I didn’t expect the little beggar, once scrubbed clean, to be so pretty.
The first time I saw him, he was like a puppy just learning to open its eyes—teary, pleading. The very first thing he said was, “Miss, please don’t despise me. I’ll do anything!”
I thought—this could do for a husband. He was a year younger; I told him to call me “sister” until we married. His face went crimson at once.
I thought him simple and honest.
Turns out the simple one was me.
The soft, harmless boy in front of me was the third prince who “died” in the hunt.
He’d used the Bennett family as cover, hiding from Crown Prince Nathan’s shadow while he stirred trouble behind the scenes, moving in careful, calculated steps.
…At nineteen I became his wife. Within six months of marriage I was pregnant.
I lay in his arms smiling, watching his eyes go raw with joy when he learned. Warmth poured through me—I felt like the happiest woman alive.
That was the beginning of the curse.
Now when I think of it, I can laugh with hatred.
How good must someone’s acting be to fool everyone so completely?
I only found out when I was summoned to the palace — the new sovereign was my husband.
He wasn’t Lucas Grant at all. He was Ethan Ward. The name I’d called him for seven years was a lie.
Seeing him in imperial robes, so imposing, I barely recognized him.
But the truth was I’d never known him at all.
He grew cold toward me as if we were strangers, but his eyes were full of affection for General Montgomery’s daughter, Hazel.
When I begged him to let me leave the palace, he locked me in.
My grief turned to resignation; all I wanted was to live quietly with my daughter. He wouldn’t even grant me that.
When Hazel miscarried, she pinned the blame on me and demanded my little Annie in exchange for her lost child.
Ethan knew I couldn’t have harmed Hazel, yet he still agreed to hand over Annie.
I watched my child reach out tiny hands, crying “Mother,” and my heart ripped open.
He held me while the nurse took her away.
I struck him, called him an animal. He only held me tighter and, eyes lowered, said, “We’ll have more children.”
That night I pounded on Hazel’s gate until my hands bled, only to find a mangled corpse.
I trembled, vomited blood, and passed out.
After that I withered—refusing food and drink. He tied me down, force-fed me; nothing helped.
Finally he snapped, drove everyone out, and begged me to hang on, begged me not to die.
I looked at his anguished face and scoffed.
He glared, red-eyed, cupped my hand like he used to when I was angry and pleaded, “My wife, hold on. It’ll be over soon.”
I smiled, touched his cheek, watched the spark return to his eyes, and said each word like a blade, “You make me sick.”
He froze. Eyes bloodshot, he stood and said, “I won’t let go, Claire Bennett. If you die, you will lie in the same tomb as me.”
Then he turned and left.
I sneered, noticed the ropes on my wrists were loose enough to reach the candlestick.
In the blaze I watched a flash of yellow surge in—and then be dragged away, while shouts of “Protect the emperor!” came from outside. I felt light, free.
Finally released.
If I burned to ash, we wouldn’t be entombed together—maybe the wind would scatter my bones tomorrow.
I laughed, singing the lullaby I used to sing Annie, and slipped into darkness.
Then I woke—one month before the wedding.
The revelation hit my brain like a brick. I stared at the mirror all night.
Only when Molly, the maid who’d been murdered in my last life, called me to wash did it settle in.
Tears fell, drop by drop.
Molly was terrified and put down the basin. “Miss—what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
I threw myself into her arms and sobbed.
In my last life Hazel had deliberately created trouble, had her confidant eunuch feed Molly bits of poison. Ethan agreed to it.
I knelt before him, bowing until my forehead bruised purple, and he still agreed.
Molly killed the eunuch and then took her own life.
That was when Ethan and I finally broke beyond repair.
That night I drove a hairpin into him. He bowed his head, pulled it free from his shoulder, and held me, apologizing, “Sorry, Claire, I didn’t expect this. I’m sorry.”
I bit his shoulder until my mouth filled with metallic blood.
Didn’t he know what that meant? He’d abandoned Molly.
If Annie hadn’t woken and started crying at the sight of me in the side chamber, I might have bitten him to pieces.
“Don’t cry, miss. Was it a nightmare?” Molly soothed, pressing a cloth to my brow, wiping my tears. I sobbed until I could only nod, “Yes. A terrible dream.”
Three days later I accepted that I’d been reborn, and the first thing I thought of was revenge.
I wanted their reputations ruined, wanted them to die with no grave.
But reality sobered me. How could the daughter of merchants topple an imperial prince and the general’s favored daughter? Unless I found a powerful backer—someone like the Crown Prince, Ethan Ward’s rival.
That would be like bargaining with a tiger. The idea died in my mind.
I couldn’t do this alone. The Bennett household was a hundred forty-five souls strong.
I pressed my nails into my palms until they bled.
If revenge wouldn’t work, I wouldn’t waste time. I marched to my father’s study to cancel the betrothal.
Ethan was there, unaware. He brightened when he saw me, and pouted, “Sister, why haven’t you seen me these days?”
He reached to take my hand. Father watched, stern, coughed, “Mind your manners.”
Ethan hadn’t quite reached me when I slapped his hand away.
The sound cracked through the study.
Amid my father’s and Ethan’s astonished faces, I said coldly, “I’m calling off the engagement.”
My father froze, then relaxed, stroking his beard. “Don’t mess. Do you think marriage’s a joke? Weren’t you just insisting on marrying quickly?”
He thought I was teasing Ethan; when my face didn’t change, his hand paused mid-stroke. “You’re really calling it off?”
I stayed silent.
He opened his mouth, then waved for Molly and Lily to leave us to handle it.
Ethan frowned, baffled. “Sister, why?”
I turned to him, looked at that face, swallowed, and said, “Because you disgust me.”
Ethan’s face hardened. Cold darkened him. “Disgusting… and you were intimate with me days ago?”
His eyes had that obsessive glint. I sneered, “Ethan, how long will you keep pretending?”
He froze, then said gloomily, “You… know.”
2. The Bennett engagement was canceled.
At least we returned all the betrothal gifts and still held the banquet.
Everyone at the feast was sharp. Even if they guessed why, they wouldn’t pry. And for many of those merchants, this was good news—Bennett Trading Co. was lucrative; a disgraced Bennett household meant opportunity. Their eyes on me grew calculating.
I had no appetite for socializing. I made a perfunctory round and returned to the study to sort the ledgers.
I hadn’t touched the books in almost four years; the numbers made my head spin.
I lived in the study for the next fortnight, sifting through accounts until they were tidy. I decided to reward myself and booked a private room at Waverly House.
When I arrived, the manager told me the restaurant was reserved.
Our own restaurant—closed to me.
He hastened forward. “It’s an official party, Miss.”
Occasionally that happened: high officials would arrive and demand the room cleared. You can’t argue with power.
“Who’s the big shot that cleared it?” I asked, trying to be understanding.
The manager relaxed. “General Montgomery’s daughter.”
I went cold as a cellar. My heart felt like it was being stabbed a thousand times, then ground underfoot.
“Who did you say?”
The manager saw my face and fell silent.
“Miss, are you unwell?” Molly asked softly.
I shook my head and sent them to wait outside. I walked in alone.
At the second-floor private room door two guards stood watch—big, sharp-eyed men who looked like lifelong soldiers.
The room below was mostly empty and quiet. Then I heard her voice, soft with flirtation and a hint of coquetry.
“Brother Ethan, don’t worry. My father says the Montgomerys will definitely help.”
I could never forget Hazel’s voice. Why was she meeting Ethan now?
I stood stunned.
Had rebirth caused Ethan to contact Hazel sooner? Or had they always been in contact at this point? If in my last life this was when they conspired, then while I thought we were preparing for marriage, he was already entangled with Hazel.
A guard barked, “Who goes there?”
