alpindale/light-novels · Datasets at Hugging Face

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Arnold’s manner was throwing her off. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He’s laughing. This monstrous prince is…actually laughing.
When she had met him in her other life, he was cold and merciless, like a genuine monster. And yet here he stood, mellow and smiling.
The Emperor Arnold Hein I knew was twenty-four years old, so he’s, what? Nineteen now? This is so weird. He’s grinning like a boy getting into a scrape.
That attack had been good-natured as well, almost playful. It had muscle behind it but certainly not any lethal intent. He’d just wanted to force Rishe to catch the blow. She found it unbelievable that he could exude such an overpowering air of menace when he was just messing around.
While Rishe was focused on Arnold, Mary and Dietrich caught up, seemingly recovered.
“Excuse me, my lord!” Mary squeaked. “I-I-I don’t know who you are, but kindly step away from Lady Rishe!”
“Yes, do as she says! Who the hell are you, anyway?!”
Don’t tell me Prince Dietrich doesn’t recognize one of his personal guests.
Dietrich’s interests did not lean toward diplomacy; he likely hadn’t bothered to introduce himself to Arnold. Mary, for her part, seemed to grasp that Arnold wasn’t ordinary. She stood up to defend Rishe, despite the tremble in her voice. In a better world, perhaps the two of them could have become friends.
“That’s your ex-fiancé?” Arnold cocked a brow. “He’s even worse than I imagined. Pathetic.”
Dietrich flushed. “I’ll have your head!”
“Dietrich, I beg of you, contain yourself,” Rishe said, then rounded on Arnold. “As for you, Your Highness—you know who Dietrich is, and you know what speaking carelessly could mean. Are you trying to pick a fight?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Arnold’s brows lifted high, making him the picture of innocence. “Believe me, Lady Rishe, every word I speak is chosen with extreme care.”
Finally realizing who Arnold was, Dietrich visibly paled. “Arnold? He’s the crown prince of Galkhein?”
Mary yelped. The knights stood down, shamefaced. The gossip-hungry neighbors who’d gathered to witness a scandal play out drew back in fear.
“He’s the demon prince? The one who single-handedly destroyed a whole order of enemy knights?”
“Watch your tongue, fool! Do you want him to do the same to you?”
The two nations enjoyed peaceful relations, but Arnold remained the dreaded prince, heir to the throne of a former enemy. Current rumor wasn’t as widespread as it would be in five years, but he was still regarded with distrust.
The onlookers stood rooted to the spot, too terrified to flee.
Well, this has devolved into a full-fledged disaster.
Rishe heaved a frustrated sigh. “Prince Arnold, to what do we owe this honor? Surely a crown prince would not draw his sword for a mere jest.”
“I’m here on business,” Arnold said. “But first, I must beg forgiveness for my rudeness.”
Huh, what do you know? Once he became emperor, he’d gladly behead any subject who so much as dared speak a word against him.
I guess at nineteen he still knew how to apologize.
If that surprised her, Arnold’s next act completely obliterated her sense of reality.
With a flourish, he fell to his knees.
“Huh?” Is this actually happening?
He was a man destined for an imperial crown. A man who would stand at the head of a military powerhouse and spread his rule across continents.
Arnold, known for his frigid pride, knelt to the disgraced daughter of a duke.
And not only that—his head was bowed, looking nothing so much as a knight swearing allegiance to his lady. If it were anyone else, it would be a delightful, pious image. Instead, the assembled looked on in terrified awe.
Not Rishe, though.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get up!”
“I’m apologizing for my baseless impertinence. Also, I’m asking you…” He trailed off to take Rishe’s hand, tugging her forward so forcefully she staggered. He gazed up at her.
Ugh. He’s so beautiful. No matter how many times she looked at him, it didn’t become any less disarming. Long eyelashes, arched brows, a noble nose. His bright blue eyes reminded her of the drift ice she’d seen in a northern kingdom, gazing out from a ship in one of her past lives. She knew she was dwelling on this to buy time, even as the reality before her sank in.
“…to become my wife.”
She froze, unable to process the words. “What?” Rishe glanced around, desperately searching the faces of the crowd. They all seemed as stunned as she felt. She looked down at Arnold again. “Your wife?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You want me to become your wife?”
“Yes.”
Rishe couldn’t speak. This was truly happening. It was real. It clicked into place in her head, and she let out a strangled grunt.
What is going on? Why is this happening?
Shock lapped at her, fuzzing at the corners of her vision. He wanted to marry her. Arnold wanted to marry Rishe. Her murderer wanted to marry her.
Why is he doing this? He must have some ulterior motive, a broader goal. But I have to give him an answer.
The onlookers were holding their breath as Rishe said flatly, “I reject your proposal.”
Arnold said nothing.
She had to reject him. She was going to live a long, peaceful, carefree life, damn it, and no one would stop her. And yet…
Arnold began to laugh, and the deep, creeping sense of dread inside Rishe only grew. Why does he seem so amused by this?!

