My husband and I were the two people who hated each other most in this world.

He hated me for tearing him away from the woman he loved.

And I hated him because that his heart remained occupied by another woman.

For eight years of marriage, the words we spoke to each other most often were not love, nor duty, but curses.

Yet on the day the city fell, everything changed, the enemy banners were already visible beyond the inner gate.

He rode ahead and took the road,

putting his body between the enemy and my escape.

“Live,” he said quietly.

Then he raised his blade and did not look back.

Arrows came like rain.

As they tore into him, he turned his head once—only once—

After that, his body held the road,and nothing passed.

“If there is another life…may Your Highness grant me the mercy to belong to her.”

That night, with the city in ruins and the people either dead or fleeing,

I climbed the highest tower of the palace.

I leapt.

When I opened my eyes again,

I went to the king.

“The northern kingdoms require a royal bride,” I said.

“I will go.”

This lifetime,

I will be the one to cross the border.

In my previous life, he died believing he had failed her.

This time, I will not allow that regret to exist.

I will take the marriage meant for her.

I will carry the crown meant to exile her.

I will walk into a future she should never have to endure.

Let her stay.

Let him protect her.

Let him live his life believing he has finally kept his promise.

“You will take her place?”

My father stared at me as though he had misheard.

Among all his daughters, I had always been the one most openly hostile toward Elara.

If she so much as stumbled, I was expected to step aside and let her fall harder.

Sending me north—to the barren borderlands, to a political marriage meant to trade a woman for peace—should have been unthinkable.

“Only days ago,” the king said slowly,“you were in tears, begging me to grant you a marriage to General Adrian Vale.”

I paused.

Then I said calmly,

“There is no need. Give that honor to my sister.”

My father studied me in silence.

There was not confusion in his eyes.

Between Elara and me, he had always favored the younger one: sweeter, softer, easier to love.

In my previous life, had I not resisted with everything I had,

he would have sent me north in her place without hesitation.

At last, he turned away.

“Amend the decree,” he ordered.

It was raining when I left the Grand Hall.

Cold rain, relentless, washing the marble steps clean.

And there—kneeling in the storm—was Adrian.

In my previous life, he had knelt in the rain just like this,refusing to rise until the king withdrew the order sending Elara north.

That day, I had people drag him inside by force.

After that, I forced him into marriage with me.

This time, I merely stopped beside him and tilted my umbrella slightly in his direction.

He looked up.

Our eyes met for a brief moment before he frowned and turned away, as if my presence itself were an inconvenience.

“Have you considered,” I asked quietly,

“that if His Majesty withdraws the decree, someone must still go north?”

His voice remained steady, unyielding.

“I am the king’s general,” he said.

“I will not allow any princess of this realm to be traded for peace.”

I let out a soft laugh.

“Adrian,” I said,“either my sister or I will cross that border. No amount of kneeling will change that.”

His gaze snapped toward me, sharp and cold.

“If the Crown Princess refrains from manipulating His Majesty,” he said,

“this alliance may yet be prevented.”

I withdrew the umbrella.

“Then that is truly unfortunate.”

I turned and walked away, ignoring the shock on his face.

I had no intention of telling him the truth—that the bride had already been chosen.

That it was me.

In my previous life, he had endured so much humiliation for my sake.

Let him endure a little longer this time.

After all,

when the wedding day comes,

and the woman waiting at the altar is my sister—not me—

won’t he be happier?

As I walked, memories rose unbidden.

The battlefield.

The smoke.

The chaos.

The way he had bound me to his horse,then turned back alone to hold the enemy pursuit—buying me time with his life.

My chest tightened.

I had used every means possible to keep Adrian by my side in my previous life.

Yet even when he gave me his life,his heart had already died with her—on that northern frontier.

Adrian Vale.

You paid for me with your life once.

This time,

I will give you a gift in return.

The next morning, I dressed simply and stepped out of my chambers—

only to be slammed back against the stone wall.

“Why are you so determined,” he demanded hoarsely,

“to force the king into sending the Elara north?”

Pain shot through my shoulder as his grip tightened.

Lina rushed forward, panicked, but he shot her a single look.

“Get out.”

She froze—and fled.

The smell of alcohol clung heavily to him.

He had clearly not slept.

“Do you want her dead that badly?” he snarled.

“Is that what this is?”

“Adrian—let go of me,” I said through clenched teeth.

Instead, his fingers dug in harder.

“Is this who you are?” he spat.

“Jealous, cruel, willing to sacrifice your own blood just to get what you want?”

He leaned closer, his voice low and venomous.

“Do you really think that by begging for a royal marriage,

I would ever submit to you?”

My body went rigid.

The fury on his face—

the raw, unfiltered hatred—

was no different from the man I had faced in my previous life,

when we stood on opposite sides of every blade.

The sound echoed sharply.

I slapped him.

“General Vale,” I said coldly,

“remember who you are speaking to.”

My neck burned where his fingers had left angry red marks.

I pressed a hand to my shoulder, breathing hard.

The blow seemed to sober him.

His gaze dropped—to my bruised skin, to the marks he had left.

His throat moved.

For a fleeting moment, regret crossed his eyes.

“…I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I was drunk.”

I turned my back to him.

“The border marriage is a matter of state,” I said.

“The king has already decided.

The outcome will be exactly what you wish for.”

The last words cut my own tongue as I spoke them.

Behind me, he gave a bitter laugh.

“With you still here,” he said,

“what future could Elara possibly have?”

I spun around—but he was already walking away.

My hands curled tightly within my sleeves.

Don’t worry, Adrian, I thought.

This time, I won’t cling to you.

