episode_0009

In my unconscious, I dreamed a dream. A very long dream.

When I first realized I had reincarnated, I didn’t know this place was the world of a novel.

There were no different races like orcs or goblins, and no superpowers like magic or aura, so I wasn’t particularly interested in the world.

The only thing I could infer that it wasn’t the past Earth was through my name, Anastasia Romanova.

Well, if I’m starting over, a completely new place is better. At least I didn’t reincarnate as Princess Anastasia of Earth. That’s better than being shot and killed.

With such an easygoing thought, I lived day by day.

I lived in a princess’s body, but because my father in this life doted on me so much, I wasn’t subjected to any particular restrictions.

If I were a princess from another country, I would have worn dresses and received bridal training, but I threw a tantrum and insisted on pants, and I trained in swordsmanship.

…Although the results were not so great. Anyway, I tried hard to break away from the image of a princess.

Of course, this appearance of mine wasn’t seen in a very favorable light by others. I noticed that the eyes of the nobles who looked at me grew more impure by the day.

Part of that was due to my father’s repeated misgovernance, but an unruly princess probably wasn’t seen favorably either.

Then, in the year I turned 9, I finally learned the true nature of this world.

The Duchy of Raskavan, which had always been in conflict with my father, was ruined, and their youngest son was brought into the palace as a slave.

I wasn’t very interested in it, but because my father kept calling for me, I once went to see the slave.

Crack!

In the center of the banquet hall, a young boy was being whipped. The reason was insolence. He had dared to glare at the king.

I turned my eyes away from this tragic scene. My father laughed heartily beside me, but not even a scream came out of me.

What is this? How can you wear a human guise and do such a thing…?

“Asha, that is the end of those who defy the golden bloodline. Keep it in mind.”

My stomach churned. This is too inhumane… What wrong could such a young child have committed?

I asked my father to stop this. My father looked puzzled for a moment, but realizing I wasn’t in a good state, he immediately stopped the whipping.

And a week later, after my mind had calmed down a bit, I called for the child.

The child’s state was pathetic. There were injuries all over his body, and some looked so infected that they seemed beyond recovery.

He hadn’t eaten properly, so his bones showed, making him look gaunt. His condition was as serious as that of the starving children seen in UNICEF ads.

As I stood there flustered, a maid approached me and handed me a whip. It was a whip for slaves. The whip was worn and frayed.

I ordered the maids to leave. But one maid, the one who had handed me the whip, remained in the room and held her ground.

I need to treat him quickly. I tried hard to hide my flustered expression and ordered that maid to leave the room as well.

“His Majesty ordered me to inform him if the princess whips him.”

I scoffed in disbelief. He was the kindest father to me, but he was uniquely cruel to this child.

If I insisted on sending the maid out, my father would inflict a greater punishment. In that case, this child might die.

I bit my lip hard and swung the whip. Crack! With a piercing sound, the child moaned and collapsed.

As I swung the whip, I forced a smile. I had to look like I was enjoying myself. Otherwise, she would notice something was wrong.

Seeing me (forced) smile and swing the whip, the maid immediately left the room. With a thud, the heavy door closed.

As soon as the door closed, I rushed to the child and looked at his injuries. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Repeating it over and over, I gently stroked his wounds.

Fortunately, the injury I inflicted wasn’t deep. With ointment, it would heal quickly.

I brought ointment and applied it. I couldn’t treat the other deep wounds, but I could at least treat the shallow ones.

As I kept apologizing and applying the ointment, the child looked at me with incomprehensible eyes. Yes, even I look strange. To swing a whip with a smile, and then immediately rush over and apologize as soon as the person leaves.

I’m not two-faced.

“Why… why are you doing this…?”

A heavily hoarse voice flowed from his slender throat. His voice was filled with fear.

I felt so sorry for that. How much abuse must he have suffered to suspect kindness immediately?

“Just because.”

I vaguely brushed it off and continued to treat his injuries. After applying the ointment and wrapping bandages, his condition looked somewhat better.

The child remained bewildered, sitting still on the floor. I led him to a table and had him sit down.

On the table were meat porridge and water that I had ordered brought in. I had heard that eating meat right away might kill someone with a weakened body, so I brought porridge, and it seemed I made the right choice.

First, I poured him a cup of water. The child took the cup and hesitated for a while, then immediately drank the water when I told him there was no poison.

Only after drinking about 3 cups of water did the child reach for the meat porridge. He seemed relieved after seeing that he was fine after drinking the water.

The child wolfed down the meat porridge. They probably hadn’t given him proper food. I looked at the child with eyes filled with guilt.

