The March breeze was warm, with endless willow catkins floating in the air like a mist. It was indeed a fabulous time in Ohioville with radiant spring sunshine and the cheerful chirping of orioles and swallows.

The Prince Palmer's Mansion was solemn and austere, a forbidden place in the hearts of ordinary people. However, that day, the three-foot space before the massive palace gate was chock-full of onlooking locals.

Right before the crowd, on the stone slab floor, lay a motionless young girl clad in green.

The green-robed girl had her eyes tightly shut, not stirring the least bit, looking seemingly dead. Blood, scarlet and vibrant, slowly flowed down her bruised, pockmarked face, rendering an ugly and ferocious sight.

“Go check whether that wretch is dead,” a frigid voice reverberated, cold and devoid of any warmth. “If she's dead, roll her into a straw mat and dump it at the gate of Minister Bryan's Mansion. If not, splash water to wake her up and let her scurry home.”

Atop the platform, stood a haughty youth dressed in radiant purple. His exceptional beauty and elegance were marred by the contempt and disgust etched on his face.

“Reporting to your Highness, she is not breathing,” a guard went to tend to the girl, checking her breath.

“Dead? Well, she's tidier that way.” The purple-clad lad snorted, “Bring the mat. Wrap her up, considering she was once engaged to me, I will do an act of kindness. Let's give her a coffin to rest.”

“As you wish, your Highness.”

The bystanders looked on with visibly distressed faces, whispering in hush tones.

“Poor Miss Bryan, just three days from becoming the Consort Palmer, yet she had her wedding called off.”

“Not only was her wedding called off, she was forced to… crash into a stone lion statue, sigh.”

“How pitiful... her beautiful looks, now so ghastly ugly…”

“Hush, look, Miss Bryan seems… seems to have came back to life.”

So noisy!

A pounding headache...

Slowly regaining consciousness, Martina found herself lying on a cold, hard surface, as if it were stone, causing her great discomfort.

With furrowed brows, she forced her eyes open. The first sight she saw was the blue sky with white clouds floating leisurely across.

There was a cacophony of voices around her, messy and chaotic. As she slowly turned her head, she saw a crowd of people dressed in ancient attire, pointing and whispering amongst themselves.

Martina felt lost, unsure of where she was.

Then she realized something was wrong...

Her lips were parched, she was covered in a cold sweat, her limbs weak; these were symptoms of severe blood loss.

And they were getting worse, which meant she was still losing blood. As her hands reached for the painful spot on her forehead, she discovered a wound constantly oozing warm blood.

With her middle and index fingers of her right hand checking her pulse on her left wrist, she, being a chief military doctor, diagnosed in just several seconds. If she lost another 50cc of fresh blood, she would lose consciousness!

She had to stop the bleeding immediately!

Her eyes darted around quickly. Her medical kit was nowhere to be found. On the smooth and flat bluestone road, it was completely clean, not even a piece of paper could be seen.

Without the golden needles in her medical kit, she couldn’t perform acupuncture to stop the bleeding. What she urgently needed was a piece of gauze or a strip of cloth that could stem the bleeding.

Suddenly, she felt a sense and reached into her bosom to find a big red handkerchief, which she unhesitatingly tore into two pieces without a second thought.

The moment the fabric tore, an image flashed across her mind.

A young girl sitting by the east window, tenderly embroidering a pair of lotus flowers on a handkerchief.

Such a familiar scene!

Without thinking twice, she quickly ties the torn handkerchief into a knot, tightly around her forehead, stanching the gushing blood.

Safe from immediate danger, she heaves a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, a man's cruel and ruthless voice rings out, the coldness piercing her eardrums.

"Regina, you ugly woman, you're actually still alive? If you didn't die, then hurry back to your chancellor's mansion. Stop loafing around my mansion entrance, dirtying the stone lion at my door and even more so, tainting my eyes!"

Regina? Was he talking about her?

She frowns, following the voice and meets a pair of hawk-like eyes, displaying undisguised disgust.

Such a familiar face!

Countless unfamiliar memories surge into her mind like a tide. She involuntarily closes her eyes. After a moment, she opens them again, her eyes sparkling and as clear as water.

So, I have crossed to another world.

Albert... she murmurs.

The man before her eyes is Prince Palmer, Albert, the third son of the current Saint Emperor, and her betrothed, Regina.

Her original identity is Regina, the legitimate eldest daughter of the Chancellor Bryan Middleton. A year ago, she was a radiant beauty, once crowned the most beautiful at the palace’s floral banquet, being hailed as the number one beauty of Ohioville. A year later, with her beauty destroyed, she's now Ohioville's ugliest woman.

She lowers her gaze, landing on a large red divorce letter on the ground.

Divorce letter, written in elegant handwriting, personally penned by Albert.

Martina... No, Regina picks up the divorce letter, slowly stands up, and looks again at Albert, her eyes shimmering and thoughtful.

Dumping his betrothed because of her ruined looks, such a cold-hearted, selfish and ruthless man. Regina, how could you have died in despair for this kind of scum?

This death is really unjust!