My twin sister, Genevieve, and I were both daughters of Lord Chancellor Hawthorne. Though our faces were identical, Mother only favored Genevieve, always praising her composure and grace. So, when the royal decree named me Queen, Mother wasn't merely indifferent; she accused me of blocking Genevieve's path to the throne. Driven by a chilling ruthlessness, and risking our family's ruin, she brutally disfigured me with a blade, then orchestrated my death, ensuring my body would never be found. Afterward, she sent Genevieve to the palace, masquerading as me, to claim the crown. While my remains vanished without a trace, Genevieve birthed the Crown Prince and eventually ascended to the Queen Mother's throne. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the very day Lord Chamberlain Thomas came to the Chancellor's estate, bearing the royal decree. I secretly slipped a hundred gold coins into his palm, urging him to inform His Majesty that the true Elara possessed a distinctive crimson mole just behind her ear. "Mother," Genevieve fretted, tugging at Lady Eleanor's sleeve, her voice a delicate whine. "I heard portraits of all the noble daughters are now at court. With so many beautiful ladies, what if the Queen Mother and King Julian don't choose me?" Lady Eleanor gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Genevieve's forehead, her gaze soft and reassuring. "They wouldn't dare, my darling. Our Genevieve is radiant, and accomplished in needlework, music, languages, and the arts. Who could possibly look upon you and not be captivated?" But Genevieve remained unconvinced, a petulant pout on her lips. "If I'm not chosen as Queen, I swear I'll just die!" Mother shot her a sharp look, though no real anger flickered in her eyes. "Nonsense! If you die, what becomes of your mother? Now, now, darling, just days ago, I spoke with Queen Mother Isolde herself. She spoke of you at length, her interest clear. Rest assured, the crown will be yours, and yours alone. I won't allow anyone to stand in your way." I sat quietly to the side, my face carefully blank. Yet, hidden beneath the folds of my sleeve, my hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into my palms until the skin broke. But that meager physical ache was nothing compared to the searing pain in my heart. For in Mother's words, "anyone" included me, her own flesh and blood. In my past life, the scene unfolded identically, the same whispered assurances, the same anxious pleas. To soothe Genevieve's nerves, I, in my naive kindness, offered her a cup of steaming tea. But as she rose, she bumped into me, and a splash of hot liquid landed on her sleeve. Without a word, she shoved me to the ground, then pointed a trembling finger at my face. "Elara, was that deliberate? You're trying to scald me, disfigure me, so you can go to the palace yourself and become Queen, aren't you?" Before I could utter a single word of explanation, Mother's hand connected with my cheek in a resounding slap. "Elara, how could I have such a wicked daughter? Genevieve is your own sister! To try and ruin her face!" I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, tears blurring my vision as I gazed at Mother. "Mother, I didn't!" But she wouldn't hear it. "Silence! Go back to your rooms. You'll have no supper tonight!" Heartbroken, I retreated to my chambers. From the moment Genevieve and I were born, Mother's heart had been biased. Simply because Genevieve appeared a little frailer, Mother poured the vast majority of her affection into her. I was taught from childhood that I must always defer to Genevieve. Anything Genevieve desired, I wasn't even allowed to touch. As we grew, Genevieve's sweet words and mastery of all refined arts further cemented her place in Mother's affections. I, on the other hand, found no interest in such pursuits, preferring horsemanship and fencing. Mother saw me as a disgrace, and the meager scrap of motherly love she once offered me was entirely transferred to Genevieve. She cherished Genevieve like a precious jewel, fulfilling her every whim. But for me, there was only harsh words and blows. I once tried to emulate Genevieve, to win Mother's favor. Yet, the more I tried, the deeper Mother's disdain became. Eventually, I stopped seeking their company, striving instead to become an invisible presence within our own home. In my past life, when Mother learned I was to be Queen, she repeatedly questioned the Lord Chamberlain, asking if a mistake had been made. When he confirmed the decree, she still refused to believe it. She changed into her finest silks and hurried to the Queen Mother. But the answer remained the same. Genevieve, unable to accept that I would be Queen, attempted to hang herself. That very night, Mother had me bound and dragged to the forgotten storeroom. She disfigured me with a blade, then, to