Chapter 0: Prologue

Never have I cursed my own foolishness so much.

Looking at the shackles binding my ankles to the prison wall, Violet spat out yet another curse, the umpteenth time she’d done so.
The target, of course, was herself.
Hints had been scattered everywhere, the truth right before her eyes, yet she’d turned away from it all, willfully blind.
By the time she realized her blindness, it was far too late.

Her father, who kept betraying her mother.
The concubine her father doted on.
The half-sister born of their union.
Even the man who stole her heart, only to be captivated by that half-sister.
All of them were trying to kill her, to wound her, to trample her happiness.

It was her father’s fault that her mother went mad.
It was the concubine’s fault for stealing her father’s heart.
It was the fault of the daughter born to that concubine that Violet was unloved.
Her mother, her father, her beloved—no one loved her, and it was all because of that half-sister.

She’d convinced herself of this, letting selfish hatred and resentment consume her.
Her reckless, vengeful actions, unscathed by reason, were nothing short of madness.

She hurt so many people.
All while ignorant of her own foolishness.
She destroyed so much.
With her own hands, by her own will.

She was a fool, truly a fool.
Her actions were unforgivable, the worst kind of deeds.
Each memory of what she’d done sliced into her heart.

“…I’m sorry.”

Even rubbing her forehead against the ground wouldn’t be enough.
Violet, who had wielded power and authority so selfishly, could not complain about her punishment.
Cause and effect, reaping what she sowed—her punishment was, if anything, too light.
Chained in a cell, the fact that she was still alive was a mercy she should be grateful for.
By rights, she deserved to lose her head.

The final act her beautiful half-sister granted her was endlessly gentle yet cruel.

Even if Violet begged to atone, her kind half-sister would not punish her.
Taking her life was likely unthinkable to her.
Her heart, which cherished all living things, was as pure as a goddess’s—something Violet could never possess.
That girl would surely never forget Violet.
As family, she would bear the burden of her half-sister’s mistakes.

“I’m sorry…”

How heavy it was to steal someone’s happiness.
Using her arrogance as an excuse to take it back, Violet would cast a shadow over every bit of joy her half-sister might find.
Even the bond with the man Violet once loved might crumble because of her existence.

She had acted for that very purpose, yet now, regretting it was the height of folly.
Regret after the fact was utterly useless.
There was no way a sinner’s noble family could remain unscathed.
At best, they’d lose their rank; at worst, they’d fall into ruin and be exiled to the countryside.
Either way, her current life was over.
There was no chance a daughter of such a house could wed someone of royal blood like him.

“I’m… sorry…”

Oh, how pathetic.
Apologies that reached no one were meaningless.
No matter what words she strung together now, it was all too late.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw.
Her eyes burned, and her nose was stuffed.
She, who had once been so obsessed with beauty, with being loved and praised, was now surely filthy with tears and snot.
Already a prisoner chained in a cell, unable to bathe, growing dirtier by the day.
She cried until her tears ran dry, apologized until her voice gave out, yet her sins remained unforgiven.

Everything was swept away into the past, beyond her reach.
Violet would never have the means to be forgiven.

“I’m… sorry…”

The more she regretted, the more she recalled that day.
The day Violet became a demon, consumed by the fear of being unloved.
A week after her mother’s death, when her father brought home a new wife and her child.
The day she first met her half-sister, the countdown to her rampage.

She knew it was futile, but she couldn’t help thinking it.

If only she could return to that day.
If only she could go back to before it all began.
This time, she wouldn’t make those mistakes.
She’d live quietly, humbly, without hurting anyone.
She’d live without ever standing in anyone’s way.

“Violet… Violet!”

“—Yes!”

“…What’s gotten into you? Stopping the conversation so suddenly startled them.”

“Huh…?”

Her father was beside her.
In front of them stood a woman and a girl.
The girl’s lovely smile suited her far better than the tearful face etched in Violet’s memory.

Was this a dream?
Or was it punishment for shamelessly wishing to return, despite her sins?

This was the scene from that day.
The sorrow of her mother’s absence, the faint relief she felt in a corner of her heart, still undigested.
Then, her father introduced his beloved new family.
The woman smiled gently, the girl innocently, as if flaunting a world that excluded Violet.

The day she’d revisited countless times in her cell, the start of her regrets.

“I’m Elefa. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Maryjune. Pleased to meet you… big sister.”

“—!”

Here, Violet had thrown tea at her.
Unable to bear the irritation of being called “sister,” she’d lashed out at the girl’s happy smile.
Even now, her hand instinctively reached for the cup… but she stopped herself just in time.
She couldn’t hide the tension on her face, though.

“…Violet Lem Vahan. Pleased to meet you, Lady Elefa, Lady Maryjune.”

She bowed her head as if to hide her face.
She could tell her father beside her gasped in surprise.
Violet, who was always curt, never smiled, never bowed—such behavior was unthinkable to him.

“My apologies, but may I be excused for a moment?”

“Ah, yes…”

“Excuse me.”

Ignoring her father’s bewilderment, she gave a curt bow and left the room.
Lifting her dress, she hurried back to her chambers.
She didn’t know what to do once there, but she was as shaken as her father—more so.

As soon as she entered her room, she reached for the secret hidden in the back of the second drawer of her desk.
She pulled out the thick paper, opening it to the bookmarked page.
A blank page.
Flipping back one page, she saw yesterday’s date written in her familiar handwriting.
Her diary, kept since childhood, a secret record of everything she’d never shown or told anyone.
The date was from yesterday, far earlier than the day she’d been thrown into the cell, written in her own hand.

“Why… what’s happening…?”

Had time rewound?
Impossible, unbelievable.
Even a sorcerer couldn’t undo what had been done.
Yet here she was, outside the cell, free of chains.

“This… isn’t a dream?”

The feel of her fingers, the sights in her vision, even the sound of the wind—all too vivid to be a dream.

To the day of her regret, the place she’d longed for, she had returned.
To before it all began, before the madness was born.

“…This time, I won’t make mistakes.”

So that no one would be blamed or burdened.
So that no one would be hurt.
To fulfill the apologies whispered in that dark cell, unheard by anyone.

This time, she would live without standing in anyone’s way.