To achieve peace, compromise is a must.

  —GENEVIEVE WINDSONG, MEMOIRS

  ? POV: Genevieve Windsong ?

  I used to be a German highschool girl. Used to be. Past tense. Because, you know—I died.

  And now, I’ve been reborn in a completely different world, living under the name Genevieve Windsong—a princess of a kingdom. Sounds straight out of one of those cliché reincarnation stories, right? Believe me, I’ve read enough to recognize the pattern. The whole thing still feels bizarre, but after spending my childhood adjusting to this new world—where magic is real, by the way—I’ve just learned to roll with it.

  “Your Highness.”

  A soft voice pulled me from the warm embrace of sleep. The owner? A petite maid dressed in a satin gown, its western-inspired cut hugging her figure just right. Alberta Beltracchi—sixteen years old, like me, the only difference between us is her bck hair that is neatly tied and those beautiful natural blue eyes of hers.

  She’s been serving the royal family since she was ten, and she’s almost annoyingly diligent. It’s honestly unfair how cute she looks this early in the morning.

  “Mmm… What?” I groaned, rolling over to face her, my voice thick with sleep.

  She stood by my bedside, back straight, expression perfectly composed despite the absolute disaster that was my bedhead.

  “His Majesty requests an audience with you,” she said, tone dripping with formality, her natural blue eyes eyeing my disheveled countenance.

  Transtion: my dad wants a heart-to-heart. I wouldn’t be shocked if this little chat is about arranging a marriage or something equally thrilling. As obvious as it is, this world is stuck in the 1700s paradigm—the concept of age of consent is basically nonexistent here. Truly a Genshin pyer’s dream.

  Still groggy, I let Alberta guide me to the dresser, barely lifting a finger as she did all the work. All I had to do was raise my arms when she said so, and she slipped me into a perfectly coordinated outfit, her nimble hands tying ribbons and fastening buttons with practiced ease. Ahh~ What a nice routine. Who needs independence when you have a cute personal maid willing to do all the hard work?

  And Alberta was cute—and I will say it over and over again. It showed in her makeup skills, too.

  Of course, modern makeup didn’t exist in this world, but old-school beauty tricks definitely did. Honestly, considering this was basically an alternate Philippines, I half-expected to see people sthering on tuba oil, betel nut stains, or kumkum powder. While kumkum was occasionally used, the more common beauty staples here were zinc oxide, rice powder, and carmine. The more I learned, the more it felt like this world was a strange remix of history.

  As it turned out, I had been reincarnated in the Aethelgard Kingdom—which, geographically speaking, was basically Luzon, just with a massive American and British influence spped on top. If that wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the capital city where the pace and we stood was called Ameriga, not to mention the British (gross) monarchy system.

  “Ugh… Ano kaingan niya?” (Ugh… What does he want?) I muttered, slipping into another nguage without thinking.

  Alberta huffed, tugging lightly at a strand of my hair as she braided it. “It’s rude to speak like that about His Majesty,” she scolded, though her tone was more pyful than stern.

  “Hayaan mo! Wa namang nakakarinig,” (Let it be! No one can hear this anyway,) I said, chuckling.

  In Aethelgard, Tagalog was the predominant nguage, but as royalty—especially as the king’s daughter—I was expected to speak English. It had taken me forever to become fully fluent in Tagalog, but now that I had, it felt so much more natural. It was such a compact nguage, relying a lot on context. Not as ridiculously tight as Japanese or Korean, but still—refreshing.

  Then again, it wasn’t that hard for me to learn. Having visited the Philippines in my past life, plus my photographic memory, made memorization ridiculously easy. I took full advantage of my fresh, reincarnated brain to learn as much as I could about this world. And now? I was living the good life.

  It was thanks to them—my mom and dad from my past life. They worked so hard to raise me before they passed. If not for them, I never would’ve made it through my old life. I never would’ve had the chance to cheat my way through this one…

  “Mom, dad…” I whispered without thinking.