The private room door opened. A woman in pale red riding attire stepped out, face brazen and beautiful. A man beside her wore a half-mask, only his mouth visible—and I recognized Ethan at once.
Hazel looked me up and down. “Who are you?”
She was ostentatious, like a peony flaunting itself. Her eyes when they fell on me were sharp and mean.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” She reached for a riding whip, then glanced at Ethan and let go, displeased.
I took a breath and smiled, amused. “I’m the owner of Waverly House. Since Miss Hazel deigned to grace us, I came to pay respects.”
Hazel curled her lip. “No thanks. Go away, you’re annoying.”
Then she turned to Ethan and sniffed, “These merchants always flatter people—so slimy.”
Her words hit me like a slap. Ethan’s gaze flicked to me; he clenched his hand. I gave him a mocking smirk and walked away.
This life I could only wish them miserable ends.
But the next day Hazel actually came to our house.
She arrived in riding gear, taking the main seat with a commanding air that arrogance made ugly. My parents sat lower, worry on their faces.
Hazel sized me up, her expression sour. “So you’re the woman who cancelled Brother Ethan’s marriage?”
I lowered my eyes. She was bold as ever—four guards in the hall, more outside. If word spread that the Bennetts had crossed General Montgomery, how would our business survive?
I forced down my rising panic and smiled, “Brother Ethan… who is he?”
She looked puzzled, then suddenly remembered something and couldn’t believe it. "You don’t know?"
I lowered my eyes and shook my head, hiding the hatred there.
My father moved forward cautiously. "Miss Montgomery, could there be a mistake? Our daughter’s recent broken engagement was with Lucas Grant, not someone named Ward."
Hazel’s face soured. She pulled out her riding crop and lashed it across my father’s face—the tip lined with barbs. I lunged to stop her.
Smack.
A searing pain exploded across my back.
I sank onto one knee, cold sweat soaking my forehead.
"Claire!"
My mother rushed forward to help me. My father—pale and furious—stood up and shouted at Hazel, "Because your father is General Montgomery, you think you can mete out private punishment on commoners? The Bennett family pays taxes and disaster relief every year, runs the soup kitchen on the fifteenth of each month—no, we don’t have imperial accolades, but we’ve worked hard. You have no right to humiliate us like this!"
Hazel had been indulged since childhood. In her eyes there were no "commons" or "servants"—only lowly people. Being challenged like this ignited her temper immediately.
I knew her too well. I gripped my father’s sleeve to pull him back, but it was too late.
A look of erasure crossed Hazel’s face. She sneered, "Old man, how dare you bark at me?"
She reached for my father’s throat, squeezing hard. "I’ll humiliate you today—go complain to the King of Hell."
"Hazel."
I was about to use my hairpin and take both of them down with me when Ethan Ward arrived.
Hazel heard his voice and released her grip in a blink, becoming as obedient and sweet as a rabbit, all traces of her earlier arrogance gone.
"Ethan, they provoked me first!" she pouted to him, feigning wounded innocence.
I bit back a bitter laugh. She was the one who’d whipped my father, who’d tried to strangle him—yet now she played the victim.
A purple bruise rimmed my father’s neck; he kept coughing. My hand trembled and I didn’t dare touch it. I lowered my eyes to hide my hate, nails digging deep into my palm.
Ethan wore a mask and his voice was cold. He stepped forward and brushed Hazel’s stray hair from her temple. She blushed in a little show of girlish coyness.
"Not the time to make trouble. Behave."
Ethan spoke softly.
Hazel blinked, still playing the wounded role, but ultimately nodded in reluctant agreement. She tossed us a disdainful snort and stalked off.
As she left, she looked back and curled her mouth at me in a cold, mocking smile.
I frowned, suddenly realizing how badly I’d miscalculated.
I had thought that if I got away from Ethan, I could live a quiet life. But fate had already woven a web—evade one trap and another lay waiting. Hazel’s vindictive nature meant she might bide her time, but she wouldn’t let this go forever—unless she lost power.
"Claire, are you all right?" My mother looked at my father with worry, then at me.
I forced a smile and said, "I’m fine. Better than ever."
If our lives were tied together in this world, then I’d fight hard. Better to barter with a tiger than be slaughtered.
3.
After Hazel’s outburst, business predictably went downhill.
Rivals spread rumors that the Bennett household had been targeted by General Montgomery. Suppliers, hearing that the manor had been surrounded by the general’s guards, demanded payment in advance. Foot traffic at our shops dropped sharply; competitors slashed prices and, within days, took a mass of customers.
My father fell ill from the stress.
I worked through my wounds to keep things running. For a while it got better as everyone saw that Hazel hadn’t taken further action. But I knew that once Ethan’s identity came to light, the Bennetts would be doomed. Counting the days, there were only three months left.
At least the letter I’d sent didn’t vanish into the void—the Crown Prince’s people found me.
One night, just as I was about to sleep, a dagger was pressed to my throat.
A token swung in front of my face.
A stranger’s female voice whispered an address into my ear, icy and precise, then withdrew the dagger. When I turned, the window was half-open and no one remained outside.
I closed the window and felt my heart finally start pounding—not just from fear, but from exhilaration.
The first step had worked.
The Crown Prince’s trouble would erupt early next year; there was almost a year to plan.
Walking along Onyx Lane, I lowered my eyes and thought about rumors that Nathan Hale was gentle, proper, and well-mannered. How much of that was true?
I had considered the second and fourth princes as well, but one was proud, the other dark and volatile—hard to handle. And soon enough one would die of illness and the other be captured.
Really, I had no better options.
I entered the hall with my head bowed and saw a young man seated in the main seat. I immediately knelt.
"Your Highness."
No sound came from the head of the hall for a long moment. I couldn’t raise my head; I waited on my knees. Coming here unannounced could have been a death sentence if he thought I was aligned with Ethan.
"You’ve been in the palace." The Crown Prince’s tone was calm, like a mountain brook in early spring—inviting, yet cold to the touch.
I froze. Cold sweat dampened my back; in my previous life I’d spent three years in the palace and learned many formalities. But I had only given a simple commoner’s bow—how could he tell?
His observation was frightening.
I inhaled. "No, Your Highness. Only learned a few things."
"Look up."
I straightened slowly and met his gaze.
Nathan Hale was very handsome, with sharp features and catlike eyes that seemed amused and indifferent at once. His posture was impeccable, yet there was a lazy air about him—yet that laziness didn’t diminish his presence. His dark gaze settled on me like a weight, as if countless hands pressed on my shoulders, forcing me to submit.
"I’ve heard you grew up with the third prince—close childhood friends."
He smiled faintly; his voice softened almost imperceptibly.
"I don’t trust rumors," I answered respectfully. "If it were true, I wouldn’t have broken the engagement."
He didn’t press further. He took a sip from the cup held by a maid.
"Why did you call it off?"
I bit my lip. "Because he deceived me. I hate being deceived."
He looked unconvinced. "That sounds thin. You’re hiding something."
Chill seeped through me. With this man, it felt impossible to hide. If I told the truth, he might dismiss me as insane and send me away.
"The fifth day of the fourth month, the entire city will be full of rumors that the Crown Prince’s bloodline is impure."
Nathan blinked. A guard, furious, drew his blade and pressed it at my throat. "How dare you!"
The blade was keen enough to slice through steel. If the prince hadn’t intervened in time, my neck might have been severed. The guard, cheeks flushed, obeyed when ordered to stand down.
I locked my gaze on Nathan and continued, "Ethan Ward will bribe your wet nurse. Overnight, whispers about your bloodline will spread throughout the city. The Minister of Rites will be the first to turn—he’ll petition to strip you of the crown."
Nathan listened calmly, expression composed, and nonchalantly offered me a new cup of tea. His manners were elegant, almost pleasant. I took it blindly, unsure whether to drink.
