In our past two lives, Declan Hayes couldn't escape his fate of marrying me. The third time around, he accepted it. He no longer tried to save my sister first, leaving me to die in the freezing wilderness. He no longer showed disgust at the dark birthmark by my eye, instead calling it a mark God left for him to recognize me. His ambition was as relentless as ever. He crawled out of the slums, covered in frost and snow, collapsing at my feet. He was waiting for me to pull him up and take him home, just like I had in our past two lives. But this time, God showed mercy. The one who reached out and helped him up was my sister. And I? I picked up another little street rat, one even more wretched and battered than him. Smiling, I announced that I wanted to keep this one. Declan stared blankly as my hand bypassed him. He must have been overjoyed. So happy, he looked like he was about to cry. 01 It was an overcast winter day, the sky heavy with leaden clouds. The scouts rode back to our convoy, reporting that the northern mountain pass was frozen solid. We couldn't get through. My older sister, Clara, sighed. She stroked my sleep-flushed cheek inside the carriage, lifted the velvet curtain, and instructed the driver, "Find an inn nearby for us to wait it out. Hazel is tired." I crawled up from her lap and peered out the frosted window. The snow was blindingly heavy, making it look as though the clouds themselves had frozen over. Dozens of beggars were huddled under broken wooden awnings, shivering violently. A kindhearted tavern owner brought out buckets of leftover food and scraps. Instantly, the beggars swarmed the buckets like starving ants. Only two boys didn't join the frenzy. One looked at the scraps with sheer disdain. The other was likely just too emaciated, lacking the strength to even stand, curled up in a corner with a mop of matted hair. Clara leaned over, pulling me back from the window. She had her nanny wrap a thick, white rabbit-fur scarf around my head and neck. "The wind is biting right now. Catching a fever is no joke," she scolded gently. She didn't let me step out of the carriage until I was bundled up like a marshmallow. The moment my boots hit the ground, a figure violently crashed at my feet. He grabbed the hem of my heavy cloak with such desperate force that he nearly dragged me down on top of him. "Oh my!" Clara rushed forward to catch me, frowning at the unconscious boy on the ground. The nanny took one look and gasped. "Oh, you poor boy. He's covered in bruises and whip marks." Clara had a bleeding heart. She couldn't stand seeing others suffer. Seeing the overwhelming number of refugees, she handed the nanny a stack of cash to set up a soup kitchen. Then, she personally reached down to help the boy—the one who was still gripping my cloak in a death grip. I didn't reach out. I just stood there, watching quietly. Suddenly, I asked, "Sister, are you going to keep this filthy beggar?" The boy's tightly shut eyelashes fluttered. Clara smiled helplessly and pinched my cheek. "Hazel, be respectful. No matter what someone's background is, you must be polite. Understand?" She thought for a moment, then added, "Uncle Arthur's military academy has been recruiting refugee boys lately. Since fate brought him to us, let's take him home. Consider it a good deed." Knowing she wouldn't scold me too harshly because of my age, I broke free from her grasp. I ran straight toward the cluster of broken awnings, pointing at the skeletal, half-dead boy in the corner. My eyes curved into a wicked, playful smile. "If you get to keep one, I want one too! I want this one!" No one else noticed, but I did. The boy leaning against Clara—the one pretending to be unconscious—snapped his eyes open the moment the words left my mouth. He stared at me in absolute disbelief. 02 Carefully observing the boy's reaction, I was absolutely certain. This was Declan Hayes, the man who had been haunting my recurring nightmares for months. The dreams were fragmented, playing out like a tragic, twisted novel. In those dreams, I was the obnoxious, unloved adopted sister. I was ugly—ruined by the dark birthmark at the corner of my eye. I was spoiled, arrogant, and demanded everything my perfect sister had. Including the man she loved: Declan. I clung to Declan since childhood. Through two lifetimes, he couldn't shake me off. In those lives, he treated me with pure cruelty. He abandoned me in the wilderness where I was nearly eaten by wild dogs. He mocked my appearance so relentlessly that it destroyed my self-esteem, driving me to use toxic, back-alley cosmetics to hide my birthmark until my skin rotted away, turning me into high society's ultimate laughingstock. Yet, I acted like I was cursed, obsessively demanding to marry him. The love and hatred of two lifetimes tangled endlessly in my dreams. Every person, every scenario—I knew them by heart. So, when I heard the driver say the northern pass was frozen and we were trapped in this snowy town, I snapped fully awake and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was the young Declan. I was naturally rebellious, a girl who loved reading dark fairy tales and legends of reincarnation. When confronted with this bizarre intersection of dreams and reality, I wasn't afraid. I was thrilled. I had been