Revolutionary Princess Eve

Chapter 5

“My dear sister, do you know what belladonna symbolizes?”

At first, her sister’s voice had sounded angelic in its kindness. But then the tone began to drip with a dark, menacing venom.

“You’re finally dead, aren’t you?”

Eve’s mind suddenly became alert, thoughts spinning.

Rosie! Why?

She felt like she had been betrayed. She realized too late that something was very, very wrong.

Rosie, what was your true goal in all this?

The moment the bottle had been uncorked, she’d felt an irresistible urge to drink the contents.

In hindsight, it must have been an enticement spell.

Rosie, Mikael chose you. You were to be the only member of our family left alive. Why would you then try... Could it be?

But then Eve’s spinning thoughts settled on an idea. Rosenitte could merely have been a captive that Mikael needed to keep alive in order to access the Philosopher's Stone. With only one captive, however, he would be vulnerable to contingencies—Rosenitte might turn against him or fail to produce an heir. Mikael would have needed some form of insurance.

Mikael locked me in the Birdcage, not an underground cell. Perhaps it was his plan all along to keep me locked up and use me as a backup. Rosenitte is a jealous girl—she would never allow such a thing.

Things were becoming clearer.

She must have been lying when she said I was to die today, that I’d be decapitated, and that Mikael would be my executioner! She was trying to scare me into drinking the poison!

The timing of her clarity was ironic. Her thoughts had been muddled when facing the terror of impending death, but had quickly fallen in place only after she died.

All of it had been a trap. How could she have done this! How... how!

Her body writhed in outrage. There was no way she could keep her eyes closed in the face of such anger and regret. And... incredibly enough, Eve’s eyes flew open.

“Wha...!”

The tears that had welled up under her dying eyelids ran down her face, and she looked up to see a familiar ceiling.

My... bedroom?

Eve was bewildered.

What in the world? But... I died!

Adrenaline running through her, she felt her heart pounding so hard that she feared it might burst. This almost painful sensation of shock was not something her body should be able to feel after being poisoned with belladonna.

“I’m... not... dead?”

Her voice felt and sounded normal. The poison should have paralyzed her vocal cords, and yet, she could talk just fine. She was, apparently, really alive. She let her breath calm little by little, ceasing her panicked, spasmodic movements. But her mind was still reeling with shock and confusion.

...Where am I anyway?

The room felt familiar, but it was neither her cell nor the bedroom she had before she was imprisoned. It had wine-colored wallpaper, dark walnut furnishings, and gray silk drapes. It was the darkest, gloomiest room in the imperial palace, and Eve had used this room until she was 25.

What the... Why this room? It no longer exists! It was repurposed as a storage room after the move two years ago.

Eve stared up at the ceiling, tense with confusion.

Hm... Alright... I need to stay calm. This doesn’t seem to be a dream or a vision... I wonder if... But no. There’s no way. Maybe I grew delusional after all the trauma in the prison cell. I spent too much time obsessing over going back in time and starting over.

She decided to find out the truth of the situation, leaning toward the likelihood that she had actually gone insane. She’d developed minor skills in the use of magic, so she focused her mind and reached out to the mana around her.

This doesn’t seem to be illusion magic.

Eve cautiously got out of the bed and stood in front of the full-length mirror. She almost screamed.

Oh my god!

There was a young girl looking back at her, in her late teens at most. She felt her face, unable to believe what she was seeing. Her cheeks were still plump with baby fat. She sported a haphazard braid of lime blonde hair. The old-fashioned and untidy style had been her go-to when she’d been too busy with her alchemy studies to do her hair.

This was much too detailed to be an illusion someone crafted with magic. She began to form a different hypothesis.

Have I actually returned to my childhood days?

Maybe all the regret and desperate thinking in her cell had actually made a miracle happen.

I can’t believe it. I really should ask my teacher if I can.

This wasn’t something Eve could figure out on her own. Traveling back in time was way beyond what magic and alchemy could accomplish. Only someone at the level of a sage could even hope to find clues to understand it.

Nonetheless, this was an opportunity, and she knew she needed to seize it instead of just standing around and troubling over it. Eve unbraided her hair and stared at herself in the mirror.

