Her Rebirth.-Chapter 121

Six months had passed, and Amelia remained trapped within the shell of her younger self—an invisible observer, forced to relive the life she had once ruined. She watched helplessly as scenes from her past replayed : her falling for Aldric’s empty charm, her pleading with her father to support his claim to the throne, her naive joy at every stolen glance and whispered promise.

In the beginning, she had fought back, desperate to seize control of her body, to stop herself from repeating the same foolish mistakes. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t change a thing. She was merely a passenger, cursed to watch the tragedy unfold again.

At first, she had been elated to see her family again. Her father’s stern, familiar warmth, Cassius’s teasing grin, and Reynold’s quiet support had filled her heart with a longing so sharp it brought tears to her eyes. But that joy gave way to dread as she realized she would have to watch them die again. Powerless. Just like before.

Everything was exactly the same, every event, every word. Every mistake.

Except for one thing.

The crown prince. Prince Keiser.

In her previous life, Amelia had avoided him. Rumors of his ruthless nature, his cold cruelty, and the terrifying things he had done had been enough to keep her far away. She remembered seeing him once, at a birthday banquet. A waiter had accidentally spilled wine on his coat and without hesitation, the prince had drawn his sword and cut off the man’s head. The memory of the blood soaking the tiles remained vivid in her mind.

He had long, slightly tousled hair and piercing grey eyes, dangerous and unreadable. He was striking in a way that demanded attention, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Kai, which sent chills crawling down her spine.

In her past, she had been infatuated with Aldric. But now, watching from the shadows of her younger self, Amelia found her gaze constantly drifting toward the crown prince. Toward Keiser. There was something about him that pulled her in, something she couldn’t ignore.

The scent of rosewater hung thick in the air as Amelia sat before the mirror, surrounded by fluttering maids. Her hair was half-pinned, loose curls framing her delicate face. Diane, her personal maid, was focused on her makeup, dusting her cheeks with blush, adding a soft rose tint to her lips.

"You’ll be the most beautiful lady at the banquet, my lady," Diane said with a warm smile, admiring her handiwork.

The girl beamed. "Do you really think so?"

"I’m certain of it," Diane replied. "His highness Aldric won’t be able to take his eyes off you."

The younger Amelia blushed, a soft, giddy laugh escaping her lips.

Amelia, the observer, sneered in her mind. How pathetic.

She could feel her younger self’s heart fluttering like a fool blinded by a man who would destroy her family and betray everything she held dear. And yet, here she was, smiling like a lovesick girl over a dress and a few compliments.

When Diane finished the makeup, the girl stood and turned to the gown laid across the bed. It was a soft pink ballgown, embroidered with silver thread that shimmered in the light. Aldric had sent it that morning, along with a velvet box containing a pink diamond necklace and matching earrings.

"Do you think he’ll like it?" the girl asked as Diane helped her into the gown.

"He chose it for you, didn’t he?" Diane replied. "He’s always so thoughtful."

Thoughtful, Amelia thought bitterly. He bought that dress with the same hands he used to slit my father’s throat.

The younger Amelia was practically glowing, turning before the mirror once the gown was fitted and fluffed.

"I look... so pretty," she whispered with awe.

And she did. Amelia couldn’t deny it. She had forgotten how beautiful she once was—how youthful, how radiant.

I don’t understand how I was ever so stupid, she thought. So eager to be loved that I gave everything to a man who gave me nothing in return when I could have had a hundred suitors begging to just kiss my foot.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment.

"Young miss," came a voice from beyond the door. "Prince Aldric is here to pick you up."

The girl gasped in delight and rushed to the door, almost tripping over her gown.

"Be careful!" Diane called after her.

Amelia couldn’t stop the memory. She was forced to watch her body rush out of the room like an excited child. Down the grand staircase, the scent of spiced tea and honey-glazed pastries wafted through the air.

At the bottom, in the drawing room, Aldric sat with a cup of tea in hand, chatting easily with Duke Volemont. He rose as soon as he saw her, a polite smile on his lips.

"My lady," he said, offering his hand. "You look radiant."

And the younger Amelia smiled like he’d handed her the moon.

Amelia, the real Amelia, looked on from within and felt nothing but a growing storm of bitternes.

Because she remembered exactly how this night ended.

---

A luxurious carriage came to a slow halt before the entrance of the Royal ballroom. The footmen hurried to open the door, and Prince Aldric stepped down first. He was dressed in deep navy with silver embroidery, his hazelnut hair neatly styled and his smile carefully composed. He extended his gloved hand towards Amelia.

The young Amelia, cheeks flushed with excitement, placed her hand in his and descended carefully, with poise and grace.

A soft murmur spread through the gathered guests at the entrance, and the herald’s voice rang out, announcing their arrival:

"His Highness, Prince Aldric de Angus and Lady Amelia of House Volemont."

At that moment, heads of nobles turned, fans fluttered, and whispers followed them like a wave as they walked arm in arm into the ballroom. Amelia’s gown shimmered with every step, and her posture—elegant, chin up, back straight, just like she had been taught.

"They make such a perfect pair," someone whispered nearby.

"Such grace coming from Lady Amelia," another murmured.

Aldric bowed and, with his wide, charming smile, smoothly greeted nobles and elite families that approached them. Diplomats, viscounts, and barons circled around, offering pleasantries and fake flatteries. Amelia was surrounded by young ladies in pastel gowns, their eyes filled with admiration or envy.

"Your dress is beautiful, Lady Amelia!" one girl said.

Another added, "The diamonds match your eyes so well."

Amelia’s younger self giggled, pleased with the attention. "Prince Aldric had it made for me," she replied, basking in their gasps of admiration.

Amelia, trapped within, watched silently with a bitter twist of her lips. Watching her younger self so happy left a bitter taste in her mouth. And a flicker of sadness passed through her. There had been a time she believed this meant something. That Aldric’s attention mattered.

Her gaze drifted lazily over the sea of painted smiles until it landed on a face that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Celine.

She wasn’t Countess Celine yet, just the ambitious daughter of a minor noble. But even then, her eyes held a venomous glint. She stood near the edge of the ballroom, dressed in soft blue, lips pursed as she stared directly at Amelia.

With hatred.

Unmasked and undeniable hatred.

If she could, she probably would have killed Amelia by now. But she didn’t have the power. After losing, she was nothing but a minor noble.

Amelia’s breath caught for a second. I never noticed it before... she thought. That loathing. It was already there, even then.

But before she could linger on it further, the herald cleared his throat and announced, his voice breaking her train of thought:

"His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince—Prince Keiser de Angus!"