Fiance

Resurrecting herself multiple times was something Layna never would have imagined or anticipated. She initially believed it to be another opportunity for change. But she came to realize it wasn't—not after going through the same agony and the same ending. It was not a blessing. It was a curse they were given.

She hated everything in her life. In every lifetime, she witnessed nothing but barbarity from those she had held in the highest regard. And seeing them living good lives in this new one, acting like the saints they pretended to be in her past lives, disgusted her.

She remained speechless when her mother returned after more than four hours. The sun had already descended, and she knew why she was here. In her exquisite silk dress, the woman looked stunning. Its intricate embroidery exuded luxury and sophistication. As expected from a duchess.

She disgusted her so much.

"I heard you shouldn't move that much. Doctor Carlzon informed me about your wound, Layna," her mother said, her voice soothing as she watched their servant do Layna's hair.

Layna was already dressed in a golden gown adorned with intricate embroidery. The gown, made from luxurious silk fabric, boasted a vivid color that reflected its opulent cost. It had been custom-made by a renowned designer from Carnaté. Her long, wavy raven-black hair and pale skin were beautifully highlighted by the servant's choice to leave her hair down.

It was suffocating her.

"Did that nightmare make you anxious, Layna? Maybe I should make you drink tea that's good for sleep. I've heard kids these days are prone to nightmares."

Layna looked at her through the mirror. She wanted to snap at her. She wanted to tell her that she didn't have to act like a good mother. Because she was her only daughter, Layna once believed that the woman truly loved and cared for her.

However, time was the best source of truth. Her mother was a greedy person who had no qualms about harming her own daughter in order to gain more power. She would sell her to anyone, as long as they were powerful. She had robbed Layna of everything. And Layna wanted her to pay.

For now, she had to stay calm. This body was still a child's. She couldn't just lash out at her mindlessly. She had made countless mistakes because she was always emotional and desperate to end everything. But now, she had to be careful and calculated.

She wanted this life to be the last. She didn't want to die and live again. Not long ago, she had made up her mind. She had to set her feelings aside this time and act sensibly. She would benefit from using her mind. She couldn't afford to be overcome by her emotions. However, it was not as simple as it seemed.

"You can leave us now," her mother said when the servant finished styling Layna's hair.

The servant bowed and respectfully left the room. Layna watched her mother move behind her. Her reflection in the mirror reminded her of the days when the woman would visit her and comb her hair.

She flinched when her mother held her shoulders. The woman didn't seem to notice. She gave her a sweet smile and a gentle gaze.

"Layna. . . the Riscartes are great people. After several meetings, they couldn't stop talking about you."

Layna clenched her fists.

Her mother sighed and looked directly into her eyes. Layna already knew what she was about to say.

"Those eyes you have made you special. You're the only person in this world who possesses different eye colors in each eye. Do you know what Bishop Bernadotte said?" her voice was formal yet thrilled.

"What?" Layna asked, though she already knew.

"That you have the ability to see through the heavens and the earth. You may not have been blessed with a healthy body and intelligence, unlike your brother, but your eyes are enough to make you special like us. Having different-colored eyes is a gift from God, Layna, and you piqued the interest of the Riscarte family."

Ridiculous. That was the only thing she could think of. If she was truly capable of such a thing, she wouldn't be struggling. Bishop Bernadotte had simply misunderstood it.

She fixed her gaze on her reflection. Yes, she was unique among them. Both of her parents were highly intelligent and in excellent health. Dorcas, her older brother, shared those same qualities. From birth, she had nothing. But when she opened her eyes, they saw the differing shades of green and blue.

Her right eye bore the shade of blue, and her left eye the shade of green. Because of this, the entire kingdom had been thrown into a frenzy when she was born. The King and Queen were fond of her, believing that her ability to see into the future would soon awaken.

She proved them wrong. She had lived six lives, including this one. But their assumption had never come true. And so, she came to the conclusion that having different-colored eyes was merely a modern phenomenon that no one could currently explain.

