Chapter 1
A dark space where not a single ray of light reached. Two people stood facing each other.
“Now, just as you wanted, the world is in my hands.”
After a long silence, the man spoke. He gave a faint, bitter smile.
At the sight of him, the woman’s shoulders trembled slightly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t grow up to be the good child you wanted.”
A bleak wind blew. The sound of curtains fluttering filled the emptiness.
As if denying reality, the woman shook her head again and again.
“But still, you can’t let me go anyway. Right?”
The man’s eyes as he looked at her were sorrowful—yet cruel.
When his ominous red eyes flashed, the woman staggered back.
But as if he had no intention of letting her escape, he strode forward and whispered low.
“I’m yours forever.”
A sharp scent of blood emanated from him.
The woman, trembling pitifully while held in his grasp, barely managed to part her lips.
“Y—”
Then suddenly, she reached out, grabbed the man by the collar, and shouted,
“You lunatic bastard! Do you have any idea how I raised you?!”
Winter was the treasured only daughter of Duke Vladimir.
A ten-year-old girl with jet-black hair so dark it swallowed light, and golden eyes—an angelic-looking child who drew attention wherever she went.
However, it was also a widely whispered fact that the girl possessed a temperament no different from that of a demon.
“Eek! G-go away! Agh!”
“Hm? Guess you haven’t been hit enough yet.”
Her delicate hand sliced sharply through the air.
Winter’s expression, as she sat astride one of her cousins and pummeled him with her fists, was utterly indifferent.
Come to think of it, what was this kid’s name again?
Winter, who couldn’t even remember the names of her many cousins, had a simple reason for beating him up.
Earlier, while she had been enjoying a quiet walk alone in the garden, an irritating sound had reached her ears.
“You filthy beggar, how dare you touch that with those dirty hands! Lick it clean if you have to! Clean it, I said!”
“Half of the empire’s gold belongs to the Vladimirs.”
True to that old saying, the cousin who had grown up in a wealthy ducal family was turning into a first-rate piece of trash.
Witnessing that rotten brat berating the stablemaster’s scrawny son had been a stroke of good fortune.
She hadn’t liked the kid to begin with, and when he so generously provided an excuse like this, how could she not happily join in?
So Winter was in the middle of beating the cousin—whose name she couldn’t even remember—like he was a rat.
After all, she didn’t know the name of the stablemaster’s son either.
And if she was going to hit someone, better to choose the cousin who was plump enough to give some satisfying feedback.
“Aaagh, Winter! You crazy bitch!”
The cousin, who had been screaming while shielding his face, finally shoved Winter away and scrambled to his feet.
“Hey, wait, I haven’t hit you enough y—!”
“Aaaah!”
Seeing Winter reach out again without a hint of hesitation, the cousin panicked and bolted.
Her fists were throbbing, but she hadn’t beaten him nearly enough to feel satisfied. Winter smacked her lips in disappointment.
Chasing after a fleeing kid could be fun in its own way, but the mood had already been ruined.
“Tch. How boring.”
Naturally, Winter’s gaze shifted to the stablemaster’s son, who was crouched nearby.
When their eyes met, the boy hiccupped and trembled.
“A-are you… going to h-hit me?”
The stablemaster’s son could barely speak properly.
Listening to his halting, tearful voice, Winter felt her enthusiasm drain away instantly.
It was like when you finally sat down to study, only for your mom to ask when you’d start studying—suddenly you didn’t want to anymore.
“No.”
At Winter’s unexpectedly calm retreat, the boy looked up in surprise. His face was bruised purple, blood dripping from his nose.
Something about that dull, unfocused gaze drew Winter in.
“Hey. Let me see your face properly.”
She strode over and brushed aside his messy hair.
Startled, the boy couldn’t even resist and obediently exposed his face.
And then it happened.
A lightning-bolt realization struck Winter.
“You… don’t tell me—”
His dirty, unimpressive face still carried unmistakably familiar features.
As if a revelation from some exalted god had descended upon her, Winter instantly understood everything.
“…May?”
“H-how do you… know my n-name…?”
As the boy stammered a confirmation, Winter stared at him with her mouth hanging open—then promptly collapsed backward and passed out.
That year, at the age of ten, Winter Vladimir regained her memories of a past life.
The stablemaster’s son she had met that day was Maydillian—the protagonist of this world.
In other words, the ultimate favorite character she had loved with her entire life.
Maydillian Kader Genius.
For certain reasons, he was a discarded prince who lived a life steeped in misfortune.
Every path Maydillian walked became desolate. Everything his hands touched collapsed and vanished.
Even the families he stayed with were annihilated, and everyone he ever loved died.
On top of that, due to the countless evil deeds he accumulated throughout his life, even those who once served him betrayed him in the end—and he was executed as a traitor.
Yet Winter loved Maydillian.
There was only one reason: he was described in the novel as possessing the greatest beauty of all.