***

Her previous life was her sixth. Disguised as a man, Rishe rose as a warrior of an island country she came upon in her travels. It was a conventional yet charming kingdom formed of red brick. After striking up a friendship with a group of knights who didn’t realize she was a woman, Rishe followed their advice and joined them.
The training was grueling enough to make her wish she were dead. Back when she had lived as a noble, she’d learned how to wield a sword for basic self-defense, but training as a noble lady had in no way prepared her for this. She drilled relentlessly, barely taking the time to sleep. Just as she became a full-fledged knight, Emperor Arnold’s forces lay siege to the castle.

***

How could this happen?
In her seventh life, Rishe wearily sank into her chair. Across from her sat Arnold, his legs crossed and chin propped up on his hand, watching her lazily.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You seem unhappy.”
“You could say that.” Even her voice was grumpy. Still, she couldn’t very well tell him it was because she bore a grudge from a previous life. After the first time her life rewound to that pivotal moment, she’d resolved to keep her loops a secret. “I had plans for my exile. A brand-new life. And now because of you, my parents are involved. Even the king has heard about it!”
After Rishe rejected Arnold, Dietrich had immediately cried out, “Th-the crown prince of Galkhein proposed to Rishe?!”
His shrieks were loud enough to attract the attention of the master and mistress of the manor.
When her parents came out, Rishe had protested, “I’m not going to marry him! I’m leaving the country just as Dietrich commanded.”
No one listened. Their faces just paled with nervous confusion.
Just then, a glittering coach arrived. Half-stuck in the mud, the man inside it was forced to trudge over the swampy ground, and so the king of Hermity himself arrived, staggering and dirt-stained.
He grabbed hold of his son’s collar, pushing him into a low bow. He then turned to Prince Arnold and said, rather loudly, “Your Highness! Allow me to apologize for my son’s foolishness! You are an esteemed guest all the way from Galkhein! It is unthinkable he would not offer you the courtesy you are due!”
“You’re hurting me, Father! My back!”
The king then turned to Rishe. “My lady, allow me to sincerely apologize as both a king and a father. My son’s behavior toward you has been utterly disgraceful. I beg you to please give Prince Arnold’s proposal due consideration. Not only for your own sake but for the sake of your country.”
The king bowed to her as deeply as his son had to Arnold, and her parents joined him. Rishe felt dizzy at the sight of this abject debasement in the presence of citizens.
Arnold, who had been watching the proceedings with a detached amusement, sobered and stepped toward the king. “Your Majesty, please rise.”
Without the smirk, Arnold’s face immediately reverted to its cold mask. The king didn’t move. Maybe something in Arnold’s voice kept him frozen.
“Such a trifle won’t cause discord between our kingdoms,” he went on. “However, I would beg a little time to speak with Lady Rishe.”
Later, Rishe would learn that Arnold’s attendant had spoken to the king’s own gentleman, certain that his words would reach their target. “My master took such trouble to attend these festivities, and this is the welcome he is offered? I wonder, what will the emperor think when he learns of his son’s slighting at your nation’s hands?”
“If you would, Lady Rishe?” The plump king looked to be on the verge of tears.
Rishe had no obligation to accept and no desire to spend a moment longer in this country than was absolutely necessary. But acquiescence seemed the fastest way to move things along.
As her mind whirled, Arnold leaned in to whisper, “If you refuse to hear my suit, you won’t deter me. I’ll simply move on to Plan B.”
And that was how she found herself in one of the palace’s parlors, here to “just talk” to Prince Arnold. The ball guests were all gone. It was just the two of them.
“I want to know what you’re planning,” Rishe said flatly.
“Planning? Me?”
“By asking me to marry you. You don’t know me. A proposal like this wouldn’t come out of the blue.”
This man was destined to become an aggressive warmonger over the next few years. He wouldn’t do anything without a dozen motives.
Prince Arnold just smiled. “I have no plans. I’m simply enamored with you.”
“Enamored…?”
That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Asking him to elaborate didn’t seem worth the breath—he was obviously lying. As if this ruthless, inhuman creature with ice in his veins could feel even a flicker of affection.
“Why refuse me?” Arnold asked. “Your engagement is broken, you’re on the verge of exile, and you have no faction or supporters. At this rate, you’ll be dead within a fortnight. I’d call my offer a stroke of unbelievable fortune.”
“You’re not wrong,” Rishe admitted. “Once upon a time, I would have jumped at your offer.”
If it had been made in her first life, for instance. But now Rishe knew better. Her life was only just getting started, and the future held endless possibilities. After the horror of her sixth loop, she yearned for freedom.
I don’t want to marry him. I won’t be anyone’s captive. Still…
Rishe, more than anyone, knew that the slightest adjustment could enact profound changes on the trajectory of a life. No doubt she’d have many more lives, but this could be the only one where marriage to Arnold would be an option.
The dread emperor. The tyrant. The man who will stoke the fires of war.
Rishe knew the gossip, the endless conjecture behind Arnold Hein’s bloody reign, but she didn’t know the truth.
Why? The question had haunted her since her first life. She’d never before had the chance to even speak to him.
She had wondered it as a merchant, hearing of the distant outbreak of war. She’d wondered when the news of the dead and dying reached her apothecary. When she had comforted her terrified mistress in her life as a maid, assuring her everything would be all right. When she squared off against him in battle, as he plunged a sword through her heart—even then she wondered.
If I stick around, maybe I’ll finally have my answer. Half of her was dying to know. The other half didn’t give a damn. And yet…
She recalled a childhood dream. Rather, a longing.
Rishe let out a breath. “You claim you are enamored with me.”
“Yes. I am completely under your spell.”
To think he could spout such nonsense with a straight face!
“Then will you grant me anything I desire?”
“So long as it is within my power,” Arnold said. “Anything you want will be yours.”
Rishe hesitated, gathering her thoughts. “I have some conditions.” Arnold silently motioned for her to go on. “I want full control over the wedding festivities. Everything must be procured through merchants of my choosing.”

