IDIBC Chapter 1

The One Who Will Kill His Father and Become the Sun of Heaven

Resotia, a city that nearly became ruins because of the Dermeier Empire, is a blood-red colored city.

The land I live on is estimated to have been the prosperous capital of a kingdom established by the Thessarians from approximately 2,000 years before the Imperial Calendar was created until the Imperial Calendar came into being.

There is a saying about this city: “It is as old as the time light itself has existed.”

The time when light came into being in this world was before this land, let alone this city, even existed, so it was actually a contradictory statement.

It was merely a metaphor for how old this city was.

The reason this city could survive without perishing and have such an eternal history was due to its unique terrain. Surrounded by rocky cliffs and with red sandstone hills blurring its boundaries, Resotia was the perfect desert sanctuary.

About 1,000 years ago, when the Dermeier Empire was born, enemies mercilessly trampled this land.

To those who had already conquered many countries and proclaimed themselves the Dermeier Empire, this small city, beautiful though it was, was nothing more than very good prey.

However, Wesley Schneider, the ruler who established the empire at that time, stepped foot on this land and declared:

[It shall be established and preserved as a principality.]

This is why present-day Resotia, despite being geographically attached to the great power of Dermeier, can still maintain its status as an independent nation.

But time passed, and a great civilization arose on what was once desert land. Now, evidence that this place had been a desert remained only in Resotia’s border regions.

“Aaaaargh!”

I woke from sleep with a thunderbolt from clear skies that split the pitch-black night sky.

I forced strength into my body, which wouldn’t rise as if pressed by sleep paralysis, and sat up, but the terrible dream continued.

[The ignorant girl from the eastern nation who couldn’t even read or write was finally burned at the stake.]

Whoosh—before the words even finished, flames erupted before my eyes. The eastern nation that the people in the dream spoke of was a term that people of the Dermeier Empire used to look down on the Principality of Resotia.

[How dare a witch try to take the place of a saintess—that is a great sin.]

The witch writhing in agony in the mercilessly blazing flames was me.

[Too hot, too hot. Please… save me.]

That was when it happened. Someone walked step by step into those tremendous flames. Whoosh, the fire spread, but he didn’t stop. He showed not a trace of disturbance, as if strolling through a night garden. So that must certainly not be human.

Yet my heart was torn to shreds seeing him. A feeling I couldn’t identify—resentment toward someone—boiled intensely within me.

“You have a chance.”

A thin, long voice like a moan suddenly reached me.

“Yes, whatever it is, just hurry, hurry and give me a chance!”

At my screaming cries as I burned in the fire, the voice echoing in the void laughed with an eerie sound.

Rumble, crash.

The moment thunder sounded once more, I understood everything at once.

I had just died.

It wasn’t something anyone taught me. Everything just was. The silence like death was, the solitude deeper than the deep sea was, the feeling of being pushed out of my body was.

Then at some moment, light poured into the pitch-black world. I reflexively followed the light and found myself opening my eyes again.

I looked around the room. Nothing had changed.

I hadn’t become someone else, nor had my circumstances changed.

Lienne Rowe Fennel.

The nuisance of the Count Fennel family. A ten-year-old illegitimate child who couldn’t say a word until the maids neglected her to the point of death.

In my memories, I had loved a man.

Ricardo Gardarelli Rochester.

The heir of Rochester, one of the Empire’s three great ducal families, and the next great emperor chosen by divine prophecy.

[The one who will kill his father and become the sun of heaven.]

If my memories were real, the subject of this terrible prophecy would now be staying in the east wing, opposite from the west wing where I was staying.

As a nameless child of the east wing.

‘Since I’m ten years old now, Ricardo is probably… twelve now?’

Suddenly, Ricardo’s finely flowing black hair and eyes black as the deep sea that seemed to cover all emotions came to mind.

Just thinking of his appearance made my heart beat painfully.

‘What kind of emotion is this?’

While I was deeply contemplating my emotions, a realization suddenly struck me.

“Huh!”

I covered my mouth at the voice that came out louder than expected.

‘So what does this mean? I’m going to covet Ricardo and die burned to death?’

Ha, is that all there is?

As with all protagonists of prophecies, Ricardo inevitably spends a painful childhood. And the source of that pain is right here, at Count Fennel’s estate.

The one who severely abused Ricardo was Justin Rowe Fennel, the eldest son of the Fennel family.

