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Chapter 1
“Sinclair! Sinclair!”
At the sharp, piercing voice of a middle-aged man, my eyes flew open.
“You’re awake?”
I turned toward the source of the voice, but the bright light blurred the figure standing there.
“Did… did I survive?”
“People don’t die just because they lose consciousness!”
Ah… I’m alive.
Tears streamed down both my cheeks, gathering at my chin before pouring down like a waterfall.
“What about the children?”
“They’re on their way here now, so hurry and get yourself ready!”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
I turned toward the man who had not only told me that I had survived, but that my students were safe as well. My vision was blurred by tears, so I couldn’t make out his face, but I thanked him over and over in the direction of his voice.
God, Buddha, Allah—every god in existence… thank you.
Before I lost consciousness, there had been an explosion.
I had been teaching a fire experiment to my second-year middle school students when the school chairman’s son started fooling around with a blowtorch. I threw him out of the laboratory.
But the little cockroach who took after his father didn’t reflect on what he’d done. Instead, he caused an even bigger accident.
He came back carrying a tumbler filled with sodium.
Sodium explodes on contact with water.
With disaster seconds away, I evacuated the students. After wrestling with him, I managed to snatch the tumbler away.
But too much time had already passed.
As I watched that brat finally leave the laboratory, I covered the tumbler against my chest and fulfilled my responsibility as a temporary teacher.
The explosion rang out.
My entire body felt as though it had been torn apart by searing heat before I lost consciousness.
And yet…
The children survived.
And somehow, so did I.
That was a relief.
At last, my vision returned, and the world gradually came into focus.
Huh? Aren’t those rubies and sapphires? Wait… those are diamonds! And the moldings are made of gold?
The ceiling was lavishly decorated with every kind of gemstone imaginable. Bathed in sunlight, the jewels shimmered brilliantly, making the place feel like the dwelling of gods.
What kind of hospital is this extravagant?
I was reclining awkwardly in a chair with my head resting against its back.
Feeling around my chest and stomach—the places where I had hugged the tumbler—I touched something hard.
Did they wrap me up that tightly with bandages?
I cautiously pressed on it, expecting pain.
There wasn’t any.
How many painkillers did they pump me full of?
I looked down, wanting to check the IV in my arm.
There wasn’t one.
Instead, beneath fluttering lace sleeves were long, slender, snow-white hands resting against the front of an elegant white dress embroidered with golden thread.
What kind of patient gown is this?
Panicking, I pulled up my sleeve to inspect my clothes.
Transparent gemstones that looked like diamonds were sewn densely along the white line running from the shoulder down the sleeve.
Am I dreaming?
I pinched the inside of my wrist.
“Ow!”
It hurt.
What is going on?
As I tried to sit up and assess the situation, several foreign women dressed as maids—black dresses with white aprons—rushed toward me.
“Please remain still.”
Oddly enough, I understood every word of their foreign language perfectly.
What? Who are these people?
Startled, I shoved away the maids grabbing my shoulders and arms.
But they were incredibly strong.
They didn’t budge.
Instead, they pushed even harder, trying to force me back into the chair.
I kicked the shin of the maid pressing down on my shoulders with all my strength.
“Aaaagh!”
She screamed and collapsed.
Using the self-defense skills I had practiced for three years, I shook off the other maids and sprang to my feet.
Immediately, knights clad in dazzling golden armor stepped in front of me with swords and spears drawn.
Their gleaming blades reflected my appearance.
I was wearing an unbelievably luxurious pure white dress.
As I twisted my body, the tightly cinched waist and enormous skirt—wider than a beach parasol—moved with me.
That’s… me?
“Sinclair! What are you doing?”
It was the same voice as before—the one that had told me the children were safe.
I quickly turned around.
But that man wasn’t a doctor either.
He was a distinguished-looking middle-aged Westerner who resembled George Clooney.
The instant I saw him, my heart pounded violently, and I couldn’t breathe.
**”Die.”
Someone was choking me.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Die, Sinclair.”
“Father… please save me.”
The tiny hands of a young Sinclair—so skinny they looked as though they’d snap like disposable chopsticks—desperately clung to the arm strangling her neck.**
“Father?”
I gasped.
Someone else’s memories had overlapped with my own.
Why… why did I just call that man Father?
The middle-aged man’s face twisted as though it were a crumpled sheet of paper.
A strange place.
Strange people.
Who were they?
And why was I here?
Backing away from them, I desperately looked around for an escape.
Rococo-style furniture.
Expensive porcelain.
A tapestry depicting knights battling monsters.
The room looked like something straight out of a medieval castle.
Then I spotted a pure white door decorated with bronze on all four corners.
I have to survive first.
I sprinted toward it.
“Catch her!”
The knights stationed by the windows joined the pursuit, their armor clanking loudly.
Sunlight pouring through the windows flashed off their blades with terrifying brilliance.
What would it feel like to be cut by one of those swords? Would real blood pour out?
The thought alone made me shudder.
