TYLWLQ 01

Chapter 01

When I was terminally ill, the only thing I could do while lying in bed was read web novels.

Maybe that was why, when I reincarnated as a character inside a book along with memories of my previous life, I wasn’t particularly surprised. It was a little fascinating that something I had only seen in novels actually happened in reality, but more than anything, I was genuinely happy.

Goodbye, hospital staff! I’m leaving behind every illness and pain in the world and going off to reclaim my health!

Judging by the names that frequently appeared in newspapers, the world I reincarnated into was a novel I had barely managed to finish before I died.

In the original story—written in a dry, brutally honest style—the three imperial princes fought each other viciously for the imperial throne.

But the character I reincarnated as was not the heroine who received love from all three princes…

I wasn’t even a character who appeared in the story at all.

My role was simply:

“The daughter of a spectator who came to watch the execution of an important character.”

Even just hearing it, the role sounded far removed from the main plot—and I loved it.

I wasn’t an important character. I didn’t even have a name. Just a minor extra among extras.

Did I really need to get involved in their chaotic struggle?

Why would I?

So I let the story unfold exactly as it did in the original novel.

While the princes politely offered each other poisoned tea and stabbed each other in the back while asking about each other’s health, I lived contentedly with my peaceful, ordinary life as a simple commoner.

Or rather… I had been living that way.

Until yesterday.

In this life, my parents were the kind of people you’d only see in books—completely different from my parents in my previous life, whom I had barely seen.

Thanks to them, I grew up healthy and strong in an extremely normal and happy household, never even catching a cold.

And then—

“By the command of His Majesty the Emperor, who has declared the vile traitor Einhardt and his entire family guilty of treason, all of your assets and titles are hereby confiscated, and you are to be arrested immediately!”

I spent the day before my execution in prison… condemned as a traitor.

What the hell is this?! Give me back my normal, peaceful life!

The situation was like this.

Apparently, my father—the one I thought was simply part of the crowd that came to watch the execution of the Silver Wolf Duke—was actually the runaway youngest son of the Einhardt family.

Yes.

The Einhardt family.

The great noble house that supported the First Prince in the original novel and ultimately fell into ruin.

Just hearing “great noble house” might make it sound like wealth and glory would follow.

But at this point in time, even those past glories meant nothing.

Just two days ago, the newspaper’s front page reported the execution of Magnus Einhardt, the head of the family—my biological grandfather.

“I didn’t even see his face once…!”

Except for the black-and-white photos and illustrations in the newspaper, I had never seen my grandfather’s face or even known he existed.

And now I was going to die because of him.

I felt so wronged I thought I might not even be able to close my eyes in death.

If I had known this would happen, I would have tried to change the original story.

Why hadn’t I tried harder to find out who I was?

Maybe I could have changed everything.

“…I just wanted to live an ordinary life…”

That was all I wanted.

A life like everyone else’s.

Did I want wealth and privilege?

Did I want to be the beloved heroine?

No.

I didn’t want any of that.

So why had things turned out like this?

Mom… Dad…

What had happened to them?

Since they were direct descendants of a traitor, my father might already have been executed.

Would I ever see my mother again under the sunlight?

Suddenly, a horrifying image flashed through my mind.

My family embracing each other under the bright sunlight—

Only for our heads to be chopped off together.

Just imagining it made chills run down my spine.

Pulling my knees closer to my chest, I whispered.

“If only… if only I could turn back time…”

Even though I knew it was impossible, I prayed.

To anyone.

Please, just once—turn back time.

If you need my soul, I’ll give it gladly.

If I must spend my entire life bound to the temple, I’ll accept that too.

Just once.

Give me one last chance.

And then—

Someone answered my prayer.

“You have already met him before.”

Met him… before?

Wait—who is that?

Who’s talking to me?

I hurriedly looked around, but the prison cell was silent and pitch-black.

Maybe I had finally gone insane.

Just as I thought that, the voice whispered again.

“Think carefully. Four years ago. At the museum—you met him.”

