Honestly, I don't remember what Father said after the engagement announcement. Something about duty, honor, the family name — the usual. It all blurred together the moment the word "engaged" left his mouth.
Now I was sitting in my room, legs crossed in a meditating position, trying and failing to think about my future.
Nevermind. I didn't ""want"" to think about her.
Adrienne Dragonart.
The princess adored by the entire country for her beauty.
Cutting people down? Oh, don't even go there — she was a ""master"" at that. "Waste swordswoman," most called her. A compliment disguised as an insult, or maybe the other way around.
But I ""knew"" her. Not from rumors. From the novel.
She was the kind of person who, if you displeased her, would go for your neck first. No warning. No second chance.
She wouldn't attack without a reason, though.
And yet — I was going to die.
I finally understood why I wasn't in the novel. It wasn't because I was unimportant.
It was because I was ""dead.""
She'd admitted it herself to the protagonist, later in the story. Casually, like it was nothing. """My fiancé? Oh, he died.""" She was the reason. It was definitely her.
"WHAT DO I DO?"
Frankly speaking, I had no strength whatsoever. The previous Naive wasn't keen on training — just played around like a baby. ""Ouch."" That hurt somewhere. But back to the topic.
She could crush me like an ant.
People usually ignore ants. But her? No. She would ""definitely"" step on me. Deliberately. With a smile.
Not even the protagonist was safe from her. And yes, that was supposed to be her ""charm"" — the terrifying, beautiful rival who kept even the cheating hero on his toes. It was charming when I was reading from behind a screen.
Now?
""It's terrifying.""
She was a genius who would eventually reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship, perfecting her "Core." Even the protagonist, with all his cheats, had to be careful of her blade. She was a bona fide monster.
And then there was her special ability.
Time.
She could regress through time. The conditions were never mentioned in the novel, but that didn't make it any less horrifying.
My talent? Where was ""my"" system? Would it load after I died? ...God, I hoped not. Dying was a painful process. I'd prefer not to experience it again.
There was only one option: hide. Stay out of her sight. And somehow — ""somehow"" — find a way to break the engagement.
Now you might ask, "Where would you hide?"
Where, indeed. I was just as lost as you.
""Let's just go with the flow. It's tomorrow-me's problem anyway.""
She was an arrogant sort, so I'd just grovel. Bootlick my way out. Nothing too complicated.
Definitely not.
After all, there was no way conversation wouldn't work. If an ant tried to speak, even she'd be curious enough to listen. Right?
I couldn't go about it directly — """I want to break up the engagement""" — that would be suicide. No one likes to be rejected. Especially not her. She was beautiful and she ""knew"" it.
""I'll just steer the conversation so the breakup happens naturally. Casually. Like breathing. Yeah. Seems good enough for now.""
...Is what I thought at the time.
Oh god. I should have thought harder.
""""""
"Thank you, Brother."
But inwardly, I scoffed at the thought and turned around to leave.
""Saying it was for my own good — then marrying me off to a "good-for-nothing" just to win the 13th Ranker's favor.""
Hmph.
""For now, I'll use this weak little "fiancé" to avoid being shipped off to another country — or exiled once the new crown emerges.""
That was probably what he thought I was thinking.
But he didn't know the potential that "good-for-nothing" had.
He might seem weak now. But he would surpass his father. Sooner or later, he ""would"" surpass him.
After all — he slaughtered the Pseudo Gods. Just to see her one final time.
An endearing memory. One of ""mine.""
What that idiot brother didn't understand was that it wasn't regression. Not anymore. Not per se.
It was ""memories.""
I had received the memories of my future self — a version of me that had touched upon the realm of the Gods before perishing for reasons I still couldn't understand. And with that death went my ability to Regress.
I could feel it deep down, like a hollow where something vital used to be.
If I made even a single mistake, there would be no next time.
Father still had some years left before he'd step down and leave the crown to an heir. I wasn't counted among the candidates — I had made sure of that. "No strength," they said. "The Delicate Flower of the Royal Family," they called me.
Good. That was the protection I had built for myself. Because I had witnessed the Future.
The title wasn't my choice, admittedly. And it might be arrogant to say — but nobody in this world could rival my beauty. Not that beauty alone would save me.
"I am still too young. And too weak."
What I needed was time.
But as these thoughts threatened to consume me, my mind drifted to him.
""Tomorrow is the "first" time we'll meet again.""
Weak or not, I had royal blood. In my siblings' eyes, that made me a target to be eliminated — sooner or later. I had to stay hidden from them.
I closed my eyes.
""Forgive me, "Dear."""
""But I must use you again...""