What was going on? I told him a bombshell, and he sipped tea like he had all day.
"Try it."
"…"
I took a small sip and, despite everything, answered weakly, "If Your Highness doubts me, wait for that day. I stake my life on it."
He asked lightly, "Is the tea good?"
"…"
Was this really the time to discuss tea? The tea wasn’t even particularly fine—often our disaster-relief tea was that bland.
"…Good." I murmured, though the tea was flavorless.
I suddenly noticed my neck was bleeding—the guard’s blade had nicked me. The pain dawned slowly. I didn’t wipe it.
Nathan listened like a cat toying with prey, unhurried, as if waiting for something.
Silence stretched between us. I was the lower-status one—so I had to break it. "Your Highness?"
A long moment passed without response. Just when I thought he’d ignored me, he said, "Leave. I’ll verify your claim. If you lie—"
His expression softened slightly, but the words chilled me: "If you’re lying, it will be easy enough to deal with you."
Why did those terrifying words sound gentler the more he said them?
My emotions roiled, but I dared only one plea: "Your Highness—could you, during this time, ensure the Bennett household isn’t harmed?"
Nathan nodded.
I exhaled with relief, then watched his smile shift into something sharp and cold, like ice revealing a blade as it melts. That smile sent a fresh chill through me.
Better if he’d never smiled—I’d prefer it.
By the time I left the palace and returned to the manor, I was drenched in sweat.
"He’s ‘gentle’?" Who was spreading that rumor about Nathan Hale?
I lay down and let out a long breath. He hadn’t killed me. If what I said came true, maybe I could gain his trust—maybe.
Also—what did the tea have to do with anything? Was it poisoned?
4.
The physician said the tea wasn’t poisoned; he examined me and declared me in fine health.
I was baffled.
Since I was unharmed, I didn’t dwell on it. Days passed and Nathan didn’t contact me again. Life settled back into its old rhythm, as if the whole exchange had never happened. I wasn’t in a hurry; I planned to wait for the fifth of April.
Then, on the fifteenth, while praying at the temple, someone tried to assassinate me.
The leader wore black, lithe and graceful—and I recognized the riding crop at a glance. Hazel.
Under the sovereign’s watchful land, she dared to act so boldly?
My guards were no match for someone seasoned from the battlefield, and they were quickly routed.
Knowing Hazel’s target was me, I didn’t want Molly—the perfumer I worked with—to be hurt, so I told them to mount up and fetch help while I ran into the woods, hoping the terrain might buy me time. If I could make it back to the temple, all the better.
I couldn’t run far. Hazel caught up quickly, wrapping her crop around my leg, tripping me to the ground.
Before I could rise, I was surrounded.
She theatrically pulled off a mask and laughed, "Well, well, little merchant girl—we meet again. Tell me, should I kill you, or sell you to the entertainment district?"
As she spoke, the barbed crop slashed my cheek, a sting more than a wound.
I lowered my eyes and plunged the dagger I’d hidden at my wrist toward her. She dodged with lightning reflexes but still took a thin scratch across her face. The tiny wound left her stunned, as if the sky had fallen.
"You dare hurt me? Scratch my face!" she shrieked and drew a knife to stab me.
At that instant, an arrow flew from behind her. She flinched and covered her face as a volley of arrows rained down.
Hazel glared at me, realizing killing me was suddenly risky. Gritting her teeth, she ordered a retreat.
I turned and saw Nathan Hale walking toward us with his guards.
He wore a moon-white robe, looking effortless and unbothered—an elegant contrast to my disheveled state.
I stood and was about to bow to thank him when he steadied me with a hand.
"That Hazel woman holds grudges for everything. I don’t have time to watch you every day."
"Hm?"
I blinked. So he came to save me because he couldn’t watch me every day?
Maybe my face betrayed me; he tapped my head with his folding fan. "Coincidence."
I nodded to show I believed him.
His breathing grew heavier and he smiled—an odd, unsettling smile.
Maybe I was overthinking. He’d always been temperamental.
"Then… how would Your Highness like this handled?"
He was a head taller than me, so he looked down, and now there was a hint of disdain in his gaze that made him look oddly frustrated.
When he finally laid out his plan, I understood the source of that frustration.
"Nobody in my residence cares about appearances. You can be my secondary consort. If you have that title, she won’t dare move against you openly."
I froze. "Secondary consort?"
He watched me and smiled gently. "What, still hoping to be the crown princess?"
I shook my head. "Secondary consort is fine. Very fine."
Reborn, I Refused His Perfect Love
It wasn't until I returned to the Bennett Manor that I realized Nathan Hale’s attitude had softened unnaturally. Had he verified what I'd said these past few days?
Did that mean I'd gained a sliver of his trust?
Still, terms needed to be clear. I wouldn't play the fool for free.
The next day I went straight to him.
He seemed to expect me. When I arrived, Belle was already waiting. After I bowed, I asked cautiously, "Was what I said verified?"
He chuckled, a light glint in his eyes. "Slow to react. Who else would come to rescue you?"
My throat tightened. "So Your Highness believes me?"
"No."
"…Then why make me your secondary consort? Aren't you afraid I'm a spy?"
He curled a lip and plucked a grape with pale, sculpted fingers, popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly; his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
I almost believed he liked me.
But thinking it through, if I truly became his secondary consort, my life would be in his hands. He could watch me constantly, which would actually be safer.
And if I truly opposed Ethan Ward, being Nathan Hale's secondary consort might be safer still.
Either way, Nathan didn't lose, and neither would I.
As for reputation—I'd long stopped caring.
Having decided, I bowed and then looked up. "Crown Prince Nathan, if this succeeds, will you promise me two things?
1. Keep the Bennetts safe."
He glanced at me calmly. "Is the second asking to be allowed to leave?"
I was surprised he guessed so easily, and said yes.
"But the world will know you were one of mine. True or not, no one will take you afterward."
His voice cooled; displeasure flared.
I met his eyes without shrinking. "I understand."
He studied me for a long moment, then looked away and pursed his lips. "Do you despise palace life so much?"
I didn't know how to answer—part of me was scared he might be trying to keep me here.
Of course he wouldn't.
I told myself that and felt my heart stutter anyway.
Seeing I didn't speak, he didn't press. He rose and rapped my head with the fan. "Stay here tonight. Bella will escort you home tomorrow in the Prince's carriage."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
I kowtowed until his footsteps faded, then lifted my head to watch him leave.
The air still held the ghost of his scent—bamboo and something like melting ice, faintly familiar.
"What a strange man," I murmured.
I couldn't figure out how a prince raised with every favor could be so moody and prickly.
But that wasn't my concern. Once I went back to the Bennett Manor tomorrow, nothing could be undone.
The next day, Belle made a show of bringing me home.
Everyone knew the Prince's crest. Gossip seeped into the carriage; people wanted to know which family's daughter had caught the Prince's eye. The whole city buzzed.
When the carriage rolled up to the Bennett gates I drew a deep breath and stepped down with Belle's respectful arm supporting me.
Gasps rippled; some people ignored me entirely and started whispering, "The Bennetts are merchants! How did she catch the Prince?"
"She's almost twenty—what a scandal!"
"No wonder she called off that pauper's engagement; she must've hit it big."
The murmurs never stopped.
Belle, trained in martial arts and used to commanding attention, glanced over the crowd. Their chatter fell silent.
I stared straight ahead with no expression.
Belle had clearly been instructed to be deferential. She wasn't her usual haughty self; she was polite and reverent, which made the onlookers even more sour.
When she said, "Come to fetch the secondary consort tomorrow," their faces soured further. They probably thought, if an older merchant's daughter can become the Prince's secondary consort, then their daughters should be even more eligible.
I felt nothing but scorn. What good was marrying the Prince?
