Lesotia, a city that was almost reduced to ruins because of the Dermayer Empire, is a blood-red city.

This land where I live is estimated to have been the prosperous capital of a kingdom established by the Thessarians from about 2,000 years before the Imperial calendar was created until its inception.

There is a saying that ‘this city is as old as the time light itself has existed.’

This was technically an inaccurate statement, as the time when light came into existence in this world would have been before this land, let alone this city, existed.

It was merely a metaphor for how old this city was.

The reason this city could survive and have such an endless history was due to its unique geography. Surrounded by rocky cliffs and with red sandstone hills blurring its boundaries, Lesotia was a perfect desert hideaway.

About 1,000 years ago, when the Dermayer Empire was born, enemies mercilessly trampled this land.

To those who had already conquered many countries and declared themselves the Dermayer Empire, this beautiful but small city was nothing more than good prey.

However, Wesley Schneider, the ruler who founded the empire at the time, declared after setting foot on this land:

“It will be preserved as a principality.”

This is why the current Lesotia can still have the status of an independent country while being geographically right next to the powerful country of Dermayer.

But time passed, and a great civilization arose on what was once desert land. Now, the only evidence that this place was a desert remained only in the border regions of Lesotia.

“Aaaaaargh!”

I woke up from my sleep with a bolt of lightning splitting the pitch-black night sky.

I sat up, forcing strength into my body that wouldn’t rise as if paralyzed, but the terrible dream continued.

“So, the girl from the eastern country who couldn’t even read or write ended up being burned at the stake.”

Whoosh, before the words were finished, flames rose before my eyes. The eastern country that the people in the dream spoke of was a term used by the people of the Dermayer Empire to look down on the Principality of Lesotia.

“Daring to attempt to substitute for the holy maiden’s work was indeed a great sin for a witch.”

The witch who was writhing in agony in the terribly blazing flames was none other than me.

“Too, too hot. Please… save me.”

It was at that moment. Someone walked steadily into those tremendous flames. Whoosh, the fire spread, but he did not stop. There was not a single sign of disturbance, as if strolling through a night garden. Surely, that couldn’t be human.

Yet, my heart was torn to pieces at the sight of him. A feeling of resentment, unclear towards whom, boiled intensely.

“You have a chance.”

A sudden thin, long voice like a moan.

“Yes, whatever it is, hurry, hurry and give me a chance!”

In response to my desperate cry as I burned in the fire, the voice echoing in the void laughed with an eerie sound.

Rumble, crash.

As thunder roared once more, I suddenly understood everything.

I had just died.

It wasn’t something someone taught me. Everything just was. The silence like death was, the loneliness deeper than the deep sea was, the feeling of being pushed out of my body was.

Then at some point, light poured into the pitch-black world. Reflexively following the light, I ended up opening my eyes again.

I looked around the room. Nothing had changed.

I hadn’t turned into someone else, nor had my circumstances changed.

Lienne Lowy Pennel.

The black sheep of the Pennel Count’s family. A ten-year-old illegitimate child who couldn’t utter a word until she was on the verge of death from neglect by the maids.

In my memories, I loved a man.

Ricardo Gardarelli Rochester.

The heir to the Rochester family, one of the three great ducal houses of the empire, and the next emperor chosen by the oracle.

“The one who will kill his father and become the sun in the sky.”

If my memory is real, the protagonist of this terrible prophecy would now be staying in the east wing, opposite to the west wing where I am staying.

As a nameless child in the east wing.

‘If I’m ten years old now, Ricardo must be… twelve?’

Suddenly, Ricardo’s fine, fluttering black hair and eyes as dark as the deep sea that seemed to cover all emotions came to mind.

Just recalling his image made my heart ache painfully.

‘What kind of emotion is this?’

While deeply contemplating my emotions, a realization suddenly attacked me.

“Gasp!”

I covered my mouth at the voice that burst out louder than expected.

‘So what? It means I die burning in fire for coveting Ricardo, right?’

Ha, is that all?

As is typical of all protagonists of prophecies, Ricardo inevitably spends a painful childhood. And the source of that pain is right here, in the Pennel Count’s mansion.

The one who brutally abused Ricardo was Justin Lowy Pennel, the eldest son of the Pennel family.

He was, so to speak, a pervert who loved art.