Arnold’s manner was throwing her off. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He’s laughing. This monstrous prince is…actually laughing.

When she had met him in her other life, he was cold and merciless, like a genuine monster. And yet here he stood, mellow and smiling.

The Emperor Arnold Hein I knew was twenty-four years old, so he’s, what? Nineteen now? This is so weird. He’s grinning like a boy getting into a scrape.

That attack had been good-natured as well, almost playful. It had muscle behind it but certainly not any lethal intent. He’d just wanted to force Rishe to catch the blow. She found it unbelievable that he could exude such an overpowering air of menace when he was just messing around.

While Rishe was focused on Arnold, Mary and Dietrich caught up, seemingly recovered.

“Excuse me, my lord!” Mary squeaked. “I-I-I don’t know who you are, but kindly step away from Lady Rishe!”

“Yes, do as she says! Who the hell are you, anyway?!”

Don’t tell me Prince Dietrich doesn’t recognize one of his personal guests.

Dietrich’s interests did not lean toward diplomacy; he likely hadn’t bothered to introduce himself to Arnold. Mary, for her part, seemed to grasp that Arnold wasn’t ordinary. She stood up to defend Rishe, despite the tremble in her voice. In a better world, perhaps the two of them could have become friends.

“That’s your ex-fiancé?” Arnold cocked a brow. “He’s even worse than I imagined. Pathetic.”

Dietrich flushed. “I’ll have your head!”

“Dietrich, I beg of you, contain yourself,” Rishe said, then rounded on Arnold. “As for you, Your Highness—you know who Dietrich is, and you know what speaking carelessly could mean. Are you trying to pick a fight?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Arnold’s brows lifted high, making him the picture of innocence. “Believe me, Lady Rishe, every word I speak is chosen with extreme care.”

Finally realizing who Arnold was, Dietrich visibly paled. “Arnold? He’s the crown prince of Galkhein?”

Mary yelped. The knights stood down, shamefaced. The gossip-hungry neighbors who’d gathered to witness a scandal play out drew back in fear.

“He’s the demon prince? The one who single-handedly destroyed a whole order of enemy knights?”

“Watch your tongue, fool! Do you want him to do the same to you?”

