The Tyrant's Terminally-Ill Childhood Friend (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 5
Lowell knew well that she had been unlucky her entire life. In some places, black cats were considered omens of misfortune, and from the moment she was born with black hair, Lowell could never escape her ill-fated destiny—from receiving a terminal diagnosis at the age of ten to her family’s utter ruin and her arrival here. She had never once known good fortune.
‘…But.’
She had desperately hoped this, at least, wouldn’t happen.
Why was fate so cruel only to me?
In that moment, she could read every emotion flickering across the Emperor’s face.
Anger, contempt, hatred, and longing. The Emperor twisted his face savagely and spoke.
“If you’re so eager to become a replacement for the dead, then so be it. Go ahead—try living with that dead life.”
The Emperor spoke with a mocking laugh, then slowly lifted his face. Just as he seemed about to leave, for some reason he leaned forward, locking eyes with Lowell. His gaze lingered on her as if searching for something.
In that expression, she recognized her own self from mere moments ago.
The way one looks at someone resembling a dearly missed person, desperately trying to find any difference.
It was despairingly identical to how she herself had just behaved. Realizing this, Lowell opened her mouth as though grasping at falling shards of glass.
“…If I am Your Majesty’s ‘Lowell,’”
The Emperor’s gaze instantly deepened—no, it grew heavier, as if ready to crush her to death right then and there.
But Lowell didn’t care. Even as her hand, clutching the falling glass shards, bled profusely, she refused to let go. Though she knew it couldn’t possibly be the lifeline that would save her, she held on out of sheer desperation—because she simply had to grasp onto something.
“Then… may I call you Peter?”
There was no reply. Lowell hoped with all her heart that the Emperor would refuse. She prayed he would never again utter that name in this manner.
But fortune had never been on her side.
“…Go ahead and say it.”
“Peter.”
The answer slipped out as if it had been waiting. She saw the Emperor’s brow twitch slightly.
Of course. If it were the boy she knew, it couldn’t have been otherwise. The boy she remembered would feel his heart flutter at the mere sound of his name spoken by her. Even the smallest things—meeting eyes, fingertips brushing—were irreplaceable joys to him. Lowell knew that Peter well.
Was this despair or ecstasy? Without even realizing it, her tongue once again shaped the name she’d longed for.
“Peter.”
Lowell raised her hand, meeting his pale blue eyes. Her delicate fingertips, fragile like glasswork, neared the corner of his eye. It was a gesture young Lowell had often done for young Peter—gently stroking the outer corner of his eye with her thumb while locking gazes.
At that touch, Peter’s heartbeat would instantly quicken, his face scrunching up as his cheeks flushed red.
Just like the man before her now.
Tap. Lowell’s fingertip touched his soft skin—or rather, the instant she felt it touch—
a powerful grip seized her hand, and her body was roughly pinned onto the bed. It took only a fleeting moment for her slender throat to be captured in the sovereign’s grasp.
“How dare you… you…”
There was no trace of amusement left on the Emperor’s face. His voice growled low in his throat, savage and resonant in Lowell’s ear. Only then did she realize the situation she was in—and that the Emperor’s patience had completely run out.
The same tension she’d felt moments ago when their lips had met now raced up her spine. Her breath was entirely in the Emperor’s hands. In that sense, exchanging murderous intent was not so different from a kiss—especially in how each sought to steal the other’s breath. Then perhaps, deep affection and hatred were separated by nothing more than a sheet of paper.
Her crushed throat ached. Having exposed her vital point, if the Emperor lost even a sliver of restraint now, her neck would snap like a dry twig.
Would he truly kill me this time?
In that instant of doubt, Lowell felt something trickle down her temple.
It was an involuntary tear—brought on purely by her constricted airway, entirely beyond her control.
Yet, strangely, the hand gripping her throat went limp at that moment. With a sigh so brief it was almost imperceptible, the Emperor stepped back from Lowell. It was practically a retreat—something one might even call a flight.
Did that man even realize what expression he was making right now?
If someone had encountered their worst nightmare in reality, they would surely wear exactly that face.
Confusion, terror, and anxiety flooded the Emperor’s features—but only for a fleeting moment. He was, after all, still in his right mind, and could recognize that this was no nightmare.
And so, once the confusion cleared, anger took its place.
“…Stop playing with my memories. It’s revolting.”
Thud. Only when the sound of the closing door reached her ears did Lowell sit up. The flowers adorning her hair, crushed slightly from lying down, fluttered off like petals at her movement.
“…Ha.”
But none of that mattered now. Ha—Lowell laughed. It was a dry, hollow laugh.
With nowhere left to deny or retreat, driven to the edge of a cliff like a madwoman, she laughed wildly for a long while before abruptly cutting it off and murmuring,
“Yes… It’s you. Peter.”
My only lingering attachment. The reason I must live.
There was no denying it any longer. The Emperor was Peter.
