she

He was reborn.

Tiff is certain that the Tower Master Hicks is a reincarnation.

And this also explains why he targeted him at every turn, trying to kill him in every move.

His death was self-inflicted, or perhaps his own existence in his previous life threatened him.

She preferred the first option and used the Fear Ring when she first met Hicks.

At that time, the person Hicks feared was her.

But why didn't she choose to be reborn? She had seen the method of rebirth in an ancient book when she was eleven years old, and she could use it skillfully.

Perhaps she didn't need to be reborn, or perhaps she had other plans.

Tiffany's gaze swept over Ferrand, who was being dragged back to his room. He was still glaring at her resentfully, but Tiffany ignored his stare.

What should have been a fine falconry event has deteriorated to this point, with the eight dukes now reduced to seven.

The remaining dukes could only sigh slightly and left one after another. Tiffany stayed behind, not to provoke Ferrand, but because the king seemed to have entrusted Ferrand to her to deal with, since her father had been killed by him.

Oh, that old guy isn't dead yet, but he's not far from it.

After thinking for a moment, Tiff went out and saw Dope standing at the door gesturing for her to come in. "Go ahead, didn't you want revenge?"

Tiff glanced at the sword hanging at her waist. "Perfect, I have my sword with me."

Dope's face was expressionless and unusually calm. She then walked up the steps, but the short distance felt like an eternity.

She stopped at the doorway and reached out to push it open.

The person inside had their back to the door. Hearing the door open, they assumed it was Tiffany and immediately started cursing.

"You bitch! You slut..." The moment he saw it was her, his words stopped abruptly, and his weasel-faced features immediately crumpled into a smile.

Even his tone softened, as if afraid of startling her, "Do... uh, Dope, I remember that's your name, right?"

“My daughter, you have indeed inherited my strengths. I remember you graduated first in your class from Samuel College.”

"Why don't you come to my knight order? I..."

"Heh..." Dope smiled, looking down at Ferrand sitting on the ground. "If I had joined your knightly order, would I still be alive today?"

"What are you saying? Of course you can! Not only that, you can also be a noble lady like Tiffany. Are you willing to spend your whole life just as her servant?"

“You could even inherit my title.”

Ferrang gave a fake smile, finally stopping his futile emotional appeals and revealing his true thoughts, "Let me go, Dope. I think you're strong enough to break the barrier."

“Once we get out of here…” He paused, unsure how to offer Dope a promise, “Hey, I remember you wanted your mother’s belongings, right? Let me go, and I’ll tell you where they are.”

"I didn't give it to you back then because I was angry that you wouldn't even call me 'father.' If you had, I would have given it to you long ago..."

"Really tell me where it is?" Dope interrupted him, asking softly.

Seeing a glimmer of hope, Ferrand nodded repeatedly, "Of course."

Dope raised his sword, gathered his strength, and cleaved the barrier. Holding the sword, he walked step by step to Ferrang.

"Quickly, untie me."

"Fine." She raised her sword expressionlessly, then brought it down heavily.

"clang!"

"Ah!!!" The scream contrasted sharply with the dull thud of the sword hitting the ground.

"You...you wicked creature..." Ferrand wailed, clutching his severed arm.

"Shh, don't talk nonsense. Do you want to end up like Bavi?"

Ferrand, who wasn't a member of the Stryker family, had heard about how Bavi's tongue was pulled out by Tiff's men.

“You, you…” Ferrand glared at her, his anger blazing, while she raised her sword again.

"No! Dope! You can't do this..."

Ferrand's other arm was severed.

"Ah..." Ferrand collapsed to the ground, his face turning pale from blood loss.

"Do you deserve to call me father?"

"Uh..." He was covered in sweat and crawled on the ground like a worm.

"I will find my mother's belongings after the property is confiscated."

"What's wrong with being a servant for life and inheriting your title? I find it disgusting."

"You don't really think I came to you to save you, do you?"

"Where's Tiffany? Where's Tiffany? I need to talk to her..."

“You don’t deserve to see her…” Dope gritted her teeth, her eyes bloodshot, the thrill of revenge making her chest heave violently.

"Die." Her sword pierced Ferrand's chest, then pulled it out and stabbed it back in, pulled it out and stabbed it back in, countless times.

As she slowly regained her senses, Ferrand stared at her with wide eyes, his body nearly riddled with holes from her stabbing.

She clenched her teeth, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Eight years later, she finally killed him to avenge her mother.

But she felt no joy, only exhaustion.

She sniffed, exhaled, and walked outside, descending the steps one by one.

