The Regressed Tyrant Princess Rewrites Her Dark History - Chapter 1

Inside the grand audience chamber of the royal palace, a young woman knelt on the cold floor, her hands bound behind her back. All eyes in the room were fixed upon her.

Though her garments were in tatters, her platinum blonde hair—tinged with a cool, silvery sheen—still shimmered with luster. And despite her disgrace, her jewel-like amethyst eyes, the mark of imperial lineage, retained their brilliance.

Her name was Ariadne Restour—the illegitimate daughter of the King of Granheim and a late princess of the now-fallen Restour Empire.

Denied the right to bear the Granheim name by her father and never once addressed by name by her mother, Ariadne grew up knowing nothing of parental love. Yet, as she matured, her innate talents blossomed.

She made a spectacular debut in high society, rising to prominence as “The Crimson Rose”, reigning over the aristocratic circles with poise and charisma.

Hers was a life filled with trials and tribulations—like that of a grand tale’s protagonist. But no matter how remarkable her journey, Ariadne was never meant to be this world’s heroine. The path she walked led her not to triumph, but to disgrace and ruin.

And now, before her eyes…

The royal throne stood empty, the king absent due to illness. Beside it, the queen sat in solemn dignity, while next to her, a judge held a scroll aloft, his voice ringing through the chamber as he proclaimed her crimes.

“Ariadne Restour. You stand accused of assassinating the former queen, poisoning the first prince, orchestrating the murder of the former Knight Commander under the guise of an accident, attempting to assassinate and grievously injuring the king, blackmailing the current Knight Commander, leaking state secrets through collusion with the underground guild, and practicing forbidden magic. Do you confess to these crimes?”

The sheer weight of the accusations sent murmurs rippling through the gathered nobles.

Yet Ariadne did not flinch.

“…Yes, I do.”

She lifted her gaze and, in a quiet yet unwavering voice, admitted to the charges. Even amidst the hushed whispers, her voice carried through the chamber, clear and resolute. The judge, meeting the piercing brilliance of her gemstone-like eyes, took an involuntary step back.

A palpable fear flickered in the eyes of the assembled nobles—the woman before them was a villainess who had committed unspeakable atrocities.

(Some of these crimes… I never even committed.)

Ariadne accepted their hatred without resistance. After all, every act listed had been carried out by someone within her own faction—all for the sake of securing the throne for the second prince, Siegbert.

Though she carried the bl00d of the current king, she had never been allowed to bear the Granheim name. Instead, she had been forced to take her mother’s surname, Restour, though even her mother had never shown her love.

Starved for affection, Ariadne had clung to the only person who had ever acknowledged her as “family”—Siegbert.

Even now, she was no longer permitted to call him her brother. But she had believed that once he became king, he would revoke the decree that severed their ties.

And so, she had dirtied her hands with countless crimes to ensure Siegbert would ascend the throne.

Now that the truth had come to light, she could never again claim to be his sister. But if Siegbert became king and did not forget her, then even in death, she would have no regrets.

She accepted her fate, willing to bear the sins of a notorious villainess and be judged accordingly.

(I have no regrets. After all, I was able to serve Siegbert, my dear brother.)

In fact, she found satisfaction in her condemnation. By taking sole responsibility, she could shield Siegbert’s most trusted aides from suspicion.

As she embraced that thought, he entered the chamber—accompanied by his fiancée.

(Why is Siegbert here?)

He had been deeply involved in many of the crimes attributed to her. To prevent scrutiny, it had been arranged that he would stay away from this farcical trial.

Yet now, he stood before her.

“To think that you were behind such heinous deeds.”

His gaze was filled with disdain.

At that moment, Ariadne’s heart pounded with a sickening thud.

“…Siegbert, Your Highness?”

“How utterly revolting. Just imagining that I share bl00d with something like you makes my skin crawl.”

“W-What… What do you mean by that!?”

Ariadne had never been loved by anyone. To her, the only warmth she had ever known came from Siegbert’s kind words. Yet now, those same lips spat out something unthinkable.

Stunned, she could only stare as Siegbert leaned down, whispering into her ear.

“How pathetic. You never even knew why my mother died, did you? You fell for my sweet words so easily. But thanks to you, I am now the Crown Prince. You were an exceptionally useful pawn.”

“No… You planned to discard me from the very beginning!?”

She cried out in horror as Siegbert pulled away.

And then, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment, he smirked.

Taking his time, he let out an exaggerated sigh—one meant for all to see.

“—What!?”

Ariadne let out an incredulous cry.

Her feelings toward Siegbert had always been familial love, never romantic. He knew that better than anyone. And yet, he suddenly made such an outrageous claim, leaving her momentarily speechless.

But this, too, was part of Siegbert’s calculated scheme.

The audience, seeing Ariadne’s stunned reaction, misunderstood the situation. To them, she was a lovesick sister who couldn’t accept that siblings could never marry—driven by her unrequited obsession to commit irredeemable crimes.

