TYND 01

Chapter 01

“Wake up, Arsinoe.”

The creak of the door opening and a dry voice, void of any emotion, pulled Lucy from unconsciousness.

When had she fallen asleep?

As she lifted her stiff eyelids and wiggled her fingers, the clinking of chains scraping together struck her eardrums. Before her senses fully awakened, stabbing pain erupted across her body.

Despite enduring terrible torture, the fact that she could still feel sleepy made her let out a hollow laugh. Lucy’s gaze lingered on the chains wrapped around her wrists, then lifted her burning eyes to stare straight ahead.

In the middle of the filthy cell stood a black silhouette, straight-backed, looking down at her. The man endured her gaze silently, then spoke in a mocking tone:

“Your gaze is still sharp. You must still be alive and well, Crown Princess.”

“Spare me your words, Your Highness,” she replied curtly.

The man let out a deep laugh, not the kind one would expect from someone who had thrown his wife into a prison.

Lucy ground her teeth and spat out her words like she was vomiting them:

“What brings you to such a wretched place?”

“Oh, I’ve come to deliver good news to you.”

Lucy frowned and lifted her gaze to the man. She wanted to read his expression, but the light streaming in from the open door obscured his features.

Still, she could tell without seeing. He was smiling.

Swallowing hard, Lucy forced herself to speak:

“I don’t need to hear it. It’s news that you finally seized my homeland, isn’t it?”

Her calm tone betrayed a tremor she couldn’t suppress. The man, quick to sense her emotions, smirked.

“Indeed. All thanks to you revealing the secrets. I entered through the royal family’s hidden passage and went straight to the royal residence. That wretched General Hibern caused some trouble, but I managed to annihilate them relatively easily.”

Despite the man’s confident demeanor, Lucy’s face grew paler with each word. Eventually, she choked out a trembling question:

“W-what about my mother…?”

“Whether fortunate or not, your mother was killed long ago. Only her corpse remains. Soon, you will join her, so we’ll be reunited in time.”

“….”

“Hah. You’re crying, are you?”

The man mocked her as he toyed with his sleeve:

“I thought you had no emotions at all. But it seems your mother’s death moved you.”

“…I wouldn’t care.”

It was already foreseen; her mother’s death meant little to her now.

What saddened Lucy was something else entirely.

“The only thing that pains me is that the same thing is happening again.”

Three times.

Three times she had been deceived by the Crown Prince and lost her country. And soon, a third death awaited.

The first time, she was killed after opposing the Crown Prince’s ambition to take her kingdom. The second, she died trying to flee from him.

The third. Now.

She had acted coquettishly, offering herself as his spy, yet here she was again.

No matter how much she struggled, she could not break the cycle of her life. In three lives, throughout long years of rivalry, cooperation, and submission, she could not escape death.

She pressed her rising emotions down her throat, trying to swallow her sobs.

But tears spread across her eyes anyway. Along with the stench emanating from her body, the salty, metallic scent of her tears filled her nose.

Leaving the tears to flow, she tightly pressed her lips together. Not crying out was the only shred of dignity Lucy could cling to.

“Will you kill me?”

There was no answer.

Clenching her teeth and sobbing silently, Lucy wiped her tears with her chained hands. After a brief hesitation, she slowly bent down and knelt at his feet.

“Please, Your Highness. Grant this wretched body mercy, so I may end my own life.”

The man’s eyes lit with interest. Lucy spoke with even more desperation:

“A woman who betrayed her country deserves no peaceful rest. I beg you to allow me to use the sword I always carried… a relic of my homeland… to end this filthy life.”

The man, watching her intently, slowly lowered his body and knelt on one knee.

His long fingers lifted Lucy’s chin, and the fresh scent of his cologne brushed her nose, contrasting with her stench.

“How pitiful. Even if I am cruel and cold-blooded, I cannot deny a woman who was once my wife that small mercy.”

His hands, tracing her torn lips, were gentle and tender. He gestured with his chin toward a nearby guard.

Clang! With a loud clatter, a dirty sword was tossed to the ground. He stood, brushing off his hands, glancing at the fallen dagger.

“This is that worthless antique you always cherished. Farewell, Arsinoe.”

The man turned away without a backward glance, leaving only the sound of his footsteps as he exited the cell. The guards untied Lucy’s chains and kicked her collapsing body.

“Traitor, and yet you desire much. How vulgar.”

With that, the guards disappeared. Left alone, Lucy took a moment to catch her breath, then trembling, picked up the dagger.

It was too small for self-defense and too crude for decoration. Like a cheap antique that might be sold in a second-rate shop.

The man often scolded her for clutching such a worthless object. But Lucy knew its true value. Perhaps she was the only one on this vast continent who understood its power.

She carefully drew the faded blade from its scabbard, running her fingers along the rusted, dull edge. It reflected her own resolve.

“You foolish girl.”

A laugh escaped her lips. All she could see through the haze was the detested dagger.

She had clung to the man as his wife all this time, yet could neither defeat him nor even survive peacefully. Her pride in her cleverness had always ended in ruin.

Closing her eyes, she let the tears fall. They came again as soon as one dried, but Lucy did not care. She raised the dagger.

“This… this is truly the last time.”

Repeating her life would mean reliving the same hell again. This must be the end.

If a fourth life brings the same suffering, she would cast aside the dagger and let the man grant her eternal rest.

She closed her eyes, gripping the dagger tightly.

With a sob—or perhaps a laugh—Lucy drove the blade into her chest.

Arsinoe was born as the fifth princess of the Kingdom of Parnassus.

Technically, calling her a princess was misleading. The king already had eight sons and four daughters, and all children except Lucy were born of legitimate consorts, carrying their mothers’ prestige to claim the titles of prince and princess.

Lucy’s mother had been a foreign slave given to the king. Lucy was thus treated as little more than household staff attached to a concubine, not a true princess.

But this did not make Lucy’s childhood miserable. She grew up under her kind mother, enjoying a peaceful youth.

Her life began to unravel after the plague claimed more than half of her siblings.

The five sons and four daughters all perished, leaving only Lucy among the king’s daughters.

As if on cue, a royal decree arrived from the Empire:

Given the current state of unrest, we propose a marriage to secure peace and restore relations between our countries.

Under the guise of diplomacy, the Empire demanded that the princess become the Crown Prince’s third consort.

As a small kingdom, Parnassus had no grounds to refuse. Thus, Lucy was sent to the Empire as the princess of Parnassus.

At first, she was excited. From the daughter of a concubine to a princess, and then the Crown Prince’s consort—a sudden rise in status indeed.

Though only the third consort, Lucy had once lived a relatively happy life in her first life, basking in her title before her death.

But as the same life repeated, happiness dulled. Luxury and indulgence were fleeting, and after being killed repeatedly by the same person and awakening in the same place, all of it felt like a cage she had to escape.

First life. Second life. Third…

Fourth.

She returned to the same place again, gasping for air.

“Am I… still alive?”

Lying on the bed, blinking blankly, she raised her hand.

Her short, underdeveloped fingers came into view, along with her unusually clear vision and light, almost weightless body.

Shaking, Lucy moved her hand and parted her lips.

“I… I’ve come back… again!”

Her youthful voice, full of childlike innocence, rippled across the bed like waves.