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Chapter 2
“Your Highness!”
I was the one who had fallen, yet Michael rushed to Theodore’s side. He moved even faster than a principal answering the school chairman’s summons.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?”
“I, Theodore, am fiiine!”
Theodore raised his left hand to stop Michael.
Then he looked at me.
“Stepmother, are you hurt anywhere?”
he asked gently.
Flustered, I shook my head, trying to say, I’m not hurt.
But no sound came out.
“Then… are you cold?”
“N-No…”
I forced my vocal cords to work and barely managed to answer.
“Hm… Then why are you trembling all over?”
Only then did I look down at my arms and legs.
I really was shaking from head to toe.
“Could… could it be… you’re scared?”
Theodore’s crimson eyes gleamed sharply.
Gasp!
Even a five-year-old could tell!
That wasn’t a good sign.
Besides, wasn’t my top priority surviving this situation somehow?
I silently chanted kimchi to myself and forced the corners of my lips upward.
The muscles around my cheekbones trembled uncontrollably.
Perhaps frustrated by my lack of response, Michael cut in.
“Scared? Your Highness, surely not. What are you all standing around for? Help the future Grand Duchess back into her chair!”
At Michael’s command, the maids hurried over, supporting me and seating me once more.
Frowning, Theodore slowly approached me.
“Stepmother. Even if Castle Schlesen was built above the Demon Realm, it’s not a scary place.”
I’m scared.
Those words, as if he had seen straight through me, made my entire body freeze.
I pressed myself tightly against the back of the chair.
Then—
Step.
Like something out of a horror movie, Theodore suddenly appeared right in front of me.
He grabbed my hand.
Aaaah!
I squeezed my eyes shut with a silent scream.
“I’m sowwy. I huwt you.”
Only then did I cautiously crack one eye open and look at the hand Theodore was holding.
Apparently I’d scraped it when I fell.
A long scratch ran beneath my little finger, with tiny beads of bright red blood welling up along the cut.
Seeing Theodore’s sincere concern, my wildly pounding heart gradually began to calm.
“S-Sorry… Thank you for worrying about me.”
Having regained a little composure, I apologized inwardly for judging him based solely on my preconceived notions.
Theodore shook his head.
Instead of answering, he continued staring worriedly at my injured hand.
“Heal it!”
At Theodore’s quiet command, several maids hurried forward.
“Please give me your hand.”
Feeling guilty, I held it out to him.
Right…
Even if he becomes the devil who murders his stepmother at ten and his father Gerald at sixteen… right now, he’s just a small, adorable little boy.
Sure enough—
His hand was tiny.
And warm.
“Huh?”
Theodore frowned.
He leaned closer, carefully inspecting my hand.
Then Michael suddenly stepped in, pulling my hand away.
“Your Highness must have been mistaken. Her hand is perfectly fine.”
“…?”
I looked down at the hand Michael had tossed back at me as though it were a piece of luggage.
The cut…
had completely disappeared.
Huh? But it definitely hurt…
Tilting my head in confusion, I examined it.
Theodore stared blankly at my hand.
I opened my palm to show him the smooth, unblemished skin.
“I guess you must have imagined it.”
Theodore’s eyes became perfectly round.
I merely shrugged.
What just happened?
Still…
That was a relief.
At least now I knew Theodore was still a kind-hearted child who genuinely worried when someone else got hurt.
A thought suddenly crossed my mind.
How much time do I have left to live?
“Theodore, how old are you?”
I asked as gently as I could, even softening the corners of my eyes.
Michael immediately ground his teeth together in irritation.
“I told you to memorize that!”
Even the way his lips twitched when he became angry reminded me of my school’s principal scolding us during faculty meetings.
How could such a handsome face—one that resembled George Clooney’s—twist into something so ugly?
Worse…
Just seeing his displeased expression made my heart race and my hands tremble.
Wow.
Looks like Michael regularly abused Sinclair.
I swallowed the string of curses that nearly burst from my mouth and forced another smile.
Then—
“Sir Owen.”
Theodore interrupted him.
“Please stop talking. You’re hurting Theodore’s ears!”
Wow.
The sass of a five-year-old felt unbelievably satisfying.
“I, Theodore, shall teach Stepmother, so please remember carefully!”
He spread all five fingers wide and proudly declared,
“I, Theodore, am fiiive years old!”
So there are still five years before the novel begins.
Sinclair—
The woman who was torn apart atop the tower the moment the original story started.
No matter how many times I’d reread the novel until my fingerprints nearly wore away because I adored the Crown Prince…
There had been almost no information about a character who died in the very first scene.
Which meant I couldn’t learn anything useful about her from the novel.
Nor had all of Sinclair’s memories returned to me.
Damn it.
I needed to buy myself as much time as possible.
“Father, my dress is filthy. I need to change before the ceremony.”
“What?”
Michael’s face stiffened.
Just then—
“I, Theodore, agree!”
Theodore smiled sweetly, the corners of his eyes drooping adorably as his cheeks flushed pink.
“Because I want my stepmother to be the prettiest lady in the Empire!”
His tiny hands fidgeted bashfully.
I looked at the proud maid who had been the first to pin me down earlier.
“You can manage that, can’t you? Make sure His Highness won’t be disappointed.”
The room instantly fell silent.
The maids all looked toward Michael for approval.
He gave a slight nod.
* * *
Jackpot.
The Sinclair reflected in the mirror was even more beautiful than I could have imagined.
Her hair reached down to her chest.
Though hopelessly tangled, it was a mesmerizing shade of violet, full and voluminous like a layered hippie perm.
Her eyes were a brilliant fluorescent pink.
Oddly enough, thanks to her grayish-brown eyelashes, they didn’t appear gaudy but rather calm.
