Freyer hurried back to the Imperial Palace and locked himself inside his private study. Running a shaking hand through his silver hair, his mind whirled with a chaotic storm of emotions. He squeezed his eyes shut, replaying his encounter with the honey-haired girl from the night before. While she only shared a passing resemblance to his late mother, he hadn’t expected the interaction to leave him feeling such profound despair.
Would my life have been different if she had stayed by my side?
He wondered if the suffocating anguish would simply evaporate if the mysterious woman remained with him.
A heavy shadow draped over Freyer’s shoulders, making his tall frame look suddenly fragile. Carefully, he retrieved the black ribbon from his pocket and placed it inside a small, gold-wrought, three-legged jewelry box resting on his desk.
“What on earth am I supposed to do now…”
Freyer pressed his fingertips firmly against his aching eyelids. Behind the veil of darkness, her image burned into his mind with terrifying clarity.
Her radiant, lemon-gold hair. Her striking violet eyes staring straight into his. Her soft, parted lips moving to whisper his name.
“Freyer! I hope you’ll be happy.”
The vividness of the memory stabbed straight at his heart. Ever since he had been branded with the imperial name, he felt as though everything worthwhile had been ripped away from him, leaving happiness as elusive as sand slipping through his fingers. He had been a fool to think he could easily hold onto the one light that had broken through his darkness.
“Why didn’t I even ask for her name?”
Regret gnawed at him relentlessly, the suffocating wave of remorse pressing down on his chest. Freyer unbuttoned the top collar of his shirt, gasping for a breath of air.
Though a tiny part of him desperately hoped she might somehow track him down, he knew it was likely a foolish pipe dream. Freyer snapped the lid of the jewelry box shut, locking the ribbon safely inside like a priceless artifact. Staring out the window at the pitch-black sky—the exact mirror image of his desolate soul—he whispered into the empty room:
“It’s selfish of me… but I truly wish she would come find me.”
Returning hurriedly to the manor, I stepped out of the carriage only to freeze in utter bewilderment. Stacks upon stacks of heavy luggage were piled high near the entrance. The chaotic scene looked less like a noble estate and more like a mass evacuation zone.
What on earth is going on here?
I spotted Baron Baimery and Norman conversing nearby, both wearing grim, anxious expressions. I cautiously made my way over. The Baron, who had just let out a heavy sigh, looked down at me with a complicated, apologetic gaze.
“Lilithia, you’re back. I sent for you because I have bad news—I need to leave for the neighboring country immediately.”
“Pardon? Right this second? You explicitly said you had several more days before departure.”
It felt like a lightning bolt had struck me out of nowhere. I opened my mouth to argue, but seeing the exhaustion etched into the Baron’s face, my words died in my throat.
“Word just reached us that a horde of monsters is descending on the main trade route, and the mountain pass is about to be sealed off. Since our cargo wagons are too heavy for the teleportation gate, we have no choice but to move up the travel schedule.”
As the Baron anxiously chewed his lower lip, Norman stepped forward.
“My Lord, all the inventory crates have been successfully loaded onto the transport carriages.”
“Very well.”
I glanced around. The massive piles of goods that had cluttered the courtyard moments ago were completely gone. The Baron’s eyes were shadowed with stress, but he forced a reassuring smile and took both of my hands in his.
“I’m leaving the Trade Guild entirely in your hands until I return. I deeply regret placing such a massive burden on your shoulders…”
I looked down at his thick, calloused hands. I could feel a faint tremor in his grip. The crushing weight of managing a family estate and a struggling trade guild all at once must be unbearable.
Knowing that no comforting words could instantly fix this crisis, I swallowed my panic, put on the brightest, most encouraging smile I could muster, and squeezed his hands back.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Father. Just leave it to me.”
“I’ll try to check in via the magical communication device whenever possible.”
“Yes, please do!”
Slowly, the Baron’s warm, heavy hands slipped out of mine.
“I’ll be back before you know it, Lilithia.”
The Baron turned and climbed into the lead carriage. With a sharp crack of the whip, the vehicle rolled forward, quickly disappearing beyond the iron gates of the estate.
The noisy commotion of the departure faded into an eerie, heavy silence. Only a few dust motes kicked up by the wheels drifted idly in the air. As I stood staring blankly down the empty road, Norman gently spoke up.
“Miss, let’s head back inside. The wind is getting cold.”
“Ah… right.”
As I walked slowly back toward the manor, I cast one last lingering look toward the horizon.
The image of the Baron, buckling under the weight of his responsibilities, stayed burned into my mind. His parting look of concern for me and his loyal staff was unforgettable.
The employees nearby watched me quietly, looking somewhat worried.
“Miss?”
I looked around at the staff members standing in the courtyard. Transmigrating into this world as Lilithia had honestly felt like winning a lottery ticket. For the first time, I had experienced genuine warmth, and I had a surrogate family who truly cared about me. On top of that, I had been handed the comfortable, privileged life of a noble young lady.
Until now, I had treated running the family Trade Guild as a mere temporary inconvenience—a minor side quest in my new life.
I was being completely naive.
Since the Baron had mentioned keeping in touch via the communicator, I had foolishly assumed I could just coast through the position. A sudden wave of shame washed over me for trying to dodge the responsibilities of my new reality. I clenched my fists tightly and made a silent vow to myself.
If I’m going to live as Lilithia, I’m going to do it right so I don’t have any regrets!
