Chapter 19
Life, once again.
The moment she opened her eyes, she rolled up her sleeves.
Above her wrist, the number “3” was written—one less than before.
Just as I thought.
At last, everything made sense. Natasha had returned to the moment when her life restarted—from the past. She had been given, it seemed, a total of ten chances.
…You want me to start over?
Had God felt pity for the harsh life she’d lived?
This miserable life, again?
If so, why not send her back to a time before she met that man? Why leave her in this cold winter, abandoned once again?
Whatever the reason, Natasha couldn’t bring herself to feel thankful for this so-called divine mercy. Her decision remained unchanged.
The eighth time. The ninth. And finally, the tenth.
Now, her wrist was smooth and unmarked—clear proof that all her chances were gone.
Maybe it was that finality that made her relax, giving her space to finally look around.
This place…
Just as she was about to figure out who she was in this version of life, she turned her head toward the calendar hanging in the bedroom. And there it was—a familiar, almost nostalgic sight.
She didn’t need to search every corner. Her gaze, sweeping from right to left, stopped before even forming a full arc.
The small room was worn down and shabby. The crumbling walls and sagging ceiling made the broken furniture seem almost charming in comparison.
This was the place where Natasha—then using the name Tisha Winter—had lived when she had just turned twenty.
In the quiet rural village of Flaire, Natasha lived as twenty-three-year-old Tisha Winter.
Tisha was usually careful with money, though she had moments of careless spending. As the youngest of five daughters in the Winter family, she was cheerful and bold, yet unexpectedly mature for her age.
She got along well with others and loved being around people—but oddly enough, she avoided the village festivals where everyone gathered.
A woman full of contradictions, yet so real. People often said she seemed older than her age. Still, like many others, she had her own small, hopeful dreams for the future.
To marry someone she loved. To raise children who resembled them. To one day regain the happiness she had lost.
So… this is before I married Sieghart?
To think she woke up not in the duke’s mansion or the imperial palace, but in her own space. The unfamiliar setting made her forget, for a moment, what she was supposed to do.
Then, like an investigator searching a suspect’s home, she began digging through the room. Thankfully, there were no signs of Sieghart.
No—this is before I ever met him.
That thought felt strange. Though the time spent with him wasn’t short, maybe it felt that way because he had taken up such a big part of her life. It felt like she was truly living a new life.
This time, she put her plans aside. She let herself enjoy the freedom.
No stern looks from knights. No sneers from the maids. No cold treatment from Sieghart.
She didn’t need to search for the right words in fear of being rejected mid-sentence. She could speak freely without second-guessing herself.
Even outside, nothing had changed. In this small village, Tisha Winter was seen as an ordinary girl—aside from her stunning looks.
Maybe…
Maybe Natasha could finally escape death. Maybe this final chance wasn’t a punishment, but a lesson. Maybe it was her chance to start over.
If so, then maybe she could stop calling this painful flashback an ending—and instead, call it a new beginning.
Free from her husband’s neglect. Free from the emperor’s threats. Free from society’s judgment. Free from the heartbreak of her shattered love.
The truth is… I wanted to live.
She wanted to fix the life of Natasha Aschart—a life that had gone wrong from the very beginning.
I didn’t want to run away. I just wanted to make things right. But my hopes had taken me too far, and I no longer knew where to begin—or if anything could be fixed at all.
Dreams and goals she had long forgotten slowly returned. Yes, Natasha once had dreams and hopes. She also had responsibilities to carry and a future ahead of her.
As Tisha Winter, she was no longer burdened by the mistakes of Natasha Aschart. She hadn’t married Sieghart. She hadn’t stepped foot into the duke’s estate. The existence of the princess was still unknown to the world.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—a chance to make things right and take one step closer to happiness.
A rare, precious moment, perhaps the very last, gifted by the same God who had always been so cruel.
Let’s live, Natasha.
Staring quietly at her pale, unmarked wrist, she made her vow.
After that, Natasha quickly contacted Sir Dante and suggested they move to a new place. Sieghart knew where she was staying—it wouldn’t be long before he came looking for her.