  Alberta must’ve heard me because she paused for a second, then smiled. She probably thought I was sleepily mumbling about the King and Queen.

  She finished dressing me in a Baro’t Saya blouse and skirt, adorned with elegant Cado and Soutach embroideries (It is so cute—it’s my favorite!). Then came the accessories: a golden bracelet, a silver neckce with a diamond centerpiece, a pair of silver earrings, and finally, a golden brooch pinned just below my colrbone.

  I stepped in front of a tall, narrow mirror—a gilded pier mirror, its eborate frame catching the morning light. My creamy attire paired with my long white hair, silvery eyes, and abaster skin, all inherited from my parents… Gurl, I look so pretty. Seriously. I still couldn’t believe this body is all mine!

  Alberta walked to the intricately carved wooden door and pulled it open. “Your Highness.”

  I strolled toward her, and despite knowing full well that royals weren’t required to express gratitude to the middle and lower css, I inclined my head slightly. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  Her lips curled into a small, surprised smile. (She’s so adorable! Can I just marry her?)

  Ahh~ I’m such a kind-hearted girl.

  We walked side by side, as if we were equals, our footsteps echoing in the pace’s narrow corridors.

  Now, I know there aren’t castles in the real Philippines, but in this world? Oh, there definitely was. The American influence was undeniable—high ceilings, grand columns, and sprawling courtyards—but the engravings were really from the Philippines’ culture. Delicate floral and butterfly motifs were carved into the archways and wooden panels, a nod to the local artistry.

  The Philippines was such a pretty country. Well, in history, at least. The st time I checked before I died, the whole pce was a burning circus. Corrupt government, traffic worse than hell, and bodies of water turning into literal sewage. God, at least the beaches were still nice, though.

  Anyway, I was getting sidetracked.

  I snapped out of my thoughts just as we reached a massive window. Sunlight flooded in, illuminating the marble floor in golden hues. I peered outside, gazing over the capital. Ameriga stretched before me—a bustling city filled with old-fashioned buildings, horse-drawn carriages, and well-dressed citizens moving about their daily lives. It was lively, almost picturesque.

  “It’s peaceful here,” I whispered.

  “But our soldiers have been fighting against the southern Empire for almost forty-five years now,” Alberta finished my thought.

  This world’s Philippines was divided into three major powers: the Aethelgard Kingdom (Luzon), the Valorian Empire (Visayas), and the Krasnaya Zaryan Union (Mindanao). While they were supposed to be one nation, they had long since broken apart, each operating as an independent country—isotionist ones, at that. Not once had I heard whispers of economic decline from any of them too, which supported my conjecture.

  As for who started the war? Hell if I knew. It was too complex, even for my mighty brain to dissect.

  But from what I gathered, the Kingdom and the Union had decred the Empire a threat forty-eight years ago. Ever since, they’d been ganging up on them, forming a shaky alliance of necessity to keep the Empire in check.

  Ganging up…

  The phrase made my stomach twist. I quickly shook my head, brushing the thought away.

  Look, I wasn’t heartless or anything, but at the end of the day, this war didn’t directly affect me. I wasn’t a soldier. I wasn’t a general. And I definitely wasn’t about to put my neck on the line for something I barely understood. Besides, I want a peaceful life now!

  “They’re outnumbered…” I muttered under my breath. “We’ll win anyway, even if I don’t do anything.”

  Even as I said it, something about the words felt off. Like I was gaslighting myself.

  …It felt like I was gaslighting myself.

  Why the hell did I even use that word? Our army and popution was bigger. The war should be in our favor. And yet—

  A sharp, intrusive thought sliced through my brain, so visceral I physically winced.

  What if it’s not? I clenched my jaw. Never mind. Forget it.

  I arrived in front of two huge wooden doors where two knights guard it. They bowed their heads before opening the door for me. And inside the office, I can see a regal man with white hair and silver eyes. My father. The King.

