A few days later, the city was alive with parading floats, marking the beginning of the Founding Festival. Tradition dictated that every imperial princess debut as a socialite upon reaching the age of fifteen, and so, despite my desperate wish to hide away, I was forced to attend the banquet.
“Stay calm,” my mother hissed as she adjusted my gown. “This is your chance to find a husband so I can finally be rid of you.”
She spoke as if marrying off a troublemaker was a simple task. But I knew better. Who would voluntarily ask the Crow Princess to dance? Unless they were of low status or truly mad, I was destined to be a wallflower.
I was in the middle of this self-deprecating thought when the sound of approaching footsteps caught my attention. My eyes widened in shock as a hand was extended toward me.
It was Eric Lennon Brant.
“Your Highness, may I have this dance?”
His blonde hair shimmered under the crystalline light of the chandeliers, and his features were as strikingly handsome as I remembered. Yet, a strange feeling nagged at me.
*Something is different...*
I couldn't put my finger on it, but the boy standing before me felt like a shadow of the one I had met in the garden. Despite the hesitation, my hand moved of its own accord, meeting his.
*What are you doing?!*
The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through me. As the music swelled, I panicked and stumbled, nearly losing my footing. Eric caught me instantly, his grip firm and steady.
"Are you alright?"
I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “I... I’m not a good dancer. You can pretend I’m injured if you’d like to stop.”
Honestly, the thought of being seen with him terrified me. I tried to withdraw my hand, but he held it tight.
“Don't worry,” he said, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I’ll lead.”
*Don't be a fool,* I told myself. *He’s Madeleine’s childhood friend. He’s probably just doing this so they can laugh at me later.*
I was certain that if I stepped on his toes, he would mock me in secret. Driven by the fear of ridicule, I focused entirely on the rhythm, pouring every ounce of concentration into the dance.
When the song finally ended, I used the first excuse that came to mind. “My feet... they hurt.”
Instead of letting me go, he guided me toward the balcony. “Are you truly in pain?”
“I think I should return to my chambers and rest,” I lied, hoping to escape before he asked for another round.
I tried to walk away, but he insisted on accompanying me. By the time we reached the Princess’s Palace, I was a bundle of nerves. He smiled as he finally released my hand.
“Your Highness, I truly enjoyed this evening.”
I pulled my hand back, my voice stiff. “I see. Well, that’s that.”
Suddenly, I remembered the handkerchief tucked away in my room. It was the perfect chance to sever this tie. “The handkerchief you gave me in the garden... I’ll return it now.”
He shook his head before I could finish. “There’s no need to return it.”
“Oh?”
A soft flush touched his cheeks. “If possible, I would prefer to receive a handkerchief embroidered by Your Highness instead.”
My heart skipped a beat. In our circles, such a request was a clear declaration of interest—a common confession of love.
“I... I don't know if I can...”
“You don’t have to answer right away,” he interrupted, his smile radiant. “I intend to win your heart, Cornelia.”
From that day forward, Eric became a constant presence. He brought dolls, bouquets of exotic flowers, and tins of the finest tea. Though I tried to keep my distance, fearing the sting of disappointment, I had to admit the truth: I was starting to wait for him.
*I don't know what this feeling is. But when I'm with him... I actually feel like a princess.*
One afternoon, as he presented yet another gift, I looked him in the eye. “You don’t have to bring these things anymore.”
His expression hardened. “Your Highness, I cannot accept that—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Just come empty-handed. I just want you here.”
It took him a moment to process my words, but when he did, he offered the widest smile I had ever seen. “Yes. I will.”
But after that day, I never saw that smile again.
Friction on the borders escalated into full-scale war. The Duke of Brant fell in battle, and Eric, now the head of his house, was forced to take his father’s place on the front lines. He sent me a single message before he departed:
*[I will return to you. Until then, please keep my handkerchief.]*
I held onto that promise. I prayed every day for his safety, my thoughts consumed by the kindness he had shown me. I decided then that I would repay him. I spent hours embroidering a new handkerchief, pouring my heart into every stitch.
He finally returned four years later, a celebrated war hero. As he rode into the capital, more dignified and imposing than ever, my heart swelled with pride and longing.
*I missed you so much.*
It felt as though I had finally found the piece of myself that had been missing for years. I approached him, my eyes blurring with tears of joy.
“As promised... I’ve brought the handkerchief.”
I expected a reunion, a rekindling of the warmth we had shared. But what I received was a voice as cold as ice.
