The Regressed Tyrant Princess Rewrites Her Dark History - Chapter 1.2

 

As the morning sunlight streamed through the window, Ariadne’s eyes fluttered open. She was lying on a soft bed, her body sinking slightly into the mattress. When she raised a hand to block the light, a small, delicate hand entered her vision.

The youthful fingers in front of her reminded her once more—she had regressed.

(That’s right. I went back in time… and then I tried to stop Mother’s suicide…! Wait—Mother!)

She jolted upright, only to see Sybilla, fast asleep, leaning against the edge of the bed.

“Sybilla, wake up! Sybilla!”

“Mmm…? Ah, Your Highness, you’re awake!”

She had likely stayed by her side all night. Even now, exhaustion was evident in her eyes.

“I’m sorry to ask when you’re so tired, but… tell me what happened to my mother.”

“Ah, well… Lady Aria, she…”

“What? Speak clearly.”

“I… I think it’s best if you see for yourself.”

Sybilla averted her eyes slightly. The moment Ariadne noticed that hesitation, she threw off the covers and bolted for the door, still in her nightclothes.

“—Princess Ariadne!”

Sybilla called after her, but she didn’t stop.

She knew where to go—the farthest room from her own. That was where her mother’s chambers were located.

She brushed past the guards standing at the entrance and burst into the room.

“Mother!”

“Oh, Princess Ariadne… are you sure you should be up?”

A maid standing near the entrance responded in surprise.

Beyond her, on the bed, surrounded by doctors and maids, lay Aria.

Her face was as pale as death, but her chest still rose and fell faintly beneath the sheets.

“I’m fine. What about my mother?”

“Lady Aria, well… it’s difficult to say…”

“Move aside.”

There was no point in asking. She would see for herself.

She shoved past the physician and knelt beside the bed.

“Mother, it’s me. Ariadne.”

She called out firmly.

Aria’s eyelids fluttered open.

But—

“Ah… e… ah…?”

“…Mother?”

It was a sight completely unlike the woman she remembered.

Her words were unintelligible, as if she had forgotten how to speak.

“Lady Aria has… managed to survive. However, due to the poison’s effects—”

“I see. You’ve already tried healing magic, haven’t you?”

“Of course. But healing magic is not all-powerful…”

“I know.”

Healing magic in this world was not as omnipotent as one might hope. Few could wield it, and compared to offensive spells, it was significantly weaker.

“Is there a chance she will recover?”

“Fortunately, she is still conscious, so… with time, perhaps…”

(Not ‘certainly’—but ‘perhaps.’ So the situation is grim.)

Ariadne immediately saw through the physician’s hollow reassurance.

Still, she turned back toward her mother.

“…Leave us.”

“Understood.”

With a slight bow, the physician left, followed by the maids.

Once they were alone, Ariadne sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in closer.

“…Mother, I died once. Then I came back.”

Aria’s eyelid twitched.

“I know it’s hard to believe. I feel the same way. Even now, part of me wonders if this is all just a dream—a comforting illusion flashing before my eyes just before my execution.”

Her mother blinked twice.

Slowly, she raised a trembling hand.

Ariadne grasped it.

“I always thought you hated me. To be honest, I still do. But… you told me to run, didn’t you?”

The frail fingers in her grasp tightened, ever so slightly.

It was almost nothing, but for Ariadne, it was enough.

Even if it was impossible, even if she had imagined it—for that brief moment, it felt as if her mother had affirmed her feelings.

“…I was happy, you know. I thought I had given up on you, but I hadn’t.”

She pulled Aria’s hand close to her cheek, savoring the warmth.

Then, suddenly, she stopped moving.

Her amethyst eyes narrowed into sharp slits.

“…That’s why I can’t forgive the person who did this to you. Whoever is responsible, I will find them—and I will make them regret ever being born.”

Aria’s hand shook violently.

“…Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll handle it.”

Gently, she placed her mother’s hand back onto the bed, then rose to her feet.

Leaving the room, she passed the waiting maids and physicians, silently entrusting Aria’s care to them as she returned to her own chambers.

Once back, she changed into her usual attire and freshened up for the morning.

After breakfast, she wandered into the garden, letting the sun-dappled light filter through the trees as she leaned against a sturdy trunk, deep in thought.

(So… Mother’s death wasn’t a suicide after all.)

In her previous life, she had tried to argue against that conclusion but was dismissed. Eventually, she convinced herself that Aria had simply left her behind.

But that had been a mistake.

(And yet… does it really matter anymore?)

Aria was alive.

There was still a chance to undo the past.

But now was not the time for that.

What she needed to do right now was ensure that this would never happen again.

(I will have my revenge on Siegbert one day. But killing him won’t be enough. To survive, I need allies. That comes first.)

The current royal succession was a complicated issue.

The previous king had died in an accident, leaving his younger brother to take the throne as a temporary ruler.

That meant the rightful heir was Arnolt, the First Prince, the previous king’s son.

But the current king’s son, Siegbert, was next in line after him.

Once Arnolt came of age, he was supposed to inherit the throne.

However, certain factions wanted Siegbert to be crowned instead.

The Second Prince’s faction was responsible for leading that movement.

They were ruthless—they would form alliances when it suited them, but if someone became a hindrance, they would eliminate them without hesitation.

If she got in their way, she would be next.

“So we finally meet.”

The unexpected voice sent a jolt of rage through her.

She would never mistake that voice.

The voice of the man she had just been plotting to destroy.

Siegbert.

(Stay calm. I haven’t made an enemy of him yet.)

At this point in time, Siegbert’s goal was to make her his pawn. Even if the assassination attempt on her mother had failed, he wouldn’t immediately turn against her.

She reminded herself of this as she lifted her gaze.

