1.
“Ah…”
Francia opened her eyes.
It was a familiar ceiling.
Of course it was.
It was the ceiling of the Fervache estate, where she had spent her entire life growing up—a ceiling she could no longer see now.
“Ahh…”
Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling for a while without saying a word. Longing pierced her heart. The coexistence of joy and sorrow stirred her emotions. She felt as though tears would fall at any moment.
But there wasn’t much time to wallow in her feelings.
‘…I need to check the date.’
Francia hurriedly got out of bed. Outside the window, the sun was just beginning to rise, and the servants were busy preparing for the morning.
Rustle.
Francia stood in front of the mirror lined with mercury. The reflection that met her gaze was vastly different from before.
Her once severely damaged hair now gleamed with luster, shining like obsidian. Her slightly dull red eyes had regained their vitality, sparkling like jewels.
She touched her face with her fingertips. The skin, once roughened by her long, wandering life, was now soft and pale.
‘I really have returned… to the past.’
Francia slowly closed her eyes.
‘…But it doesn’t seem like I’ve gone too far back.’
She had woken up in the Fervache estate, but judging by her appearance, height, and the magic she could feel, the point in time she had returned to was after her coming-of-age ceremony.
This… wasn’t particularly good.
Right after the coming-of-age ceremony, she had entered public service. While she might not have crossed paths with the Archmage or the High Priest yet, there was a high chance she’d already encountered the two men.
‘Aside from that…’
Suddenly, Francia remembered. Returning to the past meant she would be able to see her father again.
‘Father!’
Bang!
Without even changing her clothes, Francia rushed out of her room and ran to the head of the household’s chambers.
“Ah, miss?”
Startled, the servants flinched in confusion. It was understandable. At this point in time, Francia had always been calm and exuded elegance.
But now, dignity and decorum were the least of her concerns. The fact that she could see her father again was more important than anything else.
Bang!
“Father!”
Francia threw open the door to the bedroom without hesitation and called out.
“…Francia?”
The duke sat up with a disheveled face and looked at her.
“Father…”
Clear tears streamed down Francia’s cheeks.
She hadn’t meant to cry.
But the emotions of being able to see her family again overwhelmed her.
“Why, what’s the matter?”
Startled by his daughter’s sudden tears, the Duke of Fervache rose from his bed in alarm. He moved toward Francia, who had dropped to her knees and was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Sniff…”
As she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder, her tears fell even harder.
Her father.
Her only family, and the person she had loved more than anyone else…
“Did something happen?”
The duke embraced Francia, gently stroking her head.
“I had a nightmare. A nightmare…”
The duke chuckled softly.
“Aren’t you too old to cry over nightmares?”
“It was like hell itself…”
“Hahaha.”
He let out a hearty laugh, holding Francia as she continued to sob.
“All right, cry as much as you want. If it helps chase away your fears.”
Her tears wouldn’t stop.
It finally felt real hell was over.
2.
Several days passed.
Everything was exactly as Francia remembered it. Her father was healthy, the servants always wore cheerful smiles, and the world seemed perfectly whole.
It didn’t feel real.
But it wasn’t a dream.
He had truly sent her back to the past.
‘Yohan…’
Inside the carriage heading to the capital, Francia rested her chin in her hand and thought of Yohan.
If this wasn’t the world being rewound but instead just another world she had come to alone…
Then surely, he—
Francia closed her eyes. She didn’t even want to imagine it. The thought of the first man who had moved her heart dying for her sake… it was too painful to bear.
‘Can I make sure Yohan’s sacrifice isn’t wasted…?’
Her shoulders slumped as memories of her previous life weighed on her. Though she had been given another chance, she had no confidence in doing things right this time.
All she had at her disposal were the library of the Celestial Mage and the relic storage she had stumbled upon while on the run.
Knowing the events of the future might serve as a weapon, but it wasn’t particularly useful in this case.
These were people even the power of the Four Great Houses, including the Fervache Dukedom, couldn’t contend with. No amount of preparation could ensure her victory.
Assassination wasn’t an option either.
Granted, if she used the Celestial Mage’s artifacts, assassination might be possible. But there wasn’t nearly enough time to decipher the rune inscriptions in their explanations.