Ridiculous.
My parents thought I was truly admired by the Prince and were at once joyful and worried. I told them the Prince treated me well and favored me, and then they stopped prying.
After dinner, Molly bathed me.
The steam blurred my vision. I was half-asleep—I'd hardly slept last night from nerves—and dangerously tired, but I couldn't actually sleep. If I'd "married" the Prince, Ethan Ward would certainly know. Would he come?
If he came, maybe he would be the one I helped the Prince find.
Ethan had endured humiliation for so long; of course he'd doubt the Prince's motives.
"Miss, if you're tired, sleep," Molly said.
I yawned and let her dress me in undergarments, then she left to keep watch.
Lily had already left with the wedding clothes—probably happily making my bridal attire at home. I couldn't see her wedding and part of me envied her: carefree, loved, and content with a simple life.
I lowered my eyes and smothered the fluttering feelings. Thoughts like that weren't mine to have. I blew out the candle.
In the middle of the night, a soft sound.
A bookmark slid from the window frame and hit the floor. Someone slipped in.
I recognized the figure and was startled. He actually came?
Ethan Ward moved cautiously toward me. Seeing I was awake, his expression was full of resentment.
"I always wondered why you broke off your engagement. I figured out your identity. So it was because of Nathan Hale. You're clever—why didn't you think about whether he was sincere?"
I answered coldly, "Do you have sincerity then?"
A flash of anger crossed Ethan's face. "Claire Bennett! If I weren't sincere, why would I risk coming for you? Don't you realize the trap Nathan set for me today?"
His words made me smile despite everything. "Saying that almost made me think you and Hazel were just playing at it."
A grayness crept into his eyes.
I stood and grabbed his collar. The tiny bite mark on his neck was a perfect, humiliating memento of my past life.
Hazel always liked leaving marks on him during their trysts to spite me. This life was no different.
Ethan stiffened and rushed to explain, "Hazel's brash, but I needed General Montgomery's support to have a chance. I never intended to abandon you. Once I enter the palace, I'll bring you in. You'll be the one I dote on—"
I shoved him away. I couldn't bear to hear more of the old, nauseating assurances.
He clenched his fists and grew more agitated. Then his eyes darkened. "Did Nathan Hale touch you?"
Those words made my skin crawl. I answered with venom, "Yes. You know the Prince is more—capable."
The double meaning hit him like a blow. Anger twisted into madness.
He grabbed my throat so hard I heard a snap.
"Say it—say you lied to me!"
I couldn't breathe, staring up at him.
Just when I thought I would die in his hands, a dart zipped through the paper window and embedded in his wrist. He had to loosen his grip.
I collapsed onto the floor, my body aching. Ethan looked at me, guilt warring with rage. "I won't let you go!" he spat, then leapt from the window and vanished into the night.
The door burst open and a cold presence filled the room. Nathan gathered me up in his arms. His warmth was strangely comforting.
"Go after him."
"Yes."
Figures dashed past. I pushed at Nathan and hauled myself upright against the bedpost. "P–Prince—"
I hadn't finished when my throat burned like I’d swallowed fire, stinging and raw.
His jade-like hands steadied me, pressing on my arm briefly then releasing. "If you can't fight, why pretend to be strong?"
His voice carried a faint chill.
I stared at him, thinking of that earlier taunt about the Prince's prowess. Pain and shock kept me from looking up. My face felt aflame. "A… accident."
He was silent a moment, then sighed. "Bella will come for you tomorrow."
I nodded out of habit, but the motion broke off like a snapped string. Pain shot through me and I gasped.
Nathan hesitated, then came back and ran his hand over my neck. The warm touch stunned me—but then sharp agony followed.
A loud crack.
I couldn't help the cry. I clapped both hands to the spot, teeth gritted against the pain.
"Hah, how ugly," he said lightly, amused.
In the dim light he showed a faint smile. Moonlight through the window softened his sharp features.
When I blinked, the smile was gone as if it had never been, and he wordlessly handed me a small bottle of medicine. "Take this first. Tomorrow you'll see our physician at the manor."
I wanted to nod, but the memory of his earlier heat made my skin prickle and I shivered. "Yes."
The image had unsettled me enough to make my heart flutter. He watched me for a long beat, as if probing, and I couldn't meet his gaze. Finally he turned and left. I bit my lip and checked on Molly and the others—they were sleeping soundly.
After that night, I couldn't sleep.
The next morning, seeing the vivid pink wedding dress sent my heart into further chaos.
"Bella… is that outer layer sea-silk? No—this wedding robe is nebula brocade? This…"
Nebula brocade was so rare even the palace had only one or two bolts. Sea-silk was reserved for the Empress. For me to wear them?
Belle smiled at my stunned face, her gorgeous features bright. "A secondary consort need not worry. Just marry with peace."
She said it as if it were a real wedding.
I looked at myself in the mirror—barely twenty, pretty as a lotus—but my eyes had a tiredness that couldn't be hidden.
Her neck was wrapped in pink gauze to hide the bruises, with tiny beads sewn in—only making her look more gorgeous.
I’d expected to be carried straight to the Crown Prince’s residence, but to my surprise Nathan Hale actually came himself.
Listening to the murmurs outside, I felt a little lost.
The performance didn’t need to be so overdone. Was Nathan here because of Ethan Ward, or because of… I didn’t dare imagine. Once inside the bridal chamber, I took off the veil—and Belle gave a startled cry.
“Miss! You can’t take it off!”
I smiled. “It’s fine.”
That salve from last night must’ve been something strong; after only one night the swelling was much better. I could form words now and only felt a little stiffness.
Belle sighed and stole a look outside, then took out some sugar candies from her sleeve.
“Miss, you really should keep to decorum.”
She thought I’d wrenched my neck, so she pinched off some of the brittle pieces and carefully fed the larger crumbs to me. I smiled back.
“So sweet.”
She pinched my cheek, then pulled the veil back over my face.
She didn’t know I was only avoiding the awkwardness.
I heard the door open and knew Nathan had come in; then the door clicked again—Belle must’ve stepped out.
I pulled the veil back and found Nathan poised with the pole to lift it.
The atmosphere turned tense.
I didn’t know if he noticed my resistance.
He glanced at me coolly, set the pole down, and said, “I didn’t expect the secondary consort to be in such a hurry.”
I forced a smile, pretending not to have noticed his displeasure. “Then, ah—let’s start over?”
I grabbed the veil and silently covered my face.
This time the veil stayed on for a long while. When it was finally lifted, it wasn’t Nathan in front of me but Belle, frowning: “Miss, where did His Highness go?”
“I… don’t know.”
Belle looked at me, sighed, and helped remove my makeup, disappointment clear on her face as if I were hopeless. I feigned innocence.
All night I turned it over in my head, unable to believe it.
In my past life I really did admire Ethan Ward, so I wasn’t naive about men. But Nathan Hale… no way.
The only rationalization left was self-deception: maybe Nathan was just meticulous about appearances. Even if it was a show, he insisted on doing it perfectly—hence his coldness. He was raised strict, palace protocols were harsh, he had impeccable manners… none of it sat right, but believing that was easier than thinking he liked me.
The next day I prepared snacks and waited outside his study, ready to play the compliant fake secondary consort.
When he returned from court I plastered on a bright smile.
He stiffened for a beat, then smoothed his expression, but I still saw it—he looked at me like I’d seen a ghost.
I quickly looked away. Maybe I imagined it, but he seemed to grit his teeth, then grabbed my hand and pulled me into his study.
His grip was tight. I opened my mouth, but didn’t speak.
He still held my hand after we entered. I whispered, “Your Highness, does your household have spies? Is this for someone’s benefit?”
He looked at me coldly and I fell silent.
Nathan’s smile was thin. “You’re clever. Then cooperate.”
