“Ha.” Livia sighed deeply, gazing at her reflection. The young woman in the mirror, who had stunning blond hair and brilliant cobalt-blue eyes, sighed as well.

A week had passed since Livia had first seen this reflection, but she still wasn’t accustomed to it: Livia Blanche, the sole daughter of Duke Blanche. Her beauty was unparalleled, earning her the admiration of the Luwens empire’s aristocrats.

What’s the point of that if I’m going to die soon?

“Ha.” Her next sigh fogged the mirror in front of her.

Her maid, Georgette, spoke cautiously. “My lady?…My lady?” “Huh? What’s the matter?”

“His Royal Highness is waiting for you.” “I’m well aware of that.”

“He may get angry if you make him wait any longer.”

“Mm-hmm, I’m aware of that, too.”

Livia let out a final deep sigh. In the mirror, she saw her maid shuffling anxiously behind her. She shut her eyes tightly to avoid looking at the unfamiliar reflection any longer. *It’s just like Georgette says.*That madman will be furious if I continue to make him wait.

She meandered down the long corridor, arms swinging listlessly, an animal headed for slaughter. Should I make a run for it while I still can? She shooed the idea away.

Where would she even go? She’d only acquired her host’s memories, upon awakening in this body, a week ago. She hadn’t a clue how to escape this vast labyrinth of a mansion.

Besides, she hadn’t landed in some fairy tale. This wasn’t the type of place where a powerless woman could live alone. Even with money, if she ventured outside without a guard, she’d encounter robbers—an even worse fate.

In the week since she’d become Livia, she’d tried to piece together the fragments of the novel floating through her memory and connect them to her current circumstances. Unfortunately, by the time she realized that she was to be the unimportant first victim of that tyrant, he’d already arrived in the Blanche dukedom.

Who cares if I can change my destiny? I’m still frightened when I open my eyes in the morning and see an unfamiliar ceiling.

In the end, she’d resigned herself to her fate.

She made her way down the hallway. She may as well catch a glimpse of Croft, the novel’s great protagonist.

Behind her, Georgette quietly observed her mistress. She was puzzled at seeing the young woman, usually so dignified and elegant, shamble in such a manner. She felt sympathy for Livia, who she intuited was nervous at facing a man rumored to resort to murder over the smallest trifles.

And so the two women walked down the corridor, one feeling sympathy and the other feeling utter despair.

When they arrived at their destination, Livia knocked before Georgette opened the door.

Livia drew a deep breath. Croft sat on a sofa. He was indeed handsome. His pitch- black hair and scarlet pupils, often described as ominous, were the perfect blend of ravishing and aggressive, which only added to his charm.

Astounded at his appearance, she let her breath out slowly. What’s the use of this good-looking exterior? In the novel, Croft had been an unprecedented madman, terrifying no matter his appearance.

Beloved by the Tyrant— that was the name of the novel she’d been reborn into. The main character, Croft, was an unfortunate prince who, at just seven years old, had been banished to the Eastern Frontier by his own father, the emperor. The Eastern Frontier was a lawless region teeming with settlers, criminals, and demons.

Croft endured seventeen years in that hellish place—nay, more than endured. He thrived. He grew up to become the most powerful (mad)man there. When he was only twenty years old, he formed a troop of soldiers and bent the East to his will. And in the end, the emperor who had sent his son to perish died first.

When the throne became vacant, Livia’s father, Duke Blanche, brought Croft back to the capital in order to enthrone the firstborn prince. In doing so, he wanted to expand his own power by making his daughter the empress. As soon as Croft became emperor, however, he lost all morality. His first act was to exterminate the House of Blanche in its entirety. Then the mad tyrant soaked the empire in blood to be with Lilian, the novel’s heroine. Countless perished because these star- crossed lovers started off on the wrong foot.

And unfortunately, Livia had been the first to die.

