It seems She has Become the First Love of the Impenetrable, Iron-Hearted Male Protagonist

Chapter 1.2 - Rosevelia Winters



Since today was the last day of the festival, the night he referred to would have been exactly four days ago.

I discreetly bit my lower lip. Though it was only four days ago, I had no memory of that night.

What excuse should I give? Should I insist I was drunk and remember nothing?

“Well… you know how some people don’t show it even when they’re drunk?”

I forced a smile, but Ian’s expression hardened instantly.

“Did you forget? Or do you want to forget?”

“No, I just… I’d rather pretend it didn’t happen.”

Was I too blunt?

As my gaze met Ian’s trembling eyes, I quickly looked away.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”

“….”

“That fleeting moment when I shared breath with you—I can’t forget it.”

Wait, what? Shared what?

“I have no intention of letting it go unanswered. Even if it’s a rejection, I need a proper response. Avoiding it like this… it’s not like you, senior.”

Wait, what response?

Junior knight? Or should I say original male lead? I have no idea what you’re talking about!

While I desperately held back the words threatening to spill from my tongue, Ian gave a short bow and left the training ground.

It was only after his presence disappeared completely that I clutched my head.

Let’s think about this calmly.

“So, on the eve of the festival… something must have happened…”

I understood it logically. The problem was that I had only woken up in this body three days ago.

In other words, I had no memory of the festival’s eve.

Yet the male lead from the original story was now pressing me for an answer about a day I knew nothing about.

I was already doomed, wasn’t I?

Wait, weren’t the two of you supposed to have a terrible relationship in the original story?

“What exactly happened between you two?”

“Miss, what would you like for your meal?”

As I stepped out of the bathroom, a maid dressed in her uniform approached and asked.

“Could you bring it to me?”

“Yes, of course. Please wait a moment.”

As soon as the door closed, I let out a faint sigh and perched on the edge of the bed.

When I slowly lay back, a mix of soft comfort and an oddly unfamiliar sensation washed over me.

“This awkwardness… it’s only natural, isn’t it?”

I quietly revisited the events of a few days ago. That day…

“Do you want to disappear like this too?”

That voice echoed in my mind the moment I realized I was lying on cold asphalt.

The sound of an engine urgently fading into the distance reached my ears, but no footsteps approached.

I couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from. All I could sense was its presence, clear and direct, as though it was speaking solely to me.

“Shall I make you a proposal?”

Writhing in pain, I had barely managed to open my eyes. In the darkness, where everything seemed extinguished, I thought I glimpsed a faint light for a fleeting moment.

“Would you like to live the life you’ve always wanted?”

It wasn’t a particularly fulfilling life. Once, I had believed I was special, that I stood in the very center of the world.

But that was my arrogant delusion.

Even when I lost my mother and grandmother in succession, even when I had to quit fencing after an injury just before entering high school, I had pushed through stubbornly.

All I wanted was to be acknowledged by my father and stepmother. I worked so hard for that recognition…

But when I realized I was nothing more than a pawn on their chessboard, my life turned into an endless shadow.

I had begun to wonder if I was living a failed life.

And yet, was it a vestige of my will to live? Did I cling to life, even as I pretended not to care?

Before I could fully understand the meaning behind the question, I summoned all my remaining strength to clench my hand into a fist.

“That’s answer enough.”

In that moment, a warm energy enveloped me. All the pain disappeared, and when I opened my eyes, I was in this world.

The world of a book I had read dozens of times, The Flower That Bloomed That Winter.

The plot of the original story was simple: the female protagonist, Daisy, harbors an unrequited love for the male lead, Ian.

Daisy, who is terminally ill, falls for Ian after he accidentally helps her, but Ian shows no interest in her.

In fact, Ian was infamous in the original story for keeping his distance from all women, not just Daisy.

Even after becoming the crown prince and eventually ascending the throne, his side remained conspicuously empty.

The original story ended tragically, with Daisy continuing her unrequited love for Ian, who died on the battlefield, followed by Daisy’s own death. A sad ending.

That’s why, when I read the original story, I rooted for Edwin, the second male lead who loved Daisy.

 

“The characters I liked in this book were Daisy, Edwin, and…”

The original owner of this body.

“Rosevelia.”

The sound of my voice, slipping through my lips, still felt unfamiliar. Goosebumps prickled up my arms.

Rosevelia Winters.

In the original story, she was merely a supporting character, but within the world’s lore, she was its strongest.

A member of the Fonnes Empire’s White Knights, she abruptly defected to the Kingdom of Renor, where she became the captain of their knights. During the year-long war with the Empire, she repeatedly clashed with Ian on the battlefield, ultimately killing him. However, Rosevelia also succumbed to fatal wounds, dying on the spot.

And that wasn’t all. As the daughter of the Marquess of Winters, she was celebrated as the most beautiful woman in the Empire, with dazzling looks that matched her legendary skills.

Though a supporting character, her impact was so striking that, after finishing the book, I found myself rereading parts of it just to find mentions of Rosevelia.

One scene in particular always gave me chills—the revelation that the female knight of the White Knights was secretly a Swordmaster, shaking the very foundations of the Empire.

When I reread the story recently, I remember thinking something like this:

If a supporting character could live such an impactful life, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

It seemed far better than living as the main character, only to be blindsided by the harsh reality of their role.