  My overthinking died the moment we reached a set of massive wooden doors, fnked by two royal knights. They bowed their heads in acknowledgment before pulling them open, revealing the grand chamber beyond.

  And there, seated behind an ornate wooden desk, was a man with white hair and silver eyes—my father. His Majesty. The King.

  At my arrival, he lifted a hand, gesturing toward Alberta—not as a dismissal, but as a silent order for her to fetch something.

  I let out a small sigh and plopped down onto the English Victorian ottoman across from him.

  “What’s it this time?” I asked, my tone dry.

  To anyone else, it might’ve sounded rude, but behind closed doors? The King preferred casual conversations.

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t seem to miss me.”

  I scoffed. “What? We always see each other at dinner.”

  We ended up ughing.

  …He wasn’t a repcement for my te father. He never could be. But he was a good man. Genuinely. Even after all these years, I’d never once felt like he was a stranger.

  Still, that warmth only sted a moment before His Majesty’s ughter faded, his expression turning far more serious than I liked.

  “I don’t want to waste your time, darling,” he said, voice calm yet heavy. “So I’ll get straight to the point.”

  My stomach churned.

  This is bad.

  Something about his tone—his entire demeanor—sent warning bells ringing in my head. I braced myself for whatever he was about to say.

  Then, he dropped the bomb.

  “It’s about a potential way to end the war,” he said gravely, his gaze locked onto mine. “And you will be the key.”

  ? ? ?

  ? POV: Alberta Beltracchi ?

  The pace’s main hall was busy. Receptionists managed the help desks, royal servants attended to the nobles, and courtiers handled the concerns of common folk. Government officials weaved through the crowd, shuffling between offices with stacks of documents in hand. This was normal.

  Ameriga’s pace wasn’t just a royal residence—it was the heart of Aethelgard’s government. If it ever wasn’t bustling, that would be a cause for concern.

  Earlier, His Majesty had given me a silent order. No words were needed—I understood.

  Fetch someone.

  Someone tied to the recent armistice. Someone who might be one of the keys to ending this forty-five-year war.

  And so, I found myself weaving through the sea of people, my eyes scanning the hall for a particur figure.

  Then, I saw him.

  A young man—tall, straight-backed, his expression unreadable. One of the Princes of the Empire.

  Even as I approached, he didn’t need to turn to know I was there. As though sensing my footsteps amidst the noise, he shifted—his dark, lifeless eyes locking onto mine. It felt like they pierced right through my soul.

  “Princess’ adjudant?” he asked, voice devoid of warmth.

  I blinked. “Eh?”

  “I used the wrong term again…” He let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. “Apologies, ma’am. I meant—are you the princess’s assistant?”

  For a second, I’d been thrown off.

  The way he spoke—it was formal, almost militaristic. It suited him, though. His hollow gaze, his stiff posture, the sharp-cut gray military suit that hugged his slim frame…

  I hadn’t expected it.

  But it was sleek, polished, and refined enough to pass under the King’s scrutiny. That was all that mattered.

  I nodded. “I’ll show you the way.”

  ? ? ?

  ? POV: Genevieve Windsong ?

  “A key…? Me?”

  His Majesty nodded, his expression serious. “Our Kingdom and the Empire have established an armistice four days ago. It concerns a potential way to end the war—or at the very least, to halt the battles along our southern front and their northern border.”

  Armistice? A truce? Now?! Why now?!

  The war had been raging for forty-five years. Why stop now? Something wasn’t right.

  This wasn’t how things worked. Wars like this didn’t just pause—not when both sides had long fallen into the Sunk-cost Falcy. A gambler who had sunk too much into his bets wouldn’t walk away, just as the generals who had spent decades wasting resources wouldn’t settle for anything less than the enemy’s complete annihition.