Livia barely held back a final sigh as she bowed, evading Croft’s piercing scarlet gaze. Even in her tension, her body remembered the elegant manners instilled in her for nearly twenty years.

“Greetings, Your Royal Highness. I am Livia Blanche.” Even as her golden locks became dislodged, she remained remarkably elegant, her back perfectly straight throughout her curtsy.

Croft merely clucked his tongue. Duke Blanche may have saved his life and given him the opportunity to return to the Imperial Palace, but the man nagged far too much. He went on and on about the need for etiquette, and now he’d sent this frail woman to be his tutor.

He stretched his long legs and propped his feet on the table, tilted his head, and scowled at Livia. “So you’re the one the duke had in mind when he mentioned an etiquette instructor.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I shall do my utmost to serve you.”

“Try it if you can.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said teach me if you can.” He glared at Livia with a dangerous glint in his eyes, as if he would cut off her head if she dared speak another word. His mouth and eyes told entirely different stories.

Understandably confused, Livia clenched her sweaty hands and tried her best to smile. “Let’s discuss our schedule.”

Croft was secretly surprised at Livia’s smile. He’d expected her to run away crying. She was tougher than he’d thought. Well, it wouldn’t do to continue being so hostile. She was Duke Blanche’s daughter, and he needed the duke if he was going to become emperor. He couldn’t just tell this girl to get lost.

But he could ignore her.

He turned his head away as if she didn’t exist.

Livia stood before him, shocked. He’d asked her to teach him but then outright ignored her? She wanted to leave but couldn’t without his permission, nor could she force him to reply.

She stood there for a long time, vainly trying to read his thoughts, all the while growing angrier by the second. Just what does he think he’s doing? He should’ve responded when spoken to. How can he just put his foot up on the coffee table and pretend like someone is invisible? Especially when said person was only there to help him.

At this point, she didn’t even care that he was a tyrant or a protagonist. She hated his rudeness more than anything.

“Teach me if you can,” you say?

She lowered her head as if to nod and approached him cautiously, lifting her dress, and then kicked his shin with equal amounts of force and grace.

The prince’s long legs slipped off the table and crashed to the floor.

He was dumbfounded, wondering what had happened. He simply couldn’t comprehend the situation. He stared at his legs before lifting his head toward Livia, his scarlet eyes brimming with fire.

Even he, who ostensibly knew nothing about etiquette, had noticed the graceful manner in the way she had lifted her dress ever so slightly. Everything she did was beautiful and elegant—yet just as he’d been considering this, he’d found himself in his current position.

No one had ever touched him, let alone kicked him, and survived to tell the tale. Surely she must not know this. Livia appeared unwaveringly calm and graceful despite having committed an unthinkable act.

It was so unexpected that Croft forgot to express his anger. “What did you just do?”

“My job, Your Highness.”

“I’m fairly certain you just kicked my leg.”

“It is inappropriate for the future emperor to place his feet on a table in such a manner.”

“Is it appropriate to kick the future emperor, then?” he growled.

She didn’t bat an eyelash. “If you find my methods disagreeable, you may ask my father to find you another tutor. He will certainly fulfill your request.”

Getting herself replaced wasn’t why she’d kicked him, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Her lips curved into a smile. In Beloved by the Tyrant, Croft had stayed at the Blanche dukedom for a week before relocating to the Imperial Palace with his etiquette teacher. If he found another tutor, she wouldn’t have to go to the palace with him.

After I get used to this world, I’ll be able to hatch a plan. It might even be possible to escape before I get murdered. Her blue eyes sparkled with hope.

Croft was speechless, practically stupefied. Although Livia was beaming with overwhelming joy at discovering a possibility for a hopeful future, her smile conveyed something entirely different to him.

“No,” he said. “I won’t ask your father to find someone else. I want to see your teaching abilities. I look forward to our lessons.”

What? Why?

