The World of If - Chapter 2: The Madwoman of the Battlefield (1)

If stared at her reflection in the mirror, disbelief etched across her face.

There wasn’t a single scar on her chest—not even a scratch where the blade had pierced her.

Regression?

Even in a world where countless miracles were performed under the name of magic, regression was no ordinary phenomenon.

At least as far as If knew, no one had ever experienced something like this before.

…Or perhaps I just don’t know about it, she thought, shaking her head at the girl staring back at her in the mirror.

Logically, the idea of traveling back to the past made no sense. But magic, by its very nature, defied logic and reason.

Ancient texts even recorded instances of mages raising the dead. If that were possible, then why couldn’t someone return to the past on the brink of death?

But what, then, are the conditions for regression?

Every answer she found only seemed to lead to more questions.

Holding her head in one hand, If fell deep into thought.

There had been countless moments in her past when she had fervently wished for a miracle. Times when she had prayed to go back and make a different choice.

But why now? Why had it happened at this moment?

Could it be that death itself was the condition for regression?

If not, was there some external force at work…?

Knock, knock.

Lost in thought, If flinched at the sudden sound of a knock on the door. Hastily, she began adjusting her disheveled clothing but froze mid-motion.

If this truly was three days before her induction into the Imperial Mage Corps, then the person standing outside could only be…

“Charlotte! It’s me!”

The familiar voice from outside made her heart drop.

The hand she had been using to button her shirt fell limply to her side.

“Charlotte!”

The voice outside kept calling for her, persistent and urgent.

Like someone moving in a daze, If dragged her feet toward the door, her steps unsteady.

Her trembling hand reached for the door handle, and when she opened it, she was momentarily blinded by the sunlight streaming in.

The man standing there was illuminated by the light, his face completely different from the last image burned into her memory.

“I hate you, Charlotte.”

“…Kaerin,” she whispered cautiously, calling his name as if it might shatter the moment.

Kaerin’s face lit up with a cheerful smile, his familiar warmth making her chest tighten.

“Hey, Charlotte. How’ve you been?”

“Uh… yeah. I’ve been fine. What… brings you here?”

Though her lips moved, forming words, the voice that came out felt alien, as if it weren’t her own.

No, it wasn’t just her voice. This entire situation felt foreign.

How long had it been since Kaerin last smiled at her like this? Since he last greeted her with such warmth?

“What brings me here? Your induction is three days away, isn’t it? I figured I’d give you some advice as someone who’s already been through it!”

The man standing before her now was the Kaerin she remembered so well—always smiling, straightforward, and kind. Her childhood friend.

If found herself staring at him, unable to take her eyes off his face. She didn’t even register the words he was saying.

But that didn’t matter.

She had been through this moment before.

“No matter how independent you’ve become, it’s been almost a year since you last visited your family. Don’t you think that’s a bit much? Even the Count of Bell has been worried about you, Charlotte,” Kaerin said with a light laugh.

At that, If let out a bitter chuckle without meaning to.

The Count of Bell? Worried about her?

There was no way that could be true.

What the Count of Bell truly cared about was If’s extraordinary magical abilities.

That was why he had taken her from the orphanage, given her the name “Charlotte Bell,” and adopted her as his foster daughter.

The only ones who knew this truth were the members of the Bell family.

Of course, Kaerin had no way of knowing the Count’s true intentions.

At times, that ignorance was a source of unbearable pain for If.

She had endured it all before, believing that suppressing her feelings and doing what was expected of her was the right thing to do—for everyone.

But now, she understood.

She no longer needed to endure. The path she had believed was right had only led to tragedy.

She could not allow it to happen again.

“Sorry, Kaerin. I’m tired today. Please leave,” If said bluntly.

“Huh? Oh… I see. You must still be recovering from the exam. You don’t look like you’re feeling well,” Kaerin replied, his voice full of concern despite her curt tone.

He peered at her face for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You really don’t look great. Should I send for my family’s physician? Or maybe contact the Count…”

“No, I’m not sick. There’s no need to contact my father, so don’t worry. I just… need some rest,” If said, forcing a faint smile to avoid alarming him further.

“Charlotte…”

Kaerin hesitated, still watching her with worry. However, he didn’t push further.

Having spent so many years as her childhood friend, he knew how much she hated showing weakness to others.

“Alright. I’ll go. Take care of yourself, and let’s meet again soon,” he said, suppressing his worry and offering a warm goodbye before turning to leave.

If stood still, her gaze fixed on his retreating back.

The memory of him lying on the cold floor of the Crown Prince’s palace, drenched in blood and seething with hatred, flashed through her mind.

“I hate you, Charlotte.”

If bit her lip hard, shaking her head to banish the image.

No. That hadn’t happened now.

As Kaerin’s figure disappeared from view entirely, she shut the door and retreated back into her small apartment.

The apartment consisted of a tiny bedroom, a sitting room, and a kitchen—far too cramped for the daughter of a count to live alone. But for If, it was more than enough.

Sinking into the hard chair in the sitting room, she let her thoughts wander.

What should I do? Whose side do I need to take to avoid that future? What must I change to make the most of this chance?