“Your Highness, I would appreciate it if you stayed away from me from now on.”
The words were a physical blow. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger, his eyes devoid of the affection that had once been my only sanctuary.
The pain of his rejection was made worse by the sight of Madeleine. The thought of her—the woman I had always been measured against—taking my place in his heart drove me to the brink of madness.
That was when the Emperor summoned me with a proposal.
“You’ve been chasing after Duke Brant like a lost dog lately, haven't you?”
I remained silent.
“Tsk. You ugly thing. I will grant you your wish and marry you to the Duke. But there are conditions.”
The Emperor viewed the young war hero as a threat, a "thorn in his side" that needed to be managed. He needed a spy within House Brant, and he knew that by marrying Eric to me, the "Crow Princess," he would effectively tarnish the Duke's reputation.
I knew this marriage was a trap for Eric. I knew it would make him hate me more. But I was so desperate, so broken by his coldness, that I couldn't stop myself.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I will obey.”
And so, we were married—a reward for the hero, or so the public was told. I tried to tell myself it would be alright. I hoped that in time, with a child, we could find a way back to each other.
But Eric never touched me. He treated our union with a silent, simmering resentment. Our only night together was a fluke, a desperate miracle that resulted in the birth of our son, Damian.
I hid my pregnancy for as long as possible, fearing his reaction. But when I finally told him, he named the boy himself.
"Damian."
For a moment, I allowed myself to hope. If there was an heir, surely I could remain by his side.
But tragedy struck seven years later. The Empire was in the throes of a bloody revolution. The commoners sought to "dry the seeds" of the imperial family, and my son and I, both with claims to the throne, were primary targets.
Eric entrusted us to his long-time assistant. “Take my wife and child to the safehouse.”
Instead, the assistant led us straight into the hands of the traitors. When I demanded an explanation, he offered a cold, pitying smile.
“This is my master’s order.”
He showed me a letter bearing the Brant family seal. It stated that the safety of the Brant and Arguin families would be guaranteed in exchange for the lives of the Princess and her child.
“Why... why is he with her again?” I whispered.
“You still don't understand?” the assistant laughed. “The Duke wants to marry Lady Arguin. You and the boy are simply in the way.”
I wanted to deny it, but the seal was unmistakable. I had been abandoned by the only person I had ever loved.
“Capture the Princess! Kill the child!”
The screams of the mob snapped me out of my despair. I didn't care about my own life, but Damian... Damian had to live.
Sardin, the slave I had bought years ago, stepped in front of us, drawing his blade. “I will hold them off. Run, Your Highness!”
Thanks to his sacrifice, I managed to flee toward the border of Shira, where my aunt reigned as Queen. But we never made it.
“Mama, it hurts...”
Damian’s skin had turned a sickly grey, his small body burning with fever. In the middle of the night, he finally collapsed.
“Damian!”
I gathered the small boy into my arms. I hadn't wanted this child at first, but it was impossible not to love the little life that gave me more affection than I had ever received.
“Damian, don’t worry. Mama won’t let anything happen to you. Do you hear me?”
He was my entire world. I didn't need a husband, but I couldn't live in a world without the light my son brought to it. I pushed forward, navigating the dark forest with Damian on my back, whispering encouragement to him.
I kept going until the sound of hoofbeats filled the air. Eric had led a pursuit group to hunt us down.
“Cornelia!”
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask why he had to kill our son. If he hated me, he should have killed me years ago. Why target an innocent child?
The more I thought about it, the more the hatred consumed me. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the agony Damian had suffered. I reached for the pistol I had hidden in my robes.
*If I aim carefully...*
I let out a hollow, broken laugh. What was the point? The child on my back was already cold. His body was stiff, his breathing long since stopped.
“Eric!”
I laid Damian’s body on the grass and drew the gun as he approached.
“Cornelia...!”
I was a pathetic, flawed person, but I had truly tried. I had wanted to be his wife. I had wanted to love him. I had spent years wondering if the kind boy from the garden would ever return.
“How foolish do you think I was?” I screamed as he drew closer.
Despair, thick and suffocating, swallowed me whole. As he reached out a hand to stop me, I didn't hesitate.
“Cornelia, drop the weapon!”
I pulled the trigger.
The world exploded in a flash of light and the acrid scent of gunpowder. A searing pain tore through my head, and my body felt impossibly heavy as it hit the ground.
But for the first time in years, I felt a sense of peace.
*Damian... Mama is coming.*
Those were my final memories before the world reset, and I woke up in the past.