Why hadn’t she realized it sooner? The Emperor’s name was Peter von der Leyen Belphaga.
‘Was I too fixated on the imperial house name “von der Leyen”?’
Or perhaps it was simply because “Peter” was such a common nickname. In truth, that was precisely why Lowell had never found him all this time.
Now, at last, every piece fit together.
Why the Emperor wanted a noblewoman with black hair as his bride. Why she happened to match that condition so uncannily perfectly.
Ten years ago, the boy who loved her more than anyone in the world still hadn’t forgotten her—even though she was believed dead.
How absurd.
Because she herself had returned to kill him.
A single tear slipped down Lowell’s cheek with the blink of an eye, and a parched voice, brittle like crumbling petals, escaped her lips.
“Peter, you should have killed me just now.”
Until the moment she entered the imperial palace, Lowell’s goal had been simple: kill the Emperor. If only his life could be ended, she truly didn’t care about anything else.
But everything changed after meeting Peter.
The moment she realized the Emperor was the boy from her memories, the affection, longing, and tenderness she’d quietly nurtured alone for ten years collapsed in an instant, transforming into bitter betrayal.
Nothing was as cruel as love once shattered.
It was a feeling entirely different from mere anger or vengeance.
She no longer desired only the Emperor’s death.
‘You must despair.’
Lowell intended to ruin the Emperor.
Just as her own life had been utterly ruined.
She closed her eyes, gently stroking her swollen, reddened throat.
‘Peter.’
I’ll make you regret not faltering when I offered you my neck today.
[This is the timeline separator]“I like that your hair is black.”
In childhood, Peter used to comb Lowell’s hair every day. Though it took considerable effort to make it gleam, Peter always insisted on setting aside time to brush her long tresses.
Perhaps because, during that time, he had Lowell all to himself.
Of course, Lowell always scoffed at such behavior.
“The miller’s second daughter also has black hair.”
“But her eyes are brown. Yours are black.”
“That’s funny. Do you even know how many maids in our mansion have black eyes?”
“Seven.”
This time, Lowell was slightly taken aback—she hadn’t expected such a quick reply. Counting on her fingers, she named them one by one.
“Anna, Sophia, Marie, Lu… Seriously? You actually counted them all?”
“If I can see them, why wouldn’t I know?”
His matter-of-fact response, devoid of any boastfulness, narrowed Lowell’s eyes.
“Then do you know how many maids have both black eyes and black hair?”
“…I don’t care. I only need to know you.”
“You’re lying. You know.”
Peter had always been an unusually perceptive child. If he knew how many maids had black eyes, could he really not know how many had both black eyes and black hair? Peter only pretended ignorance when it came to Lowell—and Lowell knew this well.
When the Lowell in the mirror pouted, Peter’s hand, silently combing her hair, stilled.
“Lowell.”
Instead, he tilted his head to meet her eyes in the mirror.
“Do you dislike that I like you?”
The question, devoid of any playfulness, sounded far too serious for a child. Yet Lowell liked that seriousness—the stubborn sincerity that clearly couldn’t feign indifference, and the honest openness with which he never hid his feelings.
That was precisely why she played these spiteful little tricks—just to hear those words.
“I like everything about you, Lowell.”
Yes, exactly those words.
Having heard what she longed for, Lowell quickly turned around to look up at Peter. Her black eyes sparkling, she asked,
“Peter, would you still like me even if I were a bad girl?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I were so sick I might die young?”
“I’d still like you even if you were ill.”
“Then… would you still like me even if I treated you terribly?”
“Yes.”
Peter always nodded. In truth, Lowell was more often not a good girl, and frequently snapped at Peter—but he remained unwavering.
“As long as you don’t hate me, I’ll like you no matter what you do.”
When scheming men desperately battle for her favor in the male harem
This one’s also on my reread list! The rivalry, scheming between the men in the imperial harem are just as intense and thrilling as in classic palace drama novels, where concubines fight to the death. Give it a read, girls! I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Synopsis:
“I am not worthy of her… but I still want to be by her side, even if only as a loyal dog…”
Those were the painful whispers of Yue Guanyi – the proud Crown Prince of the Great Qi, who was torn between deep love and a guilty conscience. Despite holding the supreme power of the Imperial Guard, he still could not forget the dark past when he was sold into a brothel.
Fate played a cruel twist when Qiu Shuzhi – a young female official who had just passed the imperial examinations with top honors – stepped into his life. She did not know that she was the one who had saved him from a tragic fate many years ago. And now, her heart was the target of pursuit for both Yue Guanyi and the powerful Empress Dowager Qin Qing.
While Yue Guanyi only dared to silently care for and protect the one he loved from afar, the Empress Dowager Qin Qing openly expressed his feelings and did not hesitate to take advantage of his power to approach Qiu Shuzhi. The covert struggle between the two most powerful forces in the imperial court began…
Trigger warning: All men in this novel are yandere style.
_____
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