They knocked down the executioner in an instant and dragged her away from the guillotine. A carriage arrived just in time, and without giving her a chance to protest, they shoved her inside. As screams and bullets rained down and bombs exploded, Margo trembled and ducked her head.

Only after they reached a quiet suburb in the distance did her shaking subside. There were five people in the carriage. Their faces were rough and grim, but oddly, their gazes were filled with kindness. That fact gave her the courage to speak.

“Who… are you? Why did you save me?”

A woman with shaggy brown hair loosely braided answered in a language Margo couldn’t understand. A surge of fear hit her. Could they be assassins sent by Allen? Had he decided that even execution was too lenient…?

Torture flashed through her mind. It would be better to die falling from a moving carriage. As she dashed toward the door, the man sitting beside her hurriedly grabbed her.

“It’s dangerous, Your Highness.”

The pronunciation was unclear and awkward, but she understood this time. The honorific ‘Your Highness’ barely brought her to her senses.

“Who on earth are you?”

“We’ve come from Isiria.”

“…Isiria?”

Only then did she realize the woman’s earlier words resembled what Isirian nobles sometimes whispered into each other’s ears. A language Margo was neither allowed to learn nor even be curious about.

“Are you… rebels?”

“Yes.”

The plain answer gave her chills. Her nanny had warned her endlessly about how terrifying and brutal the Isirian rebels were. If she ever met them, she should kill herself to preserve her honor.

“I, I…”

“Your Highness.”

Before she could finish asking for a swift and painless death, the man took her hand. His scarred hand was rough but warm. In his eyes, there was none of the lifelong scorn or disdain she’d endured.

“We’ve come to save you. We’ve come to protect you, Your Highness.”

“Protect… me? Why?”

“Because you are our sovereign.”

Sovereign.

A word she had never considered in her life tore through her heart. It felt like her chest had been ripped open, and her throat burned.

“Sovereign…”

Her cursed homeland, the country she had hated.

To Margo, Isiria had always been nothing more than a birthplace that clung to her like a shackle and tormented her.

‘Isirian parasite.’

Every time she heard those whispered words behind fans, her heart ached.

She had prayed to be born a pauper in Castor instead. At least then she wouldn’t have had to endure such ridicule.

She had resented and cursed it all her life. Isiria, why did such a thing have to stick to me like a label…

And yet, it was Isiria that had come to save her.

In this very moment, when everyone else had turned their backs on her, pointing fingers and telling her to die.

“Let’s return to Isiria. Everyone is waiting for you, Your Highness.”

A heart she thought had gone still began to beat.

Margo, who had been raised in the Castor Imperial Palace since birth, had never set foot on Isirian land.

She didn’t know what crops grew there, what color the trees were, or what kind of bricks made up the houses. Whenever she showed even a hint of interest in Isiria, the emperor would fly into a rage. Besides, she had never been curious. She just hated it.

But now, the country she had hated so much, she missed so terribly.

Isiria, my country.

“Alright.”

And so, they traveled without sleep for a whole week. At times they rode ponies, other times they crossed mountains and rivers barefoot. They couldn’t change clothes properly, so the stench was unbearable, and grime streamed down their faces. Yet, these were the happiest, most fulfilling days Margo had ever known.

Once they reached the hideout, she would be able to bathe, change clothes, and put on a disguise to continue more comfortably. Holding on to her pounding heart, Margo stepped into the alley leading to the hideout.

And at that moment, bullets rained down.

“No! Theo, Luca! No, no, Vanessa!”

The people she had grown attached to over the past week collapsed one by one. As the alley turned crimson with blood, soldiers carrying rifles rushed in. Their deep blue uniforms were unmistakable. They were the Castor Empire’s Imperial Guards.

“Thanks to you, we found the Isirian rebel hideout.”

From the end of the line of soldiers, Allen walked forward. Sunlight streamed behind him, casting a glowing halo around his body. It was a scene so beautiful, it looked like an angel had descended.

But beneath that light were corpses piled high.

The ones who had shown Margo, who had believed she had no one on her side, that someone truly wished for her happiness—were all dead.

“How could you do this? How… how could anyone call themselves human…”

Unlike her filthy appearance, with grime streaming down her face like a beggar, Allen stood gleaming with well-groomed golden hair and clear, white skin. The stark contrast was like the future of the two nations.

Was Isiria destined to be trampled by Castor like this? All for having had foolish rulers, time and again?

“I hate you.”

She pointed at Allen as he approached. Unlike the younger days when he used to be saddened by such words, Allen now only smiled, amused. That terrifyingly hard shell was something Margo herself had created.

“I regret every moment I ever knew you.”

Allen drew a gun from inside his coat. The cold muzzle pressed against her forehead, but Margo didn’t close her eyes. She stared straight into his.

Death was coming. But she was no longer afraid.

