Chapter 8
“Brother!”
Diana threw her arms around her older brother. Was she dreaming?
If so, then this must surely be heaven.
“What are you doing? You—!”
“Brother!”
“Ugh, fine.”
Still, he didn’t seem to dislike his affectionate little sister. Emil, her brother, didn’t push her hands away.
“I thought you’d grown up a little now that you’re twelve, but you’re just like Alexa.”
“Twelve?”
“Have you forgotten your own age, you fool?”
“…”
“You didn’t forget that we’re going to the palace today, did you?”
“Palace?”
Diana tilted her head in confusion.
“My, my. It seems the moment you turn twelve you’re determined to disgrace the family! You’re planning to make your first impression on His Majesty the King looking completely unprepared, aren’t you?”
“…”
“Hurry up and get ready!”
Hearing Emil’s urgent voice, Diana quickly realized—this wasn’t heaven after all.
Her brother’s slightly irritable personality, the fact that she was twelve, her first visit to the royal palace… all of it was familiar.
“Welcome, Duke.”
She couldn’t even remember how she had greeted them. Since neither the King and Queen, her father, nor Emil reacted, she must not have made any mistakes. As she gave her greetings, they sipped their tea. Diana noticed the fragrant milk tea in front of her, steam curling from its creamy surface. It was a moment straight out of a distant, hazy past.
“So, Lady Brienne. I hear today is your twelfth birthday.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Become the greatest jewel in the land.”
“Your words are as vast as the sea, Your Majesty.”
“I will give you a sapphire pin as a gift.”
A sapphire pin?
The repeated lines, the déjà vu—Diana felt uneasy. Heaven? Impossible. Heaven would not repeat events like this. Something about this place was wrong.
She turned her attention to their conversation. After the birthday congratulations, they returned to their main topic.
“So, do you think that witch will actually cast a curse?”
At her father’s words, the King nodded. Perhaps because a child and his ally, Duke Brienne, were present, the King’s face was heavy with worry. Diana’s mind wandered through memories of the past.
“That vile woman receiving divine punishment is only natural.”
She remembered this conversation—about the execution of some woman.
“Still, her shamelessness and wickedness trouble me.”
“…”
“They say she was born in a swamp, you know.”
“If she truly had the power to curse, she would have done it before the execution.”
“That’s true, but…”
Her father reassured the King in a firm tone, and the King seemed comforted by it.
“Lady Brienne.”
At the sudden voice, Diana looked up. It was the Queen, who had so far remained silent. She wore a gentle smile, but Diana knew it was a façade. The Queen had never liked her.
“What do you think, my lady?”
“What do you mean, Your Majesty?”
“Do you believe curses actually exist?”
Diana narrowed her eyes slightly. This meeting was meant to introduce her to the First Prince, Ferdinand—her father hoped she would become the Queen of Panborough one day. But the Queen disliked her, and Ferdinand wasn’t even present. Clearly, the plan had failed.
She reached for the hazy memory of being twelve. Back then, she had sat there like a fool, unable to answer. But now, she was a former queen of the Rodbrok Kingdom—a woman who had been a political scapegoat. She understood perfectly well the intent behind the question: the Queen wanted to humiliate her, using even a difficult word like “existence” to trip her up.
Diana smiled sweetly.
“I do not believe curses exist, Your Majesty.”
“I am curious as to why.”
“A curse, perhaps, is simply the manifestation of unease. When one does something that weighs on the conscience and then happens to suffer misfortune, it’s natural to think the two are connected.”
The adults exchanged glances at her answer. Then the King spoke.
“Then you mean to say that I am a weak ruler for fearing something that does not exist?”
How had he twisted it into that? Diana was incredulous, but she met the King’s eyes without wavering. She knew well that he was a timid man. When her father opened his mouth to speak, she cut in.
“Your Majesty, to look back more than once before taking a life—whether of a criminal or anyone else—can be considered compassion and prudence in a sovereign.”
The King’s eyes widened.
“Compassion and prudence, you say…”
Her innocent-sounding words made him chuckle. The Queen’s brow furrowed. Diana looked at them both—the Queen, resentful that her family was not the top noble house in the kingdom, taking it out on a twelve-year-old girl; the King, anxious even after executing a single woman.
When she had truly been twelve, these people had seemed untouchable. Now, she could see clearly. Perhaps the fall of Panborough had been inevitable.