so stupid in my dreams. So pathetic to love a man who treated me like dirt. In reality, I was going to make sure Declan Hayes got absolutely nothing in his third life. I looked at the bed where the little street rat I had just picked up was lying. He had been given medicine but was still unconscious, tossing restlessly, his skeletal fingers trembling. I reached out and held his freezing fingertips. Finding warmth, his deeply furrowed brow slowly smoothed out. I smiled softly. I was going to raise this boy, Rowan, to be stronger, smarter, and more powerful than Declan. Then, Clara would undoubtedly fall in love with him instead. When that day came, Declan would lose the woman he loved, and he would lose the war for power and wealth. Watching him cry was going to be so much fun. 03 Saying I was going to raise Rowan properly was one thing; actually doing it was another. I couldn't keep anything alive. Every stray cat or dog I brought home eventually had to be taken over by Clara because I was so bad at it. The only things I kept in perfect condition were my porcelain dolls. So this time, I made a firm resolution. I rolled up my sleeves, determined to do everything myself! But it immediately turned into a disaster. "Oh, my sweet girl! You don't need to bathe him yourself! He's a boy!" The nanny rushed back into the room holding a basin of water. Seeing me holding down a terrified teenager in a wooden tub, aggressively wielding a comb to fix his hair, she panicked. I didn't see the issue. I naturally treated him like one of my dolls, adjusting him as I pleased. I said with absolute seriousness, "He's mine." I can do whatever I want. With that, I cupped the boy's wet, rigid face, leaning in close, staring straight into his pitch-black eyes. "Your name is Rowan. From now on, I am your Lady. You will listen to me, forever and ever." Rowan's fingers gripped the edge of the tub so hard his knuckles turned white. "Nod your head," I demanded bossily. He stared at me. Then, he nodded. I smiled in satisfaction and held up the comb. "Good! Now I'm going to comb your messy hair until it looks pretty. Don't move." Rowan tried his hardest to relax his body, his soaked rags floating on the surface of the water. But I overestimated myself. After just two strokes of the comb, I spotted something crawling in his hair. I screamed, threw the comb, and pushed him away forcefully. "Ah! Lice! So gross!" The nanny quickly pulled me back. "My precious girl, you aren't made for this kind of dirty work. Alright, you've had your fun, let me take over." I don't know which word triggered Rowan, but he looked absolutely terrified that I was disgusted with him. He grabbed a pair of sharp shears from a basket by the tub and began frantically hacking away at his own hair. He swung so recklessly that the blades slashed his cheek, drawing blood. Both the nanny and I froze in shock. Strands of hair and blood hit the water. He gripped the shears, his hair now a jagged, chaotic mess. Like a lone, frightened wolf pup who didn't know how else to please his master, he looked at me with helpless, desperate eyes. Clara heard the commotion and rushed in. Seeing the scene, she was also stunned. She looked at the shears in his hand with concern, then pulled me into her arms, coaxing me gently. "Hazel, do you really want a playmate? How about sister finds you a better one, okay?" At the doorway, Declan, who had been scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes, was watching me. He even offered me a gentle smile. I found it completely baffling. Just as I was about to tell him he was worthless, I heard a splash. Suddenly, I was yanked out of Clara's arms and pressed hard against a wet, bony chest. The boy's voice was raspy, damaged, and incredibly stubborn. "Lady. Mine." Declan's eyes went dark for a split second. I turned my head and flicked Rowan on the forehead. "Idiot. It's—I am yours, my Lady." His eyes seemed to light up at the flick. "Yes." He nodded. 04 Because we had been delayed for too long visiting our parents' graves in our hometown, Clara ordered us to pack up and head for Uncle Arthur's estate in the capital the second the ice melted. I was incredibly depressed. Because I knew that once we reached Uncle Arthur's house, I would revert to being the universally disliked, annoying adopted cousin. I wasn't like Clara. She was beautiful, elegant, and everything she did was perfect. The adults adored her, and our cousins idolized her. After our parents died, she took on the responsibility of raising me. She was so capable that everyone in elite society praised her. But me? The ugly birthmark by my eye made it naturally hard for people to like me. Plus, my temper was awful. If anyone offended me even slightly, I sought ruthless revenge. They only tolerated me out of respect for Clara. But I had made my peace with it. As long as I had Clara, it was enough. She treated me so well; I wanted to give her the best of everything the world had to offer. I looked across the carriage at Rowan. He was meticulously carving a birthday gift for Clara. I had braided a small section of his choppy hair, tying off the end with a blue sapphire bead. His face had filled out a bit, and the cuts from the scissors had faded to faint red lines. His eyes were exceptionally