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Chapter : 2
Fairy Tales for a Villain
The Kingdom of Dejar—a small realm on a tiny island.
Despite its small population and scarce resources, it was famous for two things.
First: it housed a multinational magic tower.
Wizards had built their tower there because the land possessed extraordinarily powerful magical energy.
Second: the royal bloodline of Dejar.
Born with exceptional beauty, they were ideal marriage candidates.
The royal family birthed many children generation after generation and sustained itself on the dowries gained by marrying them off.
In a way, no monarch could be lazier than that.
This is the first time I’ve returned to the palace alone after rescuing the prince.
She remembered her second regression—when she let the prince die.
But the beach had definitely been empty that day.
She hadn’t even reached the palace before she was arrested for murdering the prince, dragged onto an imperial ship.
“Princess, where did you go last night? You vanished so suddenly—we were terrified!”
Soaked through, the princess shivered. Badel, her nursemaid and handmaiden, wrapped her in a large towel.
Just then, the first princess, Maria, entered the room.
“She’s always like this. Father’s planning to sell her off to another country, so of course she’s throwing a fit.”
“M-Maria… sis?”
Isabel blinked at her, fishing through blurry memories.
Every time she regressed, the memories of her previous life faded—as if forgetting a dream after waking up.
She was the only family member who cared about me.
Congratulations on your marriage, Isabel.
No! Please, spare my sister! Waaaah!
Voices mixed and tangled in her mind—then a sharp ringing pierced her ears.
Maria scoffed at the blood-drained Isabel. “Oh look. There she goes again.”
“My, are you upset because I haven’t visited? I am your lofty eldest sister—Maria Dejar.”
There. Happy now? Drop the act.
Gracefully lifting her skirt to curtsy, Maria tapped Isabel’s shoulder with her fan.
“Maria Dejar…”
“Yes yes, Maria Dejar—who came to check on her useless sister while dealing with her stepson.”
The king had married Maria off to a wealthy foreign noble.
Maria, who normally avoided family topics, looked especially furious today.
“You pick your groom today, don’t you?”
“Groom?”
“Father’s planning to pawn you off to some rich bastard. Didn’t you send me that letter? Why pretend you don’t know?”
Maria snorted. She said the letter read like a farewell note.
“So I wrote… that letter to you.”
Had Isabel thrown herself into the sea because of that?
It explained why she always woke up lying on the sand in each regression.
“Better brace yourself, Isabel.”
“For what?”
“If your groom’s chosen today, you might leave tomorrow. I had to pack the same day—didn’t even have time to cry.”
“Who are the candidates?”
“Why ask me? Trying to forget that the best one was the forty-one-year-old Viscount Dantor?”
Forty-one?! The king had lost his mind.
Isabel was only twenty-two.
“The youngest is forty-one?”
“No. The youngest is that cursed foreign grand duke.”
Grand Duke Baschke.
Maria knew him well.
Her stepson followed him around chanting “My liege! My liege!” so she couldn’t have escaped hearing his name—and the infamous rumors.
Every bride the Grand Duke married died the morning after their wedding night.
Twelve, to be exact.
Thus the richest, most celebrated, most handsome man in the empire remained single.
“People fear the curse, but one look at his face and those fears vanish. That’s why twelve brides took their chances.”
Isabel closed her mouth. She finally grasped her options.
- Marry the prince → get stabbed by a mermaid
- Marry the grand duke → die of a curse on the wedding night
There was also
“Marry the 41-year-old viscount”
or
“Run away and go into hiding.”
But in three regressions, I’ve always died on the same day.
If the date of death was fixed, why bother struggling?
Her choice tilted toward the grand duke.
She wanted nothing more to do with the prince who had caused her death three times.
“If you can, pick a young man this time, Isabel. Don’t sit still and end up sold to a grandfather like I was.”
Maria’s husband was over twenty years older than she was—her stepson was closer to her age.
Worse, her husband was bedridden like a corpse, leaving Maria to nurse him alone.
“As if that weren’t enough, rumors say I’m an evil stepmother. That brat must have spread them.”
Snow White.
Maria spat the name as if it tasted foul.
Snow White? Isabel jerked her head up.
Wait—wasn’t this supposed to be The Little Mermaid?
Maria’s son was… Snow White?
“He claims I drove him out because I was jealous of his beauty. He stays out cavorting with lovers and spreads lies! Wouldn’t that make anyone furious?”