Tiff leaned against the doorframe and, seeing her distraught state, asked, "Did you find out where your mother's belongings are?"

Seeing her shake her head, Tiffany sighed, "It's alright. When the Grand Master of the Knights confiscated your property, I told him to keep an eye on your mother's belongings."

"Of course, you can come looking for him if you want, I'll tell him."

"I want to find it myself."

She suddenly felt a cool touch on her face, and only then did she realize that Tiffany was wiping away her tears with a handkerchief. She hadn't even noticed that she was crying.

She thanked him and took the handkerchief to wipe herself.

Tiff didn't rush her. After she calmed down, they got into the carriage and went back to the Duke's mansion.

——————

Ferrand is dead, and now Carrel is in the most awkward position.

Fortunately, Carrel comforted himself by the fact that he was a spy sent by Duke Ferrand, and only Ferrand knew it.

So, at this moment, the fake master becomes the real master. He no longer has to worry about being punished by Ferrand for failing to complete the mission, nor does he have to be on tenterhooks to be discovered while doing the mission.

He no longer needed to do the tasks Ferrand had assigned him, and he was not valued by Tiffany.

Now I'm just a nobody.

——————

She stood in the palace corridor, surrounded by darkness. She couldn't see her surroundings, but she was certain that she was in the palace corridor.

"Tap tap tap." She heard the sound of high heels coming from behind her. She wanted to turn around to look, but she couldn't move.

The surroundings brightened, and she could see her surroundings clearly. She was in the gallery, with portraits of past kings hanging on the wall. But when she blinked, the figures in the portraits changed.

She became her.

Um?

Is this some kind of hint?

Does this imply that she will successfully usurp the throne?

She turned to look out the window. It was snowing outside, but in her mind, it was June, so why was it snowing?

She suddenly realized that the footsteps had been behind her for a long time, but had never reached her side. Just as she realized this, the footsteps drew closer to her.

She finally turned around. It was a woman, a woman so familiar that no one in the world dared to say they knew her better than she did.

Tiff Stryker.

She herself.

She looked like a porcelain doll, with an exquisite hairstyle, gorgeous clothes, and expensive jewelry. Her eyes were curved, and she seemed quite happy.

He stood there like a statue.

Tiff reached out to touch it, and the moment she made contact, she seemed to come alive, her gaze fixed firmly ahead as she walked forward.

She passed through Tiff's body, and Tiff inevitably felt an urge to call out to "her".

"Tiff".

The woman stopped and turned her head, her eyes lifeless like a puppet.

Tiff walked up to her in a few steps, took her hand, and the woman seemed to come alive, a smile appearing on her lips, no longer like a pre-programmed program.

"I knew you could do it."

This is the real her.

At the same time, Tiffany remembered everything, including the deal she had made with Margaret after becoming the ruler of the country.

But when she took the Heart of Hess, and according to the original side story, added Hicks's blood and used the resurrection spell, the Heart of Hess did not react at all.

She could never have misremembered the method.

At that moment, she realized that only a living Hicks could do it.

The flesh and blood of their family members, along with the Heart of Hess and other miscellaneous things, were needed to resurrect a person, but she never expected that it would be a living person.

So she used a forbidden technique to resurrect Hicks and make him believe that he had resurrected him. The reason she didn't let him resurrect himself was because it could only be used on others.

What's even more frustrating is that there's a price to pay for using rebirth magic on others.

Her soul will be trapped inside her body, dying in a daze. In her mind, she will keep repeating the events of a certain day. Only when another version of herself realizes that the person who used the rebirth spell on her is the reborn her can she stop it all and remember her past life.

She hesitated only for a moment before deciding to use this forbidden technique. She believed that she would realize something was wrong with Hicks and that she would be able to realize Hicks' rebirth while guarding against him.

Of course, for double insurance, she also gave herself a little reminder: nothing was better than the reminder that her heart was beating unusually fast during their first meeting.

She wasn't afraid that Hicks would realize that his rebirth was part of her conspiracy. After all, even he didn't know his own origins, so how could he guess her purpose in resurrecting him?

Tiffany opened her eyes, her blood-red eyes shining brightly in the darkness.

If anyone else were here, they would definitely notice that her demeanor had changed. Although she usually had a blank expression before going to sleep, she would sometimes reveal her true emotions.

Now, she exudes an invisible distance that makes people hesitant to approach her. Her expressionless face is no longer a mask, but rather a reflection of her true emotions.

She was reborn not to lie low, but to rise to power more perfectly.