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Chapter 02
Lizbeth, filled with joy, laughed for a long time.
More than anything, what delighted her most was—
I can rip that crazy bastard’s head off!
That single fact alone made her want to jump up and down.
Even more than getting to live her life again, she was thrilled at the thought of wiping that smug smile off his face—the one he’d worn at the very end.
The “beloved consort” you were so eager to kill is alive and well!
Just then, her bedroom door burst open.
“Milady! Laughing so indecorously like this… Has something happened?”
A maid peeked her head in, looking anxious. Her expression clearly showed she was worried that Lizbeth might have suddenly gone mad.
Lizbeth remembered that she had never laughed like this while living in the ducal estate. No wonder the maid was suspicious.
Even so, she continued to grin as she asked,
“Hey, how old am I?”
“Pardon? You, milady? You turn twenty-two this year.”
“I see.”
Twenty-two… then—
“I’m not married to the Crown Prince yet, right?”
“Pardon? There isn’t even a Crown Prince in this country… If you mean His Highness the First Prince, the wedding is just around the corner. Milady, but are you really feeling alright?”
“……”
Lizbeth finished assessing the point in time she had returned to.
Ah. This is when I was overjoyed to become the prince’s consort.
The most immature and foolish time of her life.
When she firmly believed that the First Prince loved her and had proposed out of affection.
Pressing her fist against her lips, Lizbeth smiled brightly at her reflection in the mirror.
She now knew that none of it had been true.
So the next step was simple.
Erase those pathetic memories—and rewrite them.
“Well, it would’ve been nicer if I’d gone back even younger…”
“Pardon? Milady?”
“Nothing. Come here and help me pick out a dress.”
To do that, she first needed to call off the wedding with that bastard looming just ahead.
In an instant, a blueprint for her second life took shape in Lizbeth’s mind.
The plan’s name? …Yes.
‘I’m the craziest bitch in this district.’
The reason Lizbeth wasn’t particularly shocked by this miraculous turn of events was because of a trait unique to the Armiersha family.
The Shield of Regensia—the House of Armiersha.
Another title attached to that great house was “the bloodline beloved by God.”
In this world, there existed special powers called mana, divine power, and aura.
Among them, the direct descendants of the Armiersha family could wield exceptionally pure and powerful divine power.
Because divine power was literally a sacred force granted by God, people said the Armiershas could use it because they were loved by God.
That’s how the First Prince used Armiersha to bring even the Temple under his control.
In any case, because of all this, the word “miracle” was not so distant to Lizbeth.
Her older sister had used that divine power to become the first female knight on the continent.
Her younger brother, with his exceptional healing abilities, had become the youngest court priest.
I was the only one who had nothing.
Among the direct Armiersha line, Lizbeth alone could not use divine power.
Perhaps that was why she had so easily abandoned her family.
Because of her petty pride and inferiority complex. Because she had drowned in the delusion that her family looked down on her.
Those feelings had created the opening the First Prince needed to worm his way in.
I was stupid. An idiot.
She remembered it vividly.
How she had been fooled by his whispers and made the pitiful vow that she would become Crown Princess and place her family beneath her.
Mocking her past self mercilessly, Lizbeth continued thinking.
What if it wasn’t that I had nothing… but that my power only manifested after death?
If this “miracle” was the portion of “God’s love” flowing through Armiersha blood that had been meant for her—if it was what had turned back time—
Slowly chewing over her speculation, Lizbeth lifted her gaze.
Her younger brother, Claude, was studying her face with concern.
“Noona, you don’t look well. Are you sick? I heard from the maid you were acting strange this morning too.”
At Claude’s words, their mother looked at Lizbeth in alarm.
“Is that true, Lizbeth?”
Lizbeth slowly shook her head and answered gently,
“I’m fine now. More importantly, where are Father and Sister?”
“His Majesty summoned them to the Imperial Palace early this morning.”
“Noona, you keep eating only greens. Have some meat too.”
“Yes. You already have plenty of dresses. Lizbeth, I don’t know why you won’t believe it. You don’t need to starve yourself.”
She remembered that she had often skipped meals around this time. She hadn’t wanted to look unattractive at the wedding.
I was truly an idiot.
As she chewed the piece of steak Claude placed on her plate, Lizbeth reflected.
Skipping meals for something so trivial… and thinking that this mother and brother—who were worrying about her like this—looked down on her…
The more she thought about it, the more unbearable her stupidity became.
And in the end, all that remained was a rope mark around my neck.
Finishing the thought with faint bitterness, Lizbeth shook her head and spoke.
“Mother, I think I’ll go to the Imperial Palace today.”
“…To see His Highness the First Prince?”
“No. To see someone else.”
That was fine. As of today, Lizbeth Armiersha would break free from that cage of foolishness.
Setting down her utensils, she smiled.
Her mother and brother’s faces shone brightly in the sunlight.
The family she had destroyed in her first life—stood before her once more. Alive.
“Since I’ll be stopping by the Knights’ Order, could you prepare some desserts? I should visit Sister while I’m there.”
“You? Going to the Knights’ Order…?”
“Noona’s going to see our eldest sister…?”
She would not lose this brightness again. Never again.
And to protect it, she had no choice but to become a madwoman.
At this point, let’s speak about Calix Feion.
Twenty-three-year-old Calix Feion possessed the most brilliant honors of his life.
The young head of the Marquis House of Feion. A knight favored by the Emperor. The Guardian and Savior of the Regensia Empire.
And above all, a beauty so exceptional that the word itself seemed insufficient.
Everyone wanted to exchange words with him at least once—especially noble ladies.
So if one were to ask what relationship existed between Calix Feion and Lizbeth Armiersha—
“…Friends?”
They first met when Lizbeth was six years old.
At the time, Lizbeth had been frail and unable to leave the ducal estate. Concerned for his second daughter, the Duke had arranged a playmate for her.
That playmate was Calix, the son of Baron Feion—the Duke’s aide.
The two children had gotten along quite well.
Calix, mild-tempered, tolerated Lizbeth’s picky disposition. And Lizbeth had liked Calix’s pretty face.
We stayed that carefree until we were about thirteen, I suppose.
After that age, the once-ignorant children gradually became aware of their positions.
At fourteen, Calix left as a squire to the battlefield.
One year passed.
When he returned from war, Lizbeth found him strangely unfamiliar and could no longer treat him casually.
Something had changed on that battlefield—and he, too, could no longer treat her comfortably.
Another year passed.
Sharper in demeanor, Calix began openly avoiding her.
Lizbeth felt a slight sting of disappointment, but she never sought him out first.
After his next campaign—two years.
Lizbeth fell for the First Prince and began chasing after him, gradually forgetting Calix.
And then three years.
Calix, having fought across numerous battlefields, returned to the capital as a war hero. The House of Feion was elevated from barony to marquisate.
But Lizbeth no longer looked for him.
The two who had once met as children had become a man and a woman—and seemed destined to forget each other forever.
And yet, the story continued in dramatic fashion.
In Lizbeth’s first life.
