The setting sun passed through his face, highlighting his deep blue eyes welling up with tears, his cheeks slightly red, and the dark shade of blond thick brows meeting a bit as he tried to suppress the emotions he was feeling right now. His blond, shoulder-length hair danced with the breeze and rustling leaves around them.
It hurt to see how far apart they were, especially those dejected, hopeless eyes staring at her. Despite her stomach churning and her heart pounding in her chest, she smiled at him.
She wanted them to live this kind of life. And it was happening right now. She wanted it. It hurt more because Fyodor gave it to her without expecting anything in return. Tears obscured her vision, making it difficult for her to see the broken and dejected man standing before her.
"Layna. . . the only thing I want you to do in return is to be happy and healthy. I told you I didn't want anything. But. . . " He smiled, his eyes looking forlorn. "I want to feel secure about your departure. Please. . . promise me you'll be happy and healthy. That's the only thing I want in return."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, some of them blending with the air. Her hands searched for the fabric of the dress she was wearing, gripping it tightly, stopping herself from running to him.
Until the end, he never became selfish in what he wanted in return. It was still for her sake.
Running to him meant ruining their lives again. She didn't want that to happen. This was painful. She was going to miss him. . . for the rest of her life. But she didn't want them to destroy each other again. Especially his life.
"I will be, Your Grace." She smiled through her tears.
He bowed slightly, and she saw his shoulders going up and down for a moment before he stood up firmly. Her heart sank as he gave her a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the sun.
"I'm glad," he muttered.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Goodbye, Your Grace," she said softly.
She could still remember everything. From their first lives to the present, the tragic death of their child. . . his tragic death in front of her, and her tragic death only to regress to the past as she had anticipated.
It was hard. The last regression she had before she finally broke the chains that surrounded them for years did a lot of harm to both of them. She gave him a hard time but in the end. . . he conformed to her request. It was to let her go.
The year 1300 was the last time she saw their child, lifeless in her hand. It was also the last time she killed herself in front of her husband, Fyodor, and came back to the past as she expected.
However. . . seeing a nine-year-old version of herself in the mirror wasn't one of her expectations. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at her reflection. This was really her, wearing a white dress, her hair in a tidy bun, and her cheeks healthy.
"Why?" Her voice trembled as she touched her face.
This wasn't what she expected. She expected to come back to her twenty-year-old self, just like what happened in her previous regressions!
What's happening?
Shaking, she sat on the floor, staring at her younger reflection. Her nails dug into her face drenched in tears.
This can't be. She had planned everything. It was to never marry Fyodor Douglas Riscarte to stop the curse! But why had she come back to her younger self?
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started screaming. She kicked the mirror, not minding the pain that pierced through her shoes. She heard footsteps, but her rage and sorrow overcame her.
Why? Did the curse do this too?! Didn't it want to leave their lives alone? She had planned everything! But what could a mere child do? This was not fair! She just wanted to die peacefully already!
"My Lady! My Lady!"
She looked at one of their servants rushing to her. Her eyes were glued to hers. She looked younger and very healthy. Her mouth opened, and she froze as she fully captured her attention.
"Leonore. . ." she whispered in disbelief.
"My Lady! What have you done? Oh my God!" Leonore didn't know where to touch her and looked toward the open door of her room. "Emilio, call the doctor!"
"Leonore!" She pulled at the edge of her servant's skirt.
Leonore looked at her, worried. "My Lady, what did you do? Your face is bruised and your feet—" Her words were cut off when Layna hugged her tightly.
She hadn't thought of this at all. Leonore had died when Layna was fifteen due to an accident. But right now. . . she was real and very alive.
"My Lady?"
Layna couldn't stop her loud sobs as she clung to the woman who had almost raised her. Her tight grip and unsettling cries prevented Leonore from moving.
"My Lady! Does it hurt? What is it? Tell me!"
"Leonore!" She cried harder as she looked up at her.
Leonore's face turned pale, looking frightened and wondering why she was crying. Layna's sobs grew louder as she stared at her servant. She was really alive.
"I'm glad you're alive, Leonore. . ." She sobbed.
"What?" Leonore frowned and kneeled in front of her. Layna cried as her servant gently wiped her tears and looked at her with soft eyes. "Of course, I'm alive, My Lady. Did you have a nightmare?"
Layna lowered her head at the sound of her voice, unable to stop her sobs. Grief and joy mixed in her heart. It felt so surreal to see Leonore alive after so many years without her.
"Your face is bruised. Your feet are bleeding. . . don't do this again, My Lady."
Layna lifted her tear-filled eyes to her. Leonore smiled and caressed her hand. She had not stopped sobbing when she heard slow footsteps. Leonore quickly stood and they both looked toward the sound.
It felt like a dagger had pierced Layna's heart when she first saw her mother's emerald eyes. Aster Fiosurn, the current Duchess of Carnaté.
"What happened to Layna, Leonore?" She asked as she strutted towards her.
Her heart raced, and she quickly stepped back from her mother. Hatred and fear filled her heart as she stared at her mother's concerned gaze.
"It seemed like Her Ladyship had a nightmare, Your Grace. . ." Leonore answered politely.
Her mother sighed and was about to reach for her, but Layna was fast. Before she could realize it, she slapped her mother's hand away. Her mother's eyes widened at Layna's hostile demeanor. Leonore even covered her mouth in shock.
But. . . she deserved it. That's what he thought.
"Asterlayna, what—"
"Why are you here, Mother? Did I permit you to enter my room?" she muttered coldly, her voice trembling with emotion.
Her mother's mouth hung open in disbelief. Layna would never forgive her or forget what she did. She had Fyodor killed in front of her after Layna had killed their child.
Aster Fiosurn wanted Fyodor dead to marry Layna off to Preston, the Crown Prince, who was nothing but a bastard with a respectable background.
