Episode 7. Women Who Live Twice and the Man Who Reclaimed His Name
*‘If I just push Cliff a little more, Stella will die soon too.’*
With a bright smile, Michelle boarded the carriage heading to the temple.
It was a newly built temple commissioned by Clifford for Michelle, a devout follower of the Ahala faith. The priest she recommended had been appointed as the high priest. It was a major event that elevated Michelle’s status within the religious order.
“Welcome, Lady Michelle! We’ve been waiting for you!”
High Priest Turus greeted her with open arms. Thanks to Michelle, he had risen to power within the order. Though he came from a great noble family, that was why he bowed so deeply to her.
“We are preparing a special prayer service just for you.”
“I will offer the prayer myself.”
“Ha ha. If it’s you, Lady Michelle, the goddess will surely grant you a special blessing. The chapel is ready—this way, please.”
Guided by Turus, Michelle headed toward the underground chapel.
As she passed, priests bowed deeply. Servants knelt, pressing their foreheads to the ground.
Each time she was treated like an empress within the temple, a thrill surged from deep within her chest.
*‘It was worth being reborn! If I hadn’t regressed, I would never have felt this joy. I truly am someone chosen!’*
—
No one would believe it, but Michelle was living her second life.
When she, who had been hanged at twenty-five, awoke again at twenty-two, she thought she had gone mad.
A dead person returning to life—on top of that, going back in time! It was impossible.
Everything was the same as before: Emperor Clifford and Empress Stella.
Unlike her noble childhood friends, Michelle was merely the daughter of a nanny.
Though technically a low-ranking noble, she had received no proper noble education.
That was because of her older sister, Marcella, who was more talented.
A poor rural noble family couldn’t afford to educate two daughters.
As the youngest, Michelle had been destined from birth to become the emperor’s maid.
Unlike her, Stella was a noble lady loved by all.
While Stella shone like the morning star, Michelle’s life was as miserable as a discarded rag.
*‘The only way to defeat Stella is to win Cliff’s heart!’*
In her previous life, Michelle had done everything to seduce Clifford—and at twenty-two, she succeeded in becoming his consort.
But the real tragedy began after that.
> “Did you really think you could stop His Majesty’s infidelity? How foolish, Michelle.”
Though anger surged at Stella’s condescension, it was true.
No matter how she styled herself to suit Clifford’s tastes, she could never monopolize his love.
He began turning his attention to younger, prettier women.
What could be more miserable than a consort who had lost the emperor’s favor?
Michelle didn’t know how to build allies.
Many envied her for becoming consort despite being from a minor rural noble family.
It was through their reports that Stella uncovered Michelle’s wrongdoings.
> “It’s true, Stella! I embezzled the budget—but it was for Cliff!”
> “How is buying dresses and jewelry for His Majesty?”
> “It’s the consort’s duty to serve him in the best appearance!
> And punishing the harem women was just discipline—they insulted me!”
> “And poisoning a woman carrying His Majesty’s child?”
> “If a mere slave bore a royal child, it would disrupt order!
> I did it so you wouldn’t have to dirty your hands!”
> “Michelle. You’ve committed too many crimes. Spend the rest of your life in a monastery.”
> “Stella! We’re friends!”
> “Perhaps once. Now you are merely a criminal speaking informally to the empress.”
> “Everything I did was for the imperial family!”
> “If you refuse to repent, execution by hanging is inevitable.”
> “Cliff would never let me die! I’m his childhood friend, lover, and wife!”
> “His Majesty has already granted permission.”
Though she had lived her whole life for Clifford, he betrayed her. Even Stella, whom she had trusted as a friend, did not protect her.
As a last plea, Michelle asked Stella to talk alone in the garden like in childhood.
Stella, unable to forget their past bond, agreed.
Michelle pushed Stella’s wheelchair into the palace pond.
> “If the empress dies suddenly, the consort must act in her place, right?
> This is the only way I can survive. Now Cliff won’t be able to depose me.”
But Stella did not die.
The day after Stella regained consciousness, Michelle’s execution was confirmed.
As the rope tightened around her neck, Michelle screamed:
> “Even in death, I will have my revenge! Goddess, punish the true sinners!
> Answer my desperate prayer!”
—
In the empty underground chapel, Michelle knelt and clasped her hands.
*‘In this life, I will gather power. I will live as the goddess’s servant forever—please protect me.’*
Then, from a hidden space behind the statue, a deep, eerie voice emerged.
“Lady Michelle. How is the plan progressing?”
The man who spoke did not reveal himself.
At first, speaking to someone unseen had felt strange—but now, everything was familiar.
Including plotting schemes and exchanging secret information.
“Everything is perfect. The emperor is already in my palm. The empress will soon be dealt with.”
Michelle replied coldly, her innocent smile gone.
“Truly, you are chosen by the goddess.”
“Soon, Stella will clash greatly with Marquis Randesta.”
