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Chapter : 02
“I did anything—everything—for you and the Emperor.”
I gave up this territory, the people of the grand duchy I cherished—everything.
…Even Kaiden, whom I met again yet pretended not to know.
“Why?”
Grief mixed with rage, filling Zenaida’s eyes with a poisonous glare.
“I did exactly what you wanted!”
The scream of a woman who had destroyed everything with her own hands echoed through the room.
Zenaida drew her sword. With a sharp battle cry, she charged at the Pope.
It sounded like the howl of a beast.
But she hadn’t taken more than a few steps before one knee gave out. Demonic energy spread from the wound where she’d been stabbed. Whether paralysis had set in or not, her fingers lost their strength, and the sword slipped from her grasp.
Clang.
The moment she was unarmed, her opponent approached as though he had been waiting for it.
The Pope’s crimson eyes, seemingly fused with demonic power, had turned black. He wrapped his arms around Zenaida as she glared at him.
She struggled weakly, but once demonic corruption had begun, she could no longer reject his touch.
He whispered softly into her ear.
“He said he’d die if that man spared your life.”
Though he never spoke the name, Zenaida knew.
The man he meant was Kaiden.
Her eyes trembled.
“Then the reason he accepted death so willingly was…”
“That’s enough.”
Kaiden’s final words flashed through her mind.
Had she not been consumed by the curse, she might have laughed hollowly.
“How foolish. If you hadn’t clung to the power of spirits, I wouldn’t have spared someone like you at all.”
“……”
“The Emperor, your husband—how can they both be so pathetically sentimental?”
With words that sounded like a betrayal even of the Emperor, his longtime patron, the Pope stabbed his blade into Zenaida’s chest.
“Have you become like them too?”
He murmured with a smile brighter than ever.
“Help me get my revenge. With your resentment, your rage—summon a demon that will kill them all.”
As her wound tore wider, as the chill down her spine deepened, her vision blurred.
Yet her memories of Kaiden alone grew sharper.
Memories she had wanted so desperately to forget, yet never could.
Kaiden’s smiling face flickered before her eyes.
The smile he wore on their first night, when she was awkward and restless.
The smile he gave when she called his name for the first time.
The fleeting smile he showed even as he died by her hand, laughing at the lie that he loved her.
Only at the brink of death did Zenaida finally accept what that smile had meant.
Love.
His sincerity—shown only to her.
Regret surged like a storm as darkness slowly swallowed her.
“I want to save him.”
That belated wish accompanied her into oblivion.
Her wishes had never once been granted.
She hadn’t become a good child as Sir Lancelot said she should.
She hadn’t saved Priest Liam.
And the wish she held before dying—to save Kaiden—was no different.
“Ugh.”
Floundering in endless darkness, Zenaida frowned as her vision suddenly brightened. A wave of pain crashed over her, forcing her to collapse.
Heat radiated from the back of her head. Only after opening her eyes did she realize what it was.
Sunlight.
“Sunlight?”
The deep shadows and the wooden floor soaked with warmth felt utterly alien—far too much so to be the North.
Clutching her hazy consciousness, Zenaida forced her eyelids open.
Her eyes stung painfully.
Through her blurred vision, she saw people dressed in the uniforms of the Imperial Guard, paired off and sparring.
As she focused on them, her other dulled senses awakened, and the shouts she hadn’t noticed before rang in her ears.
Then a familiar voice reached her.
“Are you all right?”
At the gentle concern in that voice, Zenaida swallowed hard.
It had to be an auditory hallucination born of guilt. There was no way she could hear the voice of someone dead.
When she didn’t answer, a shadow moved toward her.
Zenaida froze as if she’d seen a ferocious monster. The pain that had subsided surged back again.
“If it’s difficult to speak, I’ll help you up.”
The gentle voice came again.
Panicked, Zenaida drew the sword she’d been holding.
The tip trembled unsteadily.
Those nearby gasped and stepped back, but the owner of the voice did not.
Instead, he stepped closer.
With shaking hands, Zenaida turned the blade toward herself.
There was only one way to wake from this nightmare.
She had to die again.
Then a rough hand grabbed the blade.