"I want you to be friendly with their son. I've heard he's a very friendly boy. Establishing a good relationship with him will help us a lot," her mother added.

Friendly? Yes, he is. Friendly with girls. Because he was born to be a womanizer, even at a young age.

Being friends with the young Fyodor felt so wrong. She was young now, yes—but her soul wasn't. In order to create real change, she knew she had to stop doing the things she used to do in the past that led Fyodor to fall in love with her. From now on, she would draw a clear line between them.

As they descended, the Fiosurn manor was bustling with activity. Servants moved about everywhere, and when they saw them, they bowed. Her father and mother were already deep in conversation. As usual, Dorcas remained silent beside her.

Wearing a black coat and a white turtleneck polo with gold trim, he looked every bit the nobleman. She didn't flinch when he glanced down at her. He was five years older than her and currently attending an academy exclusive to nobility.

"I heard you made quite a fuss earlier, Asterlayna," he said coldly.

She looked away. "I wasn't in the mood."

"The Riscartes have arrived, Your Grace," her father's butler announced.

"Lead them to the dining room, Ishko," her father ordered.

They walked forward into the grand and opulent dining hall. At that moment, Layna felt nothing. It was as if she were walking on air; her only desire was to lock herself in her chamber and devise a plan for her wretched life.

Her attention was caught by heavy, yet calm footsteps. The first person she saw was Duke Nicolas Riscarte, Fyodor's father and the current Duke of Fortaezla. The second was an elegant woman dressed in an elaborately embroidered gold gown—Rakkel Riscarte, the Duchess.

They were both smiling. Everyone stood as they entered, and Layna's heart began to pound when she saw the one person she had been dreading.

He appeared beside his father with a mischievous grin plastered on his lips.

He looked exactly as she remembered him—Fyodor. Dressed in a black coat adorned with gold chains and a white long-sleeve shirt with a ruffled collar, his blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, he appeared tall for a ten-year-old.

"It's our pleasure to have you in our manor, Duke Riscarte, and Duchess Riscarte," Duke Fiosurn said with a warm smile.

Her eyes quickly burned with emotion. Seeing the young Fyodor now was like seeing Lorcan. She caught her breath when his deep blue eyes met hers. He smiled.

She looked away and pinched her palm. Boundaries. Yes. She had to start establishing them now.

"This is my son, Dorcas…" her father introduced her older brother.

"It's our pleasure to have you here, Your Graces." Dorcas bowed slightly.

"You've grown into a fine man, Dorcas," Duke Riscarte remarked with a smirk.

"And my daughter, Asterlayna... " Duke Fiosurn continued, now turning to her.

She had no choice but to face Duke and Duchess Riscarte. They were now looking at her with intense interest—Fyodor included, his gaze fixed on her.

She bowed her head slightly, offering the proper respect to her future mother- and father-in-law.

"You're very beautiful, Lady Layna," Duchess Riscarte said with a smile.

She swallowed hard. "I'm honored to receive such a compliment, Your Grace," she replied, her voice composed and respectful.

The Duchess chuckled. "You sound like a grown-up woman. My Fyodor here will need someone like you. He's very immature, you know?" She muttered with a glance at her son.

"I am not, Mother." Fyodor said with a laugh.

Layna looked at him. He was smiling up at the Duchess. Tears welled in her eyes as she lowered her gaze, unwilling to let the longing in her chest grow worse.

In every lifetime, he never remembered anything from their past. And it was better that way. Because if he did remember, it would only make things harder for Layna.

The dinner formally began. Servants brought in wine and other dishes. Layna remained silent while the others spoke animatedly about politics.

She paused when her gaze accidentally met Fyodor's. He smiled when their eyes met. He looked so innocent. But she knew better. Even as a child, he had always been naturally mischievous. She had spent years with him and knew exactly how his mind worked. He was probably already making fun of her in his head.

She sighed and looked away.

"Maybe announcing it after Layna's tenth birthday would be the perfect time. They're both still young, but it's much better if we arrange their engagement now," Duchess Fiosurn said shamelessly.

Layna's grip tightened around the knife.

