Rewriting the Trash Ending - Chapter 1

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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1.

“I’d kneel a hundred times, a thousand times, if only I could have him. Pride? I can cast it all aside. So give him to me. Otherwise…….”
Lumiere von Wijzer pressed a sharp dagger to her own throat as she continued.
“I’ll die.”
·
·
“……Really, even though I wrote this myself, it’s absolutely ridiculous.”
Kang Ye-rin muttered to herself, staring at the monitor.
Who was this woman wielding a dagger and threatening to die?
The protagonist of her own novel.
Lumiere von Wijzer.
A princess in name only—daughter of a foreign dancer, lacking both the Emperor’s favor and her mother’s family backing.
Despite being the female lead, all she could do to her rival was threaten her to break things off.
It was meant to be a desperate, frantic attempt to avoid a political marriage to a barbarian by stealing away the man she loved.
‘The problem is, it won’t work at all.’

“Fine, fine. I’ll break up with him, so please stop…….”

Because soon after, the rival sends word by letter that she’s become betrothed.

[I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’ve become betrothed to him. I wanted to end things, but he wouldn’t let me go.]

Despaired by this letter, the heroine chooses suicide as her ending.
Even that fails, and she’s sold off in a political marriage to the barbarian before finally succeeding in leaving the world—or so it’s ‘scheduled’ to happen.
But she’d been stuck at exactly that letter-receiving scene for months now, unable to write a single word more.
‘Is it because the protagonist is terrible, or the ending is terrible?’
If the ending displeased her, she could simply change it—yet no matter how hard she wracked her brain, no other conclusion came to her.
As if there were no path but toward tragedy.
‘How am I ever going to finish it at this rate?’
Even if she’d started writing this novel as a hobby, she wanted to see it through properly.
“Still, it’ll come to me someday.”
She rubbed her dry, strained eyes and powered down the computer.
It was already eleven at night.
She’d need to sleep soon if she wanted to get to the office early in the morning.
So she tidied up her desk and lay down in bed.
‘What is this?’
When she woke up, she found herself staring at a ceiling she’d never seen before.
The only thing the same as before sleep was lying on a bed.
“Ugh…….”
As she slowly pushed herself up, a dull ache bloomed through her body and nausea washed over her.
‘Where is this?’
Ye-rin looked around with a bewildered expression.
Wallpaper spotted with mold in places.
A medieval European-style bedroom with nothing but a bed and a nightstand.
Dazed by the unfamiliar surroundings, she turned her head at the sensation of being watched from somewhere.
Blue hair and blue eyes.
A man she’d never seen in her life was smiling faintly, as if amused.
“It would have been pitiable had you simply perished, yet here you are, alive. How most unfortunate.”
“Ah…….”
She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar space, and yet she understood this strange language perfectly, as if she’d always known it?
‘It’s a dream.’
But for a dream, it felt far too vivid……?
The throbbing ache, the nausea.
Even the damp, musty smell of the bedding.
“Surely Your Highness didn’t think I would cancel the betrothal if you took your own worthless life?”
Your Highness?
Take your own life……?
The man clicked his tongue and hurled the gold-leafed envelope down.

[We two wish to pledge our unwavering hearts to one another, and thus humbly request that you serve as witness to this sacred covenant.

Logan del Troviatan · Clara Edbuard.]

“This is…….”
A betrothal invitation card.
Logan del Troviatan.
Clara Edbuard.
And not just any betrothal—it was for the very man her novel’s heroine pined for, and her rival. Their betrothal announcement.
Could this be the moment when the heroine, driven to despair by their engagement, had attempted to take her own life?
“In any case, you’ll be married soon enough yourself. Don’t squander your energy on pointless matters. Simply remain quiet and depart when the time comes.”
She gazed blankly at the man’s contemptuous eyes, turning the invitation card over in her hands.
Yet something felt profoundly wrong.
‘That can’t be right…….’
Why did it feel as though she had lived through this moment herself?
He let out a short, disdainful click of his tongue and turned to leave.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
Her heart began to pound with ominous dread.
The man’s receding figure, departing with cold indifference now that his business was concluded.
Ye-rin had seen that back before—she was certain of it.
Impossible as it seemed, she possessed a clear memory of witnessing it.
‘When did I ever see this scene……?’
Just as an inexplicable unease began to creep through her—a sense that this was far more than a mere dream—
she turned her gaze toward the mirror hanging on the wall.
White hair cascading to her waist. Violet eyes.
A frame so gaunt it seemed it would shatter at the slightest touch. Sunken hollows beneath her eyes.
The moment her gaze met her own reflection in the glass,
a searing pain tore through her mind, and a flood of foreign memories came rushing in.

“Dry your tears. People are watching.”

The man who had pressed a handkerchief into her hands on the day her half-brother, newly ascended to the throne, had dragged her to the Banquet Hall—where she had stood weeping like a wilting flower against the wall.

“…Why are you giving this to me?”
“How could I, as a servant of the Imperial Family, turn away while the Princess weeps?”

The first kindness she had ever received from a man.
The flutter and warmth she had felt in that moment.

“Please, don’t…….”
“…….”
“Your Grace, please… accept me. You know as well as I do that there is no one else for me.”

Three years of clinging to him.
The memory of holding a blade to her own throat before his beloved.
And the final moment when she was sold into a foreign land and breathed her last in the depths of despair.
The torrent of memories flooded through her, then gradually subsided after a long, excruciating passage of time.
“…….”
And now she understood exactly who she had been.
Lumiere von Wijzer.
A foolish, pitiful princess who had been scorned by the Imperial Family her entire life, and who had taken her own life by her own hand.
She was her own previous life.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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