TRHLV | CH 01

Chapter 1: He Killed Her

Elika Ruberos, the Empress of the Carlisle Empire, was a villainess known throughout history.

With her endless power, she killed millions of people and pushed the world into long, painful wars.

A disaster to civilization, a destroyer of history.

Wherever she looked, blood spilled. Wherever she walked, dead bodies piled up.

She was like a devil who brought chaos not only to one country but to all of humanity.

To end that hellish time, one man risked his life.

His name was Debian, the noble traitor.

He appeared like a comet, leading the rebels.

He took over the imperial palace and reached the bedroom of Empress Elika, the cause of everything.

* * * 

When he burst through the big doors, the woman stood in the middle of the room, looking down at the fallen emperor.

It was a deep violet night with a full moon shining.

The dead emperor’s mouth was bleeding, and a silver cup lay on the floor.

She had flowing white-gold hair and a clean, bare face.

She wore a plain white shift, without shine or lace.

For someone said to be an evil ruler, she looked very pure and calm.

She slowly raised her eyes to look at the man who came to kill her.

There was no fear in them.

When their eyes met—her purple eyes pulling him in—Debian felt like he couldn’t breathe.

She was beautiful. Still beautiful.

“You’ve finally come,” she said.

As if she had been waiting for him.

Debian took a deep breath to stay calm.

“How interesting,” she said softly with a smile.

“You’re the one with the sword, but you look more afraid than I do.”

She stepped slowly over her dead husband and walked toward him.

Her steps were smooth like water.

Her thin waist and the way her dress moved looked almost magical.

‘Stay focused. Don’t let her shake you,’ he thought.

Debian held his sword tightly, ready to strike the moment she got close.

“You’re scared, but you don’t back away. I like that,” she said.

Her voice was sweet like music, and she smelled like gentle flowers.

“If you’re going to kill me, you should at least be brave.”

The moment she took another step, Debian lifted his sword.

“It was nice seeing you again, Charon,” she said.

The blue blade cut into her white neck.

Her angel-like face rolled on the floor as just a piece of flesh.

Debian breathed heavily.

‘Charon.’

Her last word echoed in his ears.

That was his old name, one she shouldn’t have known.

* * * 

“Gasp!”

He sat up with a cold sweat.

Sunlight came through the curtains.

‘What happened? I clearly killed her…’

He looked at his hands.

They should be rough and full of scars from all his battles.

But they were clean and soft, like a noble boy’s hands.

The bed, the ceiling, the walls, the furniture—everything was familiar.

This was his bedroom in the Blansé mansion, second floor.

He became the young duke here after his parents died.

‘No way. This place burned down five years ago…’

He looked around in confusion and saw a small notebook on the nightstand.

He grabbed it quickly.

‘This is the diary I used to write in when I was a kid!’

He flipped through it until the last entry.

‘March 23, Year 495 of the Empire. Clear skies.’

‘495? But it’s supposed to be 510 now!’

He had written in it even after that year.

So why did the diary stop at 15 years ago?

He felt dizzy.

Then he looked up—and saw a round mirror above the fireplace.

He blinked, then jumped out of bed like a spring and grabbed the mirror.

“What… what is this?!”

Black hair like the night sea, blue eyes like the sky, a smooth forehead, thick eyebrows, sharp nose, tight lips, and a perfect jawline—he was once a handsome 33-year-old hero.

…But the boy in the mirror looked different.

Somewhere between a teenager and a young man—yes, that was how he looked 15 years ago.

He pinched his face to see if it was a dream—it hurt.

He gently rubbed his cheek and stood still in shock.

Was he really back 15 years in the past?

Even if this made no sense, there was something else that made him furious.

“…I finally killed that evil woman…”

His hand trembled as he held the mirror.

The moment he killed her, everything had been undone.

‘It has to be her doing. She really was a witch.’

Even if it wasn’t, the truth didn’t matter.

Only one thing mattered now.