Suddenly, a memory surfaced.

An afternoon in a museum.

My parents’ hands slipping away from me in the crowd.

Then the corridor I saw from afar while walking with them after they found me again.

The setting sunlight.

The strangely silent hallway.

And standing there alone—

An old man with his back straight like a flagpole.

It felt strange, like I was watching my own memories from a third-person perspective.

“Will you do it?”

I nodded.

“No matter the price?”

I didn’t ask what price.

I simply nodded again.

Looking back, it was insane.

But I had no other choice.

The voice grinned.

And at that moment—

Something burst out of my body with horrifying pain.

All sensation collapsed into darkness.

It felt like someone was shredding my organs from the inside.

My body convulsed in agony.

I opened my mouth to scream—

But instead, dark red blood spilled out.

It felt as if cold mercury flowed through my veins instead of blood.

My body grew unbearably heavy.

My vision darkened from the edges.

My eyelids drooped.

I couldn’t endure anymore.

When I closed my eyes, darkness swallowed me.

*

‘This place… the museum?’

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to that exact moment four years ago—the moment I had lost my parents in the museum.

My whole body throbbed as if I had been hit by a carriage.

My head pounded.

But my body moved on its own, ignoring my will.

I have to meet Grandfather!

That was the only thought in my mind.

Before my parents found me again, I had to meet him first.

If my father—who came looking for me—and my grandfather met today…

That alone could change the future.

There it is!

I saw the entrance to the corridor.

Without hesitation, I ran toward it.

The moment I passed through the entrance, it felt like stepping into another world.

The space was eerily quiet.

Grandfather…!

I recognized him immediately.

That was him.

I had seen his face only in newspaper photos before.

Seeing him in person for the first time, I couldn’t stop glancing at him.

So this is… my grandfather…

He looked like a rugged snowy mountain carved into human form.

His raised chin and broad shoulders made it impossible to believe he was nearly seventy.

He was taller than most people by a head.

His perfectly tailored coat clung to his body like a knight’s armor.

The cane he held—like a general commanding an army—was made of black ebony.

And when I raised my eyes—

I saw his sharp red eyes shining like an eagle’s beneath deeply set brows.

His stern expression and tightly pressed lips gave him a dignified and imposing aura.

He wore almost no accessories—only a monocle attached by a silver chain.

Yet he looked like the very definition of a gentleman.

Still…

The overwhelming pressure he exuded made him seem less like a gentleman and more like a beast wearing the mask of one.

A beast intelligent enough to elegantly destroy its enemies.

Grandfather stood silently, staring at the painting before him.

But I knew what he was thinking.

In the original story, his fortune with children was tragically miserable.

His eldest son ran away.

His second child—a daughter—died young.

His wife died from grief.

And finally, his youngest son—my father—ran away with my mother in what people called a love elopement.

What would a man like that think while staring at a painting of an emperor who killed his own son?

That expression… only someone who has lost something precious could make it.

I turned to the painting.

“Ivan the Terrible and His Son.”

Inside the ornate frame was the tragedy of a foolish father.

The artist Ilya Repin painted the scene where a father killed his own son.

The violent emperor—nicknamed the Thunder Emperor—once beat his pregnant daughter-in-law for improper dress.

She miscarried.

When his son confronted him, the emperor struck him with a staff and killed him in a moment of rage.

The painting captured that very moment.

The son’s once-beautiful face was pale and drenched in blood.

His eyes had already lost their light.

The father desperately held his son’s limp body, trying to stop the wound with his hands.

His expression was filled with terror and despair.

The painting was so vivid it felt as if the emperor’s screams echoed from the canvas.

Even adults would shudder seeing it.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

Grandfather suddenly spoke.

“This man killed his own son with his own hands.”

Afraid?

Yes, it was a shocking painting.

But I wasn’t afraid at all.

I looked straight at him and answered firmly.

“…He looks sad.”

“And pitiful.”

“Both the emperor in the painting… and you, sir—”

“…No.”

“Grandfather.”