I Refuse This Life, Your Highness!

“Young master, it’s really time to get ready now…”

Lis’s uneasy voice broke the silence.

“Alright, come in,” I replied, sitting up from under the covers. Morning had already slipped away, and with the wedding set for the afternoon, it was no wonder Lis was anxious.

Lis guided me to the bathroom as I got out of bed. I washed in lukewarm, fragrant water, more aromatic than usual. Afterward, layer by layer, scented oil was applied to my body, and rosewater was gently dabbed onto my face until the fragrance seeped deep into my skin.

When I stepped out, fully groomed and polished, the once-spacious room felt cramped, overflowing with items prepared for my adornment.

The ceremony was set to take place in the Imperial Garden. Unlike me, who lived just a two-hour carriage ride away, the Grand Duke—who had to travel all the way from distant Isère—had likely already arrived at the imperial palace.

What could he be thinking right now? And… in the time before everything reset—my previous life, if I could call it that—what had he been thinking then?

The likelihood of the Grand Duke remembering our past life is…
Extremely low—unless he was the one who turned back time. But the magic of the Grand Duke’s family had been lost for generations, its exact nature shrouded in mystery. Could that lost magic have been time manipulation? Had it not truly been lost but secretly preserved? I considered the possibility briefly, but the pieces didn’t quite fit.

Speculating about what the Grand Duke might be thinking now was pointless. What thoughts could he have, beyond his unyielding sense of duty as a Grand Duke?

This marriage was orchestrated by the Emperor. Neither I nor the Grand Duke had the right to refuse.

The Emperor had always sought to keep the Grand Duke of Isère in check, despite the fact that the Grand Duke had never displayed ambition or threatened imperial authority. He had even delayed his marriage, insisting he would find a suitable match within his own territory. If he had truly desired, he could have proposed to a member of the royal family.

Yet the Emperor abruptly arranged this marriage between the Grand Duke and my family. While the Grand Duke technically had the freedom to choose his partner, once the Emperor proposed a match, the matter was effectively decided. Refusing the Emperor’s matchmaking was tantamount to an act of defiance.

Of course, the Emperor had a plausible excuse.

I was a “blessed Lamia.”

Blessed? What nonsense…

A Lamia—a peculiar lineage often labeled the descendants of witches. Although biologically male, Lamias could conceive, making marriage to another man a natural arrangement. It was a rare and strange gender.

Opinions about Lamias diverged sharply. Some called them divine blessings; others, demonic abominations. Some, like Erma, treated them as entirely female.

The Emperor openly referred to Lamias as sacred beings and treated them with reverence. To his credit, it was thanks to him that the treatment of Lamias had improved significantly.

Yet the same Emperor, citing my Lamia heritage, arranged this marriage, leaving the Grand Duke no room to refuse.

Naturally, that wasn’t the only reason the Emperor paired me with the Grand Duke. My family, the Earldom of Ayrden, had sworn an oath to the Emperor two generations ago to stay out of politics entirely. Not only would we avoid political affairs, but our heirs also vowed never to use magic.

This oath also meant that no one from our family could enter the imperial palace as a consort to the Emperor or his sons.

And so, under the guise of favor, the Emperor sent Ayrden’s youngest son—a Lamia—to marry the Grand Duke of Isère, the second-highest-ranking noble in the empire. How could anyone refuse such a carefully veiled command?

For my part, I understood why my grandfather—whom I’d never met—had made such a pledge. The Emperor’s relentless scrutiny had long been aimed at our family because of the immense magical power passed down through our bloodline.

Although the magic I inherited in this generation was relatively weak, the combination of a family with “lost magic” and one that had sworn not to use magic was, in the Emperor’s eyes, a perfect union.

Moreover, by withdrawing from politics and focusing solely on governing our territory, my family had been completely marginalized in the capital’s power structure—despite our lands being so close to the capital.

A powerless earl’s Lamia.

To put it simply, this marriage was a terrible deal for the Grand Duke.

“No wonder he didn’t come to the room on our wedding night,” I muttered to myself as Lis led me forward.

“Stand here, young master,” Lis instructed.

I looked down at my body, clad in a thin robe. I had already inspected it while bathing, but it was worth noting again—there were no external scars left from the abuse. The once emaciated limbs that had resembled dry twigs, the bony chest where collarbones had jutted out, and the pale, rough skin that had seemed almost bluish were all gone. Now, though still on the slender side, I had a physique that was typical for a Lamia my age, with smooth, carefully cared-for skin.

The external wounds had vanished, leaving only the internal ones. If only those could disappear too. It felt both miraculous and unfair.

When I stood where Lis directed me, I came face-to-face with the ceremonial attire.

It was crafted from layers of pure white silk, intricately embroidered with shimmering pearls. The hem sparkled like a galaxy, dusted with finely crushed gemstones. A line of small pearls traced the exposed collarbone, designed to emphasize the necklace that had been sent as part of the wedding gifts. Sheer chiffon cascaded in two layers from the shoulders, flowing gracefully over the arms and body. At the chest sat a golden decoration, matching the design of the Grand Duke’s ceremonial robes.