Her eyes shot open in bewilderment, but Croft smiled threateningly without further elaboration. As she stood in front of this prince, who was clearly plotting something against this rude woman who’d kicked him, she swore to herself that she’d do everything within her power to escape becoming this tyrant’s tutor.

With only one week before Croft would relocate to the Imperial Palace, Livia was confident she could find a way to be fired from the tutoring position. After all, seven days was more than enough time to douse even the most passionate romance. She was sure she could make this maniac hate her in that amount of time.

She scanned Croft from head to toe like a predator observing its prey. She needed to find something to criticize, but there was little to latch onto. He sat with his feet firmly placed on the floor. Certainly, his posture exuded arrogance, but it would be outright strange to insist that a future emperor be too modest. Moreover, his posture was perfect.

“Tsk.” She clucked her tongue, unable to find something to criticize.

For Croft, this was one of the strangest experiences in all his twenty-four years. After being kicked by a woman he’d met for the first time, now that woman was evaluating him like produce at a market and clucking her tongue at him.

“Tsk?” he asked. “Pardon me?”

“Did you just click your tongue at me?” “Me? That’s impossible, Your Highness.”

He’d certainly heard her, yet she audaciously lied with a gracious smile. He was speechless.

In fact, he’d seen through Duke Blanche’s intentions the moment Livia had entered the room. He even thought it mightn’t be too bad a deal. If ties with the duke could be solidified through marriage, Croft could regain his birthright. It wouldn’t be bad to secure the duke’s aid—no, to have him as an ally and stepping-stone.

Fortunately, Livia didn’t take after her father in appearance. She was quite pretty. Hmm. Actually, she wasn’t merely pretty—she was extraordinarily beautiful. Even Croft could admit this. She exuded elegance even standing perfectly still. He could understand why the duke kept going on about rules and etiquette.

Still, elegant as she was, who’d have thought she would kick him?

He gestured toward the opposite sofa. “Why don’t you take a seat? Unless you intend on striking me again …”

Livia couldn’t keep standing forever, so she sat. The action was akin to a windblown feather landing gently on a leaf. “We don’t have much time together, Your Highness, so I’ll give you a series of shortcuts for the essential etiquette you’ll need inside the palace.”

“Shortcuts?”

“We have much to learn in a short amount of time. I apologize in advance if I’m strict during our lessons.”

He matched her warning with one of his own, in a moment foreshadowing a stormy relationship between the tough etiquette tutor and the impolite student. “I’ll need your understanding as well. I doubt I’ll be a well-behaved student.”

Livia carried on, easily ignoring his provocation. “The manner in which you sit, walk, speak, and carry yourself, in addition to table manners and ballroom etiquette—you must learn all this and much more.”

“How many foolish imperial subjects are there who would dare complain about their emperor’s behavior?” He didn’t hide his displeasure. He couldn’t find the connection between this list and the requirements for being an emperor. He’d crawled through the mud his entire life just to survive. These rules were nothing but useless.

He had a point, Livia thought. There wasn’t a single character in the entire novel foolish enough to endanger himself by criticizing Croft. After all, this dangerous man was set to become emperor, an exalted position above all rules and etiquette.

But now there was one person foolish enough. Livia was set on escaping, no matter how dangerous the plan. She had to find a way out, while this maniac still needed Duke Blanche’s support.

It was with this confidence that she looked him right in the eye, long lashes fluttering and a pert smile on her lips. “If Your Highness does not mind being called the mad emperor from the hinterland, then there is no longer a reason for me to teach you.”

The harsh words came in stark contrast to her innocent expression. He was already aware he was called a madman—and the Mad Dog—but Livia was the first person brave enough to say it to his face. The only one who would survive it, anyway. He should’ve drawn his sword by now, but for some reason, he didn’t feel compelled to. Was it that harmless face?

Sitting up, he clucked his own tongue. He would warn her not to act like some clueless, sheltered lady and speak without thinking.

“My lady,” he began in a low, menacing voice, “do all women of the empire think so little of their lives?”