In less than 5 minutes, the meal was finished. The amount was considerable; how hungry must he have been…?

After filling his stomach, his head seemed to clear, and the child got off the chair and knelt on the floor.

I was flustered and told him to remain seated on the chair, but he refused, saying a slave could never do that.

Seeing that he showed no sign of getting up, I sat down next to the child. Then the child jumped, waving his hands and saying I shouldn’t do that.

“If you don’t sit down, I’ll keep sitting on the floor too.”

At my threat, the child finally yielded and sat on the chair. I followed the child and sat on my chair. Ugh, the floor is cold.

Sitting across from each other, I could see the child’s face in detail. Dark navy hair and mint-colored eyes. Hmm… I feel like I’ve seen that face somewhere…

I stared at the child’s face, trying to recall my memory. Such a description always points to the protagonist in novels… Hmm?

Hmm… Uh… Uh… I think it’s real. Isn’t he the protagonist of the fantasy novel [From Slave to King], which had no fantasy elements?

I asked the child his name in a trembling voice. At first, he drew a line, saying he was just a slave, but at my continued prodding, he looked hesitant and told me his name.

“Mikhail Raskavan…”

Huh, it’s true. What kind of coincidence is this? Haha… Wait, doesn’t this mean I’m totally screwed? My father killed his entire family and tormented him by making him a slave.

The contents of the novel started to flood back to me one by one. Among them were details about Princess Anastasia Romanova.

Hmm… In the original story, she tormented Mikhail, following her father’s lead, and was promptly beheaded by Mikhail, who started a rebellion and became king.

He said he would spray golden blood and desecrated her corpse, scattering body parts all over the kingdom… Hmm, I’m utterly screwed.

Thinking that the seemingly meek child in front of me would one day cut off my head sent shivers down my spine. Uh… What should I do…? Oh, why did I have to reincarnate as the villainess princess?!

I felt like finding God and punching him in the face. I didn’t live a saintly life in my previous life, but I never committed a crime. Ha… This is really too much.

I slumped my head onto the table, feeling gloomy. Seeing my condition suddenly turn strange, Mikhail looked flustered and asked if I was sick somewhere.

No, it’s nothing. It’s just because I know you’ll kill me in the future.

I sent Mikhail away. He left the room, looking hesitant.

Ah, life is really something.

—

Surprisingly, on the day I called for Mikhail, my father made him my personal slave. He said something about me awakening the inherent inclination of the golden bloodline.

It was a bit sickening, but it’s much better for him to be under me than to be abused by my father.

Under the pretext that I wanted to use this slave for a long time, I made sure Mikhail ate regularly and had his injuries treated.

As a result, Mikhail’s gaunt body gained flesh, and his near-death appearance changed for the better.

To build goodwill, I periodically called him in under the pretense of hitting him. To avoid being found out by my father, I’d hit him lightly a few times to dismiss the people, and then give him delicious food or play with him.

At first, Mikhail asked me why I was going so far. With eyes full of suspicion. Of course, my answer to that was simple.

“Just because.”

Mikhail looked crestfallen, and after that, he started accepting my kindness without any suspicion. Well, that makes it easy for me.

Several years passed like that. Mikhail, who turned 17, and I became friends.

“Ah~ I want to have sex.”

“Don’t say that out loud, you idiot.”

To the point where we spoke casually to each other… Wasn’t I supposed to be the owner? How did it end up like this?

“Talking back to the princess.”

“Were you the princess? Hmm… Seeing your big chest, I guess you are a princess.”

“You son of a bitch.”

How does he seem to get more insolent as he gets older? Did I regret letting him drop formalities in exchange for doing my homework? Ugh.

I drank the tea placed on the table. Slurp. It was sweet with lots of sugar. Hmm, but it still tasted a bit bitter. Should I add more sugar?

“Are you going to add sugar there again? You’ll get diabetes.”

“None of your business.”

He thinks he’s my mother. When I glared at him, Mikhail sighed deeply and went back to doing my homework.

‘Hmm~ The black tea is sweet.’

Sugar is the best after all. As I was enjoying the black tea, Mikhail, who had finished my homework, opened his mouth.

“You’re really carefree, aren’t you?”

“Suddenly picking a fight?”

“No, I mean, what kind of woman who’s a princess dumps her homework and studies onto a slave? And you’re the only heir.”

“What does it matter? Someone else can be king anyway. I don’t want to.”

“Is that something you should say? Sigh…”

Mikhail clicked his tongue disapprovingly, as if I were pathetic. You, who doesn’t know the future, might act like this, but I, who knows the future, could only laugh hollowly.

