Chapter 2

Even the King was left completely baffled by my out-of-left-field request.

He was speechless for a long moment before finally asking, "Charlotte, are you sure about this? The Thunderhammer weighs 180 pounds. Even several strong men can't lift it. What could you possibly want with such a thing?"

"Your Majesty, I was born with extraordinary strength. A mere 180 pounds is nothing for me," I said, standing tall and speaking with unwavering confidence.

"A legendary weapon deserves a true hero. Even though I'm a woman, I have the will to defend my home and country. Please, Your Majesty, grant me this wish."

I made my request sound so noble and patriotic, turning my personal desire into a matter of national honor.

As outrageous as it sounded, the King couldn't possibly refuse someone who'd just saved his life, especially not in front of the whole court.

He glanced at Edward, who looked like he'd swallowed a whole storm, then at my father, who was still completely baffled.

Finally, he burst out laughing. "Well said. Now that's the spirit. You really are General Whitmore's daughter. As you wish. The Thunderhammer is to be given to Charlotte Whitmore."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." I bowed deeply, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught Edward's fists clenched tightly and his face so dark it looked like he could spit nails.

I knew we were officially enemies.

It worked for me.

Old grudges weren't enough. Now, I'd got some fresh ones. When it was time for payback, I'd have all the reasons I needed.

The ride back to Whitmore Manor was so tense.

My father, the same general whose name struck fear on the battlefield, now sat across from me, his brows furrowed in deep concern. He kept starting to say something, only to stop himself, over and over again.

"Father, say what's on your mind," I said, breaking the silence and handing him a cup of water.

"Charlotte..." my father sighed, taking the cup. "Be honest with me. Did you get hit in the head by a horse out there today?"

I was speechless.

"If you really don't like Edward, you could've told me. I'd put my dignity on the line and beg the King to break off the engagement. But how could you embarrass him like that in front of the whole court? And then you went and asked for that... hammer."

Just picturing that massive hammer, bigger than a barrel, was enough to make my father's head spin.

"Where are we even supposed to put that thing once it's home? Are we supposed to worship it or something?"

Looking at my father's troubled face, I felt my heart aching.

This was my father, the same man who, in my last life, stood tall on the execution ground, never begging, never breaking, all for me and the Whitmore family's name. In the end, he was executed for the whole world to see.

I couldn't tell him that I could hear other people's thoughts. It was too unbelievable, too crazy for anyone to accept.

I took a deep breath and put on a grave expression. "Father, I didn't get hit in the head. I'm thinking straight. The reason I acted that way... is that I had a dream."

"A dream?" My father frowned.

"Yes, a nightmare so real it felt like I was living it," I whispered, letting tears well up in my eyes and my body tremble a little. "I dreamed I married Edward, but he didn't love me.

"He loved Isabelle Sinclair. As soon as he became king, he deposed me and made Isabelle his queen."

"What?" My father's expression changed suddenly.

I pressed on, not caring about his reaction, my voice trembling, thick with fear and tears. "He said... the Whitmore family was too powerful. We're a thorn in his side, a threat to his throne. So he accused us of treason and colluding with the enemy..."

My voice broke. "I saw our manor consumed by raging flames, screams and cries echoing everywhere. So many imperial guards burst in, slaughtering everyone in sight... Father, I saw them... take you away..."

I couldn't go on. I buried my face in my hands, letting out muffled sobs.

These weren't nightmares. They were Grace's memories, the real, bloody fate waiting for the Whitmore family. Every time I said it out loud, it was like someone was carving up my heart.

My father was left utterly speechless, frozen in place by the shock.

He looked at my face, streaked with tears, my body shaking, and the suspicion in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by horror and a heavy, grave concern.

"Is that... true?" he stammered.

"Father, it felt so real. When I woke up, my pillow was drenched. I remember every single detail, every face, like I actually lived through it," I said, my eyes brimming with tears as I looked up at him.

"In my dream, all 742 members of our family were wiped out, not even Buddy was spared."

"742..." my father murmured, his face draining of all color.

That wasn't a number any outsider could possibly know. It was the exact count recorded in the Whitmore family registry, including every servant and guard.

A girl like me couldn't have known such a precise number.