An even more beautiful smile dawned on her face. “Your Highness, such thoughtless jokes leave a bad impression.”

“I suppose you think that was a joke.”

“It would be far worse if it were not. We cannot afford to let the people of Luwens think of the future emperor as a madman who kills without mercy.”

“A mistake.” He smirked and rose to his feet, his long legs effortlessly stepping over the coffee table separating them.

His left arm shot past Livia to the seat back. She tried to dodge, but he quickly leaned in and took her chin with his right hand.

Livia flinched as her face was drawn closer.

In that same menacing tone, he spoke again, “Let’s see if it’s a misunderstanding or not.”

As he finished speaking, he felt an upward breeze beneath his jaw. Before he realized it, she had punched him right on the chin.

He heard her cheerful voice once more. “Your Highness, please refrain from touching a woman without her permission.”

The prince remained frozen in shock as she slapped his hand away and stood up. “I shall excuse myself now that I have completed my introductions, Your Highness.”

She departed quickly but regally, before he could respond.

He managed to regain his composure after the doors closed. It was only then that he realized he’d received an uppercut from the daughter of Duke Blanche. He had previously conquered the Eastern Frontier with his sword, so it wasn’t that he was physically unable to avoid her fist; rather, it was that he hadn’t seen it coming. He simply couldn’t have fathomed that she’d strike him in the face.

The pain wasn’t the issue. He didn’t feel anything in the shin she’d kicked or the face she’d struck. It was only that he couldn’t comprehend either situation. She had kicked him, lectured him on not touching a woman without permission, punched him, and run away.

He had to wonder if she was crazy.

***

Livia was not, in fact, crazy. She returned to her quarters with haste, afraid Croft might follow her with his sword in hand. She put a hand on her pounding heart, trying to catch her breath.

It turned out that this body remembered not only the elegant manners of this life but her boxing skills from the previous one. Before she’d woken as Livia, she’d enrolled in a local gym after finishing her university exams. The owner had been kind enough to teach her self-defense.

Why did he approach me so threateningly? I thought he was going to kiss me. It was only after her reflexes got the better of her that she realized she’d punched the madman (who would become the novel’s tyrant) in the face. Her only option was to run without looking back.

Safely inside her room, Livia placed an ear on her door. She was sure Croft would explode with rage, but everything outside seemed business as usual. She sent Georgette to see if anything was out of the ordinary, but the maid returned with no news.

Just as Livia sighed in deep relief, the maid let out a shriek. “My lady! What happened to your hand?”

She looked down at her wrist. The hand that had punched Croft was red and swollen. She certainly couldn’t admit that she’d injured herself striking the future emperor. “It’s nothing serious. I must have bumped into something.”

“My lady...” Her loyal maid’s eyes filled with tears.

Georgette thought that surely that brutal Mad Dog from the hinterlands had bitten her mistress. Georgette had already worried about Duke Blanche’s orders that Livia serve as Croft’s tutor, and now her lady was clearly hiding the fact that he’d hurt her.

Her heart sank, but she held back her tears and brought ice water for her mistress’s injury.

Livia clucked her tongue as she eased her hand into the cold water. Why is the one who gets punched completely fine, but the one who does the punching injured? This body, which had been raised like a princess, was far too delicate.

Croft’s reaction had been equally unexpected. She’d expected him to be a crazy man, but he hadn’t reacted at all when she struck him. Her initial plan had been to annoy him just enough to make him let her go as his etiquette tutor, but now she wondered if that would even work.

Should I hit him more?

As she immersed herself in these matters, the rumor that Croft had struck her spread throughout the mansion.

After the unforgettable meeting with Livia, Croft sat crookedly on the sofa looking through the endless piles of papers the duke had asked him to memorize before he ascended the throne. But he couldn’t focus at all. He shook his head to get rid of the memory of the young woman’s impressive uppercut, but he couldn’t. So he gave up trying to memorize anything and put the papers down.