Ugh, I swallowed an unrefined groan.

“Probably three years…”

If my memory is correct, things too horrible to even mention continue for three more years from now.

The result was terrible.

The Pennel family is annihilated for kidnapping, imprisoning, and even abusing the eldest son of an imperial ducal family.

But fortunately, I was able to survive the family’s annihilation. It was because I was staying in the west wing, far from the main building.

Even more so because I wasn’t even registered in the family lineage.

“Should I be grateful for surviving thanks to that?”

Slowly getting up, I carefully felt around the objects in the dark room.

My memories after Ricardo left this mansion were not complete. They existed only in fragments, like paintings in an exhibition.

The only thing certain was that for some reason, I would go to the empire as an adult and meet Ricardo again there.

And there, I end up doing something I absolutely shouldn’t do.

The manifestation of the Rochester family’s ability.

Bringing forth the powers of Rochester was solely the role of the holy maiden of the time.

It was clear that Ricardo would possess the family’s ability more excellently than anyone else in Rochester, which meant the holy maiden already existed.

The problem was that it clearly wasn’t me.

“Ah…”

A deep sigh escaped through my throat involuntarily.

‘How on earth did I manage to bring about Ricardo’s manifestation?’

Although I couldn’t remember how I helped with the manifestation, one thing was clear. The result was too miserable to even recall.

The most terrible punishment said to be given only to witches, burning at the stake.

At that moment when I recalled the memory of watching the fire spread all over my body while standing in the center of people accusing me of being a witch, goosebumps suddenly rose.

Rumble crash, as if God was warning me, thunder and lightning struck simultaneously.

Perhaps the chance that the thin voice like a moan spoke of meant to live this life properly again.

What I had to do from now on was simpler than I thought.

Ensure that Ricardo doesn’t spend a miserable childhood.

Never go to the empire to find him.

And no matter how handsome he is, never fall in love.

“I’m confident about that, if nothing else.”

As the tasks were determined, all the thoughts that had been troubling me slowly subsided.

The night without lightning was pitch dark.

I looked out the window where nothing could be seen. In the quiet world, with a loud sound of swoosh, heavy raindrops began to run from afar.

At that moment, as a small commotion arose outside the door, I quickly climbed onto the bed and lay down. The poorly maintained door opened with a creaky, eerie sound.

As the door opened, a gloomy yellow light extended all the way to the bed in the room as dark as death.

“Ugh, it’s cold.”

Squinting my eyes to observe, I saw three young women who appeared to be maids, shivering and poking only their heads in. They pushed each other’s backs and reluctantly entered the room. The light from the lamps the maids were holding flickered unsteadily, illuminating the bed.

I quickly closed my eyes again.

“She must really be dead.”

“I told you so.”

White breath rose from the mouth of the woman speaking in fear.

“No, no way.”

“Look. There’s not a hint of blood in her face. Check if she’s breathing.”

“Why, why me?”

As one maid brought the lamp light close to my eyelids, the afterimage of the light remained on my closed eyes.

“Hey, Betty, didn’t you put firewood in here yesterday?”

“What? That was your job.”

No wonder it felt so cold. As soon as I heard those words, I felt the fierce cold that seemed to pierce through my skin anew.

“So what are we going to do now?”

“What do you mean what? There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll leave traces of lighting a fire even now and report to the head maid tomorrow morning that she died. Who would even care?”

Everyone seemed to agree with the brazen woman’s voice, as the sound of busy movements was heard. Meanwhile, I slowly sat up. Thanks to the lamps they brought, the surroundings were a bit brighter. The room was small, but it felt empty with only a bed and a wardrobe as furniture.

Looking ahead, I saw the three women frantically trying to light the fireplace.

“Hey, you all.”

My throat, unused to speaking for a long time, couldn’t produce a proper voice. Clearing my throat, I called out in a slightly louder voice.

“Betty.”

“Why are you calling? I’m busy now, why won’t this fire light? Do it properly.”

I called the name once more, emphasizing each syllable.

“Betty.”

This time they seemed to hear properly, as the women’s actions stopped all at once.

As the maids slowly turned their heads and met my eyes, they let out a “Hiiik!” and collapsed on the floor. With that gust of skirts, the fire in the fireplace suddenly blazed up.