My father was a seasoned warrior, a man who'd survived countless battles and crawled out from piles of corpses.

His instincts for danger were razor-sharp. When he saw the fear in my eyes, I could tell his gut was screaming at him to take this seriously.

When it came to something like this, it was better to believe than to doubt.

With the fate of the entire Whitmore family hanging in the balance, he knew he couldn't risk it.

"Is Edward... really that cruel?" My father's voice was cold.

"Father, everything in that dream terrified me. That's why I acted so desperately today. I don't want to marry him. I can't." I clung to his arm, my nails almost digging into his skin.

"Father, we can't risk the Whitmore family's future on whether a dream is true or not."

My father went silent.

Outside the carriage, wheels rumbled and horse hooves clopped steadily.

After a long pause, he finally let out a deep breath, his gaze turning sharp and resolute. "Charlotte, you did the right thing."

He patted my hand, his voice low but strong. "No matter if that dream is real or not, we can't sit and wait for fate to decide. From now on, keep your distance from Edward. I'll find a way to end this engagement cleanly."

I felt a wave of relief, knowing I'd managed to persuade him, at least for now.

*****

When we got back to Whitmore Manor, the Thunderhammer the King had bestowed was already there, carried in by eight imperial guards who were huffing and puffing. They set it down in the middle of the courtyard, and the ground shook.

The hammer was pitch black, made of some unknown material. Its head was bigger than two of me put together, covered in rugged, ancient patterns that radiated a fierce, almost menacing vibe.

The servants crowded around the massive thing, marveling at it, and their eyes were filled with both awe and confusion as they looked at me.

I ignored them and headed straight back to my own courtyard.

Grace hurried over, her face full of concern. "My lady, are you alright? I've already asked the kitchen to brew the herbal medicine the imperial physician prescribed."

I looked at this fiercely loyal girl who was willing to live her life all over again for the Whitmore family. My heart was a whirlwind of emotions.

Testing things out, I reached out and gently touched the back of her hand.

'Ms. Whitmore touched me. Did she notice something? No way. I've been hiding it so well. She absolutely can't find out I've traveled back, or she'll think I'm some kind of freak.

'She was seriously awesome today. She rejected the engagement in front of everyone and even asked for that giant Thunderhammer. Prince Edward's face was so dark. That really hit the spot.'

Just as I thought, as long as there was physical contact, I could hear people's thoughts.

I'd finally figured out how this power worked.

This was a gift from the heavens, a weapon that could help me turn my fate around.

"Grace," I said, pulling my hand back and meeting her gaze, "thanks for everything today."

Grace blinked in surprise, then stammered nervously, "My lady, what are you talking about? You were the one who saved the King. I didn't do anything."

I smiled, letting it go.

But I knew in my heart that it was really her who saved me. She saved me, and she saved the Whitmore family.

That night, Prince Edward came to see me.

He dismissed everyone else and walked into my room alone.

He'd changed out of his ornate attire and was now wearing a plain blue suit. In his hand was a food box, and there was a soft, apologetic smile on his face.

"Charlotte, I heard you were hurt, so I brought you some of the finest ointment from the palace," he said, setting the box on the table. He walked over to my bedside, reaching out like he always did, trying to check my forehead.

Instinctively, I turned my head away, dodging his hand.

His hand froze in mid-air, and the smile on his face stiffened.

"Charlotte, are you... still angry with me?" he asked, pulling his hand back, his voice tinged with hurt.

I couldn't help but scoff to myself.

Angry? If I could, I'd grab that Thunderhammer and bash you over the head with it right now.

But I couldn't.

I needed to find out what he was really after.

I looked up, putting on a hurt yet stubborn expression. "Your Highness, I wouldn't dare."

"You're still being so distant with me," Edward sighed, sitting down on the stool by my bed, his voice softening. "I know you felt wronged at the hunting grounds. But you have to understand.

"With my father there, I couldn't openly speak up for you. That would've been disrespectful. Asking for that hammer in front of everyone... really put me in a tough spot."

He was already playing the victim.

I lowered my gaze, letting my long lashes hide the sarcasm in my eyes.

"I know I was impulsive," I said softly. "But at the time... I didn't want to cause you any more trouble."