beautiful, like a crescent moon breaking through the dusk. There was no doubt he would grow up to be a devastatingly handsome man. He pressed his lips together in concentration, his nimble fingers using a small knife to smooth the edges of a wooden angel statuette. There were several failed attempts tossed in a box beside him. When he finished, he handed it to me. It seemed to be his best work. I turned it over in my hands, satisfied. "Yes, this one is the prettiest. Give it to Clara." He shook his head and insisted I wear it instead. I lectured him. "How many times do I have to tell you? Clara is number one. You have to prioritize her above me." I told him to put it away. He turned slightly, pretending he didn't hear me, and picked up his knife to carve another figure. He replied curtly, "She has someone to treat her well." Declan? I sneered in disgust. "What does he count for? You are a million times better than him. One day, you're going to crush him under your boot, and all he'll be able to do is cry." Rowan paused. He looked up at me, his gaze complex. "You hate him?" I nodded. Rowan offered a strange, faint smile. "But he seems to like you. He likes you so much he looks like he wants to kill me." Hearing that gave me goosebumps. I told Rowan he was being ridiculous and overthinking it. The bitter winter wind howled outside the carriage windows, the bells jingling. We were almost at the capital. I burrowed into the small blanket Clara had embroidered for me. Feeling sleepy, I closed my eyes and muttered: "Except for Clara, no one will ever like me..." The carriage was quiet for a long time. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I thought I heard someone whisper low under their breath— "Is that so?" "Because I think there are far too many people who like you. So many that I want to kill them..." I rolled over, assuming I was just hearing things. 05 As dawn broke, our carriage passed through the city gates. The Montgomery family had sent people to wait for us early in the morning. "The young ladies are finally here! The General and Madam have been worrying for days, terrified you'd be trapped in the blizzard and miss the holidays!" Aunt Martha's head maid hurried forward, eagerly helping Clara step down from the carriage. Clara pulled her hood tighter, breathing out a cloud of white mist. "I didn't expect the snow in the capital to be this heavy..." She turned around and reached her hand out to me, who was lagging behind. "Come on, Hazel. We're home." The Montgomery staff completely ignored me, their eyes landing on Declan and Rowan with confusion. Seeing I hadn't moved, Clara stepped forward, pulled me along, and smiled as she explained why we had taken the two boys in. Declan was officially brought in by Clara, so the Montgomery staff didn't say much. But when they looked at Rowan standing by my side, their eyes turned noticeably colder. I was used to this blatant favoritism, but... I looked back at Rowan. He seemed entirely oblivious to their deliberate coldness, offering me a small smile. We walked past the grand statues, through several courtyards, and into the warm, luxurious parlor. Aunt Martha personally came out to pull Clara inside, affectionately rubbing her cold hands. "My sweet girl, the journey must have been exhausting." She looked right through me, as always, and spoke only to Clara. "Your uncle told me before he left for the day—we need to move your parents' graves back here eventually. Traveling up north every year in this freezing weather... it's exhausting for everyone, and it's simply not proper." Declan and Rowan stepped into the parlor. Standing behind them, I saw Clara shake her head and reply softly, "Mother and Father spent half their lives defending the northern borders. Being buried there was their dying wish. As their daughter, I cannot go against their final requests just for my own comfort." Aunt Martha pulled Clara onto the plush sofa, sighing with pointed meaning, "You've always been the sensible one..." I sat off to the side, my mind wandering. Suddenly, someone plopped down next to me and called out: "Hey, Hazel. That weird-looking stray with the short hair outside... you picked him up?" I turned my head, glanced at Rowan standing on the porch, and then looked at my cousin, Blair Montgomery. She loved making my life miserable. I ignored her. She smirked and held out her hand. "Give him to me. I'll trade you this solid gold bracelet for him." I didn't even blink. "No." The girl let out a cold laugh. "Do you honestly think that by copying Clara and pretending to have a bleeding heart, bringing a beggar home, my parents will actually look at you?" Blair leaned in closer. "Let me tell you a secret: as long as you live in my house, no one will ever respect you." Her eyes curved maliciously. "What's the big deal about giving me a piece of trash you found on the street? At least you get some real gold out of it. It's a lot better than back when you used to eagerly sew shirts and shoes to please my parents and brothers, only for them to toss your handmade gifts to the servants without a second glance." I finally looked at her. My smile didn't reach my eyes. "Sure. As long as you can tame him and make him willing to follow you." "That's easy! There isn't a wild horse I haven't broken!" Blair cheerfully tossed the gold bracelet into my lap. Later, Blair took Rowan away, repeating my exact words to him word-for-word. Rowan seemed heartbroken. I lowered my eyes, refusing to look at him, and mindlessly played with the gold bracelet. 