Arabella opened her eyes. Something felt strange. The soft sheets that surrounded her body and the warm sunshine coming in through the window were a sharp contrast to what she had just experienced.
'Where am I?'
She closed her eyes tightly. The regret of not being able to kill the man who took her family away from her burned deep inside, but when she came to her senses, she found herself lying in a completely different place. At least it was more comfortable than the hell she had just endured. She had never lain in a soft bed like this since her whole family was annihilated. After that, she hadn't slept peacefully once, always fearing the haunting memories of her past.
It felt as if she had returned to an earlier time in her life, a time when everything was still going well, when she still had her family with her.
'It's like I've gone back in time... wait... what?!'
Arabella scrambled out of bed. As she rose from the large queen-size bed, she looked around at the familiar surroundings.
'How could this be possible? I'm supposed to be dead...'
She looked around again. On one side of the wall were the little paintings she had made with her sister when she was eight, and the red strips of fabric they had tied for wishes on her sister's sixteenth birthday. She walked to the strips and plucked one. The words she had written were still vivid and clear; there was no mistaking her own handwriting.
It was her room. Everything was too perfect for it to be a recreation. She couldn't comprehend how all this was happening. A moment ago, she was on a battlefield, and now she was back in time.
'How?'
After standing in shock for a moment, the wind slowly blew open her curtains, drawing her attention to the view outside. She walked to the window in a daze, running her hands along its familiar wooden surface before fully opening it. The unmistakable blossom trees met her eyes, and her heart jolted as an empty feeling arose within her.
She could never forget her home. Not once in her life did she forget this place and all the memories she had made with her siblings.
'How am I here? This...'
She missed this part of her life so much—the time she lived with her family, the time she was still called Arabella Boxton. She had always used her family name with pride. The Boxton family had only been around for a few generations, yet they had produced five lines of the kingdom's generals.
As the eldest daughter, she took care of her family after they lost their mother. She assumed the responsibility of a mother in the mansion. Sometimes it became difficult to care for her sister while managing the household, but it was a peaceful life, and there was nothing to complain about.
It wasn't until she lost everything later that she realized how happy their lives had been. She remembered the day their peaceful lives were destroyed in the blink of an eye. She remembered the last time she had looked upon this colorful garden. There were no beautiful flowers, only dozens of torches advancing toward the mansion in perfect order. It was as if they were coming closer to her, even though there was nothing there now. She couldn't shake off her anxious mind. She couldn't forget that terrible day.
The memories slowly returned, and Arabella shook her head and turned away from the window. As she looked back into the room, her eyes caught sight of a mirror hanging on the wall.
"Is this really me?" she murmured to herself in wonder.
Reflected in the mirror was a noble lady in a silk nightdress with beautiful, classic red hair and milky white skin. Her eyes were green like the finest grass, and she had a straight, pointed nose. That was her.
The last image of herself she remembered was very different from the one reflected in the mirror. As she stared quietly at herself, her green eyes trembled in surprise. It seemed far too real to be a dream. Though her natural beauty had not completely faded, she had never had such a fine figure during her career as a soldier. Since she had decided to avenge her family and began to carry a sword, she had cut off her long hair and developed blisters on her hands from daily hard training. As time passed, her naturally gentle eyes became venomous, and her milky white skin turned bronze. Only a cold, hardened woman was left. However, even she could not perfectly recreate the distant images in her memory, even if it were a fantasy.
"What the hell is going on?"
She touched her face with a perplexed expression. Suddenly, the door opened. Arabella turned her head, a frown on her face. As soon as she saw the person who entered, she completely froze. Her green eyes widened in surprise before her trembling lips could even speak.
"Sister Ara!"
Anne walked into the room, smiling warmly like the morning sun. It all felt like a dream. Arabella forced herself to watch with breathless attention. Anne's brown hair and dark blue eyes reminded her of their mother.
Anne tilted her head briefly at Arabella's strange expression, but soon smiled and happily looked up at her.
"What's that look on your face? You're not planning to scold me for barging in, are you? If you're going to scold me and talk about manners, do it later. I have something to tell you. You might be surprised to know this."
Arabella's eyes moistened as she watched Anne speaking happily before her. Is this a dream? It had to be. Otherwise, Anne would not have appeared in front of her like this again. If it's a dream... She hoped she would never wake up from it. Tears began to slip down her cheeks. Anne was surprised to suddenly see her crying.
"Sister Ara? Is something wrong?"
Watching Anne anxiously, Arabella couldn't answer. She bit her lips to stop the sobs rising in her throat and wordlessly took Anne's body into her arms. She was afraid this moment would end forever if she made a sound.
Arabella clearly remembered the last time she had seen her sister. It was a moonless night, but it had been illuminated by flames burning down the dignified general's mansion. Her sister had been surrounded by evil men and screaming in a much different voice than she was now.