Decoding just one would take an enormous amount of time, and there were at least hundreds, if not thousands, of different artifacts.
“…”
Francia pondered deeply about what to do when suddenly, she recalled something he had said just before she returned.
“Yohan Harsen—that was my name before I entered into an arranged marriage.”
He had clearly told her to find Yohan Harsen before the arranged marriage and to ensure that he would follow Francia Fervache. If she could do that, he said he would handle the rest.
The idea of relying so heavily on Yohan made her feel uneasy, but she needed help. This was her one and only second chance.
‘What could I do…?’
Francia touched her chin, wracking her brain for a solution. If she wanted Yohan to follow her, the best way was to make him a knight.
Before her regression, he had demonstrated excellent swordsmanship.
Considering he could even wield a mana blade, he was at least first-class.
But—
‘Yohan wasn’t a knight or a mage.’
At this point in time, making him a knight was out of the question.
Though she hadn’t asked him directly, the people of the Friche territory had said that he hadn’t been formally trained in swordsmanship for very long.
Before the apocalypse, he had been someone far removed from battle.
Not only would he be unsuited to serve as a bodyguard, but even becoming a knight seemed unlikely.
‘Isn’t there some better way…?’
Francia rubbed her chin, lost in thought.
“Ah.”
It came to her.
A perfect solution.
‘Instead of making him follow me, I could make him love me.’
The plan was to make Yohan the son-in-law of the Fervache family. This way, she could rightfully seek his help while also repaying him for his sacrifice.
Francia closed her eyes and nodded to herself. No matter how she looked at it, this was the perfect plan.
Of course, Yohan probably hadn’t asked her to find him with this in mind…
“Ahem. This isn’t selfish at all.”
Feeling strangely self-conscious, she cleared her throat and adjusted her collar.
It was true that Francia had fallen deeply in love with Yohan. But she knew how to separate personal feelings from her decisions. Yes, this was not a selfish choice.
‘Rudbeckia, I’m sorry.’
‘But in this life, Yohan will be my man.’
A cold smile played on Francia’s lips.
3.
A few more days passed.
“Miss, here’s the information on Yohan Harsen.”
Her bodyguard handed over an envelope filled with documents and mana canvases.
“Thank you.”
Francia accepted the papers and began reviewing the contents.
Yohan Harsen.
Age: 21.
Graduated as the top student from the social sciences department of Rogino Academy. Currently assisting his family with various tasks.
Though he demonstrated exceptional talent in both swordsmanship and magic, he did not pursue related fields of study.
‘And…’
He is currently rumored to be in marriage discussions with Rudbekia, the eldest daughter of the Count of Friche. However, this appears to be a matter discussed only between the families, and Yohan himself seems unaware of it.
Francia’s eyes narrowed.
‘I was almost too late.’
Had the proposal already reached Yohan, the marriage would have proceeded swiftly. In the future, Yohan had readily agreed to this arranged marriage.
‘That cannot happen.’
Francia’s brow furrowed.
No matter what, she needed to win Yohan’s heart.
To do so, a natural encounter was essential. If he detected any impure intentions, he would undoubtedly be wary.
‘…But are my intentions impure?’
As she continued reading the documents, Francia tilted her head.
How could wanting someone to fall in love with her be considered impure? It came from a pure heart. Francia genuinely loved Yohan with all her being.
“Hmm, no problem at all.”
She crossed her arms and nodded in satisfaction before returning her focus to the papers.
As she skimmed through, something caught her attention,
‘He’s planning to attend Lady Barodo’s party?’
The report mentioned his attendance at an upcoming party.
Francia’s brow furrowed again.
‘This seems like a good opportunity, doesn’t it?’
A faint smile curved her lips.
A natural encounter.
Making him fall for her.
Marrying Yohan.
A plan that could accomplish all three goals at once began to take shape in her mind.
4.
Francia attended Lady Barodo’s party, presenting herself as a modest young lady from the countryside.
She deliberately chose not to reveal her true identity. A matter as important as this couldn’t be jeopardized by insignificant pests trying to latch onto her due to her status.
Of course, with her striking beauty, many noblemen tried to approach her, but Francia’s complete indifference quickly drove them away.