Light brown hair, blue eyes brimming with ambition. The young Siegbert, still carrying traces of boyishness, looked down at her with an affable expression.

She knew this man well.

But for this version of herself, it was their first meeting.

Ariadne briefly closed her eyes, resetting her mind.

When she reopened them, she stepped into character—that of an immature, naive girl, just as she should be at this age.

“Ah… and you are?”

“I am Siegbert. I am your family.”

In her past life, the word family had sent her heart soaring.

Now, it meant nothing.

“Prince Siegbert? Ah, it’s an honor to meet you. My name is Ariadne… But, um, how do you know about me?”

“Of course, I’ve heard the rumors. They say you’re quite talented.”

(Rumors, huh.)

At this point in her life, she had been confined to the Princess’s Palace.

She was known as the forgotten princess—there was no way stories of her brilliance could have spread.

Unless—

(There must be spies in the palace. That would explain why he came earlier than he did in my past life. There’s no way he would change his approach without a reason.)

In her past life, he had only approached after Aria’s assassination had succeeded. He had timed his appearance perfectly, waiting for her grief to settle in, knowing she would be most vulnerable.

Then, with sweet words, he had manipulated her.

But this time, Aria had survived.

So he came sooner, assuming she would be shaken by what had happened.

“You seem troubled.”

“…Do I?”

“Yes. Something happened, didn’t it?”

(How shameless.)

Right now, he had no guards with him.

If she struck now, she could kill him.

But—

(Not yet. It’s not time to kill him yet.)

Siegbert wasn’t the only one she needed revenge on.

She couldn’t afford to leave evidence that could lead back to her.

More than that—

(If I kill him too easily, it won’t be revenge.)

No, she wanted to see him fall into despair first.

She would take everything from him—until he begged her to end it.

Only then would her revenge be complete.

For now, she had to endure—her fingertips curled into a tight fist, not from fear, but from restraint.

She would act the part—a fragile girl, trying to hide her pain after nearly losing her mother.

“Prince Siegbert, thank you for your concern. I was sad about something earlier, but I’m feeling much better now.”

She dusted off her dress lightly and stood, tilting her head in a graceful, demure smile.

Siegbert froze, momentarily captivated.

She might look fifteen, but she was The Crimson Rose, a woman who had once ruled high society.

A sixteen-year-old boy was no match for her.

“Then, I’ll take my leave.”

“…Wait, hold on.”

The moment she turned, he grabbed her arm.

The sudden tightness in his grip made her wince, but she turned back smoothly, pretending as though it was nothing.

“Is there something you need from me, Your Highness?”

“Ah, well… We’re family. If you ever need help, you can always come to me.”

The words were nearly identical to what he had told her in the past.

Slightly awkward, as though he was forcing himself to act casual.

Which meant…

(He had planned to say this from the beginning.)

(He already knew I was desperate for family, didn’t he? He must have laughed at how easily I fell for it before.)

And she had fallen for it.

She had been so starved for love that she had believed him.

A mix of shame and anger churned inside her, but she forced it down, clenching her fists tightly.

“I deeply appreciate Your Highness’s kindness, but your words are more than I deserve.”

She offered a polite bow, then turned again—

Only for him to yank her back—this time, more forcefully.

“Wait. I just told you I’d be your family. What’s the problem?”

(Oh? He’s losing patience faster than I expected.)

The Siegbert she had known in her past life was more composed.

It seemed he had yet to master his act at this age.

(And yet, I fell for this fool? My past self… was an embarrassment.)

“Say something.”

“…I’m honored by Your Highness’s words, of course. However, I am not permitted to bear the Granheim name. It would be improper for me to refer to you as family.”

“Hah? That’s ridiculous. If I say it’s fine, then it’s fine. Just forget about it.”

“Ah… I see. You don’t want to be my sister, then?”

He leaned in, his expression suggestive.

“Perhaps a different relationship would suit you better?”

(Like lovers, perhaps?)

“Prince Siegbert.”

She deliberately smiled, ensuring it was just alluring enough to hold his gaze.

Then, she took a step back, feigning innocence, as if troubled by his words.

“It pains me to say this, but… Siblings who share bl00d cannot marry, you know? Were you unaware?”

It was a petty act of revenge, but one she couldn’t resist.

The reaction was instant.

His expression hardened, as if he had just seen a sworn enemy.

“What do you know?”

(What? Why such an extreme reaction?)

(Did he truly not know at this age? No… That’s not it.)

His anger wasn’t the reaction of someone embarrassed about their ignorance.

It was deeper—as though she had unintentionally touched on something forbidden.

“Know what, exactly?”

“That’s—”

Siegbert hesitated, as if realizing his mistake.

(He knows something. Something important.)

(Should I push for more?)

(No. I don’t have enough information yet. If I press too hard, I might uncover something I’m not prepared for.)

There were times when digging too deep led to monsters best left undisturbed.

“If I spoke out of turn, I apologize. But it was your father, King Raphael, who forbade me from bearing the Granheim name.”

She redirected the conversation.

His face twisted slightly in thought before he sighed.

“Father, huh…”

“Yes. If I were to go against his wishes, it would bring trouble to you as well. I ask for your understanding.”

“Fine. I’ll accept that for now.”

And with that, he finally let her go.

For now, she had avoided conflict.

But something wasn’t right.

There was a secret she had not known in her past life—one Siegbert was hiding.

He wouldn’t give up so easily.

Following him meant ruin.

Opposing him could mean death.

But—

Ariadne’s fingers tightened into fists.

(I won’t repeat my past mistakes.)

(To those I wronged, I will atone. To those who used me, I will have my revenge.)

(I will rewrite my disgraceful history—and I will shatter the future that awaits me.)