“The Duke of Aschart, you say? Well, yes, you’ve stayed here for quite some time.”
“Right. I think it’s best to move now. I’ve saved up enough money, so let’s go somewhere far away. Even if they chase us, we’ll at least buy some time.”
“Understood, Princess. We should relocate before word of this reaches the palace.”
Listening closely to her, Sir Dante began making swift preparations to ensure their safety.
They chose Vyle, the region farthest from the duchy and closest to the principality. It was a busy area due to frequent trade with the principality, but since most residents were ordinary citizens, it wouldn’t be especially dangerous. Besides, the fall of the royal family had already faded into the past. There was no need to worry as much as before.
“Oh, and Sir Dante. Please don’t tell Kayeina about the move.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s working for the Duke of Aschart now. It’s nothing for him to read through a letter, so it would be easy for information to leak.”
“Kayeina is working at the Aschart estate? What? Why… How did that happen?”
Sir Dante was clearly shaken. Natasha brushed it off, saying she had exchanged a letter with her friend recently, leaving the matter vague.
In any case, Dante understood her warning. He promised not to send any letters about the move—not even to familiar faces.
Four days later, Natasha and Sir Dante set out on their journey.
It would take about a week to reach Vyle. During the trip, they discussed what they needed to take care of once they settled in.
Dante had applied to serve as a knight under Viscount Myrrhen, who was currently recruiting. His former employer had written a strong recommendation praising his skills and loyalty, so he was confident there wouldn’t be any issues with being hired.
Natasha already had an ID issued under the name Tisha Winter from the village office in Flaire, where she used to live. So finding work shouldn’t be difficult for her either.
“You must always be cautious around guards or inquisitors.”
“I will. I’ll be careful.”
Still, it was a forged ID. If anyone decided to verify it properly, it would be exposed. Dante was clearly concerned about that and made sure to remind her firmly.
After a long journey by carriage, they finally arrived in Vyle. Dante stayed with Natasha for about a month to help her adjust to her new life.
Once it was time for him to begin his duties, he left for the Myrrhen estate. He promised to return for her once he was fully settled in his position as a knight.
While Dante served as a knight, Natasha picked up various small jobs around the village and earned what little money she could.
This should be enough.
She was almost at her target amount. Once she received her weekly wages the next day, she would have exactly what she needed. Then, she could finally carry out the plan she had kept hidden from Dante.
It was reckless to return to the principality that had once turned its back on her. But there was no other way. If she wanted to live freely without being tracked by the palace or the duke, she would need the principality’s protection. That meant she had to form a contract with them.
After a long and exhausting day, Natasha returned home with heavy steps. She changed into something more comfortable and began preparing a simple dinner. Tonight’s meal was some bread and cheese, given to her by the pub owner who had taken pity on Tisha Winter.
Just as she was about to pour some milk that was close to expiring, she heard a knock at the door.
Who could that be?
She had been living so quietly and working so hard that she hadn’t even interacted with her neighbors, much less made friends. Most of the people around her were strangers. In other words, there shouldn’t be anyone visiting her home.
Thinking for a moment, she remembered that Dante’s day off was coming up. He had mentioned getting a short break about a month after starting the job.
She stood up quickly and approached the door.
Wait a second.
Something didn’t feel right.
If it were Dante, he would have told her in advance. Even if it was a surprise visit, he wouldn’t knock so stiffly. He would have greeted her with that bright smile of his and a cheerful hello.
Natasha pressed her ear to the door.
Soon, faint voices could be heard from outside.
There’s more than one person.
Judging by the scattered bits of conversation, they were likely inquisitors.
Startled, Natasha drew in a sharp breath. She was so afraid that even the sound of breathing might alert them, and she held it in painfully, unable to exhale.
She backed away from the door on tiptoe, making no sound. Once she was far enough, the pressure in her chest finally lifted, and she let out a slow, silent breath.
A little while later, she sensed that the visitors had gone. Relieved, she let out a quiet sigh and kept the house dark and quiet, just in case they came back.
She wouldn’t find out who they were until the next day—when the pub owner who had hired Tisha Winter told her.