“And if you’re wrong, like when you said the empress would take in a slave… what then?”
“Are you doubting me?”
“I only wish for you to become empress as soon as possible.”
Thanks to her regression, Michelle knew the future.
But unpredictable variables—like Stella’s slave—could still appear.
*‘I gave up being consort. Becoming empress is only right. Once Stella disappears, I will take her place.’*
The goddess had sent her back to punish the wicked.
Stella, who had always looked down on her. Clifford, who had toyed with her body and heart.
To take revenge, she needed greater power.
“Did you obtain that book?”
“Not yet.”
“Though she can’t compare to me, chosen by the goddess, Stella has ‘star eyes.’
If she finds the book first, it will be a problem… though she doesn’t even know it exists yet.”
“The goddess awaits your victory. Please be patient.”
—
After speaking confidently, the man suddenly leapt through the window.
How had he slipped past the guards? What did he mean by remembering his name?
Questions swirled, but his voice turned urgent.
“Master, what happened over the past two days? Why are you so thin?”
“……”
“Were you sick? What’s wrong? Where are the healers? The maids? Why are you alone?”
He fired questions nonstop.
Scratching the back of his head awkwardly, he leaned in close—so close their noses nearly touched.
Like a boy who had found an abandoned kitten, he looked restless and anxious.
“You look like you’d be blown away by a breath…”
He reached toward her cheek, then hesitated—remembering not to touch her carelessly.
The way he hid his hand and watched her reactions made her lips twitch.
He resembled a large dog with drooping ears and a wagging tail.
It was absurd—she had been ready to die, yet here she was chatting with this unpredictable, rude man.
“Didn’t you say you remembered your name?”
“Is that really what matters right now?”
“Then what is?”
“Your health. Your life. Your heart.”
His voice was firm with conviction.
“I’ve never thought about my heart.”
“It’s the most important thing. Once it’s hurt, the scar never truly heals.”
“Is that from experience?”
“I don’t remember… but I think so.”
He placed his hand over his chest, as if holding a deep wound.
*What kind of person were you? How did you live?*
His neat black eyelashes, his tightly closed lips—they seemed pitiful.
Beautiful enough to touch.
She reached out unconsciously, then stopped.
“Is your hand injured?”
He raised his voice upon seeing her bruised hand.
It had happened while going to see him. She turned her head, embarrassed.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Your small hand is crushed! Who did this?”
“……”
“…Did you secretly go to a battlefield?”
“In a wheelchair?”
“With you, it wouldn’t be impossible.”
“How ridiculous.”
She let out a small laugh—then frowned. It felt unfamiliar.
He knelt beside her bed.
“Keep finding me ridiculous.”
“…What?”
“That expression of yours right now… it’s beautiful.”
His eyes curved gently. He had a talent for catching people off guard.
*Speaking casually to the empress, sneaking into her chamber, now asking to be mocked?*
She pressed her forehead, feeling strangely dizzy—but not feverish.
“You really are…”
“I’d prefer if you called me by my name.”
“What is the name you remembered?”
“Enric.”
His deep voice resonated in her chest.
Just knowing his name made her feel as if she couldn’t go back to how things were.
“One more question. Where is your homeland? The Colonatus Empire?”
After a brief silence, Enric shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Not the answer she expected. She had hoped he wasn’t from Colonatus.
Though she said she would drive him away, she was searching for reasons not to.
“My mother was a wandering merchant. I grew up traveling the continent.”
“Her homeland?”
“I don’t know. But she called Colonatus an enemy nation. She wouldn’t even sell to them.”
For 200 years, war between the Angel Empire and Colonatus had never ceased.
To Angel citizens, Colonatus was the land of enemies.
Many had lost family to it—she was one of them.
Was Enric’s mother from Angel? She wanted to believe so.
“Didn’t you say you had no parents?”
“I never had a father. My mother abandoned me when I was seven.
Can I even call them parents?”
A faint hatred flickered across his composed face.
“They left a deep wound.”
“I was taken to a temple after being abandoned. They experimented on me there…
That’s when I learned I heal quickly.”
“It must have been divine power testing.”
“It hurt enough to make me want to die.”
“So you can feel pain.”
“I could back then.”
“And now?”
He smiled awkwardly.
“I forgot. If I kept feeling it, I wouldn’t have survived.”
“When did you become a gladiator slave?”
“Thirteen, maybe? After I ran from the temple. I was so hungry I followed anyone who offered food.”
His childhood was too harsh for a child.
Compared to him, she felt like a sheltered plant.
“Someone came to find me at the arena when I was fourteen… I don’t remember after that.”
“Why remember your name only now?”
“If it weren’t for you, I would have forgotten the name my mother gave me forever.”
His voice was filled with resentment.
“I spent two days wracking my brain without even eating meat.”
“Why?”
“Why? You really have to ask?”