‘Rather than become king and fight with you, it’s better to just run away. Being king doesn’t suit me anyway.’

My head aches just from talking to nobles, and you want me to fight you, who has the original story’s buff? How is that any different from saying I’ll prepare to die?

“Then you be king.”

“Cough! Wh… What?”

Mikhail stammered, looking flustered. Is that really such a flustering thing to say? In the original, he started preparing for rebellion from this point.

‘Well, no matter how close we are, there are things you can say and things you can’t.’

Especially to the daughter of your enemy. It was natural, but my mouth tasted bitter.

‘Alright, alright. Why am I suddenly feeling sentimental?’

“What do you mean by that?! What if someone hears?”

“Why are you suddenly so worked up? It was just a joke. Besides, the disrespect you’ve shown me is enough to get you dragged away.”

Of course, there was no one around. Because I had dismissed all the maids in the hallway, saying I wanted to be the only one to hear the slave’s screams of pain, not a single person could hear this conversation.

“No, still. There are jokes you can make and jokes you can’t. Ugh… You really startled me.”

Mikhail clutched his chest and sighed in relief. It didn’t seem like acting. Hmm… Does he still have no idea?

“Actually, it wasn’t a joke.”

“What?”

Then Mikhail’s face instantly turned serious. The air suddenly grew cold and the atmosphere became strange.

I was flustered along with him. Uh… Hmm… How do I fix this…?

“It’s… It’s just… Because you do my homework and studying for me, you’re smarter than most people~ And you’re much better at swordsmanship than me. That’s just why I said it.”

“…Right. It must be nice to be so carefree.”

Mikhail got up, kicked his chair back, and left the room. I watched Mikhail leave, blankly, unsure of what to do. Why is he taking this so seriously?

‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know. I should just call Tatiana and hang out.’

I pulled the string to summon a maid. The maid said she would bring Tatiana right away and left the room.

Should I get ready to run away in advance? There’s nothing wrong with preparing ahead of time.

I waited for Tatiana to arrive, planning my escape.

—

The next day. I sent Mikhail to the battlefield. In the original story, he prepared for rebellion by building achievements on the battlefield, not in the palace, so that would be better.

When I told him to go to the battlefield, Mikhail scoffed, saying it was some kind of outdated April Fool’s joke. But when I presented him with the written order to go to the battlefield, he became noticeably flustered.

It was the most flustered expression I had ever seen him wear. He begged me, asking what he had done wrong.

Was it because he had deliberately messed up his homework, or because he had accidentally touched a sensitive spot during a sparring session?

But I coldly pushed him away and gave a firm command. Yes, this was right. To make it flow like the original, this was right.

He asked me why I was suddenly acting like this. My answer to that was simple.

“Just because.”

Then he let out a hollow laugh and muttered something. And then he immediately left the room.

That night, Mikhail departed for the battlefield.

And already 3 years had passed. During those 3 years, Mikhail had accumulated tremendous achievements and became a war hero. It was the exact same flow as the original story.

While Mikhail was active on the battlefield, I secretly prepared for defection.

I cashed in the jewels I had hidden away and mapped out a route.

The country of defection was the neighboring country, Polski. It was also my mother’s hometown.

I could travel there by land, the language was similar, and since I was on good terms with the crown prince there, I probably wouldn’t be chased away.

‘Yes, this is how it should be. This is how it should be…’

Even if my friend kills my father, and I can never return to my hometown.

My heart felt inexplicably heavy. Everything was going according to the plan I had made, so what was the problem?

“Haah…”

Knock knock.

Someone knocked on the door. It was a maid. She said Mikhail had arrived.

After Mikhail returned as a war hero, I often called for him.

Since he was no longer a slave, I couldn’t meet him as often as before, but thanks to him often responding to my requests, I could meet him at least once a week.

Anyway, what was my father thinking, making Mikhail a noble? Even if he used his brain as much as he used his muscles, he wouldn’t do something this crazy.

It was a way of thinking I truly didn’t understand. Even someone as foolish as me would send an assassin to quietly kill them off rather than grant them nobility. That’s why the nobles grew more insolent by the day.

‘How did he manage to ruin the Duchy of Raskavan? Did he just get lucky?’

Thinking this and that, I soon arrived at the reception room. As I entered the reception room, Mikhail, who was sitting on the sofa drinking tea, stood up and greeted me.

“Baron Saltykov (the title obtained upon being ennobled) greets Princess Anastasia Romanova.”

I nodded my head to acknowledge his greeting and sat down on the opposite sofa.

