Chapter 2
“When did we ever promise to get married?! That never happened!”
Saydin’s eyes flared. Her fingertips, flushed as red as her burning cheeks, fidgeted restlessly. Words she dared not speak swirled inside her mouth, trapped by an unbearable truth.
‘Ugh! This guy—how can he say something so dangerous? If I could have prevented your doomed fate with my power, I’d have done it already, you know?! But what can I do? My power is not enough to heal you…’
Saydin wanted to tell him his divine power would go rampant. And to stop his impending death, he’d need the heroine’s fated love. But she had no way of proving that was true.
‘I devoted myself for the past ten years, searching for a way to save you. I wondered—could my magic alter your fate? I studied really hard the art of magic stone craftsmanship.’
Saydin swallowed the surge of anxiety welling up in her chest. Her eyelids trembled, and unshed tears threatened to spill.
‘But there was no answer… No way to save you…’
Hiding her restless emotions, Saydin deliberately spoke in a rigid voice. She clasped her flushed, feverish fingers within her palms.
“Please don’t say things we never promised.”
The original novel explicitly described the time when the male lead’s divine power rampages: one year after the fall of the Herace Kingdom. It meant that exactly one year from now, Luan would die. And the world, caught up in his explosion, would be destroyed along with him.
‘The end of the world is one thing, but Luan’s death—I won’t allow it.’
After possessing Saydin, the powerless youngest princess of the Herace Kingdom, she tried to transform her innate black magic into healing magic. But it wasn’t enough. Not enough to save Luan.
So she resolved to follow the original story’s most direct and certain path: ensuring that he and the heroine fell in love—truly, deeply in love.
Because only the heroine could save him.
Suppressing the bitter ache in her chest, Saydin blinked rapidly. Ah. Was it because she was seeing Luan again—now a dignified emperor? It felt as if tears would spill at any moment.
Ordinarily, she would have concealed her expression. But now, her weakened body and heart betrayed her. She couldn’t hold back. Raising a frail hand, she covered her face as she spoke.
“Your Majesty, the time when the Herace Kingdom treated you like a dog is long past. When I think of the hardships you endured, it brings me to tears… It pains my heart so…”
“…Alright.”
“But Your Majesty, I don’t have romantic feelings for you. I don’t know how you remember our past, Your Majesty, but…”
“Princess.”
“…What?”
Saydin rubbed her cheek, and, afraid her heart might waver even more, she deliberately turned her gaze away.
At that moment, Luan’s eyes followed the direction of her averted gaze. Then he reached for the robe draped carelessly over the chair beside the bed and slipped it on.
Shff. The faint sound of the thin fabric brushing against his bare skin lingered in the air of the quiet room. It clung to Saydin’s ears. Unaware, her gaze drifted forward—drawn to the sight before her.
Luan sat at the head of the bed, his back leaning casually against it. Though he wore long, light trousers, his robe barely concealed his upper body.
It was like a painting.
Saydin, who had been struggling to suppress the turbulence in her heart, furrowed her brows. She couldn’t look away.
How could this view wash away all the sadness? As if that sight had cleared her eyes! Her once-gloomy vision seemed bright, as if someone had opened the curtains to let in the morning light.
‘Huh? What the heck? Nothing was solved, so why do I feel warm and cozy inside?’
She tried to pull her gaze away from the sunlight filtering through the window and glinting off his chest. Clamping her lips together, she steeled herself.
Then, as their eyes finally met, Luan spoke with his intense gaze on her.
“Why am I the kingdom’s dog?”
“….”
“I’ve always belonged to my princess. I never once lowered myself to being a mere hound of the kingdom.”
He reached out to her. The moment Luan’s hand grasped hers, Saydin felt her heart leap—unexpectedly, uncontrollably.
‘Oh?’
And then Luan spoke again.
“Forgive me. I wish to take this opportunity to remain within my princess’s grasp.”
He smiled bitterly, his shoulders slightly shrinking as he spoke.
“Is that not allowed?”
As those pitiful words left his lips, his robe parted slightly, revealing the expanse of his chest—firm and sculpted with muscle.
And in that moment, Saydin reaffirmed that she, just as in her first life and again in her second life as a lowly princess, was a hopeless fool for beauty.
Luan Killian Siebold—intentional or not—was placing a honey trap!
