TSMT 10

Chapter 10

It was because the dagger was too heavy.

Yes, that’s it.

I wouldn’t have succeeded anyway.

Right—what would I have done afterward, after stabbing him?

What if Father sent me to a mental training institute?

Diana forced herself to rationalize the failure of her revenge. Then, she shook her head. She knew exactly what a terrible thing she had been about to commit. Trembling, Diana let tears fall.

I… I was about to kill someone.

A boy who had committed no crime yet, nothing more than a victim—I was going to kill him with my own hands. Blinded by vengeance, I justified it by calling him the source of disaster, and I was about to murder that powerless child. Just like that monster.

Even knowing that the boy would bring ruin, how could she kill him when he was crying and begging for help? Diana knew just how horrendous her intent had been.

She hated royalty and nobility—people who killed recklessly, claiming it was the easiest solution. She had grown up with her mother’s teachings:

“Do not trample the weak.”
“Those with power must protect those without it.”
“Even those weaker than you are still people with the same feelings as you.”

And yet here she was, ready to kill someone simply because it was “easy.” The dagger shook in her hands. She looked up to the sky. Oh God, what should I do?

How am I supposed to stop the ruin that’s to come?

Only the clear moonlight shone down on Diana.

It must have rained last night, for puddles had formed. The carriage splashed through them, scattering water in all directions. The Brienne ducal family’s carriage cut through the heart of the capital and arrived at a quiet temple.

The duke’s carriage. Priests rushed out in a flurry to greet the unexpected visitor. But it wasn’t Duke Brienne who stepped down—it was the duke’s eldest daughter, Diana Brienne.

Under the clear sky, her golden hair shone. Her expression was sorrowful—not adorably so like a puppy crying, but fragile and pitiful like a rain-soaked flower.

She didn’t look like a twelve-year-old. After taking the knight’s hand to step down, she spoke to the priest who came to greet her.

“Forgive the sudden visit. I came to pray.”

Her young voice carried a strange calmness. Those who served the gods were always happy to receive worshippers, and the priest smiled, leading her inside.

After her mother’s death, she had sometimes visited the temple to pray for her mother’s peaceful rest. But after the Rodbrok Kingdom’s invasion—after losing her entire family—she had rejected the gods and never returned here. This place now felt foreign.

Every column of the temple bore carvings of dragons—said to be God’s messengers, delivering His voice. Though her faith had crumbled, the Kingdom of Panborough was favorable toward religion. Unlike the barbaric Rodbrok Kingdom, which considered dragons nothing more than monsters to be hunted, Panborough revered them as divine messengers according to myth.

Diana had once agreed with Rodbrok—there was no god.

And yet… this return to the past was undeniably a miracle. But today, she had come seeking an answer. Sometimes, the gods were said to speak directly and grant oracles. She wanted to find a path—no, she had to find one.

“May you be under the dragon’s protection,” the priest said before leaving the prayer room.

The silver statue and its round orb representing the sun were clearly the image of “God.” Surrounding it was a dragon. Diana gave a faint, wry smile, knelt, and clasped her hands.

What is going on?

Is this a dream?

Or is this heaven after death?

Is this reality?

She had many questions—why had she returned to exactly twelve years old? Why not to a younger time, or as an adult? If a miracle were possible, why had it taken the form of regression?

She desperately wanted to avoid that monster.

That pitiful boy would kill a dragon, become king of the kingdom, and come here to trample this place in revenge. And in the process, he would take her as his bride—turn her into a living corpse, and eventually drive her to suicide.

In the middle of her prayer, Diana clutched her abdomen. Remembering the brief life that had once been there, she shut her eyes. She could not—would not—let it happen again.

So she pleaded with all her heart:

How can I stop all of this?

But no answer came, even after a long time. Of course. Why would God answer her? Seeking the gods had been a mistake to begin with. Diana was about to stand up when—

You cannot stop the river of flowing blood.

Startled by the voice that pierced her mind, she looked up and glanced around. The prayer room was empty. What was that? Was this the oracle the priests spoke of? Had God actually replied? Did He exist after all? Then, the voice spoke again:

Even in the second life you’ve been given, you will not be able to stop it.

Not able to stop the blood? What did that mean?

A murderer bathed in the blood of millions is watching you. The dragonslayer, drenched in dragon’s blood, will see you.