The two nations enjoyed peaceful relations, but Arnold remained the dreaded prince, heir to the throne of a former enemy. Current rumor wasn’t as widespread as it would be in five years, but he was still regarded with distrust.

The onlookers stood rooted to the spot, too terrified to flee.

Well, this has devolved into a full-fledged disaster.

Rishe heaved a frustrated sigh. “Prince Arnold, to what do we owe this honor? Surely a crown prince would not draw his sword for a mere jest.”

“I’m here on business,” Arnold said. “But first, I must beg forgiveness for my rudeness.”

Huh, what do you know? Once he became emperor, he’d gladly behead any subject who so much as dared speak a word against him.

I guess at nineteen he still knew how to apologize.

If that surprised her, Arnold’s next act completely obliterated her sense of reality.

With a flourish, he fell to his knees.

“Huh?” Is this actually happening?

He was a man destined for an imperial crown. A man who would stand at the head of a military powerhouse and spread his rule across continents.

Arnold, known for his frigid pride, knelt to the disgraced daughter of a duke.

And not only that—his head was bowed, looking nothing so much as a knight swearing allegiance to his lady. If it were anyone else, it would be a delightful, pious image. Instead, the assembled looked on in terrified awe.

Not Rishe, though.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get up!”

“I’m apologizing for my baseless impertinence. Also, I’m asking you…” He trailed off to take Rishe’s hand, tugging her forward so forcefully she staggered. He gazed up at her.

Ugh. He’s so beautiful. No matter how many times she looked at him, it didn’t become any less disarming. Long eyelashes, arched brows, a noble nose. His bright blue eyes reminded her of the drift ice she’d seen in a northern kingdom, gazing out from a ship in one of her past lives. She knew she was dwelling on this to buy time, even as the reality before her sank in.

“…to become my wife.”

She froze, unable to process the words. “What?” Rishe glanced around, desperately searching the faces of the crowd. They all seemed as stunned as she felt. She looked down at Arnold again. “Your wife?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You want me to become your wife?”

“Yes.”

Rishe couldn’t speak. This was truly happening. It was real. It clicked into place in her head, and she let out a strangled grunt.

What is going on? Why is this happening?

Shock lapped at her, fuzzing at the corners of her vision. He wanted to marry her. Arnold wanted to marry Rishe. Her murderer wanted to marry her.

Why is he doing this? He must have some ulterior motive, a broader goal. But I have to give him an answer.

The onlookers were holding their breath as Rishe said flatly, “I reject your proposal.”

Arnold said nothing.

She had to reject him. She was going to live a long, peaceful, carefree life, damn it, and no one would stop her. And yet…

Arnold began to laugh, and the deep, creeping sense of dread inside Rishe only grew. Why does he seem so amused by this?!

***

Her previous life was her sixth. Disguised as a man, Rishe rose as a warrior of an island country she came upon in her travels. It was a conventional yet charming kingdom formed of red brick. After striking up a friendship with a group of knights who didn’t realize she was a woman, Rishe followed their advice and joined them.

The training was grueling enough to make her wish she were dead. Back when she had lived as a noble, she’d learned how to wield a sword for basic self-defense, but training as a noble lady had in no way prepared her for this. She drilled relentlessly, barely taking the time to sleep. Just as she became a full-fledged knight, Emperor Arnold’s forces lay siege to the castle.

***

How could this happen?

In her seventh life, Rishe wearily sank into her chair. Across from her sat Arnold, his legs crossed and chin propped up on his hand, watching her lazily.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You seem unhappy.”

“You could say that.” Even her voice was grumpy. Still, she couldn’t very well tell him it was because she bore a grudge from a previous life. After the first time her life rewound to that pivotal moment, she’d resolved to keep her loops a secret. “I had plans for my exile. A brand-new life. And now because of you, my parents are involved. Even the king has heard about it!”

After Rishe rejected Arnold, Dietrich had immediately cried out, “Th-the crown prince of Galkhein proposed to Rishe?!”

His shrieks were loud enough to attract the attention of the master and mistress of the manor.

When her parents came out, Rishe had protested, “I’m not going to marry him! I’m leaving the country just as Dietrich commanded.”

No one listened. Their faces just paled with nervous confusion.

Just then, a glittering coach arrived. Half-stuck in the mud, the man inside it was forced to trudge over the swampy ground, and so the king of Hermity himself arrived, staggering and dirt-stained.