Hmm.

“Lis, can I say something?”

Lis flinched. “W-What is it, young master? Don’t make me nervous.”

“I don’t like this attire.”

The room went silent, as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown over everyone. After a long pause, Lis was the first to respond.

“Ah… I wish you hadn’t said that.”

Her face darkened, probably because she could tell I was being completely serious.

“But I really don’t like it,” I repeated.

“You said it was fine during the fitting!” she protested.

“That’s because I wasn’t thinking back then.”

And I really hadn’t been—just sitting there like a fool, going along with everything.

“What part don’t you like, young master?” Fea, one of the attendants, asked, stepping in.

“It’s too… white and sparkly.”

The room went silent again. White and sparkly were practically the standard for wedding attire. If the people gathered here hadn’t been long-time servants of mine, they might have thought I was a fussy noble nitpicking over nothing.

Despite this, Fea nodded resolutely. “Understood. While you’re preparing, I’ll see if we can make some adjustments. However, since it’s matched to the Grand Duke’s attire, we can’t change much.”

“Thank you!” I replied, smiling brightly.

Fea returned the smile before gathering a few servants to fetch the necessary materials.

The ceremonial attire was radiant, like angelic wings. Its design was perfectly coordinated with the Grand Duke’s robes—down to how my train and his cloak would ripple in the wind as we walked. Even so, if they managed to change even a minor detail, I’d be satisfied.

Not long after, Fea returned with the servants, their arms full of materials: tiny gemstones, delicate silks, chiffon, lace, and more. As they began working on the attire, I moved on to the rest of the preparations.

During my first wedding, I had felt suffocated by the lengthy process and passively let the attendants do whatever they wanted. This time, it was different. Dressed only in a thin undergarment beneath the ceremonial robes, I made my preferences clear at every step.

“I don’t like that hairpiece,” I said when a maid presented an amethyst ornament.

“What about this coral one instead?” she asked.

I nodded. Coral, sea anemones—it didn’t matter, as long as it wasn’t the same piece I’d worn during my first wedding.

The necklace, earrings, and crown—gifts from the Grand Duke—couldn’t be changed, but I was determined to alter whatever else I could.

This was my way of consciously distancing myself from the past. It felt like locking it away in a jewelry box and shutting the lid for good.

“What about a bracelet? I think this one would suit you well,” Lis said, holding up an ornate piece adorned with diamonds and pearls.

I shook my head. “Not diamonds—use moonstones instead.”

“Diamonds are more dazzling,” she pointed out.

I shook my head firmly. “Everything else is already dazzling enough.”

Suddenly, I recalled something Erma had said to me.

“You were truly extravagant—like a white crow, perhaps.”

She’d meant it mockingly, of course, but even though I didn’t want her words to affect me, I couldn’t deny that she had a point. Looking back, I had been overly adorned at that first wedding. Even for a Lamia, draping myself head to toe in diamonds had been over the top. It must have looked ridiculous.

“Does this look alright now, young master?” Lis asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

Fea presented the adjusted ceremonial attire. The lace at the hem had been replaced, and the chiffon draping from the shoulders was swapped for a thinner, glossier material, shedding the original platinum-dusted look.

The delicate silk lace above the chest had also been altered, now adorned with slightly larger pearls.

At first glance, the changes were subtle, almost imperceptible, but to me, they were more than enough.

“It’s perfect. Thank you so much, everyone,” I said warmly.

Fea and the maids smiled, visibly pleased with my reaction. Once I was fully dressed in the modified attire, my head veiled, and the crown in place, the preparations were finally complete.

Holding onto Revien and Riseon’s hands, I descended the stairs toward the carriage waiting to take me to the Imperial Palace.

In Lamia weddings, the role often mirrored that of a “bride.” While not a traditional dress, the ceremonial robes were elaborate and flowing, designed to make a striking impression when meeting the groom.

As I descended, I paused midway and turned to look back. On the wall opposite the staircase, the Ayrden family crest hung prominently, its presence commanding the space.

“Yurain,” I murmured under my breath.

Revien’s gentle urging pulled me from my thoughts, and I resumed walking.

The shoes I wore felt stiff and heavy, each step a reminder of the weight of this day. Outside, I climbed into the carriage alone. At the door, Revien and Riseon lingered, their expressions a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher.

“…I’ll see you at the ceremony,” I said softly.

“Yes,” Revien replied.

“Take care,” added Riseon.

With those brief words, the door shut. The carriage, designed specifically for this occasion, was far more ornate than anything I typically used. Its golden accents shimmered as it began to move, carrying me toward the ceremony.

Through the veil, my vision was muted and hazy, but the golden walls of the carriage were clear enough. Staring at them, I thought to myself:

Never again…

‘Never again will I let the same thing happen.’

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I intended to make full use of it. Those horrors would stay buried in the past, nothing more than a lingering nightmare. Things would change—everything would change. No one would die this time, and I would not suffer another meaningless end.

I didn’t know who had granted me this second chance, but with time turned back, I had no intention of wasting it.

“I’ll change everything,” I whispered to myself.