06 I didn't entirely trust Rowan. He was far too obedient in front of me, completely unlike the fierce rival to Declan I remembered from my dreams. How could anyone hand over their absolute loyalty to someone else so quickly and without reservation? I didn't buy it. He needed to be tested. Clara disapproved of my methods. "Since he placed himself in your hands, you owe him the same level of trust. He's your companion, isn't he?" I told her that once he passed the test, I would trust him completely. Clara pressed her hand to the top of my head, like an angel trying to educate a foolish mortal. "But he doesn't know that. He only knows that you broke your promise and abandoned him. Hazel, you aren't testing him. You are hurting him." I didn't fully understand, but Clara was always right. Early the next morning, I hurriedly washed my face and ran toward Blair's courtyard. Trudging through the uncleared snow paths, my dress hem soaked and heavy, I bumped into Declan, who was dressed in a sharp training uniform. "Ha..." He paused. "Miss." I ignored him. He reached out to help me. "The snow is too thick, it's hard to walk. Let me help you." Smack. I slapped his hand away, bristling like a porcupine. "Get lost." Declan froze, his fingers curling inward as his hand dropped. "...Do I displease you that much, Miss? What exactly did I do to offend you?" I kicked at the snow, the biting cold seeping through my boots. "Every single thing about you makes me sick. Move! Stop blocking my way!" Declan smirked slightly. "Is that so." He watched me stumble through the snow for a moment. Then, suddenly, he reached out, scooped me up under his arm, strode effortlessly through the snowdrift, and deposited me onto a dry, sheltered walkway. "Let me go!" I scratched his face, leaving red marks. Once I was steady on my feet, I shoved him hard and glared at him. Unlike his cold, sarcastic demeanor in my dreams, he just laughed and bent down, his eyes looking disturbingly affectionate. "Eat more food, little Miss. Grow up fast. When you're older, you'll like me." In his dreams. After saying that, he crouched down and used his own sleeve to wipe the wet snow off the tips of my boots. This bizarre gesture actually made me freeze in shock. Declan didn't stay long. Uncle Arthur was selecting refugees to train as reserve guards at the military camp today, and he needed to hurry. This was incredibly important. Rowan couldn't miss this opportunity either. I had to go get him. I shook my head, pushing Declan's weird behavior out of my mind, gathered my heavy, wet skirts, and sprinted into Blair's courtyard. I had assumed Blair, lazy as she was, would still be asleep, making it easy to just take Rowan away. But the moment I stepped into the courtyard, I heard her screaming in rage. "I ordered you to kneel! You dare defy me?!" 07 Snow fell from the eaves. It landed silently on the boy's thin, bruised shoulders. He was pinned down by several burly guards, but he absolutely refused to let his other knee touch the ground. Clutched tightly in his bleeding hand was a vicious, barbed iron whip. Those eyes, which had always been so gentle and submissive around me, were now pitch black and terrifying. "I only kneel to the dead." Blair laughed out of sheer fury. She had grown up practicing martial arts with her father and was wild by nature. She let go of the whip and ordered a servant to bring a sword. "That stupid girl really brought back a tough one. Fine. I want to see just how tough you can be today." A servant brought out a heavy broadsword. It was one of Uncle Arthur's battlefield weapons. "Cousin!" I hurried out, compromising for the very first time, and called out to her. "I changed my mind. Give him back to me." Blair looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Huh?" I shoved the gold bracelet back into her chest, roughly pushed past the guards surrounding Rowan, pulled him up, and stood protectively in front of him. To shut Blair up, I even handed over two of my own jade bracelets and promised to do her literature homework for two months. Blair reluctantly let him go, clutching her easy loot and muttering that there was something seriously wrong with my brain. On the way to escort Rowan to the military camp, he didn't say a single word. I thought to myself, Clara was right. I had hurt him. I had always been the one getting hurt by others. But this time, I had become the kind of arrogant, cruel person who threw their weight around. It didn't feel good. I promised to take him under my wing, but I didn't protect him. Just like how my uncle had promised my dying mother he would take care of me, but failed. I had failed too. As we reached the camp gates, Rowan lowered his eyes and walked past me, his tone deliberately formal and distant. "Thank you for escorting me, Miss. Your subordinate will go in now." I didn't know what came over me, but my heart felt like it was stuffed with wet, rotting cotton. I originally just wanted to use him to make Declan miserable. I never intended to treat him like a real