And I dismissed the maids. The maids hesitated, then left the room with impure looks in their eyes. Look at those eyes.

‘If even the maids are like this, how could I possibly be king here? Running away is much better.’

My thinking is definitely not wrong, hmm hmm.

“Ah, sex.”

“What kind of woman says that… Ha… Alright, never mind.”

Mikhail made a disgusted expression and gulped down his black tea as if his throat was parched. Is it not hot? Does the protagonist’s tongue not get burned even when drinking hot tea? Damn protagonist buff.

Mikhail and I exchanged some small talk. I was grateful that he consistently visited me and talked with me, even though he must be busy these days.

“Oh, and I’m leaving the capital for about a month.”

“Huh? Is something wrong?”

“Ah, there’s a popular uprising in the Earldom of Lukov, so I have to go suppress it.”

The Earldom of Lukov. It was the region where Mikhail’s rebellion began. Going to the Earldom of Lukov at a point less than a month before the original story’s ending? Without needing any reports or anything, it’s a rebellion.

The uprising must be a diversion. The original story has already progressed this far.

“Ah, I see. Good luck. It’ll be quite difficult to suppress it there.”

I forced a smile and pretended not to care. Calm down, calm down. If he somehow notices, things will get complicated.

“…Okay.”

Mikhail looked at me silently, then gave a small laugh and replied. Wow, I was so freaked out I might get caught. That kid with unnecessarily good eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Suddenly? Did you steal my jewels or something?”

Suddenly, Mikhail apologized to me. Normally, I would have thought he ate something strange, but thinking about what he would do in a few weeks, I understood the meaning of this apology.

‘I’m sorry that I have to kill your father.’

I felt a sudden sense of bitterness. As I grew older, I did lose affection for my father, but he was my father after all. He also doted on me terribly.

If he were a normal father, I wouldn’t have even dreamed of dressing as a man or training in swordsmanship. Could there be such an unfilial daughter in the world?

My throat was parched, so I drank the black tea. I hadn’t added any sugar, so the taste was very bitter and rough.

“Just… I’m sorry.”

“Uh… Okay.”

“Then I’ll be going.”

Mikhail stood up and walked towards the door. And just as he was about to open the door, he threw a remark at me.

“Don’t forgive me.”

Thud.

The door closed. I finished the remaining black tea and returned to my room. There really wasn’t much time left now.

Tick-tock. Today, the ticking sound of the clock’s second hand sounded like a time bomb timer.

—

I woke up from the dream. It’s the first time I’ve dreamed this long… How long was I unconscious?

I ran a hand over my face. My face wasn’t greasy, so it seemed the maids had wiped it regularly.

‘Why such a disturbing dream to wake up to…’

A dream that only featured Mikhail. What kind of terrible nightmare is this? I turned over to try and sleep again.

Then Mikhail’s face popped into view.

“Gah!”

Even with a throat cracked and dry from not drinking water for days, a scream came out. You bastard, why are you here?

My heart was pounding. It was enough to put most horror game jumpscares to shame.

As if woken by my scream, Mikhail’s eyes slowly opened. Soon, he saw my face and smiled.

“Asha.”

Goosebumps instantly rose, and I jerked backward in surprise. I couldn’t move much lying down, but I reached the edge of the bed and secured a safe distance.

When I suddenly backed away, Mikhail approached me. But when I extended my hand and told him to stop, he stopped.

“D… Don’t come… I don’t want you to… I said I don’t want you to…”

As he approached, I felt like my delirium was about to recur. My hands trembled, and my teeth chattered.

Seeing me terrified, Mikhail seemed unwilling to see a bloody scene and backed away. As he moved further away, my mind calmed down a little.

As the excitement subsided and the floating sensation returned, the pain also returned.

“Ugh…!”

There was a small pain in my head, but the most serious was my left thigh. A quick glance at the exposed part showed the skin was peeled off and in terrible condition.

‘It must have really hit me hard.’

Well, it’s an environment where delirium can’t possibly not happen. I can’t even talk to people and am just raped. I guess this is considered good.

At least I didn’t go crazy and beat a maid to death like my father did.

If I had, I felt like I would have said screw Tatiana and everything and committed suicide. How could I possibly live normally after killing someone?

Slam!

Suddenly, the door opened. It was Doctor Ivan. His hair was sticking out everywhere as if he had jumped out of bed.

When I woke up, Ivan asked me a few questions to check if I had a stroke. I answered, and seeing that there was nothing unusual, Ivan let out a sigh of relief.

After retying the bandage that had loosened a bit from my sudden movement, Ivan withdrew.

In the room, only Mikhail and I were left again.