Chapter 2

# 2

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Nabia opened her eyes as if waking from death.

'Here I am, starting over at eight again.'

How long would she live this time? After dying in a carriage accident at the age of 20 in her first life, the sudden regression always brought her back to the day she had been in Agnes for a year. The reason was unknown.

In fact, 'regression magic' didn't even exist in the world.

Nabia lifted her arm to check her right wrist.

'The numbers are gone.'

Was it because all the regressions were over? The numbers indicating remaining regressions, which should have been on the inside of her wrist, were nowhere to be seen.

This was the end.

Yes, she had finally reached the real end, after eight failures.

Thud.

Nabia let her arm fall weakly, staring blankly at the ceiling with empty eyes.

'Where did I go wrong?'

Was it because she stubbornly tried to survive here for eight lives? Was it because she wanted to be loved? Was it because she wanted to be recognized? Was it because she wanted a family? If not, was it because she was born?

She just wanted to be loved like everyone else.

She wanted to blow out the candles on her birthday cake and hear the words of celebration. She wanted to cuddle with the teddy bear given by her parents on a stormy night and endure the long night together. She wanted to throw a tantrum about not wanting to study, to say what food she wanted to eat, and to be scolded for getting cavities from eating snacks.

Just like Wood, like Vivian.

"It was greed."

Yes, she could admit it now.

The desperate fact that she could never be loved.

Nabia slowly clenched the sheet. Her eyes burned hot, and her vision began to blur.

She clenched her jaw tightly, determined not to let out a scream-like sob.

"Sniff..."

But, frustratingly, tears flowed endlessly, and a sob she couldn't hold back escaped.

She wanted to pretend everything was fine, but inside, she was utterly broken.

Old, festering wounds burst open all at once, and her heart constricted, making it hard to breathe.

Nabia clutched her chest in pain.

She had wasted eight lives.

As a prospective empress, she had been respected and was the most beautiful flower in high society.

Using the information gained from regression, she removed obstacles to Agnes and made her family even more powerful.

"Do you really think you can become the real Agnes by doing that?"

No matter how much she devoted her entire life and heart to her family, the response was always ridicule.

"Sniff... Sniff..."

Nabia covered her face with both arms and sobbed uncontrollably.

It's not sad, it will be okay, just a little more, if I just do a little better...

She had endured with these delusional thoughts.

No, she had been brainwashed.

Nabia could no longer think that way.

In fact, everything was far from okay.

It hurt.

It was sad.

It was desperate and painful.

She wished it was all just a dream.

'I want to die.'

Was there any meaning in continuing to live like this?

She had lived too long and was extremely tired. The repetitive life and the torturous hope were unbearable.

'Should I just die?'

Then everything would really be over.

"Whimper..."

Actually, she wished someone would talk her out of it.

She wished someone would save her.

She wouldn't resent it if her biological parents suddenly appeared and took her away from here.

Please.

Please...

But such a thing had never happened.

"Hiccup."

How long had she been crying?

Her sobs gradually subsided.

Her eyes were already red and stinging.

Nabia, drained of energy, lay weakly when a strange noise came from outside the door.

Creak!

The sound of something rattling and mocking laughter followed.

Her dry eyes, as if all her emotions had been poured out, turned toward the door.

She knew exactly who was behind this mischief, something she had experienced many times.

'Wood.'

Even on days other than this, Wood often locked Nabia in her room.

"Brother, please open the door! If I'm late again, I'll have to go hungry for four days. Please...!"

"Only four days? I thought you'd be hungry for a week if you're late again! Damn, it's annoying."

Nabia, due to Wood, often went hungry for more than four days out of a week.

Quenching her hunger with water was a daily routine for her.

She might die like this.

Feeling the danger, Nabia sometimes waited outside her room to avoid being late for class until the dedicated maid came.

Then she would be punished for acting in a way that was not befitting a noble.

'So the next time, I went out onto the balcony.'

To get to the first floor, she had torn all her bedding into a rope, tied it to the balcony pillar, and climbed over the railing.

It was a dangerous act.

The fabric of her bedding, not of good quality, couldn't bear her weight, and she fell to her death in the fourth life.

Ah, there was a time when she survived even after falling to the ground.

"Ha! You're really a fool."

Wood mocked Nabia, who was rolling on the ground with torn clothes and bleeding.

Nabia, unable to bear it, asked:

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"Because you're low-born and have lowered the status of our family! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been humiliated in front of Sara...!"

Wood had been infatuated with Lady Sara Lucia since childhood.

Wood's friends used Nabia's low birth to humiliate him in front of Lady Sara.

Already tormented for not fitting her status, Wood began to treat her even more cruelly after that day.

Nabia, with a cold expression, stood up.

Wood, having finished his mischief, had already left, and no more sounds could be heard.

"Such diligence."

It was ridiculous to think that the lazy Wood had come down from the third floor to the second floor at dawn to lock the door with a chain and a lock.

Nikan and his children used the third floor.

Nabia, who should have been registered in the household and used the third floor, stayed in a guest room on the second floor, from the first life to now.

Still, it was a precious haven.

They said you were family if you lived under the same roof.

She consoled herself with that.

Nabia laughed.

"Ha ha!"

A hunting dog that could be discarded at any time and a convenient, useful tool, yet called family.

Nabia approached the door and tried to pull the doorknob.

Creak!

As expected, the door was locked, just like any other time.

Nabia reached out and touched the door.

The rough texture of the neglected wood was distinctly felt.

Why had she been so obsessed with such a family?

It was meaningless.

The one who could protect herself was not some savior who would suddenly appear.

It was herself.

So.

"If you touch me, you should pay the price."

Isn't that right, Wood?