Less than an hour later, a servant arrived with a small wooden box.

Inside was a salve—

a battlefield ointment, specially prepared for soldiers to stop bleeding.

I did not touch it.

I knew this care did not come from love.

He had been raised in my mother’s household after the Vale family was nearly wiped out in service to the crown.

To him, I was no more than an elder sister by circumstance.

Only I had mistaken that obligation for something more—

for an entire lifetime.

I closed the box.

I could have told him the truth.

I could have stopped his anger, ended his resentment, spared us both this bitterness.

But I didn’t.

Part of me was stubborn.

Petty, even.

If he was going to accuse me anyway,

he might as well stay angry a little longer.

Three days.

In three days, the northern envoy would arrive.

In three days, the bride would be revealed.

And then—he would know.

I told myself I had already let him go.

That I had chosen this path cleanly, without hesitation or regret.

Yet that night, lying awake and staring into the dark,

I understood—Even after deciding to leave him behind,

some part of me was still waiting.

Not for his love.

Not for an apology.

But for the moment he would finally learn the truth—

and for whatever expression would cross his face when he did.

Would he feel relief,

believing this was the best ending—

that Elara would be spared,

that he could finally protect the one he thought he loved?

Or would it be regret—for the days he had turned his anger on me,

for the accusations spoken without mercy,

for the coldness he had never once questioned?

I did not know which would hurt more.

Only that, in imagining either,

there was a quiet ache I could not extinguish.

I told myself it no longer mattered.

That his happiness, or his remorse,

were no longer mine to bear.

I attended what would be my last Mid-Autumn banquet in my homeland.

By the time I arrived, the great hall was already alive with low music and candlelight—and with tears.

Elara stood at the center of a circle of noble ladies, her eyes rimmed red, her voice trembling just enough to draw sympathy without breaking entirely. She clutched a silk handkerchief as though it were the only thing holding her together.

“So after the festival, Princess Elara will be sent beyond the northern border…” one lady sighed loudly.

“How tragic,” another murmured. “And the Crown Princess does nothing—nothing at all—except chase after General Adrian’s favor.”

“At least Elara understands duty,” someone added. “Such devotion to the realm…”

Elara’s shoulders shook. Beneath the sleeve that hid her face, a flicker of something else passed—brief, sharp, satisfied.

Then she saw me.

Her breath caught.

I had never liked these gatherings. In previous years, I rarely attended the Mid-Autumn banquet at all.

She had counted on that.

I met her gaze from across the hall, curved my lips into a faint, unreadable smile, and took my seat without a word.

The murmurs sharpened instantly.

“What was that look supposed to mean?”

“How heartless—looking down on someone about to be sent away.”

“If she’s so proud, why doesn’t she go marry the northern king?”

“Just because her mother died young, she acts as if the whole kingdom owes her…”

I didn’t respond.

In my previous life, when the enemy breached the capital, many of these voices had screamed just as loudly—only then, no one had come to save them.

A few cruel words now were lighter than ashes and blood later.

I left the hall alone, wine untouched, and walked toward the moonlit pool to clear my head.

“—Elise.”

I stopped.

Elara approached me slowly, her steps careful, her expression gentle in a way that never reached her eyes.

Her chest rose and fell sharply.

Then her gaze slid past my shoulder—and curved.

Before I could react, her hands flew to my throat.

We fell together into the water.

“Help!” she screamed the moment we hit the surface.

“Elise—why would you push me?!”

I couldn’t swim.

Water rushed into my lungs, stealing my voice, my strength. I flailed blindly—

And then I saw him.

“Adrian—!”

I tried to call out. Only choking sounds escaped.

He didn’t look at me.

He dove straight toward Elara.

I reached for him—my fingers brushing empty water—as he lifted her effortlessly onto the stone edge. She was unharmed. Barely shaken.

Only then did my maid scream.

Guards plunged into the water and dragged me out.

I was soaked through, shivering, barely conscious.

Elara was sobbing against Adrian’s chest. He shrugged off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders without hesitation—then turned to me.

His face was rigid.

Not disgust.

Not hatred.

Anger—raw, restrained, barely held in place.

“Have you lost your mind?” he demanded.

“Killing her—what do you think that would accomplish?”

His voice dropped, sharp with disbelief rather than cruelty.

“If she were gone,” he said, “do you honestly believe you wouldn’t be the one sent north in her place?”

As if the thought itself offended him.

As if the idea of me being sent there was something he couldn’t bear to imagine.

I coughed violently, water burning my lungs.

“Adrian… I—”

“Enough.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping once beneath his skin.

“I thought you were merely spoiled,” he said coldly.

“But I see now—you’re jealous, cruel, and vicious.”

“You lack her sense of duty, yet you’ve mastered every skill of a shrew.”

Each word struck harder than the last.

“You disgrace your title,” he continued.

“The people deserve better than this.”

“And thank the gods your mother didn’t live to see what you’ve become.”

“Adrian.”

Steel rang.

I drew my blade as I rose unsteadily. He answered in kind—just as he had years ago, just as he would again in a future neither of us yet understood.

Eight years of marriage in another life.

Eight years of drawing swords over Elara.

Never striking. Never yielding.

My strength failed.

My legs gave out—and I fell forward.

Strong arms caught me.

For the briefest moment, panic flickered across his face.

“…Elise?”

I clenched his collar with the last of my strength.

“You have no right,” I whispered fiercely,

“to speak of my mother.”

The world tilted.

I felt myself lifted, carried.

Behind us, Elara’s voice trembled:

“General… I—”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t turn back.

He carried me out of the banquet hall, leaving her standing there in borrowed sympathy—and a truth that had not yet caught up with him.