Naturally, I still had zero intention of working myself to death like in my past life. But once I got this business crisis under control, a peaceful, wealthy lifestyle would surely follow.
I turned back to the employees and flashed them a confident, reassuring grin.
“Shall we head inside?”
Several days rolled by since the Baron’s departure. Sitting alone at the Guild Master’s desk deep in paperwork, I let out a soul-crushing sigh.
“What on earth am I supposed to do with all this dead inventory?”
My number one priority for living a successful, regret-free life was turning the family Trade Guild around. The Baimery Barony was a minor noble house, and while the Baron had poured his heart into running the guild, it was currently lacking any real market value.
A few days prior, I had toured the guild’s ground-floor showroom to inspect our stock. Most of what was displayed consisted of cheap black teas, unidentified dried plants, and generic cosmetic powders.
When Carrie, one of the guild clerks, had led me down to the underground storage cellar, my jaw had literally hit the floor. The massive underground vault was packed to the absolute ceiling with towering stacks of wooden crates. Clinging to a desperate shred of hope, I had turned to Carrie and asked:
“So, Carrie… is all of this stock actually selling well?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
Seeing Carrie’s enthusiastic nod, I initially thought I had been worrying over nothing.
Maybe these are all high-demand core products, which is why we’re bulk-storing them?
Full of naive anticipation, I had stationed myself proudly behind the ground-floor counter the next day.
The second a customer walks through that door, I’m going to make a sale!
A few hours later, I understood the true meaning of despair.
“Not a single stray fly even buzzed past the door.”
From the crack of dawn straight through to sunset, not one single customer crossed the threshold. Unable to process the grim reality, I buried my face in my hands.
Carrie hurried over, looking deeply concerned.
“Miss! Are you feeling unwell…?”
“Carrie, be honest with me. Is the shop usually this utterly dead?”
“Hmm… well, generally speaking, yes?”
Unable to form a coherent response to her cheerful admission, I had dragged my exhausted body back to the manor.
“Why are we completely failing to draw customers?”
The guild house was located right in the heart of the bustling commercial district, surrounded by heavy foot traffic.
“It definitely isn’t a bad location problem.”
As I sat there drowning in self-pity, a sudden roar of cheers erupted from the street outside my window, pulling me out of my spiral.
Startled by the noise, I rushed to the window and peered down. A massive, roaring crowd lined the streets, all looking down the main avenue. Following their gaze, my eyes widened in shock.
Is that the Crown Prince?
Glossy, jet-black hair. Soft, wave-like blue eyes. A sun-kissed, glowing complexion. A towering physique encased in gleaming silver-white armor, exuding an aura of absolute authority.
These unmistakable traits could only belong to one person.
Crown Prince Ivailo Lundberg—the main male protagonist of the original novel The Duke’s Daughter Has Returned—had successfully crushed the northern rebellion and returned in glory. Marching right behind him was an elite phalanx of royal knights.
“All hail His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince! Welcome home safe!”
The crowd erupted into deafening applause and adoring cheers. Ivailo acknowledged the adulation with a confident, charismatic smile and a crisp military salute, leisurely riding his stallion toward the Imperial Palace.
“Oh crap, I completely spaced out…”
Buried alive under the disaster that was the Baimery Trade Guild, I had completely forgotten my second major objective: making sure Freyer didn’t stumble into his tragic original fate.
I had been agonizing over this exact plot point for days.
How on earth am I supposed to alter Freyer’s scripted destiny?
Let’s trace the key players:
The original female lead: Nazlee.
The original male lead: Crown Prince Ivailo.
The second male lead (my absolute favorite): Freyer.
I tapped my fingernails nervously against the desk, staring at the names I had jotted down on a piece of scrap paper.
“The most straightforward fix is pairing Freyer and Nazlee up directly.”
I clutched my head in frustration. Their canonical first meeting takes place at the grand victory banquet hosted right after the Crown Prince returns from the northern campaign.
At that exact banquet, Freyer spots Nazlee and falls instantly, helplessly in love with her. However, his unrequited devotion is doomed from the start.
Why? Because during the banquet, Nazlee is cornered by an assassination attempt, and Crown Prince Ivailo swoops in to save her heroically, instantly winning her heart. Freyer rushes to the scene upon hearing her scream, but he arrives one crucial step too late.
“If Freyer were the one to rescue Nazlee instead, she’d fall for him, right?”
In the original plot, Nazlee only gravitated toward the Crown Prince because he was her savior.
“Which means the Crown Prince is the ultimate obstacle here…”
Even if I tried to stay out of it, I had to physically prevent Ivailo from being at that specific spot during the banquet. I drew a vicious, angry circle around the Crown Prince’s name.
“I guess I’m going to have to spill an entire glass of red wine all over the Crown Prince’s formal uniform to distract him so he misses the incident! There’s literally no other choice.”
Finishing my strategic layout, my eyes drifted back to the communication device sitting quietly on the desk.
“My dad promised to check in using this thing, but I still haven’t heard a single word from him.”
Without guidance from the Baron, I had no idea how to pull the Trade Guild out of its nosedive. But leaning against the windowsill and watching the Crown Prince’s procession vanish into the palace gates, I steeled my resolve.
“First things first: I need to execute the Freyer intervention plan.”
And who knows? Maybe saving Freyer at the royal banquet would spark an idea on how to save my failing family business, too.
And thus, the preliminary operations for rewriting Freyer’s destiny officially began.