Chapter 3

She Went Mad (3)

And so she met Asar again.

Killed him.

Then killed herself.

After that, the past continued to repeat itself.

Every time Veronica died and opened her eyes again, she returned to being sixteen years old. And every single time, she met Asar Roel Diasta and killed him.

She stabbed him with scissors.

Smashed a water bottle over him and drove the broken glass into his throat.

She lured him to a pond under the pretense of taking a walk, shoved his face underwater, and drowned him.

She pushed him down the stairs.

Pretended to accept his proposal, then followed him afterward and murdered him.

She even hired mercenaries willing to do filthy work for enough money, secretly abducted him, tortured him, and killed him.

She never hesitated to mutilate that beautiful face of his.

She killed him.

Again and again and again.

So many times she could no longer count.

Sometimes she returned to the past almost unconsciously, only to kill him once more.

She became addicted to the satisfaction of revenge.

Killing Asar felt like the only joy left in her life.

Even though she knew it was murder, she felt nothing.

How many times had she killed him?

Enough to grow sick of it.

And eventually, after the rage burning black within her chest finally began to cool, a thought suddenly surfaced.

What was the point of any of this?

Then she became exhausted.

I don’t want to see him anymore.

The next time she opened her eyes, she did not kill him.

Instead, she simply stared at his falsely gentle smile.

For the first time, seeing him stirred absolutely no emotion within her.

Asar looked confused by her indifference, but Veronica had already made her decision.

“I no longer love Your Highness. Therefore, I must reject your proposal.”

Firmly and clearly, she refused him.

Naturally, Asar looked shocked, but Veronica politely excused herself.

She believed that reason alone should have been enough for him to understand.

Afterward, she had a long conversation with her father, Harry Hardiness.

“Didn’t you desperately wish to marry Prince Roel all this time? You cried without eating for days. May I ask why you suddenly changed your mind?”

“Father… I was too young. I was blinded by love and acted immaturely. How could I ever be happy marrying someone who doesn’t love me? I don’t want to force my feelings onto him anymore, nor do I wish to remain involved with him. It’s not because I’m disappointed. I simply… want to be truly happy now.”

“Veronica, my beloved daughter. Someday, you will surely meet someone who truly loves you.”

“Yes, Father.”

Her father embraced her and gently patted her back.

Held within his large, warm arms, Veronica realized something.

Through all her countless regressions, she had never truly allowed herself to rejoice over seeing her father alive again.

Only then did she finally feel genuine happiness at the fact that he was still alive.

And she vowed never to make him unhappy again.

After that, she lived an ordinary life.

It had been so long since she had even remembered what “ordinary” felt like, but it was surprisingly pleasant.

At eighteen, she met a man during a social ball and developed mutual affection with him.

Because of her betrayal in love, she could never completely give her heart away again, but he said that was fine.

Soon afterward, they exchanged engagement rings.

She spent her days taking bridal lessons while eagerly waiting for their wedding.

The lessons were tedious, yet strangely enjoyable.

It had been so long since she’d lived peacefully that Veronica could barely remember what such a life felt like.

And then time passed.

Her wedding day approached.

The two families exchanged portraits and discussed the procedures, dowry arrangements, and division of property in the event of divorce.

She had a beautiful wedding dress tailored for herself.

Standing before it, she whispered old childhood memories with her father.

She truly believed all that remained now was happiness.

Then—

The day before the wedding, imperial soldiers stormed into the estate and arrested her father.

The charge was the same as always:

Conspiring with rebels to assassinate the Emperor.

The future she thought had finally ended cast its shadow over her once more.

The soldiers ransacked the estate.

All of the family’s private soldiers were arrested.

Her wedding dress was trampled mercilessly beneath their boots.

This time, the person who accused her father was a maid from the estate.

The maid produced one of the letters sent to Harry as evidence and falsely testified that he had created a rebel faction to seize imperial power.

The family’s wealth was confiscated.

House Hardiness fell once again.

The wedding was canceled.

Her fiancé abandoned her.

Everyone left her behind.

At first, Veronica could not understand what had gone wrong.

So she returned once more to age sixteen and drove that maid out of the estate. She ignored the girl’s tearful pleas not to be abandoned.

Surely everything would be fine now that the culprit was gone—

But this time, it was a servant who betrayed them instead, fabricating evidence that her father had raised rebels.

When Veronica returned again and expelled the servant, another betrayal followed.

Then it was the cook.

The head servant.

The coachman.

Another maid.

And countless others.

Each time, someone stole her father’s letters and fabricated testimony that destroyed their family.

No matter how many times she returned to the past, the outcome never changed.

It was as though new traitors endlessly appeared to replace her role.

By then, Veronica had long since lost her sanity.

She tried desperately to save her father and prevent the destruction of their family.

But even if she replaced every servant in the estate, another betrayer always emerged.

She sought help from powerful people, only to be ignored.

And even when someone finally offered assistance, betrayal awaited her again.

“Why… why… WHY?!”

Why did it always happen the same way?!

Why wouldn’t anything change?!

Eventually, she simply wanted to run away.

She begged her father to abandon the estate and flee somewhere far away together.

And her father accepted.

They fled as far as they possibly could.

Their circumstances became far worse than before, but Veronica didn’t care.

Yet even there, her father was accused of forming rebels and dragged away.

Even at such an impossible distance.

No matter what she did, the future never changed.