He let go of my hand and took a bite of the snacks. “You made these?”
I nodded stiffly.
He said lazily, “They’re awful.”
…Thankfully, the awkwardness didn’t last long.
He rifled through his bookcases and spread out a piece of parchment—an old map marked with the positions of various forces.
“Look,” he said calmly.
I stepped forward. In my past life I wasn’t a power broker, but Ethan had sometimes told me about court affairs. I’d mostly listened without speaking. On the map I pointed out several spots—mines I knew of, and where Hazel Montgomery’s father’s troops were stationed.
Then something felt off.
“Huh? Isn’t General Montgomery’s garrison at Roe City?” I asked.
Nathan shook his head. “It’s General Chen’s.”
I frowned. “But he reinforced directly from Roe City—otherwise Ethan couldn’t have won.”
As soon as I spoke I clamped my mouth shut and glanced at Nathan. He was studying the map, as if he hadn’t heard me, but I knew he had.
I kept quiet, pretending not to notice.
“What are you thinking?” His voice softened, as if afraid of scaring me.
I must’ve been losing my mind. I forced a stiff shake of my head. “Nothing.”
His eyes darkened, like storm clouds rolling in. For a moment I feared he would throw me out of the study. Instead he sighed. “I didn’t mean to pry into your secrets. You don’t need to be so guarded.”
Those words pricked me—not painful, but uneasy.
After a bit more talk about possible developments, I went back to my room.
That night I saw something I hadn’t expected.
“Your Highness?” I’d just finished bathing; my hair was still damp. I opened the door to find Nathan sitting properly at the small table reading.
Belle wasn’t surprised—she smiled at me and reached to leave, but I grabbed her.
Her smile froze. She glanced at Nathan, then briskly took my hand and pulled it away, closing the door with exaggerated thoughtfulness, leaving me in my shift standing there—help.
“Your Highness?” My voice trembled, pulling Nathan’s attention. He glanced at me coolly. “The secondary consort should sleep.”
…Is that the important part???
I bit my lip, about to ask what he was doing, but his lips moved and cut me off. “There are spies in the residence, searching.”
My face flushed. Isn’t that exactly the reason I’d thought of? Didn’t he change his line?
“How should we sleep tonight?” I asked, eyeing the bed. My toes scrunched in the shoes as I picked at the floor.
He looked at me; his sharp features softened a touch, amusement lifting the corners of his eyes. “Of course the secondary consort will sleep on the floor. Wouldn’t want to soil my honor.”
I was stunned, embarrassed by my own wishful thinking. I spread bedding on the floor, lay down flat, and buried my face like an ostrich. If daylight would never come, that’d be fine.
That night I slept fitfully.
I woke before dawn and sat up to call Belle, but saw she was still asleep. I quietly folded the bedding and dressed.
When I turned, Nathan was sitting up against the headboard, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” I said, blushing.
He watched silently, then got up and, almost habitually, pinched my neck gently. Before I could shrink away, he said the first strange thing of the day: “Lucky your snoring didn’t re-injure your neck.”
“???!” I blinked.
A flash of amusement crossed his eyes, then he summoned the maids. Stream of them came and interrupted whatever I was about to say. I had no choice but to stand politely to the side while he finished his toilette.
At breakfast he told me to come to his study after court and to remember to bring snacks, as if he didn’t care in the least.
I ground my teeth. Who said the snacks were bad yesterday?
I mentally tallied days and remembered that in a couple months the second prince would suddenly die of illness and the fourth prince would be sent to his fief under suspicion for hoarding anti-imperial texts. I told Nathan that, though the exact timing was uncertain—I only knew the outcomes.
He nodded, chewed slowly, and then left for court.
I watched his straight back and sighed.
Tomorrow I’d return to my natal household. Knowing Ethan, he’d probably stir up trouble—what would he do?
But that day passed in peace. Even the return to the Bennett family went off without a hitch. I remarked on our luck and he smiled thinly: “He has to have time for it too.”
The coldness in his eyes made me suspect he’d arranged something. My heart stirred.
As days passed, Nathan grew more prideful—what Americans would call tsundere, only sharper.
When the physician said my neck had healed, he made me serve tea in his study from morning till night. I smiled sweetly on the surface while cursing him inwardly. Serving tea was no reward.
Still, something was changing.
More of my favorite flavors appeared at meals—dishes that had once been bland now came spiced, and whenever he ate more than two bites his face flushed and I couldn’t bear to watch.
The furnishings leaned increasingly toward the Bennett style, but more luxurious; even the bedding was changed to match my taste.
When we discussed affairs in his study, the soft look he sometimes let slip across his face unraveled me.
This wasn’t how things should go. If he won and became emperor, I’d never enter the palace again.
Two months later he told me the second prince was dead—not from a sudden illness, but from a venereal disease.
He said with a mild, leisurely tone, “The second always had his airs. His concubines were spotless girls from reputable homes. I don’t know how humiliated he must have been to die of such filth.”
My scalp went cold. I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak.
There was no cruelty in his manner, but it chilled me—palace life was so cold.
Nathan patted my head indulgently as if to comfort me, and my heart grew colder still.
That night I lay on the floor thinking of the last months, unable to sleep.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked. He was watching me. I shook my head and closed my eyes, but I heard him get out of bed.
“Are you afraid of the daytime things, or are you afraid of me?” he asked.
I bit my lip, missing the way he called himself “I”—a little pang. “No, I just can’t sleep.”
He lay down beside me. “Don’t overthink. You’re plain enough; staying up late only makes you uglier.”
I gritted my teeth.
His hard gaze softened. “The forces Ethan hid in the shadows have mostly been exposed. I was surprised. If I hadn’t known earlier, who’d have won would’ve been uncertain.”
I said nothing. Outside the window cicadas buzzed, a lazy, ambiguous rhythm.
“When this is over, you—”
“I’ll leave,” I cut in.
The hint of intimacy cracked into pieces.
His look went distant; I couldn’t meet his eyes.
After a long silence he croaked, “Fine. You may be plain, but you’d be okay running a business.”
I forced a smile. “Yep. Free.”
He closed his eyes, then suddenly sat up and stared at me. “The spies have been dealt with. From now on, do you still want to sleep… on the floor?”
He was asking if I wanted to keep sharing his room.
I saw a fragile hope in his eyes and looked away. “If that’s the case, I’ll sleep on the bed.”
When I answered, the faint hope in his gaze faded completely.
From that day on, we went back to the original arrangement: only business, no romance.
The past few months felt like a dream.
I didn’t know where his initial fondness had come from, but I knew I had fallen for him — and I needed to retreat before it was too late.
Half a year later, Ethan Ward’s power had been dismantled piece by piece. The secret moves he’d planted were slowly rendered useless.
Besides, in my previous life he always relied on surprise. He nearly lost once already. Now that all his cards were exposed, he stood no chance against Nathan Hale.
Everything had been decided. It was over.
But even a centipede, though dead, still twitches; Nathan told me to stay inside the estate and not go wandering, just in case.
I didn’t mind waiting a month or two, so I agreed.
I never thought something would still go wrong.
Ethan ended up throwing the last of his forces at me. While Nathan was away inspecting the countryside, Ethan had my carriage ambushed and dragged me out of the prince’s residence.
We hadn’t seen each other in months. He’d hollowed out at the cheeks; his eyes were all dusk and malice as he gently traced my face. “Sister, see? In the end you came back to me.”
They’d drugged me. I was weak, but I could still feel the incline of the carriage.
He held me close and buried his face in my neck.
His breath dampened my skin.
I wanted to vomit.
It felt like some slimy insect crawling across me.
I almost threw up.
His expression snapped. His eyes slowly turned bloodshot. “Disgust me? What? Does being under Nathan make you feel good? Do you hate me that much?”
