"......."
Why is it so noisy this morning? Can't those construction workers ever stop? It's still early…
"Why are you not answering me?"
That voice.
Familiar. Dreadful.
Her eyes snapped open, and the cold chill of déjà vu washed over her as she looked around.
Nobles. Men and women in ornate, ceremonial robes. All eyes on her—judging, whispering, sneering faces.
Her heart began to race.
'No… no, not again. This has to be a nightmare. It has to be.'
"Answer me, Sara! How dare you ignore your king!"
Her gaze slowly rose, following the voice to the source. A man with striking white hair and blood-red eyes sat imposingly on a golden throne.
Her face turned pale. Lips trembled. Words caught in her throat.
"F-Father… y-you—"
His expression turned to ice.
Leaning on one hand, he glared down at her with contempt.
"Silence, bitch. I have only one daughter—and it's not you. You're a disgrace. A useless wretch who couldn't even awaken her mana core."
Her head dropped, hands trembling as she gripped her dress tightly. She pinched her waist until it hurt.
Tears welled in her eyes.
'Please… not again. Anything but this life. Kill me if you must—but don't make me live through this again…'
The murmuring around her grew louder.
Whispers like blades.
"See? I told you. She may wear a princess's title, but she lives worse than a slave."
Another noblewoman responded with a sneer hidden behind fake pity.
"Hmph. That's what her mother gets. Just because the King raped her doesn't mean she had the right to give birth."
Sara closed her eyes as the whispers sank deep into her skin. Her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white, trembling with helpless rage and shame.
Her mind flashed back to a memory—a memory she had buried long ago.
A soft voice. A gentle warmth.
Flashback—
"Mother, where are you going?"
The woman with long black hair turned around. Her eyes, though kind, were filled with sorrow. She knelt before her seven-year-old daughter, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Daughter… my time has come to an end. Because of my mistakes, I must leave… forever."Her voice cracked. "So—sob—please, take care of yourself. Love kindly… love everyone, even when it hurts."
Sara couldn't understand.
'Why was her mother saying goodbye?'
'Why was she crying?'
Confused and scared, she had run to the window, watching from behind the curtains as her mother was led away.
One guard. One sword. That was all it took.
The last thing she saw…Was her mother's small figure disappearing into the forest. And the gleam of a blade in the guard's hand.
Her brows furrowed as memories surged through her mind like a storm.
'This bastard… he's the reason my mother died.' Her fingers curled into trembling fists again. 'I will definitely kill him. I'm not the same Sara he locked in the basement. I'm not the fragile girl begging for love. I'm Sara—the one who lived on Earth. The confident one. The one who survived.'
The cold voice of the man she hated dragged her back to the present.
"Now that you're eighteen and still haven't awakened your mana core, your marriage has been decided. Tomorrow will be your last day in Khoumor Kingdom."
Sara inhaled deeply, then slowly raised her head. Her gaze locked with his. Steady. Calm. No fear.
Larsin narrowed his eyes at the change.
'Hmph. This bitch thinks she can act brave now?'
He scoffed and turned away, his robes sweeping the floor as he exited the throne room. Nobles began whispering again, scandalized and curious, but Sara ignored them. Without a word, she turned and walked back toward the basement—the same prison that had caged her childhood.
Maids lined the hallway, their faces painted with fake pity. She didn't spare them a glance.
She slammed the basement door shut behind her.
The air was damp. Cold. Familiar.
Sara pressed her back against the door and slid down slowly, exhaling through clenched teeth.
Her eyes scanned the dim room. A smirk crept across her lips.
"Hah. Same basement… just as I remembered."
The stone walls were layered in spider webs. Mice scurried across the cracked floor. The only clean area was a thin mattress laid out near a rusted cupboard—her old sleeping space.
She looked at it with bitter amusement and close her eyes.
'Do I really have to marry that bastard again?'
Her thoughts churned as the image of a tall man with long black hair and piercing, star-like eyes flashed in her mind—those same eyes that once looked at her so coldly.
'If I want to escape… if I want revenge… then marrying him is the first step. Ugh. What a headache.'
A bitter laugh echoed in her thoughts.
'How did I ever fall for that cheating bastard in my first life?'
She slowly rose to her feet, letting out a long sigh, and walked toward the rusted old cupboard. The hinges groaned as she pulled it open.
Inside hung a single outfit—neatly pressed despite the dust. A white shirt with intricate golden embroidery and a matching pair of white pants.
She stared at it, expression unreadable.
'This is the only suit I've ever been given. Larsin had this sent for the marriage ceremony… right, if I remember correctly.'
Her gaze lingered.
'All my clothes used to be cast-offs—maid uniforms thrown away after they were too worn or stained. This… this is the only thing that was ever truly mine. And even that, just for a show.'
Her lips curled into a half-smirk, half-grimace.
"What a joke."
She reached out and brushed her fingers across the golden embroidery.
as she was brushing embroidery she felt strange sensation in her body making her groan, she quickly held her head as a strong headeche hit her,
Just as she reached for the suit, a sharp pain pierced through her skull.
"Aagh—!"
She staggered back, clutching her head as memories not her own flooded her mind like a tidal wave.
Flashes.
A woman with blazing red hair stood atop a mountain of corpses. Her sword gleamed under a blood-red sky. With a single punch, she shattered a dragon's skull. With a technique too complex for Sara to comprehend, she tore through armies like wind through paper.
The air smelled of fire. Of blood. Of war.
Sara fell to her knees, gasping.
"Wh-what is happening to me?!"