‘Fine. If that’s how it is, I’ll find her now and kill her again.’

He remembered—she was a few years younger than him.

She would still be a girl now.

Killing her should be easy.

‘If I kill her now, I can stop the future massacre.’

That was what a hero who returned to the past had to do.

* * * 

“Elika, Elika!”

At the rough voice of a man, a girl opened her eyes.

Her white-gold hair was messy.

Her purple eyes were dull and lifeless.

Her face, once pretty, was covered in bruises, cuts, and tear stains.

Looking outside, she saw the sun was already setting.

She must have fallen asleep after working all day.

“Elika! You worthless girl, why aren’t you here?!”

She pushed aside her torn blanket and got out of the dirty bed, walking slowly.

“Where were you hiding, huh?!”

Her drunk father threw a bottle at her.

She tried to dodge, but it still hit her forehead.

Not hard enough to knock her out like before, but it hurt badly.

“Bring me more wine!”

Without a word, she began cleaning up the broken glass.

More wine? They didn’t even have money for food.

“You brat! I said something! You’re not even listening?!”

His rough hand grabbed her hair and pulled hard.

“Ow! Let me go!”

“Didn’t you hear me?! I said bring more wine!”

“There’s no money! How can I buy wine?!” she shouted through tears.

“No money?”

“You spent it all on wine and gambling!”

“You little…”

He threw her small body against the wall.

“Ugh…”

Her back hurt so much it felt like it might break.

She trembled and tried to stand.

“You rude little girl! Are you blaming me?!”

He started kicking her.

She covered her head to protect herself.

“Then go sell your body or something!”

Whack, whack, whack.

His cruel hits filled the old hut with noise.

The pain was horrible, but worse—she couldn’t breathe.

She heard a cracking sound. Something broke inside her.

‘If this goes on… I’ll really die.’

She saw a piece of broken glass nearby.

She grabbed it and stabbed her father’s foot.

* * * 

“Pant… pant…”

She was running out of breath.

Her lungs hurt. She wanted to stop.

“Elika! Stop right there!”

But her father’s angry voice was close.

She bit her lip and kept running.

Her father used to be a forest keeper, and their hut was deep in the woods.

She had to reach the village and find someone—anyone—for help.

Maybe God took pity on her.

Before she reached the village, she saw a man on horseback in the forest.

“Please! Help me!”

The man turned to her.

It was hard to see him clearly in the dark.

But she saw he had blue eyes.

He got off the horse and stood still.

‘He’s going to help me!’ she thought with hope.

She ran toward him with the last of her strength.

“My father is trying to kill me!”

As she got closer, she saw his face under the hood.

He had sharp eyes and stared at her without emotion.

She didn’t know what his cold gaze meant, but she grabbed his clothes.

“Please, I’ll repay you. Please help me…”

Then, he grabbed her arm tightly.

In that moment, she imagined him picking her up and riding away with her to safety.

But instead—

A cold metal blade stabbed into her chest.

“…Huh?”

She looked at the knife, then at the man with blue eyes.

Her voice shook.

“Why…?”

He pulled the dagger out. Blood poured out.

Her small body collapsed to the ground.

She breathed her last breath… and closed her eyes.

* * *

“What the…?”

Her father came limping with a stick.

He saw her on the ground—but didn’t cry or scream.

He just looked confused.

‘Chasing your own daughter with a weapon… I knew he was low-born, but this is worse than I thought.’

It was lucky the night was dark.

If Debian had seen her face clearly, he might not have been able to kill her.

Even though she would one day murder millions.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll carry this sin alone.’

In this life, he would become the villain.

If killing her now could save millions of lives and give her a better next life… he’d do it.

Ignoring the man screaming behind him, he closed his eyes for a short prayer.

But when he opened them again—

He was in the duke’s bedroom once more.

“No way…”

He quickly opened the diary on the nightstand.

‘March 23, Year 495.’

Time had gone back again—to that same morning.