The Regressed Tyrant Princess Rewrites Her Dark History - Chapter 1.3

A letter from Siegbert, the very man she had sworn vengeance against, arrived unexpectedly.

Though slightly different from the one in her past life, the contents were essentially the same: a request to grant him authority over the maids in the Princess’s Palace under the pretext of concerns about its management.

In her past life, Ariadne had no one else to rely on. Siegbert’s offer had seemed like her only hope, so she had accepted without hesitation.

“…Thinking back on it now, that was just another shameful part of my history.”

Lounging on the sofa, she tossed the letter onto the table.

Siegbert was almost certainly behind the recent assassination attempt. At the very least, it was orchestrated by someone close to him.

Handing him control over the palace staff would be like handing him the knife to kill her with.

However, given how things had played out in her past life, she knew his goal wasn’t to kill her outright.

Back then, whenever she faced difficulties, he would conveniently appear to offer gentle words of support.

She had been drawn to him, believing that he was the only one who cared for her.

And so, she had thrown herself into serving him.

But in reality, his goal had been to control the palace, monitor her, and slowly isolate her—turning her into a useful, obedient pawn.

(I refuse to repeat such a humiliating history.)

Even so, reality was not so simple.

Siegbert’s letter was a request, not a demand.

But if she refused, she would undoubtedly become his enemy.

If he deemed her useless as a pawn, he would resort to assassination.

(I need a powerful backer to oppose him—and fast.)

For example, she could try to align herself with the First Prince’s faction.

It wouldn’t be easy.

But she was The Crimson Rose—a woman who had once ruled the social world and was known as a notorious villainess.

She had studied every weakness of the First Prince’s faction in her past life.

(If I remember correctly, in two days…)

Checking the date, she smiled slightly before ringing the bell to summon a maid.

Before long, Sybilla entered the room.

“Did you call for me, Princess Ariadne?”

“Yes, I have a few requests.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“I’ll be attending the evening ball two days from now. Prepare a dress for me.”

“A-An evening ball?”

“Yes. Please take care of it.”

She allowed no room for further questions and made it clear what needed to be done.

Afterward, she visited her mother, checked on her condition, and made a specific request to the physician.

Once that was settled, she sought out Heino, the head steward.

Upon arriving at the office, she found him sorting through documents.

“Princess Ariadne, is there something I can do for you?”

He set down his pen and stood as she approached.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor? What might that be?”

“My mother received an invitation to the evening ball two days from now, didn’t she? Since she’s unwell, I’ll attend in her place. Please hand me the invitation.”

Heino blinked in surprise, then glanced toward the table before turning his gaze back to her.

“…Princess Ariadne. I understand that you wish to do something for your mother. But Lady Aria has not permitted you to leave the palace.”

“That’s true. But tell me, do you think my mother is currently capable of making such a decision?”

“What are you suggesting…?”

“When the head of a household is deemed unfit to manage affairs, a temporary successor takes over. You know this, don’t you?”

That was exactly what had happened in her past life.

She had assumed her mother’s responsibilities under temporary authority, and it had been Heino himself who had suggested it.

Now, though Aria was alive, she was unable to govern.

“…You are correct, Your Highness. However, the evening ball in question is hosted by the former queen. While an invitation was sent, Lady Aria had no intention of attending…”

“It was nothing more than a formality, wasn’t it?”

“…You were aware of that?”

She nodded slightly.

Aria had been a mistress of the current king, the head of the Second Prince’s faction.

There was no way she would attend an event hosted by the First Prince’s faction.

However—

“Heino, who do you think ordered my mother’s assassination?”

“Princess Ariadne!”

Heino quickly glanced around, alarmed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything more. But I needed to question it.”

She met his gaze head-on.

Unlike her, Heino had lived far longer and had witnessed many things.

His eyes, weathered with experience, seemed to see right through her.

Finally, he sighed and bowed slightly.

“…As you wish, Your Highness.”

And so, with the invitation secured, she began preparing for the ball.

The Evening of the Ball

Ariadne arrived at the venue, dressed in the only gown she owned.

The moment she stepped inside, the whispers began.

“She’s young, but quite stunning… Which noble house does she belong to?”

“Wait… isn’t that a jewel eye?”

“A jewel eye? Then she must be—”

“The mark of the Restour royal family.”

“That would mean she’s…!”

The murmurs grew louder.

The Restour royal family had once been exiled descendants of the Granheim monarchy.

Yet, they had foolishly waged war against Granheim—only to be annihilated.

Most of the royal family had been executed.

Only one woman had been spared—Aria.

Even speaking of her was taboo.

And Ariadne was her illegitimate child, born of a king who had destroyed her homeland.

To the First Prince’s faction, she was nothing short of an unwelcome guest.

Yet Ariadne strode forward with confidence, her steps graceful and unshaken.

The certainty in her demeanor silenced the whispers, making those around her question their own judgment.

She scanned the room, searching for Amelia, the former queen.

But before she could find her, a noble stepped into her path.

“You’re the forgotten princess, aren’t you? What are you doing here?”

Golden-pink hair cascaded in wavy twin tails, and piercing green eyes flashed with bold defiance.

A folding fan in one hand, her arms crossed confidently—

This was Ashley Granis, daughter of Count Granis.

Ariadne knew her well.

They had clashed countless times in her past life.

“Oh? Are you a fan of mine?”

“Huh!? Of course not!”