The past she had lived through before her regression had been a nightmare. There was no way she would let it repeat itself.

The Crown Prince… no, the First Prince. Should I kill him?

If the First Prince, the root cause of all tragedy, were eliminated, the chain of events leading to disaster would surely never unfold.

Though he had once been her liege, If felt no loyalty toward him.

Her allegiance had always been born of necessity, a duty enforced by the Count of Bell’s commands.

But If quickly dismissed the idea as absurd.

While she might have been capable of such an act as the former commander of the Imperial Mage Corps, the current Charlotte Bell was nothing more than a fledgling mage who had only recently graduated from magic school.

There was no way she could bypass the palace’s formidable security and assassinate a member of the royal family.

Moreover, the tragedy she feared was not yet reality.

Killing the First Prince now, for the sake of an unformed future, would be an act of foolishness.

Then what should I do? I can’t just stand by and let the same tragedy repeat itself.

Her thoughts spiraled, one leading to another in an endless chain. She considered various scenarios, examining each potential outcome. None of them seemed to offer a clear solution.

Finally, exhaustion crept over her, and she lifted her head.

Outside the window, the sun was setting, painting the world in hues of red and gold. The sky looked as if it had been brushed with vibrant crimson paint.

She walked to the window and placed her fingers against the cold glass. The world beyond was bathed in the fiery glow of dusk, a sight that reminded her of the sunsets she used to watch from the orphanage roof as a child.

Back then, I wished for someone who needed me.

She had longed for a place to belong, for a family to stave off the crushing loneliness.
When the Count of Bell adopted her, she had been overjoyed, believing her wish had finally been granted.

But that joy turned to sorrow and disappointment in less than a year.

The children of the Bell family despised her without exception.

“If it weren’t for your magic, who would even glance at a filthy orphan like you?”

The Bell family was a distinguished lineage, known for producing exceptional mages who commanded the royal family’s trust.

But none of the Count’s biological children had shown any talent for magic, leaving him desperate.

He had combed through orphanages, searching for children with strong magical potential. Among them, If had stood out as a prodigy, her raw power and potential so remarkable that even the Count had been astonished.

This was why she had been adopted into the family.

She had thought it was the beginning of her happiness.

Once adopted, the Count took great care to conceal If’s origins.

“Charlotte” had to be presented as a legitimate member of the Bell lineage. Only then could all her future achievements in the imperial court reflect back on the Bell family.

To achieve this, her identity as an orphan was erased and replaced with the fabricated story of her being the Count’s illegitimate child.

As a young girl, If had been unable to determine which was the better fate.

The truth was known only to the Bell family.

The Countess treated her as though she were invisible, and her siblings didn’t even see her as a person. Some went as far as to leer at her with predatory gazes as she began to grow into a striking young woman.

It was for this reason that If started wearing makeup at the age of thirteen.

Not to enhance her beauty, but to hide it.

At seventeen, under the guise of seeking independence, she fled the Bell family.

She believed it was the only way to protect herself.

“…Run away.”

If startled herself with the word she had just muttered aloud.

“Run away.”

Staring at her reflection in the window, she nodded to herself.

Yes, run away.

Why hadn’t she thought of it from the start?

Finally reaching her conclusion, she stepped away from the window.

This talk of correcting the past or changing destiny was far too optimistic—luxuries she couldn’t afford. Perhaps others could consider such things, but for If, they were beyond reach.

This place, this life, had never been hers to begin with.

Commander of the Imperial Mage Corps, the youngest daughter of the Count of Bell, the closest confidante of the Crown Prince—

All of it was an illusion. A dream that had ended with Kaerin’s death.

Now, the best course of action she could take was simple.

Leave the capital.

If made her way to the mirror in her bedroom and stared at her reflection. The face staring back at her was unmistakably Charlotte Bell’s—plain, emotionless, and weighed down by years of hardship.

She grabbed a nearby towel, her resolve hardening.

Slowly, she began wiping away the layers of makeup that she had so meticulously applied to make herself look plain and unattractive.

Bit by bit, the thick layers of foundation came off, revealing her features underneath—the tear mole beneath her eye, the sharp bridge of her nose, her high cheekbones.

By the time she was done, the reflection staring back at her was no longer the dull, unimpressive Charlotte Bell she had been forced to become.

Her porcelain skin glowed faintly under the soft light, smooth and flawless like polished marble.
The makeup she had used to flatten her features was gone, revealing the natural sharpness of her nose and the elegance of her face.

Only one thing remained unchanged: her stoic expression.

With this face, no one would recognize me as Charlotte Bell.

Abandoning the identity of Charlotte Bell—it was the best choice she had.

Letting go of Charlotte wouldn’t even be difficult. That name, that life, was nothing but a burden.

However, there was still one problem.

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

The Crown Prince—no, the First Prince—had yet to unleash the chaos and tragedy that If remembered.
His actions would lead to Kaerin’s death and the loss of his beloved Estella.

She couldn’t leave knowing that the First Prince would go on to destroy everything.

At the very least, she needed to put something in place to prevent it.

As her nails pressed lightly against her lips in thought, her eyes lit up with determination.

There was one person.

One person who could stop that tragic future.