The World of If - Chapter 1: A Tragic 'If'

Tragedy does not arise from loving someone you shouldn’t love, but from loving someone who will never love you back.

Once, someone had said those words to her.

Who had it been?

As she tried to recall, If clenched her eyes tightly, her thoughts clouded.

Her left eye burned like it was on fire. Whether it was from the strain she was putting on it or the blood that had splattered into it while she cut down the guards, she couldn’t tell.

But she didn’t blink.

The malice and killing intent radiating from the person in front of her were too overwhelming for her to look away.

“I hate you, Charlotte.”

Sprawled on the cold corridor floor, the person who spat out those words of hatred was none other than If’s dearest friend.

Kaerin Myler.

The second son of the Marquess of Myler.

One of the empire’s three greatest knights, and the lover of the fifth imperial princess.

And the man If had secretly loved for so long.

Kaerin, drenched in blood, held the lifeless body of the princess, his former lover, in his arms.

Around him lay the corpses of the guards who had fallen alongside the princess, their lifeless forms sprawled across the hallway.

If had survived countless battlefields, but nothing she had ever seen compared to the sheer horror and cruelty of this moment.

She knew why.

This wasn’t just any battlefield.

This was the middle of the Crown Prince’s palace corridor.

This wasn’t a place where a knight, blood-soaked and holding a dead princess, belonged.

“The you I once knew… was a lie. You’re… just a hopeless monster who’ll do anything for power.”

Each word Kaerin spat was accompanied by droplets of blood, falling like rain to the floor.

Even as he struggled to suppress his coughs, his voice, laden with fury, cut like a blade.
It tore through If’s heart, leaving it battered and raw.

She couldn’t defend herself, nor could she turn away from her friend.

If clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, threatening to break the skin.

Why? How did it come to this?

The Crown Prince had promised.

He had vowed that, in exchange for her loyalty, Kaerin and Princess Estella would be spared.

But now Princess Estella was dead, and Kaerin…

Biting her lip hard, If opened her mouth to speak. There was no time for reflection—not now. Saving Kaerin was her priority.

“Ka—”

“Crown Prince’s dog.”

“…”

Her words faltered, and she stared at him with a dumbfounded expression.

It was a tone she had never heard from him before, not once since she met him at the age of ten.
The eyes that met hers were cold and foreign, filled with loathing.

He hurled more insults her way, each one piercing her heart like a knife.

While If opened and closed her mouth, struggling to respond, the warmth drained rapidly from Kaerin’s body.

Realizing this, If hastily pulled a thin thread bracelet off her wrist.

She could still save him. If she used the magic imbued in the bracelet, she could heal his injuries. At least one mistake—just one—could still be fixed.

If knelt and reached for Kaerin.
The magic in the bracelet was weak, but it would suffice to treat his wounds.

“Kaerin, let me heal you first—”

Smack!

Kaerin swatted her hand away with a force that shocked her.

It was hard to believe that someone so close to death could summon such strength.

Startled, If froze.

Kaerin, meanwhile, gazed down at the princess cradled in his arms.

The cold, murderous glare he had directed at If was replaced with a warmth so tender it twisted her heart.

It was a face she had once longed to see—a face full of love for someone else.

“Estella,” he whispered her name, his voice aching with affection.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to the princess’s lifeless lips. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes.

If felt as though the scene unfolding before her wasn’t real. It was too surreal, too unbearable to process.

If not for the stinging pain on her cheek, If might have believed this was all a dream.

Suppressing the storm of emotions welling up inside her, she rubbed her cheek. When she glanced down, her pale fingers were smeared with blood. Turning her gaze to Kaerin, she bit her lip.

Her once bright and kind friend had died hating her.

Without ever knowing the feelings she harbored for him.

Without ever knowing her real name.

If staggered as she rose to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. She turned her head toward the large door only a few steps away.

The Crown Prince’s bedchamber.

The source of it all—the root of every disaster—was in that very room.

With flames blazing in her eyes, If took a step forward.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

By the seventh step, she was in front of the door. Just ten paces behind her lay the bodies of the princess and the knight.

Grasping the door handle, she threw it open without hesitation.

“Ahhh!”

A woman’s shrill scream echoed from inside the room.

On the grand bed, a beautiful, naked woman sat alongside the Crown Prince.

Startled by the sudden intrusion, the prince leaped from the bed, his face a mixture of confusion and irritation.

“Charlotte? Why on earth are you—”

Before he could finish, If cut him off.

“You said you would let them live.”

Her voice was steady, but her mind reeled with the weight of the memory she had dredged up.

“Charlotte Bell, if you help me ascend as Crown Prince, and eventually as Emperor, I will grant you anything you desire.”

He had made that promise. He had said he would grant her anything.

And she had believed him.

So she had asked for her friend’s life—not hers, but the life of her childhood friend Kaerin and his beloved, Princess Estella, who had sided with the Second Prince instead of the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince had assured her. He had promised to keep them alive.

And yet, why had Kaerin met his death in the corridor of the Crown Prince’s palace?

“Oh? Ah, is this about Kaerin Myler?”

Feigning surprise, the Crown Prince shrugged and gave her an arrogant smirk.

“I did intend to keep my promise, of course. But then I was informed that he had dared to infiltrate the palace to assassinate me. Naturally, I had to issue a kill order.”

Lies.

The Crown Prince was lying.