As he said it, he lunged and started biting and tearing at my clothes. I bit my tongue hard; the pain gave me a sliver of strength and I ripped out a hairpin and drove it in.
It was clumsy and off-target — it only hit his shoulder blade.
He glanced down, then, face cold, ripped out the hairpin and aimed it back at me. I looked at him unflinchingly.
But the pin slipped and sank into the side of his face.
His eyes blazed red; tears welled and didn’t fall. “Claire Bennett, are you counting on me not to hurt you? Is that why you keep treating me like this? Huh? You think this lousy pin will stop me? Today I’m going to make you mine! Let’s see how you live with him after that!”
He got rougher, tearing my clothes off. Blood dripped from the wound on his shoulder, staining and mixing like tears.
I bit down hard on his shoulder — the metallic, bloody taste filled my mouth.
He shoved me away, raised his hand to slap me, then clenched his fist and smashed it against the carriage wall.
“Why? What did I do to make you hate me so much? Yes, I stole the embroidered ball on purpose, and at first I was scheming — but I grew to love you, truly. I wanted to marry you, to be with you forever, to have a daughter as pretty as you. I’d already picked a name for her! Can’t you give me another chance? I don’t care you slept with Nathan. Please, love me the way you used to?”
He cried in a childlike, wounded way.
I laughed; it felt like spit. What right did he have to act injured? What right did he have to demand my love?
“We had a daughter,” I said.
He looked confused.
I dug my finger into the tiny hole the hairpin had made in his shoulder and watched him flinch. Teeth clenched, I said, “You sent her to be killed by Hazel Montgomery.”
He looked puzzled, then his face fell. “You’re feigning madness? I won’t let you get away with that either!”
“Ha—” I laughed until tears came. The hatred of both lives coalesced inside me and felt almost physical, surging up like poison.
I grabbed his collar like a vengeful ghost. “Her name was Yvonne. Nickname Annie. Didn’t you say you picked the name?”
He froze, staring at me with a kind of wild, shocked look, stumbling away from my grasp. “You— you saw that I named the child…”
He faltered mid-sentence. His face drained white as he seemed to realize he had never told me that.
He muttered to himself, “Impossible. That couldn’t— the child in my dream…”
I stared at him with nothing but hatred. He was pale as paper.
A voice outside cut through: “Your Highness, there are pursuers!”
Ethan threw back the curtain and peered out; his expression hardened. “Faster.”
“Yes!”
The carriage bucked harder. My heart dropped — he had a contingency. It was a trap.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, worried.
He stroked my face without answering, smiling like a kid who’d stolen candy.
They stopped soon after. He carried me into a small building. Hooves sounded close by.
I clenched at him and told him to let go. Instead, he ran toward a back door — until an arrow struck his leg and he collapsed.
I rolled out of his arms and smelled something on the ground before I realized what it was. Ethan, apparently numb to pain, crawled toward me like a beast and pressed a dagger to my throat. He drew a flint and shouted at the approaching Nathan: “Don’t come near! I salted this place with gunpowder!”
Nathan halted his horse at once and called out, voice tight. “Let her go and I won’t kill you.”
Ethan sneered, rubbing his cheek against my neck, voice equal parts pain and clinging love. “Sister, die with me.”
I ignored him and smiled up at Nathan, hoping the last image he would keep of me wasn’t me blown to pieces.
Ethan’s hand sparked the fuse on a nearby tree.
Nathan’s face went white and he spurred forward, but his men held him back.
He struggled and shouted my name in a way I’d never heard from him — not the usual calm and composed demeanor, but frantic, raw. It looked almost foolish.
I shook my head at him.
Ethan pressed closer like a wounded animal. “Sister, I’ve always dreamed of a little girl who called me father.”
The fuse burned halfway.
I said coldly, “Is that so? Maybe she was too young to know you were the one who stole her life. I’ll tell her when I meet her.”
Ethan’s body stiffened; he pressed his head to my shoulder, whimpering.
The fuse was down to a quarter.
“Forget it,” he croaked, “I won’t drag you to complain to her.”
The flame hit the end.
The dagger clattered to the ground.
Boom.
Explosions ripped through the air. I was thrown to the dirt. Nathan used the momentary shock to break free of his guards, climb over the wreckage, and throw himself over me, using his body as a shield.
I blinked in disbelief. Firelight danced everywhere; explosions cracked dozens of times like thunder, deafening. When I managed to rise, the world around us was chaos — debris, bodies, blood.
I had no idea why Ethan had pushed me aside at the end; I’d thought for sure I was dead.
Nathan shouted questions over me but I heard nothing until a glimmer on the ground caught my eye.
It was a broken safety amulet.
Back when Ethan had given me a bracelet he’d made himself, I’d felt I should do something in return and bought the best jade to make a safety amulet for him. For whatever reason, he’d insisted on wearing it around his neck and proudly told people, with a crooked smile, “Claire made this.”
…“Claire, look at me! Claire? Can you hear me?”
I came to as Nathan gently patted my cheek. He was smeared with dust across his face and shoulders, looking utterly spent.
I blinked and nodded dumbly.
He exhaled in relief and folded me into his arms. The warmth of him pressed against me and I couldn’t help leaning in.
“I’m sorry. I almost lost you again,” he kept saying.
I wondered silently what the “again” meant, but there was no point asking.
Feeling his rapid heartbeat, I rapped his back once. “You promised.”
He froze, then slowly let go. After a long moment, he finally let out a soft, “Okay.”
It was over.
Ethan was gone without a trace. The Montgomery family, for aiding him, was wiped out.
Hazel Montgomery was given to the same eunuch who’d tormented Molly in the past. Months later, rumors said she’d gone mad.
Nathan never questioned me about the details. He probably suspected something, but chose to respect my silence. I appreciated that.
He still never told me what the “again” referred to — he said only the empress would know. I never asked. Before I left the capital for good, I deliberately annoyed him once just to get a rise out of him.
Back at Bennett Manor, I resumed the family business.
A year later, Nathan became emperor and threw himself into reform. Strangely, every time someone was selected to enter the palace he would faint dead away.
They consulted the head monk at Lotus Birth Temple. The monk said Nathan’s horoscope was afflicted by a marriage star; only a woman born in the third watch of the night could properly match his fate.
When my father heard this, he glanced at me. That hour happened to be the hour I was born.
I pretended I hadn’t heard. After finishing my porridge, I said, “Go to the study,” and left without looking back.
Really, Nathan — for someone who’d pull stunts like that, I had no idea how he’d convince a high monk to break his vows.
I smiled to myself.
As I entered the study, a letter lay on the desk.
I opened it. Inside was a single line: “I want a snack.”
The handwriting was familiar. I curved a small smile.
Outside, peach blossoms drifted like pink snow.
“Well,” I conceded to myself, “I think I might miss him too.”
(The main story ends)
[Bonus: Nathan Hale — Past-Life Extra] 1. Flooding struck South City; even after ten thousand taels were sent for relief, great numbers of refugees surged and were held outside the capital.
The emperor ordered me to investigate.
After court, Fourth Brother smiled and congratulated me with an edge of envy and hatred in his gaze.
I ignored him and went straight out to inspect the refugees. He stepped up and whispered in my ear, “Father only favors you. Do you really think you’ve earned it?”
I stopped and gave a half-smile. “I’m alright. At least I’m not useless at both letters and arms like you.”
His face went green. I walked off.
Lately Fourth Brother had been overstepping — even sending his men into my estate — but something felt off. He didn’t seem clever enough for half of it.
I shoved the thought aside and went to the city wall.
There were refugees as far as the eye could see. My brows tightened. Thousands packed outside the city — why so many?
“Your Highness…this—” Asheng, who’d grown up with me, hesitated when he saw my expression and the scene.