“But that doesn’t mean I wanted to be someone who dies after fighting constantly…”

Rosevelia’s ending was clear, but the journey leading there was vague.

The original story was told from Daisy’s first-person perspective, and there weren’t many mentions of Rosevelia at all.

If I were to make different choices than Rosevelia did…

Could I change the ending?

“If only that were possible…”

As my fingers unconsciously curled into a fist, I heard the faint sound of a trolley being wheeled toward me.

“Miss, I’ve brought your meal.”

The maid’s voice came from behind the door, prompting me to sit upright.

“Come in.”

The maid, a young woman named Anne, approached with a faint smile. She was Rosevelia’s personal maid.

She should have felt unfamiliar to me since it had only been four days since I woke up in this body, yet…

“If you need anything else, please let me know.”

“Sure, you can leave now.”

“I’ll stay by your side. The head chef asked me to make sure you eat well.”

“To keep an eye on me, you mean?”

At my teasing remark, Anne waved her hands in denial.

“Not at all! The head chef is just worried about you…”

“I know. Mark still treats me like a child, even though I’m all grown up.”

The casual flow of the conversation felt oddly natural. I wasn’t pretending to know her; I really did know Anne and Mark, the head chef.

When I woke up in this world, Rosevelia’s memories had flooded into my mind like a panorama, as if someone had meticulously pointed out landmarks for me to follow.

From her birth, through her childhood, her rise to prominence in swordsmanship, joining the elite White Knights, and finally her recent encounter with the male lead, Ian, who had just joined as a recruit.

Rosevelia’s memories ended there. After waking in this body, I had spent an entire day bedridden, processing every single one of her memories.

Thanks to those memories, adapting to this world hadn’t been difficult.

But that wasn’t all. Despite never having learned it myself, my hands and body moved with natural precision, executing proper gestures, etiquette, and even Rosevelia’s legendary swordsmanship—praised as reaching the realm of gods. It all flowed effortlessly, as though I had been synchronized with her.

The problem was…

“‘That was a sensation I’ve never experienced before.’”

“…”

“‘That fleeting moment when we shared breath—I can’t forget it.’”

Ian’s words from yesterday echoed in my mind, and I let out a long sigh.

The original story began after the festival ended. That meant I was currently in the time before the original plot even started.

And yet, somehow, a small incident had already occurred between Rosevelia and Ian?

As fragments of the original story surfaced in my mind, I slowly set my fork down.

“‘It seems the Winters family has fallen out of favor with His Majesty.’”

“‘The eldest daughter of the Winters family, once considered a candidate for the next captain of the White Knights, defected to the Kingdom of Renor. Rumor has it His Majesty personally visited multiple times to offer her the position, only to be refused. Instead, she crossed the border and became a knight captain there…’”

That was the scene where Daisy overheard her father discussing matters just before the war began.

During the war with the Kingdom, Ian annihilated the Winters family.

Although the original story didn’t delve into Rosevelia and Ian’s relationship, I had always assumed while reading that the two weren’t exactly on good terms.

So I had hoped to start things off on the right foot with Ian.

“‘Avoiding it like this isn’t like you, senior.’”

But why did I only lack memories of the festival’s eve?!

“Miss, are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I just got lost in thought for a moment.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Anne’s voice was tinged with concern. And it made sense—this household had made a big fuss over the day I spent bedridden.

Rosevelia, who had never fallen ill before, suddenly suffering from a high fever—it was no wonder they were alarmed.

“Really, there’s no need to worry.”

I forced a smile and glanced around the room. Portraits hung on walls of teal hues, a fireplace occupied one side, and a small but elegant chandelier adorned the space above the bed.

Rising from my seat, I approached the tall, gold-framed windows. They stretched from ceiling to floor, and sunlight poured over my body as I stood before them.

Turning back, I stopped before a long mirror near the window. Smooth, pale skin, radiant golden hair, and soft green eyes gazed back at me.

In my previous life, I had often been told I was pretty. But Rosevelia’s beauty? It defied all description.

“…Wow, I really am beautiful.”

My murmured words made Anne instantly perk up.

“Pardon? Did you need something, miss?”

“No.”

Four days had passed since I woke up in this body, yet nothing had changed.

Not that I had anywhere to return to anyway. And if someone really had given me a second chance…

“I need to avoid death flags first, no matter what…”

“Pardon?”

“Anne, I’m heading out for a bit.”

“Are you going to the knights’ order again? You were told you didn’t have to go today. You haven’t fully recovered yet, and if you push yourself too hard—”

“I’m not going to the knights. Just stepping out for a quick walk.”

Before Anne could try to stop me, I hurriedly left the bedroom.

Walking through the long corridors and glancing around the mansion, I couldn’t help but marvel at its overwhelming grandeur.

The Winters estate might belong to a marquess, but it was astonishingly lavish. And these murals—they extend all the way to the ceiling?

Enthralled by the details of the artwork, I stopped in my tracks for a moment.

“Rosevelia?”

It was just my name being called, yet a chill ran down my spine. The warning my heightened senses were sending me was crystal clear.

The death flag looming in the distant future wasn’t the most immediate threat.

I needed to be wary of this person first.

 

 


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