Gasp! Saydin squeezed her eyes shut and scrambled backward, spreading the blanket like a shield between the two.
“Y-Your Majesty!”
“Yes?”
‘Ugh, why are you stuttering, you fool!’
Even before she entered this wretched romance novel, she had always been weak to handsome faces, and now she wanted nothing more than to smack herself for it.
However, with Luan’s impending doom looming just a year away, she had to keep her act together. The plot had already begun its course—starting with the fall of the Herace Kingdom. And though Luan was unaware, the divine power raging within him would soon devour him whole.
Swallowing dryly, Saydin rushed to speak, forcing her words out like rapid-fire. Thankfully, she neither stuttered nor faltered this time.
“Your Majesty, I appreciate you remembering me as a friend from your childhood hardships, but—”
“Friend?”
Luan furrowed his brows, his gaze narrowing slightly beneath the fringe of his slightly grown-out bangs. Saydin instinctively shut her eyes for a moment.
Gone was the scrawny boy she had once known, the one who had suffered through the hardships of imprisonment. In his place was now a man—no, more like a languid beast—exuding an unfamiliar, imposing presence. The sheer unfamiliarity of him left her speechless again.
Saydin took a deep breath.
‘Wait! I must get this right from the very beginning. I never thought Luan actually likes me.’
So, she quickly lifted her head and spoke.
“I remember treating Your Majesty well during your time as a prisoner. However, I didn’t know it would lead to such a misunderstanding.”
“Princess.”
“Yes.”
No matter what Luan said, she had no intention of wavering. Straightening her back like a disciplined soldier, Saydin held her ground. Seeing this, Luan let out a small smile.
Whether in childhood or now, every little action she took to maintain her confidence only made her more endearing.
“Do you know why I survived a near-death experience and obliterated the entire Dragon Mountains?”
The Dragon Mountain Range.
For a decade, it had been the pride of the Herace Kingdom—a natural fortress that persistently got on the nerves of the empire. Once believed to be the remnants of dragons that had roamed the land, the mountain range effectively blocked entry to the royal capital.
In addition, the belligerent sorcerers of Herace knew how to wield its terrain to their advantage. On top of that, the kingdom maintained its own independent food supply and held strong ties with nations that opposed the empire.
In short, Herace was a thorn in the empire’s side—a defiant kingdom well-positioned to strike from the shadows.
Yet, on a single night, Luan had destroyed the very mountains that had safeguarded the kingdom.
Even as someone who had read the novel, Saydin had been utterly dumbfounded. How could a mountain range vast enough to touch the sky simply vanish overnight?
Hearing Luan’s cryptic question, Saydin instinctively lowered her gaze.
“It was the kingdom’s fate. It was the price they paid for ignoring the empire’s divine power and fostering their own dark sorcerers—”
Regardless of what was going through Luan’s mind, he was still the emperor. Saydin carefully chose her words, making sure not to provoke him. But Luan cut her off.
“That’s not why I destroyed the Dragon Mountains.”
“….”
“Three years ago, after I secured the throne by killing my father, I had to eliminate my half-brothers—each one claiming the right to succeed him. It took me too long. That’s why I was late.”
His brows furrowed deeply as he whispered the next words. His voice was so small, so fragile, it seemed unfitting for someone who seemed unshakable as a mountain itself.
“If my divine power had manifested earlier, I would have destroyed that mountain range ten years ago.”
“….”
“Because I wanted to meet you, Princess.”
“….”
“I apologize for being late.”
Saydin bit her lip, feeling her emotions twist into confusion. Luan removed the blanket Saydin had spread between the two and spoke again.
“I was lacking. I couldn’t come earlier.”
“….”
Their eyes met. Luan kept a certain distance, as if he could no longer approach Saydin. He even released her hand, which she had expected him to hold again. But he only clenched his own hand tightly, the veins on his knuckles standing out, as if he were trying to restrain himself.
The sight caused Saydin’s heart to waver, so she turned her head away.
The bright white sunlight filtering through the crumpled sheets looked almost like moonlight. It reminded her of the moonlight that had once covered Luan’s injured body when he was a prisoner of the kingdom, subjected to all sorts of experiments.
Moved by this, Saydin spoke words meant to comfort him, even though he didn’t fully understand the truth.
These words were to ease Luan’s guilt, who simply regretted not being able to come to her sooner.