He grabbed hold of his son’s collar, pushing him into a low bow. He then turned to Prince Arnold and said, rather loudly, “Your Highness! Allow me to apologize for my son’s foolishness! You are an esteemed guest all the way from Galkhein! It is unthinkable he would not offer you the courtesy you are due!”

“You’re hurting me, Father! My back!”

The king then turned to Rishe. “My lady, allow me to sincerely apologize as both a king and a father. My son’s behavior toward you has been utterly disgraceful. I beg you to please give Prince Arnold’s proposal due consideration. Not only for your own sake but for the sake of your country.”

The king bowed to her as deeply as his son had to Arnold, and her parents joined him. Rishe felt dizzy at the sight of this abject debasement in the presence of citizens.

Arnold, who had been watching the proceedings with a detached amusement, sobered and stepped toward the king. “Your Majesty, please rise.”

Without the smirk, Arnold’s face immediately reverted to its cold mask. The king didn’t move. Maybe something in Arnold’s voice kept him frozen.

“Such a trifle won’t cause discord between our kingdoms,” he went on. “However, I would beg a little time to speak with Lady Rishe.”

Later, Rishe would learn that Arnold’s attendant had spoken to the king’s own gentleman, certain that his words would reach their target. “My master took such trouble to attend these festivities, and this is the welcome he is offered? I wonder, what will the emperor think when he learns of his son’s slighting at your nation’s hands?”

“If you would, Lady Rishe?” The plump king looked to be on the verge of tears.

Rishe had no obligation to accept and no desire to spend a moment longer in this country than was absolutely necessary. But acquiescence seemed the fastest way to move things along.

As her mind whirled, Arnold leaned in to whisper, “If you refuse to hear my suit, you won’t deter me. I’ll simply move on to Plan B.”

And that was how she found herself in one of the palace’s parlors, here to “just talk” to Prince Arnold. The ball guests were all gone. It was just the two of them.

“I want to know what you’re planning,” Rishe said flatly.

“Planning? Me?”

“By asking me to marry you. You don’t know me. A proposal like this wouldn’t come out of the blue.”

This man was destined to become an aggressive warmonger over the next few years. He wouldn’t do anything without a dozen motives.

Prince Arnold just smiled. “I have no plans. I’m simply enamored with you.”

“Enamored…?”

That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Asking him to elaborate didn’t seem worth the breath—he was obviously lying. As if this ruthless, inhuman creature with ice in his veins could feel even a flicker of affection.

“Why refuse me?” Arnold asked. “Your engagement is broken, you’re on the verge of exile, and you have no faction or supporters. At this rate, you’ll be dead within a fortnight. I’d call my offer a stroke of unbelievable fortune.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rishe admitted. “Once upon a time, I would have jumped at your offer.”

If it had been made in her first life, for instance. But now Rishe knew better. Her life was only just getting started, and the future held endless possibilities. After the horror of her sixth loop, she yearned for freedom.

I don’t want to marry him. I won’t be anyone’s captive. Still…

Rishe, more than anyone, knew that the slightest adjustment could enact profound changes on the trajectory of a life. No doubt she’d have many more lives, but this could be the only one where marriage to Arnold would be an option.

The dread emperor. The tyrant. The man who will stoke the fires of war.

Rishe knew the gossip, the endless conjecture behind Arnold Hein’s bloody reign, but she didn’t know the truth.

Why? The question had haunted her since her first life. She’d never before had the chance to even speak to him.

She had wondered it as a merchant, hearing of the distant outbreak of war. She’d wondered when the news of the dead and dying reached her apothecary. When she had comforted her terrified mistress in her life as a maid, assuring her everything would be all right. When she squared off against him in battle, as he plunged a sword through her heart—even then she wondered.

If I stick around, maybe I’ll finally have my answer. Half of her was dying to know. The other half didn’t give a damn. And yet…

She recalled a childhood dream. Rather, a longing.

Rishe let out a breath. “You claim you are enamored with me.”

“Yes. I am completely under your spell.”

To think he could spout such nonsense with a straight face!

“Then will you grant me anything I desire?”

“So long as it is within my power,” Arnold said. “Anything you want will be yours.”

Rishe hesitated, gathering her thoughts. “I have some conditions.” Arnold silently motioned for her to go on. “I want full control over the wedding festivities. Everything must be procured through merchants of my choosing.”