  It’s logical to seek peace, this situation is just weird…! After all—

  “Why?” I asked, my voice colder than I intended. “We outnumber them. Between us and the Union pressing from the south, we should’ve crushed them years ago.”

  And yet, I’d never questioned it before. Perhaps it was because the battlefield was thousands of kilometers away, or maybe I’d simply chosen to ignore it. It is now that because of an oddity, it came to my attention.

  His Majesty let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. “The truth is, we’re not faring well in the war.”

  Huh…?

  I stared at him, expecting a punchline that never came.

  “For years now,” he continued, “our forces have struggled against the Imperial army. The more time passes, the more dire it gets.”

  Impossible! I scream inwardly. My mind reeled. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

  It defied Lanchester’s Law. The rger force should have an overwhelming advantage, a disproportionate increase in combat effectiveness. If we outnumbered them, then by all logic, we should have wiped them out long ago.

  Even someone who knew nothing about military strategy would notice the inconsistency. A small force should not hold out against a million-strong army. Not without some ridiculous divine intervention. A Bck Swan.

  But His Majesty wasn’t the type to lie about something like this.

  My thoughts spiraled.

  I mean, after all I myself had been reborn—an improbable event, yet not impossible, given the ancient scriptures that proved its existence. It was a matter of trusting those sacred texts. The chances of rebirth were never zero.

  That said, in my timeline, we hadn’t delved deeply into such phenomena, and science and its branches didn’t concern themselves with religious matters. Even if they wanted to investigate, it would be impossible—and unethical—to conduct experiments that would require harming people (we can’t even communicate with the dead if we want to confirm it).

  Argh, I digressed! Nevertheless, that meant…

  My thoughts spiraled further, and a whisper slipped past my lips—

  “Truly rge numbers…?”

  Something must have happened to tilt the scales in their favor.

  Modern wars rarely st over twenty years. Wars that drag on for too long drain resources, manpower, and morale—they crumble under their own weight.

  However, this war—which is taking pce in the 1700s, has been raging on for forty-five damn years. It rivaled the Cold War and Chadian Civil Wars. The sheer sample—or in this case timeframe was staggering, providing ample opportunity for a game-changing event to occur. And occur it must have, for the Empire to survive this long against overwhelming odds.

  Something had altered the course of this war. And a nagging question echoed in my mind: Was the miracle on their side…?

  His Majesty raised his brows. “Did you say something…?”

  I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts. “N–nothing.”

  That’s bad, I almost nerded the fuck out to myself!

  His Majesty cleared his throat. “In any case, you are to be wed to the youngest prince of the Empire.”

  The words were delivered so casually, yet I wasn’t surprised. I had already expected this. Besides, the idea of marrying a prince to end a war? Not the worst trade-off in history. I’d take any prince. Not like I had one in my previous life.

  But His Majesty frowned at my ck of reaction. “Are you truly fine with—”

  “Yeah,” I cut him off with a smile. “I’m not an altruist. But I’ll do my best to be worthy of my title.”

  His Majesty—my father—smiled. He wasn’t a repcement for my past life’s father, and I would never see him that way. But… there was a warmth in his expression that made something deep inside me soften.

  He parted his lips, as if ready to expin more—

  Then the muffled voices from outside grew louder.

  Alberta’s voice, flustered. Strained.

  The sound of boots against marble.

  Then—

  The wooden doors swung open.

  A young man strode into the office, unbothered by Alberta’s desperate attempts to stop him. The knights at the entrance raised their swords, steel gleaming under the chandelier’s light—yet he barely spared them a gnce.

  Dark red hair, unkempt and wild. Eyes as bck as the abyss… and something… wrong.

  I didn’t know what it was. But the moment his gaze locked onto mine, my whole body tensed—a visceral reaction I had no control over.

  This wasn’t the hot and dangerous kind of bad boy you’d find in trashy romance novels. This was something far worse.

  For the first time in a long, long time—

  I felt fear.

  This is bad. He’s dangerous!

  J_Win