Wham! The door blasted open. “Captain!” “Lower your voice, Malik.”

The massive Malik was about as mature as a three-year-old. Though he made simple questions sound like an interrogation, he was just curious. “Is it true? Did you really hit the duke’s daughter?”

Croft turned as soon as he heard the question. Malik, his chest heaving and face flushed, hadn’t come alone. He was followed by a worried-looking Blake.

Behind them, Chester was giggling as usual.

“It’s just a lie, right?” Malik demanded. “I know you. You’d rather kill a woman than hit her. Unlike some scum, right?”

Croft rubbed his head, not from Malik’s ear-shattering voice but because of the words themselves. Hitting women? I was the one who got kicked and punched.

He pushed Malik away. “Blake, explain what this fool is talking about.”

“Two of Duke Blanche’s knights challenged us to a duel just now. They said you assaulted the duke’s daughter.”

“What nonsense! Where are they now?"

“This idiot knocked them out.” Blake pointed at Malik.

I told them not to cause problems... Croft rubbed his forehead and sighed.

Malik misunderstood and began to mumble in shock. “Captain, I didn’t expect you to be such complete scum...”

“Damn it, Malik, stop with this nonsense. I didn’t hit that woman.” “Right? See, I knew you didn’t.” He didn’t sound convinced.

Croft ignored it. If he responded, Malik would start up with his overcharged voice again, and he wanted none of that.

“Then why is such a rumor spreading?” Blake asked, still worried about the emperor-to-be.

“I should be the one asking who hit whom,” Croft said. “She’s the one who hit me.”

“What?” Blake blanched. “The duke’s daughter hit you? No way!” “It’s the truth.”

“But why?”

“She said I shouldn’t touch women without their permission,” he replied with a smirk.

Neither Blake nor Malik smiled back. Instead, Malik frowned again and shook his finger at Croft. “You scum...”

“It’s not like that, Malik.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Captain.”

“Like I said, it’s not what you think.” Croft was finally annoyed.

Malik flounced from the room as though his feelings had been hurt. Chester collapsed on the floor in giggles.

“Chester, shut up,” Croft snapped. “You’re being annoying.” “Ha-ha, Captain, this is so hilarious,” Chester gasped. “Ha-ha...” “Just shut up.”

Chester continued to laugh silently.

Blake leaned forward, full of concern. “Captain, what exactly happened?”

Croft shook his head and began making excuses. “It was nothing. I didn’t even lay a finger on her.”

But now, he realized that he had laid a finger on her, on her chin, ever so slightly.

And that’s the reason he got punched.

Isn’t that punishment enough? Why on earth are there rumors that I hit her? The rumors were completely out of the blue.

Blake’s frown grew even deeper as he watched Croft shake his head. Despite being known as a madman, Croft wasn’t the type of person to use his power to harass women—at least, that’s what Blake wanted to believe. But Croft’s behavior told him that something must have transpired between the two. This type of scandal wasn’t good for Croft, especially with coronation day looming.

“Captain, we’ll encounter many problems if the duke becomes our enemy now,” Blake said. “Why don’t you apologize to his daughter?”

“Didn’t I tell you that I was the one who got hit by her?”

“If that’s because you did something to deserve it—”

“I admit I was trying to scare her a bit, but I didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

Blake knew very well how intimidating Croft could be. Perhaps the duke’s daughter thought her life was in danger and tried her best to defend herself. He didn’t know what exactly had transpired, but he felt sympathetic toward Livia. And yet it seemed that Croft’s harassment wasn’t ill-intentioned, so the emperor-to-be should resolve the misunderstanding.

First, Blake had to pacify his upset captain.

“Captain, you shouldn’t act like your usual self in female company,” he advised sincerely. “You should be gentle with them, especially ladies like Duke Blanche’s daughter.”

