ‘Daddy.’”
“…Excuse me?”
My sister asked back, flustered.
I detected a faint tremor in his low voice.
To others, it might’ve sounded like anger—
But to me, it sounded like excitement.
Looking at the faint blush rising on the duke’s cheeks, I realized.
‘I succeeded.’
At that moment, the duke knelt on one knee.
“I, Alfonso Raypier, hereby propose to Lady Lacey Lils.”
It was a dramatic, beautiful scene—like something out of a fairytale illustration.
The moment I had always dreamed of.
“Will you marry me, Lady Lils?”
No ring, no flowers—but he had his handsome face, and a calm yet earnest voice.
I had run around like a madwoman, even while feeling sick, just to witness this one scene.
So I smiled.
And then—
“Blegh!”
…I threw up.
It might sound insane, but—
I actually turned back time.
From eighteen years old to six.
The reason for my regression was my sister’s death.
We weren’t real sisters. I was the illegitimate child my father, Count Lils, had from a one-night affair.
My mother, whose name and face I never knew, took money and handed me—still a baby—over to him.
The countess, already frail, grew rapidly worse after my arrival and passed away a year later. My father, consumed by guilt, neglected me.
I grew up alone in a small room.
The only one who accepted me as family… was my sister.
“Hello, Katarina. I’m your sister, Lacey. I came too late, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
The first time I saw her at age two—she looked like an angel.
Even when her hair brushed my cheek, I was too mesmerized to feel it.
Though people say they don’t remember being two years old, that moment alone remained vivid in my memory.
Because that was the day I first had a family.
“It’s okay. No matter what others say, we’re sisters, Katarina.”
Whenever I shrank back because I was illegitimate, she would hold my hand tightly and repeat it again and again.
We were family.
We were sisters.
She was my sister, my mother, my entire world.
Without her, I couldn’t live.
But she died—
Just before I turned eighteen.
The one who killed her was Glen Baluga.
Her husband.
A man I refuse to call brother-in-law.
He was a severe alcoholic, a gambling addict, and an abuser.
“Instead of serving your husband, you dare talk back?!”
“Bring me money! Go out and earn it!”
Watching him mistreat her, I always vowed—
That when I became an adult, I would make them divorce and live happily with my sister.
But that day never came.
She was killed by that piece of trash.
He claimed it was an accident.
That during an argument, he pushed her slightly—and she hit her head on the edge of a table.
Does that even make sense?
‘How can you accidentally hit her? How does her death become just bad luck?’
Blinded by rage, I went to see the arrested Glen Baluga and grabbed him by the collar.
“Bring her back! Bring my sister back, you bastard! She died because of you!”
But instead of remorse, he snapped at me.
“Why is it my fault? I’m the victim here! I married a woman like her—with baggage like you—and my life got ruined!”
“…What did you just say? Then why did you marry her at all, you bastard?!”
“I didn’t do it because I wanted to! Viscount Pedro paid me!”
Viscount Pedro.
Another culprit who ruined our lives.
After our father died, when I was four and my sister was sixteen, we met him for the first time.
Because minors couldn’t inherit titles, we had to appoint a guardian.
He manipulated my naive sister, secured authority for three years, and moved his entire family into our estate.
Then he refused to return it—and used marriage as an excuse to throw us out.
And now—
He had paid someone to marry her?
“Explain that properly. Now!”
“…Tch. She kept insisting she wouldn’t marry unless the man accepted you too. So the viscount told me to take both of you in, in exchange for clearing my debts.”
It was absurd.
At the time, my sister was the most sought-after woman among nobles.
Beautiful, kind—perfect.
But she had one condition.
“Unless someone loves Katarina like a daughter… I will never marry.”
That one condition turned her into something like a widow with a child—despite never even being engaged.
And then—
Glen Baluga appeared.
Pretending to cherish me, he deceived her and married her.
And all of it… was orchestrated by Viscount Pedro.
My legs gave out.
Glen spat at me and was dragged away.
After her funeral, I cried every day.
At night, I prayed.
That she would come back.
That my life be taken instead.
But nothing happened.
My already weak body began to collapse under the shock.
“Cough—!”
I coughed up a mass of dark blood and smiled bitterly.
If someone had to die, it should’ve been me.
‘God… please. Give me a chance to make my sister happy—and to take revenge on that damned Viscount Pedro.’
My senses faded.
Darkness swallowed my vision like a switch being turned off.
Only my hearing remained.
And then—
A voice.
‘Shall I give you one more chance?’
Yes.
Please.
‘Very well, child. In exchange for you, I will turn back time once.’
And then—
Even that faded.
I died.
And when I opened my eyes—
I was six years old again.
At first, I thought it was a dream.
But the vivid sensations told me otherwise.
I had truly turned back time.
‘I’ve really been given another chance!’
After crying tears of joy and jumping around the room, I forced myself to calm down.
I needed to figure out when exactly I had returned to.
After days of careful observation—
I realized I had returned to a specific time:
When Viscount Pedro’s family had gone on a two-month trip.
The only time they were absent from the estate.
Once they returned—
They would start pressuring my sister into marriage.
‘Then the first thing I need to do is…’
Marry my sister off to someone else—
Before Glen Baluga appears.
Who?
That answer was easy.
I snuck into my sister’s room and searched through her party invitations.
Among them, one stood out—pure white and luxurious.
Stamped with elegant wax.
“From the House of Duke Raypier.”
Seeing the name, I smiled.
Duke Alfonso Raypier.
I’ve chosen you as my second brother-in-law.