Blood flowed from his hand, and she reflexively released the hilt. He slowly lowered the sword to the ground.
“Zenaida.”
His voice, calmer than before, called her name.
She had no choice but to raise her head.
Her gaze traveled upward—from his lips, to his tall, straight nose, and finally stopped at the violet eyes she could never forget.
Kaiden.
She couldn’t bring herself to speak his name, only whispering it silently in her heart.
Unlike the tender expression she remembered from their final moments, his indifferent gaze rested on her for a few seconds before turning away.
Zenaida stared blankly as Kaiden spoke with his aide, then suddenly snapped back to her senses. She reached out and grabbed his arm.
His gaze returned to her—without a hint of surprise.
Staring at the still-bleeding hand, Zenaida murmured,
“Please… treat it.”
Even if this was a dream, she didn’t want to see him hurt.
At her request, Kaiden replied flatly,
“I’ll take care of it myself. Can you stand?”
Ignoring her concern, he said only what he needed to.
Suppressing a sigh, Zenaida nodded.
At her response, Kaiden extended his uninjured hand.
As if telling her to take it, his gaze settled on her hand.
Reluctantly, she accepted his escort and stood.
His hand was calloused, rough in places—but warm.
So warm it almost felt hot.
“Is a dream really this vivid?”
The scenery, the people, even Kaiden himself—full of life.
It was too real to be a dream.
Without realizing it, Zenaida grabbed his wrist.
She hadn’t properly checked his pulse, but it was there—faintly beating.
As though he were alive.
If this were merely her illusion, it couldn’t be like this.
“Don’t tell me… I came back?”
This was the Imperial Palace training grounds.
Specifically, the grounds reserved for the Emperor’s personal guard.
The time when Zenaida had served as one of them lay far in the past—long before her death.
“That can’t be… reincarnation?”
The only record of such magic was that the first archmage, Merlin, had once attempted it long ago.
It made more sense to believe this was a dream.
But then—what about these sensations?
At the thought, her vision blurred again.
“Don’t cry.”
The one who had driven Kaiden to his death in her previous life was none other than herself.
To mourn someone she had killed—she’d be called mad.
She swallowed her tears, closed her eyes, then opened them again.
As the commotion settled, a worry she’d briefly forgotten resurfaced.
Did she return—or not?
The conflicting thoughts gnawed at her mind relentlessly.
Just as her head felt ready to burst, an impulsive word slipped out.
“Kaiden.”
Having lost her grip on reason, she continued speaking nonsense.
“Why did you love me—”
Before she could finish, a knight at Kaiden’s side shouted,
“Your Highness!”
At the title, she looked at Kaiden—and her pupils shook violently.
“Your Highness, are you all right?!”
Kaiden suddenly collapsed, clutching his arm in pain.
The wrist he grasped was the same right hand that had caught her sword.
“Huh…?”
Zenaida rushed toward him, but his aide blocked her path.
The knight said nothing, but glared at her fiercely.
She bit her lip.
Then Kaiden, his face twisted in pain, brushed past the aide and approached her.
With his bloodstained hand, he grabbed her by the throat.
He didn’t squeeze hard, but the closeness and tension were overwhelming—she felt as though her airway might close at any moment.
She couldn’t lower her gaze, only raise it.
Her eyes met a familiar brooch.
It was his mourning ornament—the one he treasured.
He hadn’t been wearing it just before he died, having lost it.
Zenaida let out a short breath.
In the meantime, Kaiden whispered lowly,
“…What do you think you’re doing?”
At the icy coldness of his voice, she swallowed.
He continued,
“Poison.”
She should have explained about the poison on the blade—but she was frozen, unable to speak.
Because she herself didn’t know why poison had been on her sword.
“Did the Emperor order you to frame me?”
His sinister mutter pierced her chest like a dagger.
The gentle question she’d heard moments earlier now felt like a dream—so sharp and cruel was his voice.
“If you’re going to play the hypocrite, you should practice first.”
With a sneer, Kaiden stepped back.
Why had there been poison on her sword?
Why—?
“His Majesty is waiting. We should hurry.”
His expression shifted once more, from mockery to a gentle smile.
Amid her confusion, seeing the brooch confirmed it.
She had returned to the past.