"Layna! What do you think you're doing? Is that an appropriate way of talking to your mother?" her mother sounded surprised.
Layna scoffed. Her pale skin reddened slightly from Layna's indifference and rude demeanor. It didn't matter if it was in the past or present. Her mother had killed her husband. . . she had him killed while he was grieving their child's loss. She wanted his death from the very beginning.
That was unforgivable.
"You have no right to say what's appropriate or not." She deadpanned and turned her back on her mother.
She now faced the broken mirror. She stared at her reflection, and so did her mother. The tears streaming down her face blurred her vision as she fixated intensely on her mother's reflection.
Her mother flinched and took a step back. Layna wished she could just kill her, too. For everything she had done and pulling strings in the past just to kill Fyodor. They were already struggling with the curse, and her mother made everything worse for them.
"I don't need you here, Mother. Please, leave. My eyes hurt just seeing your face," her voice was cold and didn't sound like it was coming from a nine-year-old girl.
She knew her mother didn't like that. But for some reason, Aster just shut her mouth and looked at the dumbfounded Leonore.
"The doctor is coming here. Make sure to dress Layna appropriately. The Riscartes are coming here tonight." She said and quietly left.
Layna lowered her gaze and let the silence grow in the large room. She balled her hands as tears flowed like healthy water in a river. Every pore, every bristle, and the bruise on her face were kissed by her salty, angry tears.
She had planned to end everything before killing herself in front of Fyodor. The plan was not to marry him and stop loving him. That was the only way she knew after failing the other plans she had.
"My Lady, that was very unethical," Leonore muttered after a brief silence.
Layna looked at Leonore, her eyes almost dead. She was so glad Leonore was alive. She intended to change her fate. And since she was here already, she wanted to change Leonore's fate too.
"Leonore, do you believe in going back in time?"
Leonore furrowed her brows and slowly shook her head. "I don't, My Lady."
Layna chuckled bitterly. Leonore blinked three times.
"I'm glad you're safe, Leonore, but. . . right now, I want to be alone."
"The doctor is coming, My Lady. I'll give you time to be alone after treating your wounds." She slightly bowed.
Layna looked away and coldly watched the setting sun outside her window. The Fiosurn manor was the largest in Carnaté. It made sense since her father ruled the country.
She ignored the pain in her feet and walked toward the window. Its elaborate glass gave off an air of elegance. When her small, pale hand touched it, its beauty did not waver. She pressed her forehead against it and watched the servants and a few carriages entering the manor.
At age nineteen, she got engaged to Fyodor Douglas Riscarte. They would officially announce their engagement after her birthday. Since the current date is before her birthday, there is still time to end the engagement. However, now that she is back at this age, things might change.
In her first life, she had been engaged to the Crown Prince. But after she called it off, she was never engaged to him again in any of her subsequent lives. Hoping to change Fyodor's fate—and that of their child—she had chosen to marry the Crown Prince of her own accord in her fourth life. In the end, she died with Fyodor.
Her jaw tightened as she focused on her reflection in the glass window. Being merely a child, she was incapable of carrying out her plans. Even if she begged her parents, it would amount to nothing.
They wanted Riscarte's connections to the royal family and the influence that came with it. The legendary warrior Douglas Riscarte, who had defended the Cartaholm Kingdom from invaders a hundred years ago, was the ancestor of the Riscartes. The fact that her parents would marry her off just to gain power was pathetic. Once they had it, they would get rid of Fyodor and sell her to the Crown Prince—who had made it clear he was willing to take a widow as a wife.
She shut her eyes, feeling powerless. At her age, there was no way she could help Fyodor. There were three things she wished for them: first, for Fyodor to live the life he deserved; second, to prevent their son from being born again; and lastly, to die peacefully—away from both her family and Fyodor.
But fate was playing with them once more. She had regressed to her younger body. And it was exhausting.
She remained silent as the doctor treated the wounds and bruises on her face. Leonore sat beside her, watching quietly, while her thoughts drifted far from the room.
"The wound is not deep. Her Ladyship just needs to avoid too much movement."
"Thank you, Doctor Carlzon," Leonore replied.
In this lifetime, she would end up marrying Fyodor again. She had promised herself she would end it once and for all—but fate kept interfering.
"I have no choice but to treat him like he's nothing. Until he gives up on me," Layna murmured.
"My lady?" Leonore called her gently.
Layna turned to her. "Please. . . leave me alone."
Leonore said nothing. She stood up and quietly left. So did the doctor, silently exiting the room. Layna let out a sigh and clutched at her hair.
"Even if I treat him like he's nothing, he'll never let me go. I have to do something. Something that will bruise his pride," she whispered to herself.
Fyodor was a natural womanizer, and yet for some reason, he had always been a faithful husband. She would stop loving him. She would make him feel worthless. Would that be enough to push him away? It didn't matter. All that mattered was doing her worst—trying her hardest to get rid of these feelings.
"Mama. . ."
She flinched as a vivid image of Lorcan's bright smile suddenly flashed in her mind. His eyes were as blue as the ocean, and his smile was as warm as the sun. Her chest ached. She clutched it tightly as tears began to spill, one after another.
A familiar image of Fyodor's back appeared before her—he was carrying Lorcan in his arms. She gasped, reaching out toward them.
Fyodor turned to face her, and her heart ached even more when the same warm smile—one Lorcan had inherited—painted his lips.
"W-Why?" her voice trembled.
She looked down, clutching the fabric over her chest, her shoulders shaking as she wept.
It hurt. So much that she thought she would die.
"Why do I have to lose both of you in every lifetime?" She sobbed, eyes squeezed shut. "It hurts so much. Somebody, please… Make it s-stop. . ."