Chapter 02
The soft rustling of thin silk curtains brushing against the wind,
the ticklish breeze tapping lightly against the window,
the faint scent of jasmine tea lingering at the tip of her nose,
and the warmth gently wrapping around her body.
“Am I… dreaming?”
She had once heard that when a person experiences unbearable pain, the mind creates illusions on its own. Perhaps her eyes wanted to cover everything like this. Otherwise, she would be doomed to wander forever in that horrible betrayal and endless nightmare.
“My lady, are you awake?”
She slowly turned her head. It wasn’t to confirm who it was—she simply reacted instinctively to the familiar voice. Illyana’s indifferent blue eyes drifted toward the blurry figure.
She didn’t even try to recall who it was. The moment she heard the voice, she knew.
It was Bessie—her maid, and her friend who had always stayed by her side.
“Bessie.”
“Yes, it’s me. Can you recognize me?”
Watching Illyana stare blankly, Bessie placed a worried hand on her forehead.
“You don’t have a fever… Are you alright? You’re not in too much pain, are you?”
The touch that brushed across her forehead felt strangely unfamiliar. Even if this were an illusion born from her fear of death, it couldn’t feel this real.
Illyana suddenly sat up in bed.
“My lady? Why are you suddenly—”
Without thinking, she grabbed Bessie’s hand. Startled, Bessie blinked her wide eyes. Even in what might be a dream, she remained dutiful.
Illyana had gripped her so tightly that a clear red mark formed on Bessie’s wrist, yet she didn’t pull away.
“This… isn’t real. It can’t be.”
“Oh dear… I think the shock must have been too much.”
Gently lowering Illyana’s weakened hand, Bessie adjusted her apron and turned away.
“But it feels so real.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Illyana shook her head. Bessie, who had been heading toward the door, stopped and turned back, her eyes welling with tears.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much you were suffering. I should have stayed by your side.”
Sniffling, she picked up the teapot from the side table and poured jasmine tea into a cup. The liquid flowed smoothly, soon filling the cup to the brim.
“Please drink this. It will warm you up.”
She placed the teacup on top of the blanket covering Illyana’s legs. Silently, Illyana wrapped both hands around it. The warmth seeped into her hands—then quickly became hot.
“You’ll burn yourself at this rate! I’ll help you.”
Startled, Bessie quickly took the cup from her hands and carefully brought it to her lips. Warm tea slipped past her slightly parted lips.
“I prepared it because you always like it. How is it?”
“……”
“Whenever I make tea, it’s always too bitter or astringent, right? So you always ended up doing it yourself… Ah, I’m sorry. I’m rambling again.”
“Bessie.”
“Yes, my lady?”
She called her name, but didn’t know what to say.
This couldn’t be a dream. But it couldn’t be reality either.
Illyana stared at Bessie.
This was the girl who had risked her life to protect her when she was dragged out of the mansion. She had wanted to know whether Bessie lived or died—but she had been too powerless. She had wept, unable to save even the one person who had lived solely for her.
So what could she possibly say to someone who still devoted herself to her—even in a dream?
“If not for that carriage accident, you wouldn’t be this sick. It’s all my fault.”
“…Carriage accident?”
“Yes. While I went home briefly, you went out to the square alone and got into an accident.”
“Me? When?”
“It’s been about five days. Don’t tell me you really don’t remember anything?”
There was no such incident in any of her memories.
Was her memory wrong? Or…
“Don’t tell me… it worked?”
“…Pardon?”
Tilting her head, Bessie set down the teacup and pulled the blanket up more securely.
“I think you should rest a bit more. I’ll stay by your side until you fall asleep.”
Perhaps thinking she shouldn’t be left alone, Bessie dragged a small chair next to the bed.
But Illyana had no intention of sleeping. She had slept enough in prison to last a lifetime. What she needed now was proof—to understand what had happened to her.
Her eyes began to take in more of her surroundings.
She looked around as if she were seeing the place for the first time.
The soft bed, the arched windows covered by curtains, the sofa and carpet embroidered with roses—everything was exactly the same.
This was the Kritia estate.
Her room.
But I died… on the execution platform.
After staring blankly for a while, Illyana suddenly spread her palm.