Kaerin had not come to assassinate him. He had come with Princess Estella to beg for mercy—to plead for the Second Prince, their liege lord, to be spared.

Kaerin hadn’t even been armed. His hands, battered and bloodied, had been evidence of how he fought barehanded to protect Princess Estella from the ruthless guards.

She could still remember the sight of his torn, wounded hands just before he died.

“It seems you’ve managed to deal with all of my guards to make it this far,” the Crown Prince continued, his tone casual and taunting. “Impressive. As expected of one of the empire’s three greatest knights.”

If wondered, for a brief moment, what expression the Crown Prince might make if he knew that it wasn’t Kaerin who had killed the guards, but her.

But she quickly realized it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore.

“If only he had chosen my side, he wouldn’t have met such an unfortunate end.”

“…Princess Estella was your sister,” If said, her voice trembling with restrained fury.

“Yes, and that’s precisely why I wanted to spare her,” the Crown Prince replied, feigning a sigh of regret. “But that girl… she was far too stubborn for her own good.”

The Crown Prince’s face showed no trace of guilt. Naturally, it wouldn’t.

If he were the type to feel remorse, would he have so easily ordered the death of his own sister?

He had even cast the Second Prince into the jaws of death. While the Second Prince could be considered less of a sibling due to his different parentage, the youngest princess wasn’t.

To be so merciless toward his own blood… it was unthinkable.

In If’s clenched fist, the thread bracelet she held trembled faintly. Her gaze followed him as he nonchalantly picked up a glass of wine from the table.

She could kill him now.

With no guards around, this was the perfect opportunity.

But what would happen after?

If she killed him, then what?

What would become of this country?
And what would happen to her?

“Today is a beautiful day, Charlotte,” the Crown Prince said suddenly, snapping If out of her thoughts.

Before her, he extended the wine glass, filled with crimson liquid.

“My only obstacle will soon perish in a pit of despair.”

He smiled victoriously, raising his glass as if to toast.

If’s expression, which had been unreadable until now, twisted ever so slightly.

Merciless, selfish, arrogant.

This man, rejoicing at the imminent death of his sibling, was destined to become the next emperor of Monato.
But was it right to crown someone like him?

Someone who could not comprehend the pain or sorrow of others?

What was there to think about? He had to die.
Killing him was the only way If could atone for everything she had done wrong.

“And,” he continued.

Just as If gripped her bracelet tightly, preparing to activate her magic—

“You’ll die too.”

Thwack—!

Something sharp and solid pierced through If’s back, driving straight through her body.

The searing pain in her chest spread outward, leaving her breathless.

Looking down, she saw the blade protruding from her chest.

Her ears rang, and the sound of guards’ footsteps reached her faintly through the haze.

Words like traitor, threat, and apprehension mixed into the noise.

If slowly raised her head again.

The Crown Prince was watching her, sipping his wine with a cruel smile.

Her legs gave out beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground.

The blade, still lodged in her chest, clattered against the floor as it drove deeper, sending another wave of agonizing pain through her body.

“Hngh… ugh…”

Her trembling fingers scraped against the floor, weak and desperate.

Is this it?

Had everything she endured—her years of suffering to stay in her foster parents’ favor, the humiliating whispers of being the Crown Prince’s “dog,” the relentless patience she had shown—led to this?

Was her life always destined to end like this?

If opened her mouth, struggling to say something, anything.

But no words came out.

Only blood.

Just as Kaerin had bled moments before.

“The commander of the Imperial Mage Corps, Charlotte, has been caught plotting treason. Investigate the Bell family thoroughly, as they may also be involved,” the Crown Prince declared coldly.

If wanted to shout, to deny the false charges, but no sound escaped her.

Her life was slipping away, and she could feel it.

Blood trickled from her mouth, pooling beneath her and staining the floor red.

Through her blurring vision, she saw the Crown Prince.

With every ounce of strength she had left, she forced her head upward, locking her gaze on him.

He was smiling.

Mocking her.

“If you’d at least been pretty, I might have kept you alive for some fun.”

The Crown Prince clicked his tongue disdainfully at the sight of her.

“How utterly pathetic,” he muttered, shaking his head as if the very sight of her repulsed him.

He casually let go of the wine glass he held.

Crash—!

The shattering glass scattered shards across the floor, some flying up to graze If’s face.

But she no longer felt pain.

Without even sparing her a glance, the Crown Prince turned away and walked off.

The sound of his mocking laughter as he returned to the bed and resumed toying with the naked woman filled the room.

Shards of broken glass, blood mingling with spilled wine—
it was a reflection of the empire’s future.

If’s trembling fingers instinctively curled into a fist, her nails digging into her palm.

Her hand brushed against something delicate and thin.

The violet thread bracelet.

Clutching it tightly, If prayed desperately, a faint glimmer of hope flickering within her fading consciousness.

“If… if only I could have one more chance… next time…”

As her vision dimmed, the voice of someone—familiar yet unrecognizable—whispered to her.

“A future different from this tragedy.”

A soft, faint light began to glow from the violet bracelet.

If’s eyelids grew heavier as the light enveloped her.

Just as soldiers passed by her broken body, one pointed to the bracelet, exclaiming something incomprehensible.

But the violet light overtook her entirely.

It was a silent magic, utterly devoid of sound.

Charlotte Bell—no, If—died at that moment.

Yet the next moment, when her eyes opened again—

She was back.

Three years earlier.

Exactly three days before her induction into the Imperial Mage Corps.