His transparent, fine silver hair was dazzling enough to sting the eyes, and his red eyes—like they contained all the world’s misfortune—were deep and captivating.
His voice was like music, his smile like a rose.
From a single eyebrow hair to the tips of his toes, he was described as having a perfectly flawless shell.
How could anyone not love him?
Of course, his personality was completely wrecked. Winter didn’t deny that.
He was handsome, sure—but he was absolutely trash.
And yet, when someone with a face that perfect spoke, it was impossible not to be persuaded.
How had she lived ten whole years without realizing this?
Winter felt wronged to the point of death.
Well, then again, how could she have known?
The servants always ran for their lives whenever they saw her.
Winter was known as the Vladimir family’s precious jewel—and its mad executioner.
Wicked from a young age, she was infamous everywhere.
Tragically, she would die at eighteen due to mana overload.
“…Huh?”
Only then did Winter realize that she didn’t have long to live.
But she soon calmed down.
She’d already died once—what was dying twice?
With only eight years left of her life, Winter decided to go out in a blaze of glory, spending her remaining time fangirling over Maydillian.
If she could use her knowledge of the future to pave a flower-strewn path for him all the way to the imperial throne before disappearing, wouldn’t that be the perfect life?
The moment she thought that, her vision suddenly cleared.
At the same time, she heard someone sobbing loudly beside her.
“Ughh…”
“W-Winter! Are you awake?!”
“Miss!”
“Miss, you’ve finally woken up!”
Through her feverish haze, she saw a face red and swollen from crying.
“…M-mom?”
“Yes, yes! It’s me! I’m your mother!”
At Winter’s weak call, the duchess nodded repeatedly and burst into tears.
The maids nearby either stared off into the distance or covered their faces.
What on earth was going on?
Just waking up, Winter couldn’t understand the situation at all.
But she soon realized her body felt unbearably heavy, and she was shivering so hard her teeth clattered.
Even though she was freezing, her breath came out burning hot.
As she shifted her gaze, she noticed a middle-aged woman sitting by the bed with a grim expression.
The family physician.
Only after meeting the doctor’s eyes did Winter fully grasp the situation.
‘Ah. They know now.’
It seemed she’d caused a mana overload while unconscious.
Her stomach churned.
The doctor must have confirmed her condition—and delivered the death sentence.
Calmly, Winter nodded and pushed her mother away.
The sobbing was making her already aching head throb even worse.
Crying wouldn’t suddenly make her not terminally ill.
“G-go… away…”
She had no strength in her hands, so it was barely more than a tap, but the duchess—sobbing uncontrollably—took even that weak gesture desperately and leaned closer.
“My daughter! I have nothing to hide from you! Please don’t push me away! I’ll do anything—I’ll save you! I will! Hic—!”
No, that wasn’t it.
Now wasn’t the time for this.
With only eight years left, Winter wanted to meet Maydillian as soon as possible.
“…Good heavens, Winter!”
Driven solely by that determination, Winter forced herself upright.
Seeing her grit her teeth and move so desperately, even the physician’s eyes reddened.
“Winter, my baby! Waaaah!”
“…B-bring him… here…”
“Waaah, miss…!”
Despite struggling to rise, Winter collapsed back onto the bed.
The ducal estate dissolved into tears once more.
Thanks to that, no one heard Winter asking them to bring Maydillian.
In the end, unable to overcome her frustration, Winter passed out again.
It was a full week later before Winter could finally walk out of her bed.
During that time, she fainted five times and coughed up blood three times.
“Damn this useless body…”
Winter had always lived doing whatever she wanted, eating whatever she liked.
But after the mana overload and being bedridden, her stamina plummeted.
And rumors spread fast.
Word that the mad young lady of the ducal house didn’t have long to live changed the servants’ attitudes in subtle ways.
Even when she snapped sharply and caused trouble as usual, they tended to let it slide.
It annoyed her greatly, but Winter decided to endure it for now.
They’d eventually learn that someone on the brink of death didn’t suddenly turn virtuous.
In the original story, the moment Winter woke from her fever, she dragged in the cousin who had “caused” her collapse and Maydillian—and crushed them mercilessly.
Even though neither of them was actually responsible.
She hadn’t been called the mad executioner of the ducal house for nothing.
Even after that, the original Winter would summon Maydillian whenever she felt like it, beat him, vent her anger on him, and eventually die from mana overload.
As a result, Maydillian later used this as justification to annihilate the Vladimir family.
Yes—this was the very family he briefly took refuge in before utterly destroying in the original story.
Originally, Winter was nothing more than a minor villain who tormented Maydillian and nurtured his thirst for revenge.
But this time, she decided to play on a much larger scale.
First—
“Cindy.”
“Yes, miss. You called?”
“Bring Maydillian here.”
“…Pardon?”
First, she’d at least look at her favorite’s face.