Click. The cylinder rotated. Just like Allen, Margo lifted the corners of her lips. Once the sound stopped, he would pull the trigger.

With all her heart, Margo spoke her final words.

“Even in death, I’ll curse you.”

***

Clutching her forehead, burning like fire, Margo opened her eyes. The damp air, laced with the scent of herbs, made her cough. A delicate, lace canopy swayed gently before her eyes.

Heaven?

She had expected to end up in hell…

But why are there no wounds on my hands?

“Where…”

Before she could finish, the canopy was suddenly pulled back. Beyond the doctor holding a stethoscope, she saw a maid organizing a basin and wet towels. The strangely familiar scene made her blink.

“You’ve finally come to. Why on earth did you go to the lake at the detached palace? I warned you several times that it’s dangerous.”

A woman in a shimmering crimson dress approached, pouting. Even while nursing the patient, the glittering rings, bracelets, and elaborate necklace triggered a memory.

She was the nanny who had left the palace around the time Margo debuted in society. Since Margo had no parents, she was the only person she had relied on. Margo had begged her desperately to stay, but she left coldly. Later, Margo heard she had died of an endemic disease on the way to the estate granted by the Emperor. She had stopped eating and cried for a whole week.

Why is she here now?

“Thanks to Her Majesty’s quick decision, you were brought back to the main palace, and the royal physician treated you. If not, you might have never woken up. When will you finally come to your senses?”

Letting the nagging pass through one ear, Margo looked around. The moment she saw the calendar showing October, Imperial Year 375 of Castor, her dry lips parted in shock. Eight years ago.

“Inform His Highness the Crown Prince and Her Majesty that Her Highness Margarita has regained consciousness.”

“Understood.”

She snapped out of it as the doctor nodded arrogantly and left.

So this is it. Autumn of her fourteenth year, three months before her debutante ball.

Margo had fallen into the lake at the detached palace and almost died.

It was Allen who had called her there. Normally, she would have ignored him, but his expression had been so serious that she followed. The lake scattered with red and yellow leaves had been vividly blue. After waiting for a while in silence, when she said she was leaving, he suddenly held out a ring.

“What is this? Don’t tell me… is this a proposal?”

It was such a worn-out ring, it made her scoff. The opal at the center was so cloudy it looked about to crack. Seeing him hesitate and unable to answer, her temper flared.

“Don’t joke around!”

It was a political engagement without love anyway. When they were young and giggling while pulling on fabric together, there was at least some sibling-like affection. Now, only resentment remained.

She didn’t expect an extravagant proposal like others had, but it should at least be decent enough not to be embarrassing. And yet, such a tiny, worn-out opal ring.

If it was meant to mock her station, he had succeeded.

Pretending to be a gentleman, but you looked at me that way too. A pathetic fiancée who doesn’t know her place.

Did you think I’d quietly shrink back into a corner and watch my step? Without me, the Isirian Peninsula succession rights won’t be yours either. You’re the one who should be careful.

She threw the ring into the lake. Plop. The sound was faint and fragile, the ripples barely noticeable. Watching Allen stare blankly at it cleared her stifled chest a little.

“No matter how much I— Allen, what are you doing? Get out! Allen!”

Over that pitiful, worn ring, Allen jumped into the lake. Though it appeared calm, the lake at the detached palace was notorious for drownings. Rumors of its danger never ceased, but as it was a sacred site, even the Emperor couldn’t touch it.

“Allen, don’t!”

The moment he sank beneath the surface chasing that ring, Margo’s reason also snapped. He was the Empire’s hope, its future, its light. The perfect crown prince who had saved the emperor, who had been forced into a succession war from birth.

The Emperor often said that Allen alone was worth more than all her other children. If someone like Allen drowned because of a parasite like Margo…

She didn’t even want to imagine it. Her body moved before she could think. Better to die with him. Only when water filled her lungs did she see Allen’s shocked face swimming toward her.

Oh, right. Unlike me, you can swim.

For nearly a week after, she suffered a terrible fever and nearly died. The opal ring lost that day was never recovered. Since it was an incident that left them both wounded, neither brought it up again.

But now, unlike her memory, an opal ring was on Margo’s finger. Proudly worn on her left ring finger.

“His Highness the Crown Prince has arrived.”

At the attendant’s announcement, her head snapped up. Before she could respond, her nanny gave permission, and the door opened. He would enter soon.

Above a white uniform embroidered with fine gold thread, eyes as clear and blue as a tropical sea gleamed dazzlingly. The curves formed by his sun-like golden hair were breathtakingly beautiful.

Allen, how could you be…

In the past and the distant future, no word but perfection ever came to mind.

“Margo.”

Unaware of anything, he approached and tilted his head slightly. Sunlight from the window scattered in his eyes, which were filled with concern.

Disgustingly so.