Turning my face sideways, I saw a sharp, elegant nose with perfectly balanced nostrils.
Her lips were vividly red with a hint of orange, their outline naturally well-defined.
All those bold colors blended harmoniously with her flawless pale skin, creating a bright, radiant beauty.
“Please turn around.”
Following the head maid’s instructions, I turned while looking into the mirror—
Then froze.
Cruel scars covered my back.
Some were deep gashes.
Others were thin, hairline cuts.
What…?
Are these surgical scars?
No… they’re too deep. Too sharp.
The maids didn’t react at all.
As though they had seen these scars countless times before, they calmly adjusted my dress.
…There are too many things I don’t understand.
At least there was one small blessing.
The novel had provided plenty of information about Grand Duke Gerald von Zeyer…
and the future devil, Theodore von Zeyer.
Remembering everything about them would be my best chance at survival.
Grand Duke Gerald von Zeyer…
Who exactly was he again?
A sharp pain throbbed through my head.
Seriously? A headache now?
I mentally scolded my brain.
Come on.
You earned a full scholarship throughout four years in the Department of Chemistry Education.
Grinding my teeth against the pain, I desperately searched my memory.
My brain flooded itself with norepinephrine as it dug through the engrams that stored my memories.
Spark!
My neurons seemed to ignite like fireworks, working at superhuman speed.
Flash!
A figure appeared.
Grand Duke Gerald von Zeyer.
He was the cousin of Emperor Hereis of the Beatria Empire.
In truth, Gerald had been the legitimate heir.
He should have become emperor.
But fate had played a cruel joke.
He had been born too late.
After Emperor Julius abdicated in favor of his younger brother Guillaume, Guillaume’s son Hereis had already been appointed Crown Prince at the age of ten.
Only five years later did Julius unexpectedly father twins—a daughter and a son.
Even after having children of his own, the retired emperor never demanded the throne back.
He loved the Beatria Empire above all else.
Its stability mattered more than his own family.
Following his uncle’s wishes, Gerald never fought Hereis for the throne.
After his sister died from a curse, Gerald became first in line to inherit.
Yet even in the novel, he remained far removed from politics, devoting himself entirely to educating future generations as headmaster of the Imperial Academy.
Then there was his nephew—
After his sister’s death, Gerald legally adopted him as his own son.
Theodore von Zeyer.
Second in line to the imperial succession.
Theodore had been cursed when he was only one year old.
The imperial mage Jean Dia von Que, who had attempted treason, was sealed away by Gerald.
As he was sealed, he cursed both the Empire…
and Gerald’s family.
“The old fanatic Jean pointed a finger at Gerald as he pronounced the curse.
Jeremia, Gerald’s sister, threw herself in front of him without hesitation.
The curse struck her instead.
Her body hardened into stone before crumbling into grains of sand and scattering on the wind.
Unable to kill Gerald, Jean roared in fury.
He cursed that Gerald would one day die at the hands of his own blood—Theodore—and that the Empire itself would be reduced to ruin.
Only then was his entire body swallowed by eternal ice.”
Gerald couldn’t bear to lose his son as well.
He had to save Theodore from that curse.
Though Theodore was his sister’s child, he adopted him as his own.
He devoted his life to protecting his son…
his sister and brother-in-law who had sacrificed themselves…
and the Empire.
He believed it was the least he could do to repay the Sword Master couple who had died to save both him and the nation.
So, behind the title of Headmaster of the Imperial Academy, he immersed himself in the Empire’s history and culture, searching tirelessly for a way to break the curse.
But in the end…
He failed.
Damn it…
How did I end up in a cursed world like this?
Did all of my students die?
Is this my punishment…?
Was I thrown into this doomed world because they all died?
My heart suddenly collapsed.
The cheerful laughter of my students during the experiment transformed into the eerie cackling of ghosts echoing inside my ears.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
The thought that they might all be dead was unbearable.
Just then—
Bang!
The door burst open.
“Sinclair!”
A blond man in uniform stormed inside without even bothering to knock.
“Eek!”
I instinctively covered my exposed body with both hands.
And yet—
The maids paid no attention whatsoever.
They simply continued dressing me as though nothing had happened.
…They’re used to this?
Even though the woman they’re serving is in this situation?
Unable to endure it any longer, I prepared to strike the rude man who had barged in.
At that moment—
The now-familiar static-filled vision flashed before my eyes.
“Take it off. I need to see.
I want to know how a body mixed with demon blood differs from a human one.”
“Jump. Hurry. Let’s see whether you die or not.”
“Does it hurt? Heh. You’re actually bleeding?”
Gasp.
My younger brother, Yan…
Another complete psychopath?
My whole body trembled.
Yan dragged Sinclair by the hair to the top of the castle before shoving her off.
Her ribs broke.
Her legs shattered.
Yet every time, she healed so quickly it was as though nothing had happened.
On another occasion, he handed her a wooden practice sword, asking her to spar.
Then he switched to a real blade and stabbed her over and over.
Blood poured out.
The wounds healed almost immediately.
Sinclair obeyed every command her younger brother gave her.
Falling from great heights and being stabbed still hurt.
She felt the cold sensation of flesh being torn apart…
the sound of bones shattering…
the metallic taste as blood vessels burst…
the dizziness that came just before losing consciousness.
All five of her senses experienced that agony completely.
The psychological trauma was devastating.
Sinclair was an illegitimate child.
The secret daughter of Michael and a witch known as a descendant of the Demon Realm.
A secret known only to her immediate family.
The horrifying memories left me half out of my mind.
My entire body burned.
“Hah… hah… hah…”
I couldn’t breathe.
The ceiling.
The walls.
Everything seemed to collapse toward me.
It felt as though broken ribs were piercing my lungs, blood bubbling up into my mouth.
I…
I was…
A descendant of a witch.