“Oh God! What is this supposed to mean?!”

You will not escape him. You cannot run. You will never flee from the fate that seeks to claim you. You will meet him.

“No! Please!”

You are already in the grip of destiny.

She cried out, but this was no conversation—it was prophecy. A sentence. Her body shook. She could not avoid it. She had received the oracle said to be heard only by the chosen.

Her heart pounded. If this was not a dream, then God might truly have given her an answer. And indeed, it was no dream—it was her second reality. God had said she could not stop it.

Who is this murderer bathed in a million’s blood?

She shuddered. She didn’t know. But she was certain of one thing…

The dragonslayer.

The dragonslayer was Ghiscar. After escaping from the mansion as a child, he had slain the evil, poison-breathing dragon Fafnir in Panborough’s Dragon Valley, and inherited Rodbrok’s throne.

He’ll be the one looking at me?

She trembled.

“This is too cruel!”

Her shout echoed through the temple, unanswered. Then, like a shaft of light, another voice came:

But, it will change.

Change but not be stopped? What did that mean? A feeling of fate closing in gripped her.

It cannot be stopped, but it will change.

“Change? What does that mean?! You just said it couldn’t be stopped!”

Because you have changed, fate will change.

…

She could almost feel a blood-covered Ghiscar standing behind her. Outside the temple, rain had begun to fall.

O pitiful young lady reborn in red blood, you will be able to walk the right path.

Was that encouragement? The cold voice of God seemed to soften. The despair filling Diana’s heart gave way to calm.

“God… does that mean what is to happen will happen?”

[…]

“But within that, I can still change something?”

[…]

“By saying I’m right… you mean I can go forward as I wish?”

God did not answer. But even this much, spoken by God, was significant. The truth was obvious—Diana knew the future. That was why He had said she could change it.

Walk the right path. As you always have.

The voice felt strangely warm, though Diana herself could not feel it.

The right path.

She murmured blankly. Ever since leaving the temple, her eyes had been hollow. If fate couldn’t be changed, then why had she returned? What did “It cannot be stopped, but it will change” mean?

God’s prophecies were absolute. She had read many foolish tales of those who tried to defy them, only to fulfill them. The king who abandoned his son after hearing he would be killed by him—only to be killed by that very son. The woman who avoided marriage because it would bring misfortune—only to become more miserable.

She too had now received an oracle. Prophecy always came true. The more brutally you tried to block it, the more brutally it would bind you.

Diana rose to her feet. She felt she had to meet the young monster, Ghiscar. She wanted to avoid him, but she had to face him. Her hands clenched into fists.

If she couldn’t find him in the main house, that meant he was elsewhere. When the maids said they didn’t know, she felt a pang of anxiety.

Father was away, Emil was visiting another noble’s house, and even Mirva was out. There was no one to stop her.

She searched for Ghiscar—in the gardens, the back yard, even the stables. The servants, pale-faced, tried to stop her.

“The slave boy wouldn’t obey, so we’re breaking him in.”

“What?”

“Slaves must be tamed, my lady. Why are you looking for that boy anyway?”

She finally found him. Ghiscar was hanging in a shed next to the armory.

The price of turning a blind eye was high. Not that she could do anything even if she confronted it—but she still felt powerless. Shirtless, Ghiscar hung from the ceiling, hands bound. His body was thin and frail.

“Oh, my lady, this is no sight for you! You should only see fine and beautiful things—”

“Is that… a slave brand?”

“Y-Yes…”

The mark on his bare back had been burned in recently. Around his neck was a magic shackle, and his mouth was gagged—stained with blood.

Diana closed her eyes.

When she first met him in her past life, he had already been “broken in” to some degree. She had not known such brutal violence had taken place.

Having lost her mother, she had been too consumed by her own grief. As a twelve-year-old lady raised in luxury, she would never have seen such filth unless she sought it out. Naturally—the world had only ever shown her beautiful things.

She had thought that perhaps seeing him in such a miserable state might bring her some satisfaction. But no—there was no thrill in this petty vengeance. She had no taste for such cruelty. Diana bit her lip.

I know, Ghiscar. You had every right to take revenge.

The family of the perpetrator flinched at the sight of the victim. But she had decided she would change.

“Treat him.”

“…What?”

Fate would not change, but it could shift. Diana had decided to walk the right path.