He was, so to speak, a pervert who loved art.

Ugh, I swallowed an unrefined groan.

“Probably three years…”

If my memory was correct, the unspeakable horrors would continue for three more years from now.

The result was terrible.

The Fennel family was annihilated for kidnapping, confining, and even abusing the eldest son of an imperial ducal family.

But fortunately, I was able to survive by avoiding the family’s destruction. This was because I was staying in the west wing, far from the main building.

Especially since I wasn’t even registered in the family genealogy.

“Should I be grateful that I survived thanks to that?”

I slowly got up and carefully felt around the objects in the dark room.

My memories after Ricardo left this mansion were incomplete. They existed only as fragments, like paintings in an exhibition hall.

However, what was certain was that when I became an adult, I would go to the Empire for some reason and meet Ricardo there again.

And there, I would commit something that should never be done.

The manifestation of the Rochester family’s ability.

Bringing forth Rochester’s power was solely the role of the saintess of the age.

Since Ricardo would certainly possess the family’s abilities more excellently than anyone else in Rochester, it meant a saintess already existed.

The problem was that it definitely wasn’t me.

“Ah…”

A deep sigh naturally escaped through my throat.

‘How exactly did I accomplish Ricardo’s manifestation?’

Although I couldn’t remember how I helped with the manifestation, one thing was certain. The result was so devastating I didn’t want to recall it.

The most terrible punishment reserved only for witches: burning at the stake.

Standing at the center of people who branded me a witch, watching flames spread across my entire body—just as that memory came back and chills ran down my spine.

Rumble, crash crash—thunder and lightning struck simultaneously as if God was warning me.

Perhaps the chance that thin, moan-like voice spoke of meant to live life properly again.

What I had to do going forward was simpler than expected.

Ensure Ricardo doesn’t spend a miserable childhood.

Never go to the Empire looking for him.

And no matter how handsome that boy is, never fall in love.

“I’m confident about that, if nothing else.”

Once my tasks were decided, all the thoughts that had been tormenting me gradually subsided.

A night without lightning was darkness.

I looked out the window where nothing was visible. In the quiet world, swoosh swoosh swoosh, thick raindrops began racing from afar with a loud sound.

Then, hearing a small commotion outside the door, I quickly climbed onto the bed and lay down. The unmanaged door opened with a creepy creak sound.

When the door opened, gloomy yellow light stretched long from the death-black room to the bed.

“Ugh, cold.”

Opening my eyes slightly to observe, I saw three young women who appeared to be maids shivering as they poked only their heads in. They pushed each other’s backs and hesitantly entered the room. The lamp flames the maids held flickered unsteadily, illuminating the bed.

I quickly closed my eyes again.

“She really seems dead.”

“What did I tell you.”

White breath rose from the mouth of the woman speaking in fear.

“Su-surely not.”

“Look, look. There’s no color in her face at all. Check if she’s breathing.”

“Wh-why me?”

One maid brought the lamp flame right up to my eyelids, leaving an afterimage of light above my closed eyes.

“Hey, Betty, didn’t you put firewood in here yesterday?”

“What? That was your responsibility.”

No wonder it was so cold. As soon as I heard that, I felt a fierce cold that seemed to pierce my skin.

“By the way, what do we do now?”

“What do you mean what do we do? Nothing to worry about. We just need to make traces of lighting a fire now and report to the head maid tomorrow morning that she died. Who would even care?”

Everyone seemed to agree with the brazen woman’s voice, as I heard the busy sounds of them moving around. Meanwhile, I slowly got up. Thanks to the lamp they brought, the surroundings had become somewhat brighter. The room was small, but with only a bed and one wardrobe as furniture, the area around seemed empty.

Looking ahead, I saw the three women frantically trying to light a fire in the fireplace.

“Hey, you all.”

My voice didn’t come out properly from a throat that hadn’t spoken for a long time. After clearing my throat, I called out a bit louder.

“Betty.”

“Why are you calling me? I’m busy right now. Why won’t this fire light? Do it properly.”

I called the name once more with emphasis, clearly articulating each syllable.

“Betty.”

This time it was properly heard, as the women’s actions stopped all at once.

The maids who slowly turned their heads sat down on the floor with a shriek when they met my eyes. In the flutter of their skirts, the fire in the fireplace whooshed and blazed up.