“No wounds…”
The day before her death, she had placed her last hope on a spell.
A forbidden grimoire—something everyone knew existed but could neither find nor use.
From that book, she had cast a spell that could turn back time.
“You possess a power more noble and stronger than anyone in this world.”
It was something her grandfather had once told her when she accidentally discovered the forbidden book as a child. After that, he would occasionally visit her in the capital or spend time with her in the north. Each time, he praised her intelligence and her gift.
“Maybe… I really do have a special power.”
She never believed the spell would work.
But everything now pointed to one conclusion.
Regression.
That had to be it. There was no way those vivid, horrifying memories were false unless she had gone mad.
“…Did I really come back?”
If the spell worked… then to when?
“What year is it in the Empire calendar today?”
If this were a dream, she wouldn’t be able to think of a date.
As expected, Bessie’s expression darkened, and she let out a long sigh.
Of course… what was I expecting?
Illyana gave a hollow smile and pulled the blanket up to lie down—
“Year 635.”
“…The date?”
“May 7th.”
Though confused, Bessie answered sincerely.
“…Before the wedding.”
“Oh! Actually, because of your accident, the Count has been wondering whether to postpone the June wedding.”
“I’m back… I really am.”
Tears fell steadily, soaking the back of her hand. Already worried, Bessie hurriedly took out a handkerchief.
“Does it hurt that much?”
“No.”
“Then… are you upset because the wedding might be delayed? Don’t worry! I’ll keep quiet. I won’t tell anyone you’re sick.”
But Illyana’s tears didn’t stop.
Bessie racked her brain, trying to think of what else she could do.
“It’s not that.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“…Because I’m happy.”
“What?”
Because her desperate wish had been heard.
Because she had returned—and it was before the wedding.
To Illyana, this was the greatest blessing and happiness.
Just as she was savoring this moment—
Knock. Knock.
The door opened, and a man with blond hair and a pale, almost translucent face stepped inside.
“Rina, you’re awake?”
Rina.
The only person allowed to call her by that nickname.
Her older brother—Jeffrey—the only one she could trust in this house.
He embraced her tightly.
“I knew you’d wake up. There’s no way you’d die.”
A gentle breeze flowed through the window, scattering her hair.
Illyana’s spring at twenty-one had begun.
“Cedric Piaget has come?”
Illyana murmured the name—the one that had been cruel and had taken everything from her.
“Yes, my lady. I told him you’re still unwell, but he insisted on seeing you.”
Bessie spoke as she attended to Illyana, who had just returned from a walk in the garden.
“Father is away, right?”
“Yes. You probably won’t see him for about a week.”
The doctor who had visited recently had strongly insisted on absolute rest. Her father said little—only that he was glad she had woken up—before leaving as part of a diplomatic mission at the imperial summons.
That was almost a relief.
He had been excited about becoming in-laws with Cedric, a member of the imperial family. If the wedding were delayed, he would have been furious.
Cedric’s mother, the emperor’s sister, had fallen in love at first sight with Baron Piaget. Despite opposition, the emperor eventually allowed the marriage to strengthen royal influence. The baron was elevated to a marquis.
After the princess died a few years after giving birth, Cedric was largely forgotten by the imperial family. His position in succession was low, and attention was focused elsewhere.
But when the empress failed to bear a child, everything changed.
Empress Melissa openly supported her nephew Cedric, promoting him as a successor. To secure his position, she arranged his marriage—
To Illyana, daughter of Count Kritia.
“I guess we should turn him away, right? I’ll tell him to leave.”
Seeing her mistress’s cold expression, Bessie quickly spoke and moved toward the door.
But before she could open it, Illyana stepped into the hallway first.
“You’re not actually going, are you?”
“It’s not proper to drive away a guest… even if he behaves as he pleases.”
“Yes, my lady. Then I’ll bring tea.”
Bessie hurried off toward the kitchen after opening the drawing room door.
Illyana took a deep breath and stepped inside.
“It’s alright. I can handle this.”
She intended to remain calm and composed.
“Rina, do you know how worried I was?”
But the moment Cedric shamelessly pulled her into an embrace—
All of that resolve shattered.
