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Chapter 13
“You should leave now.”
“Alright.”
At Derek’s curt words, I set the teacup down and rose from my seat.
Madam Lora stood there with an embarrassed expression.
What I had just seen was a vision of that drunk man coming in after I left, hitting Lora, and wrecking her shop.
“…My lady.”
“He’ll probably come back again, won’t he?”
“Yes, most likely.
But for today, he’ll let it go.
Thank you.”
I silently studied her face.
The heavy makeup wasn’t just vanity it was to cover the marks of her husband’s violence.
I didn’t feel like giving her shallow advice.
I wasn’t in a position to take responsibility for Lora’s life, and everyone had their own circumstances.
Divorce, especially in this era, wasn’t something easily done.
“Very well.
Then we’ll meet again.”
“My lady, you needn’t lower your speech.
You’re a noble.”
“Alright then, Lora.
I’ll see you again at the palace.”
I stepped out first.
But strangely, Derek, who had been urging me to leave, didn’t follow.
‘What’s he doing?’
When I turned back, he was staring fixedly at the teacup I’d left behind.
What on earth?
“What are you doing?”
Only when I spoke did Derek lift his head and step outside.
As he exited, he cast me a brief glance but said nothing.
Instead, he opened the carriage door and spoke in his usual blunt tone.
“Get in.”
I took his hand and climbed in.
And then I thought about this strange foresight I seemed to have developed.
‘A perk of transmigrating, maybe?
If so, I suppose I should be grateful.’
But the limitation was obvious.
I could only glimpse a few minutes ahead.
That wasn’t enough to change the course of the entire story.
Still, it was useful for small things like preventing accidents.
Just like earlier.
Thunk—
The moment I shut the carriage window, a giant wasp slammed against the glass and buzzed away.
If I hadn’t closed it, the thing would have been tearing around inside the carriage right now.
‘It’d be far more useful if I could see whenever I wanted.’
Too overpowered, maybe.
Even so, I couldn’t help wishing.
I opened the window again, and soon the enormous Crown Prince’s palace came into view.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front.
Vincent didn’t appear.
Instead, a few attendants came out to receive me.
‘Honestly… that’s a relief.’
Seeing Vincent was always a dangerous thrill he was dazzling, yes, but being around him felt like balancing on a fraying thread.
Inside, I was led through the garden and into the palace.
One of the palace maids approached me.
She looked very young fifteen, maybe.
“My lady, I was instructed to escort you to your chamber.”
“Alright, lead the way.”
It was only after arriving that the reality of it all sank in.
But as we walked, I realised something was off.
“Where are we going?
That way leads to His Highness’s bedchamber and study.”
“This way, my lady.”
The maid stopped at a certain door.
“…Here?”
I looked between the door she indicated and the one directly across from it.
If Amelia’s memories served, that was the Crown Prince’s own bedchamber.
“Ah.
I see.”
Only after seeing it did I recall Amelia’s room in the novel.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Really?
No matter how obsessed with revenge, to keep the woman you despise this close?
The maid nervously studied my face.
“…Is it not to your liking?”
“Mm?
Ah.”
Of course, she would report back to Vincent.
And truly Amelia would have been thrilled at this.
The prince had confessed to her, and now he was letting her live under the same roof, right across the hall.
‘But still… right across the hall?
Seriously?’
No wonder in the original story, Amelia’s attitude became unbearably arrogant after this point.
She was already reckless, and with confidence piled on, she became unstoppable.
“…Well.
You can go now.”
The maid blinked at me, wide-eyed.
As if to say, That’s it?
You’re really letting me go?
Right, Amelia would have bullied her.
But there was no need for me to copy that part.
Instead, I just put on a sharp frown.
“Didn’t you hear me?
Leave.”
“Y-Yes!
At once!
Thank you, my lady!
Please rest well!”
“…Did she just thank me?”
Watching the young maid scurry away, I stepped into the chamber prepared for Amelia.
“Wow.”
The word escaped me.
The walls and ceiling were a soft cream, while the window frames, trim, and furniture were all a delicate pink.
A plush white carpet covered the floor, and a golden, finely-wrought magical chandelier lit the space with just the right glow.
Every piece was perfectly tailored to Amelia’s taste.
“Compared to this, her old room at the duke’s mansion was practically a storage closet.”
Back there, her chamber was plain to the point of insult.
Now, receiving this kind of treatment, it was no wonder she had grown arrogant.
I trailed a hand across the airy pink bedspread.
“So… this means the room was prepared in advance.
But why?”
Even if Vincent wanted to keep her close for revenge, why go this far, decorating everything to her tastes?
Still dazed, I sat in the mint-colored desk chair.
Not a common paint probably enchanted.
On the desk lay fresh stationery and a pen, ready to be used.
I picked up the pen, hesitated, then decided.
I could write both in the empire’s language and in Korean.
“Korean’s safer.”
If anyone stumbled across it, they wouldn’t understand.
“Can’t exactly admit I’m a transmigrator.”
I tapped the pen against the desk, then wrote one word:
Breakup.
And drew a large X through it.
“Of course, he won’t just let me annul the engagement.”
Then how could I survive?
How could I get myself removed from the Crown Prince’s list of revenge targets?
Leaning back in the chair, I let the chandelier’s glow wash over me.
The truth was, Amelia’s past wasn’t entirely without reason.
Born the illegitimate daughter of a maid, she was cast aside and left to scrounge in the streets.
Later, in the duke’s house, she was tormented by the family and openly scorned by the servants.
Even her only blood relative, Duke Wentworth, cared nothing for her except as a tool.
With such a background, it was inevitable that her already difficult personality would twist further.
Still, none of that excused her crimes in the original story, or the fact that she killed the Crown Prince.
“Although… that hasn’t happened yet.
Not this time.”
I stood and faced the mirror.
The face reflected back was strange, yet familiar now.
Soft, flowing violet hair.
Brilliant red eyes.
Pale skin, a delicate frame.
Beautiful undeniably so.
“Really… gorgeous.
Every time.”
At least Vincent hadn’t drawn his sword the moment he regressed.
Instead, he waited.
Patient, calculating letting her dig her own grave.
The original Amelia wouldn’t have lasted long under that trap.
Still, I muttered to myself,
“Annulment would be cleanest.”
The surest way to leave this palace.
But how to make him accept it?
I bit my finger in thought, then suddenly realised.
“…Right.
Why didn’t I think of this before?”
This was a novel.
And the title was I Will
Abandon Revenge.
“Abandoning it, that’s the key.”
In the original story, Vincent gave up revenge only after Amelia’s death.
But what if that moment came earlier?
“Why did he give up, again…?”
I rifled through the plot in my memory then smiled.
“Of course.
Because of the woman he loved the heroine.”
