Fake Sister Forced Me to Marry a Beggar—My Husband Is Hades

By the ancient law of the kingdom, my sister Daphne and I drew lots to determine our husbands on our coming-of-age day. I drew the noble prince. She drew a nameless beggar. But the prince's family drained my blood daily, calling it a prophecy. And that beggar? He was Hades himself. Daphne had no idea. She thought she was stuck marrying a beggar, so she killed me on the day I was crowned queen. When I opened my eyes, we were back at the drawing. This time, Daphne snatched the prince's lot first. I smiled. Hades, the King of the Underworld...and she just gave him up? **Chapter 1** "I want this one." Daphne pinned my hand down and snatched the gold-threaded lot from between my fingers. The pain of a dagger piercing my heart still burned in my chest, yet everything around me had changed. The bloodstained stairs were gone. I stood once more on the drawing platform from three years ago, the shadow of Hades's statue stretching across my feet as the square below overflowed with spectators. The drawing was no ordinary ceremony. By ancient law, noble daughters drew lots to determine their husbands—a custom older than the kingdom itself, meant to appease the gods. I lowered my eyes to my wrist. The skin was smooth and unmarked, without even an old scar. In my previous life, the royal family had invoked the "Prophecy of Blood" to cut my wrist and drain my blood every day after I entered the palace. I had barely survived until my coronation in the third year, when Daphne drove a dagger into my heart and snarled in my ear, "You stole my family, my wealth, everything that should have been mine. Why should you live like a queen while I rot in exile?" Now the same hand that had held that dagger clutched the prince's lot for dear life. When she caught me staring, Daphne pressed, "Vivian, you promised I could choose first. You're not going back on your word, are you?" I unclenched my fist. "No. Just don't forget what you said." She tore open the slip and thrust it above her head. "Allen! I drew Prince Allen!" Cheers erupted below. The prince, dressed in gold, looked up and smiled at her. Father straightened proudly, nodding again and again toward the royal seats. Mother, however, stared at the lot. Her outstretched hand paused, and only when Daphne flung herself into her arms did she force a smile and kiss her forehead. Pressing a hand to my still-cold chest, I saw Daphne look over Mother's shoulder toward the very back of the crowd. A man in a tattered black robe stood there. His hood hid most of his face, his sleeves were frayed to threads, and his feet were bare—calloused and dirty against the polished marble. Amid all the jewels and finery, he looked utterly out of place. Daphne's smile froze. Her fingers crushed the slip as she muttered, "I'm not marrying that beggar again." Her voice was quiet, but I clearly heard the word "again." I turned to her. "Again?" Daphne whipped her head around and forced a smile. "I said I'm glad I didn't draw someone like that." So I wasn't the only one who had come back. In our previous life, she had drawn that man but refused even to attend the wedding. Father, ashamed of her, had banished her beyond the city, leaving Mother to support her in secret. Although the marriage was canceled, Daphne blamed me for losing her home and insisted I had stolen the life of wealth that should have been hers. She hated me for three years. Even as she killed me, she screamed that I had ruined her life, that I should have been the one cast out. The man at the back seemed to sense my gaze. He lifted his head slightly, revealing a pair of deep blue eyes beneath his hood. My breath caught and my heart tightened. Those eyes... I had seen them somewhere before. The memory tugged at me, familiar yet just out of reach. I couldn't place it, but my chest tightened at the sight of them. I dug my nails into my palms. Whoever he was, he was no ordinary beggar. My vision had been fading as I died, but I remembered someone catching me in the darkness—someone with those same deep blue eyes. I had never learned who he was. Now he stood in broad daylight with the same unreadable expression. And yet, besides that fleeting sense of recognition, I felt I had seen him somewhere else. The vague familiarity flashed past before Daphne urged me on, so I looked away and reached for the lot jar. "Take your time, Vivian." Daphne linked her arm through mine and signaled the maid holding the jar. "Hold it steady. Make sure my sister can reach." The maid tilted the jar toward me, secretly bracing one lot against the rim with her thumb. A smear of black ink marked its end. I recognized it instantly. In our previous life, when Daphne threw that lot at my feet and demanded that I marry in her place, the same stain had stared up at me. I hovered my hand above it. When Daphne bumped into me, I released the jar and neatly caught the lot the maid pushed out. Daphne shouted, "Vivian drew one! Hurry and show everyone!" I didn't unfold it. Instead, I looked at her. "You want me to take this one that badly?" Her expression flickered. I smiled and closed my fingers around the paper. "All right." When I opened it, Hadrian's name was written there, with no surname and no noble house's seal. At the sight of those letters, I could no longer suppress my smile. Three years of bloodletting, a dagger in the heart—all of it avoided, just like that. Father's smile faded. His face went pale. Terrified that anyone might change the result, Daphne rose on tiptoe and shouted, "Who is Hadrian? Come forward! You're going to marry the May family's true-born daughter!" She stressed "true-born." The truth about our being switched at birth had only come to light three months ago, and that was when I returned to the May family. Yet I slept in a servant's room while Daphne remained Mother's precious darling. I folded the paper and looked past her to the end of the crowd. "Hadrian," I called clearly. His hand twitched at his side. Then he made his way through the crowd, bare feet slapping against the marble steps. I waited at the edge of the platform, and only when he stopped before me did I finally unclench my fist. After a brief silence, the entire square erupted in gasps and whispers. "The May family's own daughter... drew a beggar?" "Look at him—no shoes, no house, not a coin to his name!" "How shameful! A noble lady marrying a vagrant!"