“Well done.”
The Duke of Brienne patted her head. Diana finally looked directly at her father’s face. He was a man who expressed little, yet never spared anything for her. He had given her his own form of love… until he died a meaningless death at the hands of that monster, Giscar, in an act of revenge.
Giscar.
She thought of his face. Why had her beloved father brought Giscar into their household as a slave? He was a man who never even raised his voice at servants. And yet he had brought in Giscar, leaving the man to fester with resentment.
“The weather’s turning foul. I have more to discuss with His Majesty, so head back first.”
With that, Duke Brienne turned and left.
It had been such a long day. As Diana rode in the carriage, she thought about it all. The sky was blanketed with grey clouds. Back to being twelve years old? She repeated the unbelievable fact over and over.
“What was that talk about curses? Where did you read that?”
“What do you mean, ‘where’?”
“You were the one who was afraid of curses. Stepping on black marble four times in a row will kill you, writing your name in purple means you’ll die…”
“That’s superstition, not a curse.”
The siblings bickered.
“I think curses are real. Our mother was cursed too, wasn’t she?”
“Hm?”
“This time, I saw the slave brats executed in the capital performing strange sorcery.”
Slaves. Diana’s gaze turned distant. Panborough was a country with slavery—something she had forgotten after living in Rodbrok, where there were none.
“That probably wasn’t a curse. Brother, curses don’t exist.”
“What?”
“The way to avoid a curse is simple—just don’t torment the weak.”
A witch’s curse came from tormenting a woman; a slave’s curse came from enslaving and abusing them. Curses were nothing but the guilty unease born from harming the powerless. That was what Diana had come to realize.
Soon, the sound of rain began to patter outside. Listening to the splashing, Diana fell into thought.
It had been more than twenty years ago—her very first visit to the palace, a day she remembered only vaguely, yet still special.
But she had the feeling she was forgetting something. She forced the uneasy feeling aside. Her task now was to stop her father from bringing Giscar into their lives. Giscar would come soon. She had to prevent the tragedy before it began. But she was still only twelve—a girl who had lost her mother. How could she possibly stop her father?
If only three more years had passed…
At fifteen, she would have had at least some say in the household. Diana clicked her tongue.
“Sis! What are you doing?!”
Alexa’s sharp voice rang out. She must be upset that their brother and sister had gone to the palace without her. In this world where Alexa was still alive, it was a miracle. Diana smiled and went to her room.
When she had truly been young, she had hated comforting Alexa. Frail in health and spoiled endlessly by their father, Alexa had been selfish. But now, it didn’t matter. Her being alive was enough. She was true family—someone of Diana’s own blood. How much had Diana longed for that?
Suddenly, she felt a faint pain in her belly. Once, she had briefly carried her own flesh and blood. She forced that memory down.
“Was the palace fun?”
“Not at all. Look—it’s raining. Reading you a book would’ve been more fun.”
At that, Alexa immediately cheered up. Diana read to her. What she had once thought a chore now felt like a blessing. Because of the rain, Alexa’s cough worsened, so Diana gave her medicine. Outside, lightning flashed, and for some reason, Diana’s heart began to pound. She should be enjoying the miracle of returning to the past, yet a strange tension made her fingertips cold.
“His Grace the Duke has arrived.”
Diana stood. The memory of this day was still unclear. Perhaps she hadn’t answered the Queen properly, had been scolded by her father, and spent the rest of the day crying in her room. She lifted her skirts and went downstairs. The sound of rain echoed through the manor. The door slammed open. The noise seemed too loud in the rain-filled silence, and Diana flinched.
The Duke entered under an umbrella. For once, the usually stern man wore a bright smile—so unusual that Diana’s heart beat even faster.
“Children, I’ve brought you a gift.”
His voice was cheerful as he jerked his chin toward the door. At that exact moment, lightning lit the world white. Diana clapped a hand over her mouth at the sight.
The boy who entered, chained by the neck, was unmistakable—the one who had destroyed her life. More wretched and pitiful than any slave she had ever seen, the violet-eyed boy came into the house not as a guest, but as a dog. A slave.
Diana realized the truth.
She had thought she met Giscar sometime later, in the manor. She had never known the exact day he came. Her face drained of color. It was as if the gods of fate themselves were laughing at her.
She hadn’t been sent back to just any day of her twelfth year.
She had been sent back to the day she first met Giscar.