Dodging them by the narrowest of margins, I finally reached the door.
Then—
Bang!
The door swung open.
I froze.
A squad of armed knights poured inside.
Then a male attendant in a black uniform, wearing a black hat over a billowing white blouse, stepped in and loudly announced,
“His Highness, Grand Prince Theodore von Zeyer, has arrived!”
The attendant stepped aside.
A little boy about thigh-high to the attendant entered the room, dressed in a pristine white military uniform.
He was as thin as a stick.
With his chin proudly raised and his hands clasped behind his back, he looked unbelievably arrogant.
Yet somehow, that proud posture suited his immaculate white uniform perfectly.
Who is he?
The little boy noticed me standing there, frozen with fear.
His crimson eyes sparkled like traffic lights.
“Huh? Stepmother came out to welcome me?”
He smiled brightly as he looked up at me.
For some reason…
Those red eyes felt strangely familiar.
I bent down to examine him more closely.
He stared back just as intently.
Then I saw myself reflected in his eyes.
But…
It wasn’t me.
A beautiful white woman blinked beneath a pure white veil.
She had large double eyelids and sharp, cat-like eyes.
Don’t tell me… that’s me?
I had to make sure.
I winked with one eye.
The woman reflected in Theodore’s crimson eyes winked seductively back.
The little boy’s eyes widened like ripe pomegranates bursting open.
But his reaction wasn’t what shocked me.
It was the fact that the woman in his eyes copied every movement I made.
I couldn’t believe it.
I raised one hand and waved.
The woman in his eyes waved too.
No way!
I puffed out one cheek, then the other.
She did exactly the same.
It’s really me!
The revelation struck like lightning.
Then the little boy’s face turned bright red.
He squeezed his eyes shut, puffed out his cheeks like a pufferfish, shoved a finger into each ear, and plugged them tightly.
What’s wrong with him?
Then again…
Using a child’s eyes as a mirror probably did look incredibly bizarre.
“Your Highness, Grand Prince Theodore von Zeyer.”
The middle-aged man stepped forward in front of me, greeting him in a booming baritone.
Only then did Theodore remove his fingers from his ears.
Placing his right hand over his left chest, he bent his knees slightly in a courteous bow.
“It has been a long time, Sir Michael Owen.”
Theodore… von Zeyer?
Could this really be Theodore von Zeyer—the devil from my favorite novel, I Wanted to Protect My Fiancé?
“Hahaha…”
An awkward laugh escaped me.
Instantly, everyone around me froze.
Michael’s expression darkened.
“What are you doing? The wedding ceremony is only moments away. Hurry.”
At his command, the maids grabbed both my arms and lifted me up.
“I’m… getting married?”
“Yes, Lady Sinclair von Zeyer, the future Grand Duchess. The wedding ceremony will begin shortly.”
The maids answered in flat, emotionless voices, like AI, as they sat me back down.
“Please close your eyes so we may apply your makeup.”
At the head maid’s request, I shut my eyes.
Their hands busily moved across my face.
No way…
Did I really end up inside a novel?
And not just anywhere…
I’m Theodore von Zeyer’s stepmother?
A splitting headache erupted.
Serotonin was constricting my cerebral blood vessels while neurotransmitters and prostaglandins seemed to rage wildly through the synapses.
I mentally begged my brain to stop releasing all those chemicals.
Then…
Amid a world engulfed in crimson flames, a lone black silhouette emerged.
Theodore von Zeyer.
A grand prince who bore the imperial surname “Zeyer” and stood second in line to the throne.
At the age of ten, he murdered his stepmother.
At sixteen, he killed his own father.
By twenty, he had become the Demon King himself, leading the armies of the demon realm to destroy the Empire.
Every step he took reeked of blood.
Smoke from burning corpses blotted out the sun.
Within that suffocating, ash-filled sky, only Theodore’s cold, merciless eyes burned with terrifying brilliance.
Dear God…
I’m that cruel devil’s stepmother?
The very same stepmother who, at the very beginning of the novel, is torn to pieces and burned alive by Theodore atop a tower?
Just then—
Something blocked my exhale, making warm air scatter against the tip of my nose.
What…?
Suppressing my trembling nerves, I slowly cracked one eye open.
Theodore was holding a finger beneath my nose, squinting as he carefully watched me.
Gasp!
I couldn’t breathe.
A chill shot down my spine.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
I squeezed my eyes shut again.
“Are you dead… or alive?”
The little devil pressed his soft lips against my nose and whispered eerily.
Every time he spoke, he deliberately dragged out the final syllable.
His warm breath puffed against my nose.
“Achoo!”
My body snapped backward like a drawn bow before lurching forward again.
Thunk!
My forehead collided with the little devil’s forehead.
“Ow!”
“Urgh!”
The chair tipped over backward with a loud crash.
The little devil’s blazing crimson eyes—burning as fiercely as the fifteen-million-degree surface of the sun—quivered as they stared directly at my trembling body.D