Thus, she was able to quietly observe Yohan from a corner of the ballroom.
‘Yohan…’
Her gaze, brimming with sweetness, followed him intently. He was smiling as he caught up with old friends he hadn’t seen in a while.
With graceful and precise movements, he sipped from his glass. Despite having only a few drinks, his face was already flushed, hinting at a very low tolerance for alcohol.
Yet even while slightly intoxicated, he firmly rejected the advances of the young ladies attempting to catch his attention. It seemed to be a habitual trait of his.
‘This isn’t ideal…’
Francia’s mind was troubled.
Even if she approached him, the result likely wouldn’t change. Yohan wasn’t the type of man to fall for someone based solely on appearances.
That much had been true in her previous life. He had helped Francia purely out of goodwill, not because he loved her or expected anything in return.
‘Hmm…’
Francia’s crimson eyes drifted to a glass of wine.
Would this be the key to easing his guarded nature?
5.
Clack.
In the increasingly boisterous party, the soft sound of Francia’s heels echoed faintly.
Clack.
She walked gracefully toward the terrace.
When she opened the glass door, the cool night air greeted her, along with the sight of someone standing outside.
“I see I’m not alone.”
Francia spoke with a gentle smile, and Yohan turned to look at her.
For a moment, her breath caught. His face was flushed from drinking, and his drowsy, slightly unfocused expression carried an odd allure.
“I was just about to leave. Don’t stay too long—it’s cold out here.”
Yohan gave a slight bow and began walking unsteadily toward the door. Francia called out to him, her voice urgent.
“Could we talk for just a moment…?”
Yohan stopped and turned back toward her. Even through the haze of alcohol, his eyes glimmered coldly, his expression detached.
He didn’t respond.
As expected, his guard was still up.
But Francia knew something others might not. Beneath Yohan’s seemingly icy demeanor was a gentle and soft-hearted man.
She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, forcing an awkward smile.
“I’m from a remote region, and I don’t know anyone here… Would you mind spending a little time with me? If I leave too early, I’ll feel ashamed to face my parents…”
Her voice trailed off, soft and hesitant, but it reached Yohan clearly. Then, as if embarrassed by her own words, she laughed awkwardly and brushed her fingers over her wrist.
“I-I’m sorry for saying something so strange. Please forgive me…”
Francia turned her back to him, pretending to leave.
Yet, inwardly, she was praying desperately.
‘Please stop me. Please stop me…’
It was a gamble.
Her heart raced.
What if it didn’t work?
There wouldn’t be another opportunity as perfect as this.
If she failed now, Yohan would undoubtedly proceed with the arranged marriage to the Count of Friche’s family.
As Francia anxiously waited—
“…Wait.”
Yohan’s voice stopped her.
“What’s your name?”
“D-Dorothy,”
“Very well. Until the party ends, I’ll stay with you.”
6.
“Whoa…”
Yohan breathed out hot and drunk. He was sprawled out on the hotel bed where Francia had brought him, groggy.
Francia carefully untied the straps of her dress.
Sarak.
The black dress fell to the floor.
It revealed her deep cleavage, firm, trim waist, and white thighs.
“Yohan.”
Francia called his name, but there was no answer.
He was properly drunk.
She smiled, and pressed against him on the bed. Their soft breasts met. His body was stiff and rigid. His breathing seemed to have stopped.
“Uh…?”
As Yohan stood there dumbfounded, Francia slowly peeled his clothes off with awkward hands.
“Now what…!”
“Hold still.”
“No…!”
As Yohan, barely able to compose himself, tries to get out of bed in horror, Francia hugs him and whispers.
“It’s okay…”
Francia’s sticky, erotic whisper gently scratched his eardrums. Yohan’s body flinched. His shoulders shook violently.
“Yohan has done nothing wrong…”
Her hand moved downward. Yohan’s pants slowly slid down, exposing his hardening cock.
“It’s okay…”
Francia’s breathing became ragged, aroused by the joy of making love to her beloved Yohan, and by a sense of immorality. Her cheeks flushed bright red.
“It’s all my fault…”
Francia’s red lips stole Yohan’s breath.