I found a rag shop’s backdoor and changed into dirty, tattered clothes. Asheng, surprised, immediately did the same. We messed our hair, smeared dirt across our faces and hands, and slipped out of the city.
Luckily a relief team was handing out porridge — probably soldiers assigned to the task — and the sight eased my irritation a bit.
The line for porridge stretched about half a mile: trembling elders, pale children, scrawny invalids.
I queued and moved slowly, asking the old man in front of me about his situation.
He breathed hard, body frail, cursing the court’s neglect — the porridge was mixed with grit.
We fled all the way to the capital, only to be denied entry.
After he spoke, he coughed a few times.
I moved toward the front of the line. But it wasn’t soldiers waiting there — it was a girl of sixteen or seventeen, carefully handing out bowls of porridge to the refugees.
Her brows were willow-thin, her eyes almond-shaped, and there was a rare clarity to them, the kind you never see in court: no schemes, no affected coyness — nothing but honest, open-faced sincerity.
When she noticed me stepping forward, her brows knit slightly. “Why are you cutting in line?”
I froze, wordless. I’d thought the court was the one distributing food… “Oh.”
She studied my stunned expression and softened. Swiftly she ladled a bowl of porridge for me and tucked a corn bun into it.
“Don’t cut in line next time. Give me the bowl when you’re done.”
“Okay.”
I took the bowl and saw a hint of a pale wrist and nails painted a soft pink.
She’d already gone back to her work, not paying me another thought.
I took the bowl back to the old man I’d passed earlier and handed it to him. He kept thanking me as he hurried off to feed his little grandson beneath a tree.
The boy was skin and bones. After a few sips he pretended to be full, but insisted on taking turns drinking from the old man’s portion.
I asked who was handing out the porridge. “The Bennetts,” they said.
The memory of those eyes nagged at me, so I asked for her name — Claire Bennett.
From that day on I became one of the “refugees.”
I ate and slept with them, blended in, and within five days I’d mapped the south district’s situation down to the last detail.
We were starving.
Two bowls of porridge and two corn buns a day wasn’t enough. One afternoon I was sitting under a tree when someone tapped my shoulder.
I opened my eyes and saw eyes like twin stars. She handed me two pastries and sent a maid to fetch a cup of tea for me.
“Are you an official checking the flood damage?” Her voice was like a finely tuned instrument — natural, unforced.
My gaze sharpened; I was sizing up how to handle her. Instead she smiled, squinted, and pointed at my hands.
“You don’t even have calluses. Still, you’re amazing — really living and eating here.”
Something in me softened and I stopped pretending. I leaned back against the tree and pointed lazily at the tea.
She sighed and had the maid pour me another bowl.
“Tastes light.”
I feigned complaint.
She ignored me and, eyes bright, said, “You must find out properly. Bring down any officials who are treating the people like fish and meat!”
Her words were so earnest and hot-blooded I couldn’t help laughing. “All right.”
“Good. If you’re hungry, come find me. I’ll have as many pastries as you want.”
I looked at the coarse pastry in my hand and shook my head at her. Her cheeks flushed. “They’re not bad, cough.”
Then she shoved the rest of the pastries at me and turned to go.
The sky was all crimson as her carriage pulled away. For some reason I felt hollow.
I took a bite of the oddly shaped pastry.
Ugh. Terrible.
Back at court I reported on the flood relief, but I didn’t mention that the Bennetts were distributing porridge.
If even officials wouldn’t take care of the refugees, a merchant stepping in would be far too obvious a target.
The emperor roared with anger and ordered a full investigation.
The south district belonged to Fourth Prince’s sphere of influence; he looked at me as if I’d singled him out, and his gaze was poisonous.
Too bad for him, he still couldn’t touch me.
Blending with the refugees let me spot loyalty and treachery faster than anyone. The men who pretended to be decent in front of us were monsters to the populace.
It took three months to gather evidence. Each piece was enough to destroy a family. We even uncovered an assassination attempt.
Fourth Prince had bolder courage than I’d imagined.
After I submitted the report, thunder rolled — the lead officials were executed, their families exiled; the rest faced various punishments.
Fourth Prince was put under house arrest for six months.
After the court session, the emperor kept me behind and smiled. “Well done.”
I bowed and thanked him.
He coughed and his eyes glittered with calculation. “I don’t think anyone will dare question your abilities again.”
He laughed heartily.
I froze. “Father, you knew about the south district?”
I couldn’t believe it.
He smiled without answering, and the implication was clear.
I walked out of the palace stunned. All this had been deliberate indulgence by him — a path he’d made for me.
Thinking of the corpse-strewn south district made me close my eyes in pain. Among the dead were children’s bones. Tiny bodies that had never had time to grow.
On the way back to the manor I couldn’t stop picturing those clear eyes. She’d smiled and told me to bring down the officials who treated the people like meat.
And the source of all that filth turned out to be me.
“Your Highness?” Annie found me sitting dazed at my desk and quietly stepped back, leaving me space.
I sighed and rubbed my temple.
To rule — what did it mean, really? If I ever reached that position, would I end up like them?
I didn’t know why, but I suddenly wanted to see those clear eyes again.
Luckily she was easy to find; she often worked in her shops, dealing with customers and the manager.
Annie looked at my filthy clothes and blurted, “Shall I come with you?”
“No. Follow discreetly.”
I went to Waverly House. Claire was speaking with a patron, dressed in a pale pink gown that made her eyes sparkle, a fox-like glint of mischief in them.
I softened, then felt foolish when she looked up, frowned as if puzzled, and then brightened.
“I heard you handled the south district flooding well — the trade routes are clear again.”
Her honesty and straightforwardness were the same as ever. I hid behind my filthy appearance and watched her secretly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when I didn’t answer, scanning me up and down.
“Why haven’t you changed your clothes?” she asked.
I didn’t reply. I lowered my eyes. “This assignment didn’t go well.”
She blinked. “The people are praising you. How could it have gone badly?”
I could barely say it. “This thing…happened because of me.”
She froze. “How could a flood be because of you? Did you skimp on the dam’s repairs? That was years ago — you were a child then.”
She leaned closer; a faint scent of osmanthus drifted to me. My heart lurched and I stepped back. “I mean…they embezzled because my father allowed it.”
She looked even more puzzled. Why would your father allow that?
Embarrassed, I almost left, but she touched my sleeve and stopped me.
“You knew about this?” Her eyes were aflame.
I shook my head.
She looked sad — maybe for the refugees — then she patted my head like she always did.
“Don’t punish yourself for other people’s sins. But if your father is wrong, he should be punished.”
I felt a sharp pang. She had no idea he couldn’t be punished.
A breeze lifted a stray lock of hair from her face. I felt an odd, petty jealousy toward the wind.
Afterward I had Annie investigate her background.
Claire had a fiancé, Lucas Grant, brought in by proposal five years ago and younger than she was. No wonder she had that practiced habit of patting heads — he must be used to it, like coaxing a child.
I went back and watched them once more. The man was turned away so I couldn’t see his face.
But her eyes when she looked at him — joyful and adoring — tightened something in my chest.
If I’d met her sooner, could things have been different?
I closed my eyes and abandoned the ridiculous idea of forcing her into my life. She didn’t know me — and I didn’t want to extinguish the light in her eyes.
She should do the trade she loved, marry the man she loved, and have a happy life.
Back at the manor I threw the dossier and my filthy clothes into the brazier, watching them burn until my shameful fantasies were ash.
Then Third Prince came back from the dead.
I laughed as I read the secret dispatch in my hand — the instigator was Lucas Grant.
No wonder Fourth Prince had been so bold, stretching his hand into my manor and sending assassins. I had suspected Second Prince, but never imagined a presumed-dead man stirring trouble from the shadows.