And so, Ariadne was executed as the most humiliatingly misunderstood princess in history.

“—I regret it! I regret it so much! I’ll never call him my brother again! If I see him in hell, I’ll punch him square in the face! …Wait, huh? Wasn’t I supposed to be executed?”

When she opened her eyes, she was lying in bed.

The golden hues of the setting sun streamed through the window, bathing the room in a honey-like glow. In that dreamlike atmosphere, she found herself alone, staring blankly at the ceiling.

(W-Was that all a dream!?)

She had died amid laughter, consumed by unbearable humiliation. The sheer disgrace of that moment had burned itself into her memory. If it had all been a dream, then the thought of facing that humiliating end again made her stomach turn.

She instinctively covered her face with her hands—only to freeze at the unfamiliar sensation.

(…Wait. These are my hands, aren’t they?)

Her slender fingers, once refined through years of courtly grooming, now felt smaller—almost as if she had reverted to her younger self.

(—No way.)

Ariadne leaped from the bed, racing toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. The unexpected shift in her body’s proportions made her stumble, but she pressed forward, crawling across the carpet until she clung to the mirror’s frame.

The reflection staring back at her was that of a girl in her mid-teens.

Silvery-platinum hair with a faint bluish tint. Jewel-like amethyst eyes, the undeniable mark of the Restour imperial bloodline.

She was looking at her younger self.

“…What is this? Am I a child again? Did I… return to the past?”

She touched her face, pressing against her cheeks in disbelief. The reflection moved in perfect sync with her.

“It’s… not a dream? Wait—if this is real, then how far back did I regress!?”

Frantically, she scanned the room for clues.

(A single red rose in a vase…)

That vase had been placed in her room in secret on her fifteenth birthday.

Yet it had only remained there for half a day.

The reason?

(Because Mother died that night.)

She would never forget.

On the morning of her fifteenth birthday, a maid had rushed into her room with devastating news—her mother had passed away.

Ariadne had shattered that very vase in grief.

That meant that at this very moment, the vase still existed—which placed her on the evening before her mother’s death.

“…Wait. If that’s true, then I can erase my humiliating past, can’t I?”

She had met Siegbert sometime after her mother’s passing.

Lost in despair, she had clung to him—the only one who had ever hinted at familial affection.

And that path had led her to that wretched fate.

But if she was back in the past, she could undo it all.

(But I can’t let my guard down.)

She had personally lived through the consequences of aligning with Siegbert. And yet, going against him was equally dangerous. As a Restour princess, survival was never guaranteed.

Once, there had been an empire called Restour.

Foolishly, it had waged war against Granheim—only to be utterly crushed. The empire was annexed, and its royal family was executed.

All but one.

One princess had been spared—Ariadne’s mother, Aria.

That made Ariadne the illegitimate child of a fallen empire’s last princess and the king who had destroyed her homeland.

Though she had been acknowledged as a princess, the nobility treated her as an untouchable stain.

For someone like her, openly opposing the crown prince and next in line for the throne was akin to signing her own death warrant.

(If I want to survive, I need a powerful backer. But the only faction strong enough to stand against Siegbert is… the First Prince’s faction, led by Prince Arnolt.)

In her previous life, the First Prince’s faction had lost to Siegbert’s camp.

The biggest reason for that defeat? Herself.

Even if she didn’t take action this time, someone else would likely do the same. But Ariadne knew every hidden secret of the Second Prince’s faction.

More than that—she had once ruled the social world as The Crimson Rose.

She had acquired skills, knowledge, and insight for Siegbert’s sake.

And now, she had memories of the future.

If she could win the First Prince’s faction to her side, she could stand against Siegbert’s tyranny.

For the first time, she had a chance to rewrite her dark history.

A life once smeared in disgrace and deception—this time, she would not be fooled by Siegbert, nor would she walk a path of shame.

(But… my mother will get in the way.)

Aria had never loved her.

She had barely spoken Ariadne’s name more than a handful of times. Yet she had bound her to the royal palace, subjecting her to rigorous education only to attract the king’s attention.

For her own ambitions, she had chained Ariadne to a life of isolation.

And soon, Aria would take her own life.

If Ariadne did nothing, one of the chains binding her would disappear by morning.

(So… does it really matter if Mother dies?)

Her past self had sobbed, unable to accept that her mother would abandon her.

But after Aria’s death, a letter had been found. Testimonies surfaced of how she had constantly lamented the king’s lack of affection.

Everything pointed to suicide.

That had been years ago.

Now, Ariadne no longer mourned her mother’s death.

No matter how much she had longed for love, Aria had never given it.

If that was the case—if she had already been abandoned long ago—then why should she hesitate to abandon her mother now?

(So this time… I will—)

Ariadne stared into the mirror.

At her own reflection.

At the girl who bore her mother’s features.

At the girl who had been left behind.