“Really? But you seem to know me quite well. For someone who was supposedly ‘forgotten,’ it’s rather odd, isn’t it? Perhaps you’re secretly an admirer?”

As she playfully tilted her head, soft laughter rippled through the crowd.

Ashley’s face burned red, realizing she had made a fool of herself.

(She’s not a bad person, just a little too impulsive.)

“Th-That’s not the point! Your eyes—those are the proof of royalty!”

“Ah, I see. So what you’re saying is that, knowing full well that I am of royal bl00d, you—a daughter of the noble House Granis—have chosen to behave so rudely toward me?”

“Wha—!? Th-That’s not what I—!”

Technically, a royal held higher status than a count’s daughter.

However, given the weak position of the Restour family, there was no real consequence for disrespecting her.

Still, having it pointed out so publicly left Ashley at a loss for words.

She had always been easy to handle, even in the past.

Hot-tempered toward her enemies but never truly cruel.

“…Wait, do you know who I am?”

“Of course I do. The daughter of Count Granis—Ashley. You’re well known for excelling at the Magic Academy, a lovely young lady with a promising future.”

“T-That’s what people say about me?”

“Yes. And I must say, you are even more beautiful than the rumors suggested. Though, I must also say, you are just as reckless as they claim, throwing yourself at a princess without a second thought.”

“Y-You—! Are you complimenting me or insulting me!? Pick one!”

“I’m simply stating facts.”

Ariadne smiled as Ashley clenched her fists, her whole body trembling in frustration.

“I believe that’s enough teasing for one evening, Princess Ariadne.”

A voice cut through their conversation.

The speaker was Arnolt, the First Prince.

Golden hair framed a sharp yet gentle face, and emerald eyes shone with intelligence.

A prince whose smile could make any noble lady swoon.

Ariadne instinctively performed a curtsy, lowering her head slightly deeper than etiquette required.

It was a subtle gesture of guilt—a lingering shadow of the fact that, in her past life, she had poisoned him.

“Prince Arnolt, it is an honor to meet you.”

When she lifted her gaze with a pleasant smile, Arnolt sighed softly.

“…So, you are Princess Ariadne.”

“You seem to know of me?”

“And you seem to know of me. Ah, but first—Ashley, your mother is looking for you.”

“Oh? Ah—ah! I see. Thank you for letting me know.”

Ashley quickly excused herself.

“How kind of you to let her escape,” Ariadne mused.

It was likely an excuse—a fabricated reason to pull Ashley away.

Arnolt smiled faintly, as if amused.

“I had originally planned to come to your aid.”

“Ah, my apologies?”

“Not at all. In fact, this works out quite well. I’ve been meaning to speak with you alone.”

He flashed a playful smile.

Had she been her past self, she might have been swayed.

But now—

She simply returned his smile gracefully.

“Oh my, a private conversation with you? How thrilling. However, I was hoping to speak with former Queen Amelia tonight.”

“You came here to see my mother?”

He looked genuinely surprised.

“…I see. So that’s why you came to this ball. Very well. I don’t know what business you have with her, but I will introduce you. However, on one condition—I must be present during the conversation.”

“That curiosity of yours hasn’t changed, has it?”

“…Pardon?”

“Nothing. Just a passing thought. Now then, shall we?”

“Of course. May I escort you, Princess Ariadne?”

Taking his offered arm, she allowed Arnolt to lead her through the ballroom.

A striking pair—a handsome prince and a young princess of opposing factions.

The moment they walked together, they drew every eye in the room.

Yet neither paid any mind.

Then—

A woman’s scream pierced the air.

“—What!? Already!?”

“Princess Ariadne—! Wait, where are you going!?”

Ignoring him, she sprinted toward the sound.

She weaved through the crowd, racing toward the source—

And then—

On the carpeted floor, collapsed in her elegant gown, lay former Queen Amelia.

Her face ghastly pale, her body trembling in pain.

Ariadne pushed past the nobles and dropped to her knees beside her.

Turning to the nearest maid, she shouted—

“You—tell me what happened!”

“Ah—who are you—?”

“No time for that! Explain!”

“Y-Yes! Her Majesty was conversing with guests when she suddenly collapsed—”

“Conversing? Did she drink anything at the time?”

“Ah… yes! She had a glass of wine—”

Ariadne’s eyes snapped toward the fallen glass, the last droplets of red liquid staining the carpet.

She scooped up a drop with her fingertip and brought it to her lips.

A familiar, faint sweetness coated her tongue.

(Fermoa poison.)

She spat out the wine onto a handkerchief, then reached into her dress and pulled out a small vial.

“This is an antidote. Drink it.”

She lifted Amelia’s head onto her lap, bringing the uncorked vial to her lips.

Amelia, struggling to breathe, locked eyes with her.

“Former Queen Amelia. The wine you drank contained Fermoa poison. This vial holds the antidote.”

She spoke clearly, ensuring everyone heard.

“You can choose to trust me and drink it now—or wait for a doctor, who may or may not arrive in time. Please, decide quickly.”

Amelia’s weak nod was all the confirmation she needed.

Ariadne tilted the vial, and Amelia drank its contents.

Moments later, her labored breaths eased slightly.

Then—

A ring of knights surrounded them.

“Princess Ariadne, we will need you to come with us.”

She smiled.

Even as she stood, surrounded by guards, she exuded poise and confidence.

“Of course. I have nothing to hide.”

She was the most beautiful presence in the entire ballroom.