"Sister Ara! Help, Sister Ara!"
There was the sound of Anne's nightdress tearing. Arabella had never once forgotten those blood-curdling screams. It was a tragedy that happened overnight in the Boxton mansion. It was her brother Henry who had caught her running toward Anne. He whispered sadly but firmly in her ear, 'It's too late, Ara.' If Henry had not shut Arabella's mouth and dragged her away from the place, she could have died there with her sister. How good would that have been? For a long time, she felt sorry for herself. Her lovely sister... she regretted that she couldn't save her.
She hugged Anne tightly, shedding silent tears. She would never miss her second chance. Nothing mattered now, whether it was a dream or reality—just seeing Anne again was enough.
Anne looked at Arabella's face with a troubled expression and immediately raised her hand to pat her older sister's back.
"Don't cry, Sister Ara."
Arabella could no longer hold in her sobs, and they burst from her lips. Anne waited silently as she patted her back while Arabella let out all the grief she had endured in her life as a cold-hearted soldier. The comfort from Anne's hand was so warm that Arabella could not stop crying.
As time passed, Arabella composed herself. She was still hugging Anne, and the warmth coming from her body was real. Arabella murmured to herself with an incredulous look, "This isn't a dream, right?"
Seeking to dispel the doubt in her mind, she hurriedly released her embrace and grabbed her sister's shoulders, examining her properly.
Anne gave Arabella a worried frown and asked, "You're having a hard time managing the household alone, aren't you?"
"Huh?"
Arabella couldn't help but widen her eyes again as she watched Anne speaking as if she were really there in front of her. This wasn't a dream or a fantasy. Moreover, it felt so real. The Anne in front of her looked too alive for that. Anne continued to speak with a gloomy face, as if she mistook Arabella's dumbstruck look for a scolding about her immature behavior.
"It's just that, for the first time, the crown prince, who has always been away on the battlefield, will show up at the coming grand ball. I really wanted to go there with you—"
"Which crown prince?"
"What's wrong with you today? You're acting strange... I'm talking about the same crown prince you know. The crown prince of our kingdom, of course."
Arabella's head began to spin rapidly, but she knew which crown prince Anne was talking about. Their kingdom was ruled by King Frederick and was one of the largest kingdoms in all the lands for generations. And rumors had it that King Frederick's first son, the crown prince, was a bloodthirsty demon.
However, King Frederick had a kind nature and helped develop a land that cared more about kingdom affairs than war. Under him, the kingdom, once obsessed with bloodshed and war, came to prosperity. However, in order to achieve this, it was said that the previous king intentionally chose the gentle-hearted Frederick as his successor over his brutal eldest son, Cornell.
Nevertheless, the problem was with Cornell, the same man who had killed her family. Cornell was at first thought to become the next king, but in the end, he was deprived of the throne by his father, who gave it to his younger brother, Frederick.
Though many people expressed concern because Cornell had been born with the nature of an evil king, Cornell had kneeled and submitted to his brother instead.
For decades, he didn't show his true colors, waiting patiently for his chance. Then, the traitorous Cornell eventually rebelled and won. The Boxton family, who had supported the royal family during the regime's transition, was purged by the evil King Cornell.
That was the man Arabella had wanted to kill all her life, the man who had caused her so much pain and grief—King Cornell.
Arabella's eyes hardened as she recalled those unpleasant memories. She remembered the sensation of Cornell's blade as it cut through her flesh. There had been many incidents before Cornell ultimately succeeded in his rebellion, but he could not install a crown prince because of what he had done. Nobody would want to bear a son for a treacherous king. As far as Arabella could remember, there had only been one official crown prince. But he had gone missing ever since he left for the Battle of Kalresu years ago. Although he had made many brilliant achievements on the battlefield, he disappeared without making a single appearance at any social gatherings.
Rumors had it that he was a scary monster, a complete demon. They said he would become the most brutal of all kings, and if he were there, Cornell's rebellion would have failed. However, he never showed up when the kingdom needed him. People believed he never cared for his subjects, so he was largely unknown.
"A crown prince... does that mean the treacherous king eventually had a son to put in that position?" Arabella muttered, more to herself than to Anne.
It was bound to happen eventually. Their kingdom was extremely powerful, and even with a treacherous ruler, he had enough leverage to get what he wanted.
"What are you talking about, sister? You know that's treasonous! If anyone hears you uttering such profane words, you'll be in so much trouble," Anne whispered urgently, looking around to see if anyone might have overheard their conversation.
Her cautious demeanor filled Arabella's mind with more questions. She couldn't figure out what this was all about.
"You're being strange again, sister. There's only one crown prince in this kingdom—Prince Hamon."
"Hamon?" Recognition flashed through Arabella's mind as soon as she heard the name.