companion. Technically speaking, he was just a beggar. A servant. I gave him clothes, food, and a future. I had already been incredibly generous. But I felt awful. Thinking about it deeply, I realized that other than Clara, no one else had ever treated me with such unconditional priority and care. I was too selfish. I didn't want to lose that rare, precious bit of favoritism. The winter sun was slow to rise, casting dim, nervous shadows at our feet. Rowan stopped walking. He looked down. Two stiff, freezing fingers were lightly tugging at his sleeve. "...I'm sorry." I spoke in a tiny voice. "I won't do it again." The cold, desolate wind swept past us in silence. The boy, who seemed to have grown even thinner overnight, had sharp, striking features. His thick eyelashes cast shadows over his eyes, hiding his gaze. I only heard his raspy voice. "You said it. That's the second time. If you push me away again, I will truly get angry." He leaned down slightly, lifting his eyes to stare right into mine. "When I get angry, it's terrifying. Miss, I will eat you alive." Like a starving wolf betrayed by its pack. I thought he was joking, because he was smiling. His dark pupils were clear and completely harmless. So, I smiled back. 08 Rowan entered the military camp. I heard that Uncle Arthur originally didn't want to keep him, either because he looked too frail or simply because I was the one who brought him in. But his reckless, do-or-die performance on the training grounds was impossible to ignore. Uncle Arthur accepted him. The rumors painted him as a blood-soaked brawler, but when I went to see him, he looked perfectly fine. He was neatly dressed and smiled, asking me out for the Winter Festival, proudly announcing he was now a man with a real salary. The Winter Festival was the most important family gathering for the Montgomerys. The whole family went out to see the lantern displays and enjoy the festivities. Clara tried her best to split her attention to watch over me, but she was surrounded by too many people. Her hand would inevitably slip from mine. Eventually, I was left standing alone, watching the lively crowd carry her further and further away from me. But with Rowan, I never felt that kind of loneliness. His eyes were only on me. He held my hand tightly, and no matter how dense the crowd became, he never let go. We walked down the grand avenue, past the arcades, watching acrobats and tightrope walkers. Above us were towering displays of lanterns, paper-mache figures moving like immortals. Growing up on the streets, Rowan knew all sorts of novelties. Whether it was sword swallowers or puppet shows, he could always explain the hidden mechanics behind the illusions. "The most important thing is the eyes." His bright, obsidian eyes looked at me. "Many illusions rely on the eyes helping the magician lie. Exposing them isn't easy, because your own eyes betray you first." Rowan sometimes said profound things like that. I didn't really understand. A massive, brilliantly lit lantern boat shaped like a dragon glided past on the river. I was captivated and leaned over the stone bridge railing to watch. 09 The wealthy always had plenty of pastimes. After the Winter Festival came the Spring Hunt. Spring arrived late this year. It still snowed occasionally, and the grass hadn't fully grown in. But Blair threw a tantrum, insisting on going to the mountains to hunt, so the family indulged her. Looking at the barren, reddish-green landscape of the mountains, I remembered a scene from my dreams. In the dream, I was incredibly bratty, insisting on riding Clara's horse and forcing Declan to hold my reins. But my riding skills were terrible. A sudden blizzard hit, the horse lost its way, and I was carried deep into the desolate woods. Declan had followed me at first, but when he heard Clara calling for me, he abandoned me to go to her. I was attacked by wild dogs and severely traumatized. After that, my temper grew even more volatile, and before I even turned eighteen, I forced Clara to beg Uncle Arthur to arrange my engagement to Declan. The sky was gloomy, and a chilling wind blew. It wasn't good weather. I looked thoughtfully toward the stables. Even though my personality in reality differed slightly from the dream, Clara and I rode identical horses. Why did I insist on switching horses in the dream? The Montgomery brothers were helping Clara pick out a saddle. Blair was exceptionally eager, personally saddling Clara's horse. I walked over and noticed Declan sticking closely to Clara's side. I felt a slight wave of relief. Even though he treated me terribly, he was undeniably good to Clara. If there was danger, he would definitely protect her. But a faint, nagging suspicion pricked at my mind, like a splinter I couldn't quite locate. Watching Clara about to mount her horse, a realization flashed through my brain. Since when was Blair so nice to Clara? She always hated how the family favored Clara over her, their own flesh and blood. My heart tightened. As I stepped forward, I chose to trust my dream-self. To believe that— No matter how bad I was, I would always protect my sister. I ran over and grabbed Clara's reins, looking up at her. "Sister, I like the horse you're riding. Let's trade!"
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