Veronica was forced to watch her father’s severed head fall before her feet hundreds of times.

Covered in his blood, trembling uncontrollably.

At some point, she began returning against her will.

How could anyone remain sane after that?

Eventually, Veronica simply wanted to die.

She wanted this life to end.

But no matter how she died, she always returned to being sixteen.

So the moment she awakened, she often threw herself from the window immediately.

The result never changed.

Hanging herself.

Stabbing herself.

Jumping from high places.

Drowning.

Even horrific accidents that twisted and shattered her body—

No matter how she died, she always awoke once more inside the bedroom of her sixteen-year-old self.

Only then did she finally understand.

This endless repetition was a curse.

Opening her eyes, Veronica stared at her dry hands through tangled hair.

The rough, dirt-covered hands she once used while living far away had become clean again, as though it had all been a lie.

In that distant place, they had lived self-sufficiently because the town was too far away to visit often. They had few servants, so everyone helped one another.

Sweating was unpleasant.

Manual labor had been exhausting.

But it hadn’t been bad.

And now none of it existed anymore.

“Why… am I the one suffering through this?”

For the first time, Veronica began to wonder.

Why did she keep returning to age sixteen?

Why was it always the moment of Asar’s proposal?

She had to end this curse.

From that day onward, she searched frantically for a solution.

But this, too, led nowhere.

How could she possibly find an answer when she didn’t even know why this was happening?

She dug endlessly for answers.

Gave up.

Clung to hope.

Forced herself onward.

Collapsed and shattered.

Then pieced herself back together and stood again—

Only to fall into despair once more.

Again and again, Veronica watched her father’s severed head tumble before her.

Staring blankly at the rolling face, she slowly lifted her gaze.

And there he stood.

The man who had become nothing more than a fading memory.

Despite being drenched in her father’s blood countless times, Asar never changed.

He remained noble and untouchable.

He always obtained what he desired.

Because no matter how many times Veronica killed him, he returned alive and unharmed in the next life.

Why are you the only one standing there untouched?

While I am this miserable?

Though he had once been the Emperor’s neglected fourth son, Asar eventually ascended the throne.

He personally slew the Emperor and claimed he would purge the corruption rotting the imperial family.

To the people, he became hope appearing at the brink of ruin.

A savior.

The masses praised him like fanatics.

They called it destiny ordained by God.

They proclaimed that God himself had chosen Asar to become Emperor.

They sang that God loved him.

Thinking back on it now, Veronica realized her curse had begun with hatred toward him.

She died resenting him.

The moment she returned to the past, she sought revenge.

She killed him endlessly.

And rejoiced while watching him die.

If this truly had been arranged by God…

Did God want her to kill the man He loved?

Or had God wanted her to forgive him, abandon her hatred, and live a new life instead?

If this truly had been a divine opportunity, perhaps God never wished for Asar to die at all.

And because Veronica had continued killing him—

Perhaps she had earned divine wrath instead.

“Ahah… ahahaha… ahahahahaha!”

Left alone once more, Veronica clutched her stomach and laughed.

She could not stop laughing.

Her twisted face looked as though she might be either laughing or crying, but the sound spilling from her lips was disturbingly cheerful.

Wasn’t there a saying that one person’s happiness is built upon another’s misery?

Like the two sides of a scale.

Some people called that fate.

And was his fate truly to become Emperor—

With his happiness existing only because of her suffering?

Truthfully, even Veronica no longer knew which parts were real.

Perhaps she had simply gone so insane that she needed to invent some reason for her pain.

But one thing was certain.

Every moment of her misery had likely been filled with his happiness.

Veronica slowly stopped sobbing and covered her face with both hands.

Then she dragged her nails down across her skin.

Her flesh tore open, blood running down her cheeks like tears.

She thought of Asar.

She regretted every single moment she had ever spent with him.

She wanted to rip apart every memory they shared.

And the hatred she had once tried so hard to bury carved itself into her heart once more.

Taking up a sword, she left the estate.

Then she attacked the imperial procession celebrating Asar’s coronation.

But her rage never even reached him.

The soldiers recognized her face and immediately seized her.

She was imprisoned deep within the imperial palace dungeon.

And that became the end.

—

When Veronica opened her eyes again, she found herself trapped in that detestable age of sixteen once more.

The maids informed her that a guest had arrived, dressed her carefully, and led her to the reception room.

And there stood Asar.

The unbearably familiar scene unfolded before her once again.

“Lady Hardiness. I wish to propose to you.”

Asar bent gracefully and kissed the back of her hand.

Veronica stared at him emotionlessly before finally speaking.

“Prince Asar Roel Diasta.”

“Yes, Lady Hardiness.”

“I’m sorry, but I no longer love Your Highness.”

“…What?”

“There is someone else I admire.”

At her sudden declaration, Asar’s eyes widened in shock.

Veronica pulled her hand free from his grasp and turned away.

Then she walked toward another man standing at a distance, silently observing the situation with crossed arms.

As she approached him unexpectedly, the man stiffened in surprise and uncrossed his arms. The displeased expression on his face momentarily softened into confusion.

Veronica stopped before him and looked up into his face.

The Emperor’s illegitimate son.

The Empire’s fifth prince.

But Veronica knew him best by another title:

Asar’s half-brother.

The younger brother Asar cherished most dearly.

Cassian Theron Diasta.

Veronica extended her hand toward Cassian.

“Will you propose to me?”