“Your Highness, it’s all over the capital now…” Annie said, worried.
I snorted. “No worries. I’ll go to the palace.”
Inside the palace, the emperor looked at me with a flat face. “I’ll issue an edict shortly — Hazel Montgomery will be bestowed to you.”
I frowned. “Hazel belongs to Third Prince.”
He sneered. “She’s also that old rogue He Kun’s favorite. Don’t tell me you refuse?”
I nodded, and the next second an inkstone was hurled to the floor at my feet.
“Ethan Hale, if your mother hadn’t died giving birth to you, do you think I’d have given you this throne willingly? Tell me — will you marry or not?”
I pressed my lips together and said nothing.
My father’s eyes were narrow and sharp. Age hadn’t blunted his edge; if anything, it made his pressure heavier.
“Is someone in your heart?” he asked.
I thought of those clear eyes and shook my head. “I just don’t want to stoop to any means.”
My father exploded into bitter laughter and pointed at me. “I shouldn’t have indulged you from the moment you were born, made you soft and foolish. Fine — leave.”
I knelt to accept his decree. Behind me something clattered to the ground.
The next day the Minister of Rites announced doubts about my bloodline.
My father looked at me with a threatening gaze. I knew he was offering one last chance.
Everyone assumed I was the child of him and my mother, the empress. In truth, I was the product of an affair between him and a common woman who died in childbirth.
Seeing my father’s look, I lowered my eyes. That day I was stripped of the crown prince title.
It didn’t take long before my supporters started to fall away.
I took the time to line up an escape route for them and sat in the study drinking tea while Annie fretted until she nearly tore her hair out.
“Your Highness, didn’t His Majesty always dote on you? Why this sudden change?” she said.
I waved her off. “Third Prince is returning. I’m helping him.”
Annie opened her mouth. I could tell she thought I’d lost my mind.
After all that happened, I knew that position wasn’t for me. Call me selfish, call me ungrateful — I refused to become my father.
He’d been kind to me, but not out of love. It was guilt. I had long suspected: my mother went into early labor the night my father married Empress; he wasn’t there when she died, so he poured all his remorse into me, even poisoning the empress against bearing sons.
In some ways, Father and Third Prince were similar.
From then on I was confined to the manor. Second Prince died — they said it was some filthy disease. Fourth Prince was sent to his fief under house arrest.
I handed Annie’s indenture to him and told him to run away with Belle and never loiter around me again.
He seemed to suspect something and refused to leave.
The day Ethan reclaimed his position he even came to greet me, that gentle, nonthreatening face like a child who never grew up.
His eyes had a fog over them, making everything vague.
“My brother, long time no see. I missed you.”
He smiled, and there was something cruel in his eyes. I nodded. "I understand."
Then he left. Asheng quietly told me Ethan's expression had been terrifying.
I said nothing.
Did Claire know he had that side?
The thought barely formed before I laughed at myself—what did it matter to me… "Asheng, I'm tired."
He froze, surprised, then looked at me. I gave a bitter little smile.
He knelt down at my side. "No matter what the Crown Prince decides, Asheng belongs to the Crown Prince."
I looked at him and closed my eyes.
Before long, I forced the issue.
My father knew there was no way I'd comply, but he still "believed"—probably because the third son resembled him more.
Later, he looked at me as if seeing someone else through me, his voice cold and yet oddly fond. "Your mother was naive too, and her naivety killed her."
I smiled and nodded. "Yes. She fell in love with a man like Father. But I'm a bit curious—Mother lived in the outer residence and was cut off from news. How did she find out you married?"
His face darkened.
I smiled until I almost cried, quietly watching him.
Finally, he said nothing and swept away.
Of course, he knew it wasn't an accident.
The last hope I had was shattered. I took a deep breath and said to Asheng, "Begin."
The next day I went to see the woman I'd kept thinking about one last time. She was on a swing, hands on her belly, murmuring to herself as peach blossoms swirled.
I stared at that gentle face, wanting to burn it into my memory.
Ethan would surely bring her into the palace; the Bennett Trading Co. would be finished.
But I knew Ethan truly loved her—if he didn't, with his temperament he'd have already wiped the Bennett family from existence.
So I could leave with peace of mind.
A few months later, in the chaos, I forced the coup—and died.
Only after leaving the capital did I realize how many beautiful things there were in the world. I changed my face and found a simple, honest village. The people there were kind, their eyes clean.
I removed my spies and stopped searching for her. I never expected that three years later, it would be villagers who told me she was dead.
This was the first time I felt such regret—regret that I hadn't taken her with me.
That bright, clear look in her eyes—the woman I'd longed for so fiercely—was dead?
Suicide?
Or something that left no trace of a body?
I sent Asheng to investigate and learned how she had been worn down step by step until there was no way out.
Ethan couldn't even protect their daughter.
The whole episode twisted him. He became more extreme, more paranoid.
Sometimes, during court, he'd suddenly have fits and whisper to the air with aching devotion, "Claire."
He started wars with neighboring states; people suffered. The fires of war even reached my little village.
At the same time, the Montgomerys grew arrogant and overbearing. Rumors of uprisings began.
The chancellor sought me out, urging me to return to court. I glanced at Asheng; he hung his head guiltily.
Sighing, the chancellor updated me on the state of things.
Ethan had gone completely mad—he killed Hazel Montgomery in the palace. When General Montgomery led troops into the palace, Ethan was murmuring to himself on the throne.
General Montgomery advanced but was caught in an ambush and trapped; the Montgomery family fell. Their army scattered—some became bandits, others joined the rebels.
Ethan spent his days either dabbling in dark arts or killing people; sometimes he was lucid, sometimes not.
I listened and asked calmly, "Where is Claire's body?"
The chancellor looked puzzled. "Who is that?"
A bitter twist inside me. I shook my head.
The takeover went more smoothly than I'd imagined. Ethan's cheeks were sunken, his eyes savage; years of taking elixirs had left his skin a sallow gray.
When I found him, he sat beneath a massive osmanthus tree, saying he wanted to die there.
I knew why, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He didn't deserve it.
I wanted him alive—living out a lifetime of feigned madness and suffering.
Years passed. Twenty years flew by. Ethan died, and I scattered his ashes on the cold river so he would never see her again in death.
I never remarried. I adopted the fourth son's child.
At the time, the boy twisted his face at me, thinking I meant him harm, but I only needed a royal bloodline to inherit—anyone would do.
Fortunately, the fourth son’s child, Nathan Hale, was nothing like his father. He was sharp, politically minded.
So amid his wails, I became the retired emperor and spent my days traveling.
I'd heard the Liansheng Temple could grant any wish. I chuckled, but a strange hope rose in me.
Those years of heartbreak had left me physically spent—the thousand steps to the temple nearly killed me.
Out of breath at the gate, a young monk appeared and said the abbot had been waiting for me.
I froze.
I had heard the abbot Liansheng was nearly two hundred years old and never received visitors.
I stepped inside and found only a youth—features finely cut, a compassionate aura that wasn't cold.
He smiled faintly. "Nathan Hale—twenty years of rule, the country is at peace."
I stared at his face and felt cheated.
"You know me?"
He saw my disappointment but didn't mind. He handed me a cup of tea. I trembled and drank.
"What… is this?"
I was already exhausted, gripping the cup until my knuckles went white.
He stayed gentle. "Would you like to make a wish?"
My hand shook. I forced my voice steady. "Anything?"
"Anything."
"Then I wish her a life of peace and joy."
Liansheng looked at me and slowly smiled. "Very well."
…The next day the retired emperor passed. For some reason, a smile still lingered on his face, as if he'd finally had his wish granted.
He didn't then know that the "peace and joy" he'd begged for would send Claire Bennett back to life.
Nor did he know that after rebirth, the red thread between them would begin again.
The End