Being stuck with an ancient husband was bad enough, but even the son was a headache.
None of this was in my last lives.
New timeline, new intel.
Maybe switching fairy tales is my path to survival.
Isabel grabbed Maria’s skirt.
“Sis—where is Snow White?”
“What, planning to marry him? Don’t. My precious son has a lover for each day of the week.”
And he’d reject a wicked bride like you.
Maria shut that door fast.
“I just need to ask him something. Where is he?”
“He went to the magic tower. The grand duke’s ship will arrive soon, and he needs to ‘acquire something’ before then…”
At that moment—
“ISABEL!”
The door slammed open. A furious voice.
King Dejar stormed in, hand raised.
SLAP.
His brutal palm struck Isabel’s cheek.
Ha. Unbelievable.
In previous lives, she would have endured this easily.
But this body was frail.
She braced herself so her head wouldn’t snap aside and slowly lifted a brow.
If she learned one thing from past lives—
“You shouldn’t hit my face, Father.”
The king viewed his daughter as nothing more than a doll that obeyed.
They all called Isabel a villain, but she had her reasons.
A hollow laugh slipped out.
“You preach about propriety—yet I can’t step outside overnight? Women must always be modest, wasn’t it?”
“But you ignore the debauchery of my suitors? Why scold only me?”
“You insolent—!”
“Father, stop!”
Another blow and Isabel’s face would really be ruined.
Maria clung to his arm in panic.
“She has healing magic—it’ll be fine! Today I’ll correct that wretched child’s manners!”
“Father—you KNOW Isabel can only heal others, not herself!”
“We’ll see. We can always test it.”
Madness burned in his eyes as he raised his other hand.
I tried grabbing the prince’s hand to escape this wretched family.
This time she needed a different path.
The grand duke’s ship was arriving soon…
Isabel stared straight into the king’s eyes.
“The imperial ship from Nevelant will be here shortly. Grand Duke Baschke is aboard.”
“What?!”
The king glanced at the chamberlain.
He nodded—it was true.
“He will propose to me immediately upon arrival.”
“That grand duke who leaves his brides dead by morning?!”
Funny how he suddenly cared about her life.
“Yes. So if you want me to marry safely, don’t touch me again.”
Chin high, Isabel bowed and strode out.
“Oh dear, Princess—” Badel hurried after her.
Her father ranted loud enough for the hall to shake, but Isabel walked away smiling—thrilled.
* * *
Snow White stepped out of the magic tower, scowling.
That damn Tower Master had weaseled out of their contract.
The grand duke will be disappointed…
He raked a hand through his snowy hair.
Just then, a chilly beauty approached.
“You are Snow White, correct?”
“I am…”
She looked familiar. Where had he seen such a beauty?
He studied her.
Catlike, lifted eyes. Turquoise irises clear as the sea.
Pale skin, golden hair—
Ah. Gold hair meant…
“I am Princess Isabel Dejar. Your mother’s younger sister.”
“Ah. The memory just returned.”
Snow forced a smile and stepped back.
Curse his memory for letting him forget this disaster of a princess.
Eight years ago, on the day his father remarried, the new stepmother’s sister had caused a grand spectacle.
Her three-day rampage had become legend in Nevelant’s high society.
Had I remembered that, I would’ve run the moment I saw her.
Who would’ve guessed the troublesome girl, pretty as she was, would grow into a beauty so lethal?
Today gets worse by the minute.
Entangling with a volatile villainess was the last thing he wanted. He turned to leave.
“I’d like two favors.”
Isabel got straight to the point.
“Uh, I’m rather busy, so I can’t—”
“The Crown Prince of Nevelant is in my kingdom right now.”
He was likely meeting the king as they spoke.
“…Excuse me?!”
“I thought the empire was desperately searching for the missing prince. Was I mistaken?”
“How do you know this?”
Snow’s eyes instantly sharpened.
Isabel met his gaze unflinching and tilted her head.
“I saved him. Accidentally.”
“Why would you— I mean— ahem.”
“?”
“You are… a benefactor of the imperial prince.”
Snow smiled warmly—his escape abandoned.
“So… will you do me the favor or not?”
“What man could refuse a beautiful princess?”
“Good. Take that little bastard back to the empire—right away. That’s my first favor.”
“…Little bastard?”
Oh, no. Isabel averted her eyes.
She had died three times because of that princeling—the word slipped out with emotion.