"Cause me trouble? How could you ever be trouble?" Edward said urgently, leaning in, trying to take my hand.

This time, I didn't pull away.

The moment his warm hand wrapped around my cold fingers, all the filthiest, most twisted thoughts hidden beneath his noble words came flooding into my mind.

'This idiot is still so easy to manipulate. Just a few sweet words, and she's already feeling guilty.

'Today at the hunting grounds was a real blunder. She actually embarrassed me in front of everyone. Looks like I can't let her get away with so much anymore.

'But it's fine. Once she marries me and becomes the Crown Princess, the Whitmore family's military power will be completely in my hands. Then I'll have to tame her strength and wild spirit.

'And that old fox Richard, always pretending to be loyal, but secretly clinging to his military power for dear life.

'As soon as I take the throne, I'll strip him of his command and uproot the Whitmore family. A bunch of brutes like them don't deserve to stand on equal ground with me.

'As for Isabelle, she has to suffer. Once I have all the power, I'll get rid of Charlotte and make Isabelle the most honored queen in the land. Isabelle is gentle and soft. She's the perfect match for me. Charlotte isn't even worthy to be my maid.'

I listened in silence, my nails carving deep bloody marks into my palms.

A tidal wave of rage and murderous intent threatened to drown my sanity.

I bit down hard, barely keeping myself from exploding right then and there.

So he not only wanted to destroy my whole family, but he also despised me and looked down on me from the very start.

Ten years of loyalty, and in his eyes, I was a disposable pawn to be used and tossed aside.

Alright.

Perfect.

Edward, you wanted to use the Whitmore family's power, huh?

I'd make sure you get nothing in the end.

You thought Isabelle was your perfect match, right?

I'd make you watch your precious girl crash and burn, her name dragged through the mud.

You wanted that throne so badly, didn't you?

I'd make sure you fall from your lofty heights and break into pieces.

I looked up, forcing a smile uglier than crying, tears shimmering in my eyes. "Your Highness, I trust you. It's my fault. I shouldn't have been so stubborn.

"But... I made a great contribution by saving His Majesty today. My father said he wants to use that merit to ask His Majesty to... postpone our marriage for a year."

Edward's brows furrowed instantly.

'Postpone for a year? What is that old fox Richard up to? Did he see through something?

'No way. The longer this drags on, the more risks there are. I need to get Charlotte married into my family as soon as possible.'

While those thoughts raced through his mind, he put on a look of deep understanding. "General Whitmore makes sense. You're still young, and I was being too impatient.

"Postponing for a year is fine. I'll have more time to prepare our wedding, and I promise it will be the most magnificent celebration anyone's ever seen."

Look, he put on such a good show.

If I couldn't hear his thoughts, I'd probably be fooled by his act of devotion again.

"I'm glad you understand, Your Highness," I said, pulling my hand back and lowering my head, putting on a tired look. "I'm feeling a bit tired, Your Highness. I'd like to rest now."

That was a clear dismissal.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Edward's eyes, but he stood up anyway, his voice gentle. "Alright, get some rest. I'll come see you again tomorrow."

He turned and left.

As he stepped out, I caught his final thought, clear as day.

'Hmph, ungrateful. Just wait till I get you into my house. Then you'll see how I deal with you. For now, I should check on Isabelle. She must be shaken up.'

The moment the door closed, every trace of weakness and exhaustion vanished from my face, replaced by a cold, deadly resolve.

I walked out into the courtyard, eyes locked on the Thunderhammer looming silently in the moonlight.

I strode over and gripped the cold handle with both hands.

"Rise!" I growled, pouring all my strength into my arms.

The 180-pound Thunderhammer, a weight that took eight strong men to move, was forced up by my own hands.

In my previous life, I was a general's daughter who knew a bit of martial arts.

But this time, ever since I sent that imperial horse sprawling, I knew I was different now.

It felt like an ancient beast was slumbering inside me, overflowing with endless power.

This strength, paired with the Thunderhammer, was a match made in heaven.

I lifted the massive hammer with one hand, slowly swinging it beneath the moonlight. The hammer's wind howled, sending leaves swirling and splitting the night air with a deep, thunderous roar.

Edward, just you wait.

I'd smash your dreams of the throne and crush your crown beneath this hammer.