Here are the two rewritten versions in English: --- **Version 1 (Emphasizing reversal and explosive revenge):** The acrid smell of burnt char caught in one's throat, sparks danced at her feet. Evelyn knelt on the ground, her bare soles already a bloody mess, leaving alarming crimson smears on the scorching embers. This was no accident; it was a "lesson" personally delivered by her gold-adorned sister, Josephine. Just as Evelyn's consciousness began to fade, a worn fur cloak enveloped her. Lucas pulled her into his embrace, the coarse yet warm touch making Evelyn tremble. The man's voice was like a slumbering beast, low and dangerous: "Who did this?" His gaze, scorching yet ice-cold, pierced Josephine like a sword. Josephine, in her vibrant magenta gown, bloomed like an angry flame, yet her expression held a mocking chill as she disdainfully raised her head: "She brought it upon herself! A useless wretch, daring to dream of marrying some penniless, lowly man! I was merely helping her see her true worth!" Lucas's protective embrace tightened. A roar, loud enough to shatter eardrums, erupted from his chest: "Silence!" The sound exploded in the courtyard like thunder, startling even the onlookers and silent guards. He gently set Evelyn down, then rose. His slender back now stood like a mountain. "How dare you... humiliate my wife?!" He gestured to his retinues behind him, his voice crawling out of hell itself: "Seize them!" "Impudent rogue!" Lord Montague bellowed, his face flushed purple like a pig's liver, his finger trembling as he pointed at Lucas: "I am Lord Montague, of royal blood! You lay a hand on my daughter, and you make an enemy of the entire Montague family!" Lucas's gaze instantly froze, like a winter-locked lake. He spoke each word, laced with bone-chilling coldness: "And what of it?" He turned to his men, issuing a command that sent shivers down everyone's spine: "Those who dared harm my wife shall know only death! Press their faces into those... burning coals!" A collective gasp swept through the onlookers, terrified whispers swallowed by a suffocating silence. Josephine shrieked and struggled, her former arrogance dissolving into primal terror. Just as the guards leered and reached out, the desperate scream almost tearing through Josephine's throat, a booming voice, laden with chilling authority, suddenly erupted: "Who harms my brother?" Edmund Montague, the Vice Minister of Justice for the Montague family, flanked by dozens of fully armed Royal Guards, surged into the courtyard like a flood. Their appearance seemed to spell the end for Lucas's party. A flicker of wild joy ignited in Josephine's eyes, and she cried out, sobbing: "Brother, save me!" However, Edmund's gaze, sharp as a blade, cut directly towards Lucas. "I summoned him." The courtyard fell into a deathly silence. The man in the worn fur cloak slowly straightened. He was no longer the humble beggar, nor the mountain bandit; now, an invisible, mountain-heavy pressure radiated from him in layers. Josephine and Lord Montague, before Lucas, were like ants about to be crushed. The next second, Edmund Montague, the powerful Vice Minister of Justice, before the stunned gaze of all, **knelt on one knee, lowering his proud head, and respectfully declared—** **"Your Majesty!"** A thunderclap shattered all of Josephine's and her father Lord Montague's arrogance and delusion. They stared dumbfounded at the scene before them, as if their entire world had instantly collapsed, leaving only the scorching embers beneath their feet and the boundless despair rising from the depths of their souls. --- **Version 2 (Focusing on atmosphere, inner turmoil, and external reflection of inner collapse):** The acrid smell of burnt char and thick smoke coiled like unseen serpents in every corner of the courtyard. Evelyn lay prostrate, her pristine soles seared with gruesome bloodstains from the scorching embers, deep red and charred black intermingling in a sight that clawed at the heart. This was no accident; it was a "lesson" meticulously laid by Josephine, her sister, a woman as vibrant as a peach blossom but with a serpent's heart. Just as Evelyn’s breathing grew faint, a worn fur cloak carefully enfolded her. Lucas drew her into his embrace, the rough texture, miraculously, bringing a