This is real. That means the first thing I need to do is...

The amber eyes looking back at her glinted with resolve.

...become the crown princess.

❇

Eve had just about finished gathering her thoughts when a maid with light brown, shoulder-length hair came in bringing her morning tea. It was Eve’s personal maid, Sedella.

“You’re up early, Your Highness. I trust you slept well?”

“Oh, Sedella. Good morning. You look very...”

“Yes, my lady?”

“...very young this morning.”

“Oh my, the honey treatment I tried on my face last night must have been effective!”

Now seeing a younger Sedella in front of her, Eve decided to accept this as reality. The most important step now was to find out exactly when “now” was.

Eve took a sip of the strong black tea and asked, “Sedella, what important events do we have this week?”

“Oh, nothing that important. Next week is busy, however. It is the 18th birthday of the Eighth Princess, Her Highness Rosenitte.”

The birthday of the half-sister that poisoned her, of all people. Eve stiffened slightly, but drew her attention back to the fact that it was to be Rosie’s 18th birthday. The Eighth Princess was a year younger than Eve. If she was turning 18 in two weeks, then Eve was currently 19. Eve had been 27 when she’d died. She was now a whopping eight years younger.

“Phew. That’s quite something,” she said, marveling. It was a little strange to say this, but Sedella laughed as if she understood.

“Yes. It’s certainly a big day. The 18th birthday of a prince or princess is so special! It’s when they get to choose their own personal homunculus knight through the selection ceremony, right?”

“Oh, right. The selection ceremony.”

“It’s the grandest of all imperial palace ceremonies, and something everyone wishes they could take part in. Choosing a homunculus to be your personal knight, bonded so closely that it seems like your souls are linked—what a big moment in your life.”

“Yes, of course,” Eve replied offhandedly. If Eve’s memory was right, Rosenitte would replace her personal knight from this ceremony in only three years, abandoning him for Mikael.

The Eve of the past would have cut the conversation short with a disparaging remark as soon as the selection ceremony was mentioned, but she was different now. Eve let Sedella talk.

“There are apparently droves of homunculi who’ve been trying to approach the Eighth Princess so they might be picked. She is called the ‘White Rose of the Empire,’ so it would be a great honor to one of them to be her personal knight.”

“‘White Rose of the Empire’ my ass. More like the belladonna of the empire.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, what? Why’d you stop, Sedella?” Eve asked innocently, sipping her tea to hide her scowl.

“Oh, nothing, my lady. I heard some interesting news. Apparently, the princess already has a certain homunculus in mind.”

“And who’s that?”

“A homunculus by the name of Sylvestian. Do you remember the silver-haired homunculus who stood at the front of the military parade early this year? That’s him.”

“Interesting.”

Sedella’s information was accurate. The knight Rosenitte had exploited for three years and then abandoned was a homunculus named Sylvestian Millard. He was a suitable consort for the White Rose of the Empire’s taste. Though famous for his exceptional swordsmanship and magic, he also had bright silver hair, a rarity among the mostly dark-haired homunculi. Used as ornamentation, homunculi were often valued more greatly for unique appearances over abilities, so his silver hair was a prized rarity.

But even I didn’t know that in my previous life. How does Sedella know?

Eve was curious as to how Sedella knew about Rosenitte’s selection ceremony in advance.

“Sedella, where did you hear such information?”

“The Hadellun Times.”

“Oh, that gossip magazine...”

It was a tabloid that sensationalized details of the private lives of the imperial family members.

Eve laid a hand on Sedella’s shoulder. Sedella tensed.

“Are you a subscriber?” Eve asked.

“Pardon? Oh, yes...”

“Good. Then be sure to keep updating me if you read anything important. It’s quite helpful.”

“Oh, yes! I’d be happy to do that. I won’t miss a single detail!”

Sedella seemed overjoyed to be praised. She’d expected to be told off for wasting time.

Eve gave a bitter smile as she brought the cup to her lips. She was beginning to realize that she’d been too harsh on her personal maid in her previous life, acting like a severe school teacher.

I’ll be more flexible this time. No more being the judgmental know-it-all who holds herself apart from everyone else.