"A lot of children are already married these days. But I'd prefer to let Fyodor finish his studies first, so I think an engagement is not a bad idea," Duke Riscarte agreed.

Just hearing them talk about her engagement to Fyodor was already enough to suffocate her. It all felt too familiar—and terrifying. Because she knew exactly what would come next.

Once she and Fyodor were married, that was when the real problems would begin.

It felt as though she had escaped the darkness when they moved to the grand hall of the manor where guests were received. She wanted to head straight to her room, but instead, she chose to go to the large garden to breathe.

She stopped in front of the fountain. She looked up at the mermaid statue holding a vase that poured water. The statue seemed mysterious and gave off an unsettling feeling.

She wasn't surprised by the quick footsteps approaching from behind. Her lips pressed together when Fyodor's chuckles echoed behind her.

"You're getting married to me!" he announced, his pleased and mocking tone all too familiar.

She turned to him. He was now freely showing that mocking smile. His hands were on his hips, and a few locks of his hair curled around the sides of his face. Kids like him used to irritate her to no end—but this was Fyodor.

"Once we get married, we'll sleep in the same bed!" He added, laughing like a lunatic.

As stupid as he used to be.

She wanted to smile while watching him laugh—but she mustn't. She couldn't.

He rubbed his chin, tilting his head slightly as he stared at her closely. His red lips pouted a little, a sign he was thinking deeply.

"Why are your eyes different?" he asked.

She sighed. Of course. Predictable, as always.

"How would I know?" she replied flatly.

His expression dropped. "You look plain. I think the only thing special about you is your eyes."

"That's why you shouldn't marry me, My Lord."

He blinked twice. "Huh? Why? Mother told me we're bound to marry someday," he said, his voice sounding innocent.

She clicked her tongue and turned back to the fountain, refusing to look at him any longer. Tears slowly gathered in her eyes.

"I don't want to marry someone like you. And would you really agree to marry someone as plain as me just because Her Grace said so?" she asked, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Hmm…" He stepped beside her. She felt his gaze piercing through her bones and into her soul. "Well, aside from the fact that you're ugly and weird-looking, there's nothing wrong with your face anymore. But I'm not marrying you because of how you look."

Blunt as always, isn't he?

"The world doesn't work that way. Our parents want us to get married to maintain our nobility and power in society, right? It doesn't matter how ugly you are; I can have fun with beautiful ladies while we're still not married" He laughed loudly.

She looked at him. He was smiling, and his eyes were bright as he looked at the statue before them. Right. He didn't have feelings for her yet. She had to keep it that way.

"I don't care about power. I simply don't want to get married to you," she said seriously.

He looked at her, still grinning. "You don't get an opinion."

She clenched her hands tightly and finally turned to face him. His smile faded the moment he saw the serious look in her eyes. He was just a child now. Talking to him should be easy. She didn't even need to be clever.

"Listen very carefully, Fyodor Douglas Riscarte. Even if we get married, I will never love you," she said with conviction, convincing herself, too. "Even if the world burns or you're the last man on earth, I will never love you."

His eyes widened. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but she raised a finger. Her gaze turned cold, devoid of any emotion.

"You are nothing to me but a tool to help my family. So don't expect anything from me after we get married. And don't even expect an heir—because I don't intend to have one with a man I don't even love," her voice was ice cold.

His brows furrowed. She expected him to get angry. Knowing his arrogance as a child, it wouldn't have surprised her. But to her horror, tears suddenly burst from his eyes, and he pointed at her with his index finger.

"You're a witch! I hate you!" He cried and ran off, leaving her alone.

She watched him go. He disappeared from her sight in seconds. Her knees gave out, and she dropped to the ground. She covered her face and let out a deep breath.

It's okay. . . hurting Fyodor in this life is just minor damage.

It would benefit both of them. This was what she wanted, right? To make him hate her. This was already a small step.

She removed her hands from her face and lifelessly looked up at the sky, now blanketed with countless stars.

"Please. . . make him hate me so much. . ." she whispered.