Chapter 1
“Ha, you forgot our wedding anniversary?”
Not that we were a couple of fifty years— we had only been married for four.
So this was it, huh? Even the pretense of being a married couple had fallen apart.
I grabbed the bottle of wine the maids had prepared to set the mood and drank straight from it, gulping it down.
“You’re always too busy!”
I shot up, half shouting in frustration, then collapsed back into my seat.
…Well, that was true. He was the busiest person in the empire.
Leonhardt was always occupied.
He had risen from being a so-called cursed prince to becoming emperor, and as a result, he worked harder than anyone else.
He was also an exceedingly proper and dutiful husband toward me.
As if he were treating me like a stranger.
I sipped wine alone, no snacks, and sighed.
“I should’ve listened when Father and my brothers suggested finding someone suitable to marry instead of a political match.”
I had once believed that the joy of being together was love.
That was why, when Leonhardt proposed, I accepted with delight.
But after marriage, I realized our relationship was far too lukewarm to be called love.
More like a mixture of friendship, camaraderie, and a little sense of obligation.
All those colors blended together and happened to resemble love, but it was only an imitation.
Just as a spinel was not a ruby, our feelings were something different.
I only understood that after we married.
My complaints continued, fueled by sadness.
I wanted to feel a passionate, fiery love— not this tepid connection.
I still felt friendship, camaraderie, and a small sense of duty toward Leonhardt, but that did not mean I had to remain bound to marriage forever.
“Next time I’m reborn, I swear I won’t marry you.”
It might have been the alcohol speaking, or simply the pent-up hurt overflowing, but in that moment I truly meant it
“Phew.”
A tiny hand brushed away the unruly hair hanging over a pale forehead.
Then, startled by the soft, unfamiliar feel of the hand, Leonhardt jolted upright.
“What… is this?”
His voice echoed in his ears— youthful and small.
He looked around.
“This place…”
There was no mistaking it.
It was the small palace where he had lived as a child.
To confirm his situation, he walked around the room, inspecting it. The old floorboards creaked under his steps, and hearing the sound, a servant roughly threw the door open.
“Don’t wander around in the morning like bad luck! Stay put like you always do!”
It should still have been working hours, yet the servant reeked of alcohol and his face was flushed.
If memory served, the servant was hot-tempered and prone to violence.
He often gambled away money or vented his frustrations on the boy whenever he was in a bad mood.
That had been how it always was.
I am young.
His body was not yet strong enough to withstand an adult’s blows.
Leonhardt obediently returned to the bed and sat down.
Just as he had done in the past.
Born with cursed crimson eyes and abandoned, he was still a prince.
And seeing him obey brought the servant a crude sense of satisfaction— the man laughed loudly before leaving the room.
Leonhardt waited until the footsteps faded and thought:
The afternoon would come when they threw him a hard loaf of bread and watery soup— until then, no one would visit.
It was time alone.
Once, that solitude had been nothing but pain, but now— with so much to consider— it felt almost welcome.
His stomach growled.
The small body he inhabited clearly disagreed with the idea of going hungry.
But he would have to wait until the afternoon anyway.
Dwelling on hunger would only make it harder to endure.
He decided to assess the situation.
Last night he had been a twenty-two-year-old adult— the emperor of the Arcadia Empire and the husband of Miela.
I forgot our wedding anniversary, was chased out by Miela, and then worked in the imperial office before dozing off…
When he opened his eyes, he had become young again.
Or had he?
Looking at his reflection in a dusty, clouded window, he shook his head.
This looks like I’m three or four years old.
What if those twenty years had all been a dream?
What if Miela herself had been something he imagined?
A small shoulder trembled in fear, but then straightened.
He actually remembered his childhood fairly well.
At three or four years old, he had not been a particularly imaginative child.
No— even so, it made no sense that these detailed memories in his mind were fabricated by a toddler.
Could I really have returned to the past?
Fortunately, he received an answer before long.
“What the heck? Why did I get younger?”
I had drunk wine in the empress’s quarters last night and passed out, only to wake up in my family’s room.
I thought I might have fled home while drunk.
But the low vantage point was unfamiliar. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a child— not someone old enough to drink wine.
No wine here— I looked like I should be drinking juice.
Judging by the reflection and the small scar above my eyebrow— one I had gotten at seven— I seemed to be about six years old.
Is this a dream?
I pinched my cheek as hard as I could.
“Ow.”
It hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes— so it was real.
I rubbed my cheek with my right hand and dabbed at the moisture in my eyes with my sleeve, thinking.
“Is this… that thing? Reincarnation, regression, or possession?”
These days— well, in the future— stories about regression, reincarnation, and possession were popular in romance novels.
Tales of noble ladies who returned to the past to exact revenge after being betrayed, or of a poor young woman possessing a princess’s body and winning the heart of the prince she once admired from afar.
I used to joke that if those stories were so common, I’d end up regressing too…
I never imagined it would actually happen.
Time-bending magic existed only in legends.
But I don’t even have anything desperate I want to change by returning to the past.
My life had been smooth.
I was the daughter of a powerful ducal family, my parents adored me, and my older brothers suffered from severe sister complexes.
“Why?”
I brushed my forehead like Leonhardt often did when frustrated, then flinched.
“Oh, right. Leon.”
A blemish in my life surfaced.
I had once met a six-year-old Leonhardt, the so-called cursed prince, in an abandoned palace.
At first, I felt sorry for the boy— two years younger than me— living alone without adult care.
Also, our family needed an alternative heir to oppose the crown prince, who had been looking for ways to undermine us.
Through my enthusiastic recommendation and our family’s political interests, Leonhardt came to live in the ducal household.
After that…
I made a bittersweet expression that was uncharacteristic of a child.
Marriage was not something built solely on affection— I had learned that much.
Still.
If I’m six, that means Leon is four?
He had been sent to the small palace the moment he could open his eyes.
So a four-year-old Leon should be there now.
Yesterday I had resented him, but my heart still ached for him.
I’m not saving you because you’re cute.
I’m doing it so I can feel at ease.
I bit my lip and steeled myself.
“Are you really that happy to go to the imperial palace, young lady?”
“Yes, nanny!”
I answered brightly on purpose.
The nanny shook her head as if resigned.
I had been causing trouble lately— acting out and throwing tantrums— and she seemed exhausted.
“You know children under ten who aren’t direct members of the imperial family aren’t allowed into the palace, right?”
Of course I knew.
That was why I hadn’t gone to see Leon immediately.
I had cried and begged to enter the palace for weeks.
Eventually, I even went on a hunger strike.
Unable to withstand my stubbornness, Father had personally requested special permission from the emperor.
Good job, me.
With the mind of a twenty-four-year-old pretending to be a child suddenly obsessed with visiting the palace, I recalled the past week.
Better not think about it.
It only leads to regrets.
I pushed the memories to the back of my mind and spoke in an overly cheerful voice.
“Yep! I’m especially excited! But I’ll just look around and come back.”
Despite my efforts, the usually gentle brown eyes of the nanny clouded with worry.
She looked ready to repeat the same lecture she had given twenty times.
I will probably cause trouble.
But I’ll take responsibility and get scolded!
