Chapter 2
There are many reasons why Cartia dies.
In the original novel, she was killed by the Emperor the year she became an adult at eighteen. After that, she repeated cycles of regression and reincarnation, making different choices each time in an attempt to avoid her fated end.
But even if she wasn’t killed by the Emperor, she still died at the hands of someone else at age eighteen.
Why is that?
Now fully possessed by Cartia and with memories of her real-world life fading after three lifetimes, she sincerely wanted to live as Cartia and not die.
There was another mystery as well:
In every life, a rebellion inevitably occurs, and the Emperor is killed by the male lead.
The rebellion always began with the appearance of a righteous male protagonist who could no longer stand the sight of the mad Emperor.
And beside him was the true female protagonist of the original novel.
She was the only surviving member of a noble family wiped out by the Emperor—just a girl who escaped and managed to survive.
Knowing all of this, Cartia desperately tried to avoid her death, but the predetermined ending was not easily changed.
So in this life, instead of dying at the hands of a stranger, she chose to try and hold the hand of the father who would eventually kill her.
If death is inevitable either way, then living as the original story unfolds might not be so bad.
“Could it be that her head was injured? Or perhaps she’s intellectually deficient?”
The Emperor asked the royal physician quite seriously.
Others might have had similar thoughts.
But Cartia had her reasons to believe otherwise.
Although the Emperor had neglected and treated her coldly, he had never once laid a hand on her. Even until the day he would kill her, all the maids and attendants treated her with utmost care.
This was true even when she was relocated to the Duke of Ebea’s estate in her first life and when she fled to another country in her second life. In her third life, she demanded more boldly, and he granted her every request.
It would’ve been better if not for his cold gaze and the blood-soaked sword and clothes he often carried when they met.
Regardless, even if he was a madman, the Emperor was a wealthy father who gave her everything—except love. And eventually, he would want to kill her.
“W-We’ll need to continue observing and examining the princess closely to determine that…”
As the physician’s voice grew smaller, the Emperor seemed lost in thought before finally rising from his seat.
“Tell Vardi to handle it.”
Vardi was the chief steward of the main palace—the highest-ranking servant in the imperial household.
That meant Cartia was being allowed to leave the tower.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Everyone bowed as the Emperor walked out, blood still dripping from his sword. His calm demeanor despite the apparent slaughter was chilling.
“Wow… I survived…”
All the tension left her as Cartia collapsed onto the bed. But as she turned her head, someone suddenly covered her eyes.
“Please don’t look. I’ll move you to another room.”
It seemed to be a senior maid, who gently picked up Cartia in her arms.
As Cartia was carried, her body bobbing with each step, she began to wonder—why were her eyes being covered?
Only then did the strong scent of blood invade her nose.
The crazy Emperor… could he have executed people right here?
Right next to his unconscious seven-year-old daughter?
Just as she was about to scoff in disbelief, overwhelming drowsiness hit her, and she fainted again.
In the days after leaving the tower, she lived like a newborn—eating and sleeping repeatedly.
Cartia’s body had been pushed to the edge, and her survival instinct focused solely on recovery.
During this time, the physician confirmed she had no intellectual disabilities. Cartia couldn’t help but wonder if he had been doubting her intelligence all along.
“Could it be… my dad actually thinks I’m mentally slow?”
Cartia asked seriously, prompting a flustered look from the youngest maid, Fabia.
Perhaps they assigned Fabia because her youth made her less intimidating to the once-abused Cartia. Unfortunately, Fabia’s inexperience showed every time.
“N-No, not at all, Princess! You’re so intelligent!”
“Really? Well, I still need to learn more. Find me a tutor for royal etiquette.”
If she was going to live as a proper princess in this life, she needed to learn the customs.
But Fabia’s expression briefly darkened—she was still too young to hide her feelings.
She was probably thinking no tutor would be willing to teach a fallen princess.
To teach royal etiquette, one must come from a noble family—and they wouldn’t want ties with a discarded princess.
Still, Cartia knew someone who would.
Back at the Duke of Ebea’s estate, that person had tried to teach her etiquette, insisting she would need it one day.
He had even served as etiquette tutor to the Empress herself, whom everyone had mocked as vulgar.
Though the Duke’s family had declined before, fearing rumors about Cartia aiming for the throne, surely this time, he would accept.
“Oh, and bring me a pen and some paper.”
“Wha—? Princess… you can write?”
Fabia’s remark made the senior maid shoot her a glare, but Fabia didn’t seem to notice.
Instead, she stared at Cartia, now clearly wondering if she might be a genius.
“Write? Of course not. I’m going to draw.”
Only then did Fabia realize her mistake. Her eyes darted nervously, and the senior maid eventually dragged her out to scold her.
Cartia casually waved her hand and asked for colored pencils as well.
She was slightly worried about Fabia—but the girl was the only one who actually spoke to her. She wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.
Before her possession, Cartia barely remembered her real life.
Too much time had passed.
All she could recall was that she had been in her mid-20s, a college graduate working an ordinary office job.
One thing she hadn’t forgotten, however, was the Korean alphabet—Hangul.
“First goal: survive the Emperor.
Second goal: survive the rebellion, even if the Emperor dies.”
She had succeeded in escaping the tower. Now two things remained.
In every life, someone killed her. Now that she stayed in the palace, it would likely be the Emperor.
So she had to survive him.
Second, since the rebellion always happened, she needed a way to survive that too.
“Hmm… should I try acting pitiful to the Emperor?”
Would that heartless man feel any pity? Probably not. Still, it was worth trying.
The Empress—the only woman he ever loved—had existed, after all.
Cartia was the Empress’s child. Maybe, just maybe, he’d spare her.
She finished writing out her plan in Hangul and neatly folded it, hiding it under the drawer.
Noticing the sun high in the sky, she realized it was time and hopped down from her chair.
“Fabia.”
Still on edge after being scolded, Fabia rushed to her.
“Do you need something, Princess?”
Cartia frowned at her overly polite tone, prompting Fabia to flash a more casual smile.
“What do you need, Princess?”
Too sweet a tone was annoying—but better than stiff formality.
“Take me to Mother’s greenhouse.”
“Huh? Y-You mean the Empress’s…?”
“Yep. Let’s go.”
Fabia turned pale and looked to the other maids for help, but they were just as bewildered.
By then, Cartia was already walking confidently.
Too late to stop her now.
Despite not knowing the palace layout well, she moved directly toward the Empress’s palace.
After the Empress’s death, no one was allowed near, and the place had become eerie. The garden was overgrown, the trees untrimmed.
Many maids were entering for the first time, eyes wide as they looked around.
Cartia glanced at a narrow path through the weeds.
A man-sized trail was worn down, showing signs of frequent use.
Following that path led to the Empress’s greenhouse. Curiously, only the area around it was kept clean. Even the door hinges had been oiled; the door opened silently.
Inside, countless flowers bloomed, each exuding their fragrance.
“Pretty.”
Cartia spoke, though her eyes were filled with disinterest rather than admiration.
She knew her gaze resembled the Emperor’s too much.
“If I had looked more like Mother… would Father have loved me?”
No one following behind her could answer that question.