sliver of warmth. The man’s voice, like a beast roused from the abyss, was so low it seemed to tear the very air, imbued with an uncontrollable menace: “Who did this?” His gaze, searing and piercingly cold, fixed upon Josephine, who stood cloaked in crimson, her posture radiating arrogance. “She brought it upon herself!” Josephine’s overly painted face was twisted with disdain and mockery. She arrogantly tilted her chin, as if looking down upon an insect about to be crushed: “Daring to walk barefoot over hot coals, and still foolishly coveting a worthless man! I merely wished to help my dear sister see her own lowly place!” Lucas’s arm around Evelyn tightened instantly, a terrible chill radiating from his entire being. The next moment, a roar saturated with murderous intent shook the courtyard, echoing incessantly, causing even the indifferent guards to tremble and fall silent under its astonishing pressure. “Silence!” He slowly rose, the tattered fur doing nothing to conceal the mountain-like, heavy and austere presence he now exuded. “How dare you… humiliate my wife?” He subtly gestured to his waiting subordinates, his voice devoid of a single trace of warmth: “Seize them!” Lord Montague’s face was ashen, his indignation causing it to twist in fury as he pointed at Lucas. “Insolent rogue! I am Lord Montague, of royal blood! You, a rat sprung from who knows what forgotten corner, dare to lay hands on my daughter? You challenge the entire Montague family!” Lucas’s eyes, cold as winter-frozen ice, met Lord Montague’s gaze directly, utterly devoid of warmth. He parted his thin lips, each word like an ice-pick: “And what of it?” He turned to his retinue, each word falling like a judgment, imbued with bloodcurdling menace: “Those who dared harm my wife shall know only death! Press their faces into those… burning coals!” “Ah!” Josephine’s scream tore through the air, her former elegance and arrogance completely crumbling, leaving only primal fear and despair. A collective gasp swept through the onlookers, a deathly aura permeating the courtyard. Just as the guards, grinning savagely, closed in, and Josephine was on the verge of collapse— “Who harms my brother?” A booming voice, charged with indisputable authority, abruptly cut through the tension. Edmund Montague, the Vice Minister of Justice for the Montague family, flanked by dozens of elite Royal Guards, swept into the courtyard like a surging tide. Their arrival was like a dark cloud pressing down, instantly engulfing Lucas’s party. A drowning person’s hope ignited in Josephine’s eyes, and she cried out, sobbing: “Brother, save me!” However, Edmund’s gaze, like a hawk’s, bypassed Josephine and locked directly onto Lucas. “I summoned him.” The courtyard plunged back into a deathly silence. Lucas, the man who had until now been clad in worn fur, mocked as a "beggar king," slowly, inch by agonizing inch, straightened his body. The layer of disguise he wore seemed to shatter in that very moment. An invisible yet immense pressure, like a tidal wave, radiated from him in layers, instantly filling the entire courtyard. He was no longer the humble "rogue," but… that suffocating, world-eclipsing absolute authority. Edmund Montague, the powerful Vice Minister of Justice, amidst the stunned disbelief of all, slowly, solemnly— **Knelt on one knee, bowing his proud head, each word clear, imbued with boundless reverence, respectfully declaring: “Your Majesty!”** That single pronouncement of "Your Majesty" was like a thunderbolt that cleaved the world of Lord Montague and his daughter in two. Josephine’s eyes froze, her garish crimson gown now appearing so glaring and ridiculous. Lord Montague’s lips trembled, his face ashen. All their pride, all their power, all their folly, in that one word, were utterly ground to dust, leaving only the scorching embers beneath their feet and the abyssal fear, enough to devour everything, that surged from their very bones. During a bridal ball toss, two sisters cast their destinies into the air. The elder’s ball lands with a nobleman; the younger’s, in the hands of a beggar. One rises to glory. The other dies in regret—until time turns back. Given a second chance, the younger sister rewrites the moment. But what if the beggar holds a secret, and fate has its own design?