“I did my best.” No one believed Croft, even though he was speaking the truth. Hadn’t Livia left unharmed, even after kicking him in the shin and punching him in the face? She would be dead now if she were a man. He really had done his best.

Blake’s anxiety rose at Croft’s sullen reaction. “Captain, Prince Persilot began to take action. You shouldn’t make Duke Blanche your enemy, at least before your return to the palace.”

Soon after the former emperor passed away, the crown prince had died suddenly from an unknown illness, causing the formation of various factions vying for the throne. One of them supported Croft, the other, Persilot.

Prince Persilot, the late emperor’s brother, had bluntly expressed the desire to ascend the throne and was displeased at the prospect of Croft’s succession.

Duke Blanche, the leader of the faction supporting Croft, persistently prompted the rumor that Persilot had poisoned the crown prince. Persilot didn’t want the disgrace of assassination associated with his name, so he pretended to humbly support Croft’s ascension to the throne.

As a result, it was decided that Croft would become the next emperor. However, everyone knew that Persilot hadn’t given up his ambitions.

Croft, who had yet to return to the palace from his childhood exile, knew more than anyone that he must be careful. There was no need for Blake to tell him so.

Blake noticed the captain’s sullen expression and spoke in a cheerful tone. “For the time being, please apologize to Duke Blanche’s daughter. Tell her it was all a misunderstanding caused by different customs between this region and the Eastern Frontier.”

“Blake, I’m telling you for the third time that I was the one who got assaulted.” Croft was decidedly irritated.

Blake didn’t blink an eye. “But you admitted that you touched her. Moreover, even if you were assaulted, you weren’t hurt. I might not know the specifics of the situation, but if anyone was hurt, it had to be her. Please offer an apology, at least.”

Although Blake’s understanding of the situation was different from reality, his insight was correct. Croft felt that the whole situation was unfair, but the more he listened to the three men, the more he was convinced he’d probably done something wrong.

Eventually he nodded. “All right, so please take Chester away. And look for that fool Malik before he causes more trouble.”

“Yes, Captain.” Blake grabbed Chester, who was rolling on the floor, by the nape of his neck and dragged him from the room.

***

It wasn’t easy to explain to Malik, whom Blake found crouching in the corner of the garden and blaming the world, that Croft wasn’t scum. But Croft had it far harder. He had to apologize to the woman who’d hit him.

Lunchtime came and went, and Croft still hadn’t found the right words for an apology. All the maids and servants had heard the rumor by now and stared at Croft as he stalked toward the dining hall.

Already settled in the dining hall, Livia rose and nodded graciously when Croft arrived with a frown. Although he seemed outwardly calm, she felt as if her heart were going to burst out of her body. He’d been so quiet earlier that she assumed he’d let it pass. But now he looked angry.

Punching him was too much, after all. Am I going to die today?

She was glad he hadn’t brought his sword, but as she recalled the novel’s descriptions of his overwhelming power, her relief evaporated. Her heart pounded so fast she thought she might die from a heart attack before the madman had the chance to kill her. Livia’s organs were as delicate as her body.

Croft sat quietly. Livia, who couldn’t look him in the eye, waited anxiously for the food to be served. She would be dining with him the entire week in order to teach him table manners. He couldn’t imagine how they could proceed like this.

Staring at his empty plate, he spoke. “I am sorry.”

Livia couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Did he apologize to me? Did he really say he’s sorry? He didn’t say that he would kill me. Why?

She reviewed what had happened that morning, but there was nothing he had to apologize for. In fact, if anyone needed to apologize, it was her—not him.

What is he sorry about? Did he apologize for getting kicked and punched? What is he saying? Is that what the people from the eastern frontiers say before they murder someone? What does that all mean?

She couldn’t make sense of what he’d just said, but what he said next was even stranger. “I’m not used to the customs here, so please do understand.”

The customs here? What customs is he talking about?

There is no custom anywhere in the world that allows a subject to punch the future emperor in the face.