erase all traces of her cruelty, she orchestrated my death, ensuring my body would never be found. Afterward, she sent Genevieve to the palace, masquerading as me, to claim the crown. Even after Genevieve smoothly ascended to the throne, Mother feared I might still be a threat to her darling. So, to ensure no loose ends remained, she had me strangled. To my dying breath, I couldn't comprehend why, as her own daughter, Mother could be so utterly ruthless. But now, given a second chance, I wouldn't allow myself to repeat the past, to be Genevieve's stepping stone. This time, I offered Genevieve no tea, no water. And so, her clothes remained dry. But that didn't stop Mother from finding fault with me. "Elara, what are you doing just sitting there? Go back to your rooms! Your very presence vexes me!" Hearing Mother's baseless accusations and undisguised loathing, this time, I felt no sorrow, no regret. Instead, I spoke with a quiet resolve. "Mother, I too wish to see which noble daughter will be named our kingdom's new Queen." Mother scoffed, her voice growing colder. "You ungrateful wretch! The Queen's throne belongs to your sister, and no one else!" I glanced at Genevieve, who sat fidgeting, her anxiety palpable. I said no more. But that single glance was enough for Genevieve. She immediately rushed to my side, her voice rising to a shrill shriek. "Elara, what was that look? Do you doubt I'll be chosen as Queen? I'm your own sister! How can you be so cold-hearted? If I become Queen, you'll benefit too, find a good match! Mother's right, you're nothing but a viper, ungrateful to the bone!" Hearing Genevieve's outburst, Mother's anger flared. She slapped the side table, the sharp crack echoing through the room, about to launch into another tirade against me, when the butler burst in, his face beaming with excitement. "Lady Eleanor, young miss, Lord Chamberlain Thomas from the Queen Mother's court has arrived! He carries a royal decree!" Genevieve's face lit up. She assumed it was her proclamation of queenship, and without a second thought, she dashed outside. Mother, too, forgot her anger at me, quickly instructing the butler to prepare a generous gratuity for Lord Chamberlain Thomas. I squeezed the pouch of gold coins I had already prepared, a cold smile touching my lips. In my previous life, when she heard I was to be Queen, she'd given Lord Chamberlain Thomas no gratuity, not even a pleasant expression. Since she wouldn't pay, I would prepare my own. In the reception hall, when Lord Chamberlain Thomas saw both Genevieve and me, his eyes widened in astonishment. "I've long heard tales of the Lord Chancellor's daughters, beauties blessed by the heavens themselves. To think you are identical twins!" Before Mother could speak, I interjected, "Lord Chamberlain Thomas, my sister and I aren't entirely identical. I—" Mother shot me a venomous glare, cutting me off abruptly. "Ill-mannered child! Lord Chamberlain Thomas wasn't speaking to you. You have no business interjecting!" She then forced a saccharine smile as she turned back to him. "Lord Chamberlain, my younger daughter is quite spoiled, I'm afraid. She has no concept of proper etiquette. My elder daughter, Genevieve, is far more sensible!" But Lord Chamberlain Thomas waved a dismissive hand, approaching me with a beaming smile. "You must be Miss Elara, the second daughter?" "Yes, Lord Chamberlain!" He immediately bowed to me. "Congratulations, Miss Elara! His Majesty and the Queen Mother have personally chosen you to be our kingdom's new Queen!" Silence descended upon the hall. Then, Mother, forgetting all decorum, grabbed Lord Chamberlain Thomas's sleeve. "Lord Chamberlain, surely there's been a mistake? I didn't even send Elara's portrait to the palace. How could she possibly be Queen?" Hearing Mother's agitated questioning, Lord Chamberlain Thomas paused, slightly bewildered. By all rights, any daughter being named Queen should be a source of immense pride and honor. But the Lord Chancellor's wife before him seemed not only displeased but outright furious. Clearly, this new Queen was not held in high regard at home. Subtly, Lord Chamberlain Thomas distanced himself from Mother, the smile on his face fading. "Lady Eleanor, I'm not privy to the matters of portraits. However, the royal writ clearly states that the second daughter of the Lord Chancellor, Elara, is to be crowned Queen. If I, of all people, were mistaken about the identity of our future Queen, I would have no choice but to beg for death. If you still doubt me, Lady Eleanor, please examine the decree yourself." Mother snatched the writ. Indeed, the name "Elara" was clearly inscribed. Her face contorted with a mixture of disbelief and fury. Seeing this, the butler hesitated, unsure whether to present the gratuity to Lord Chamberlain Thomas. He glanced at Mother, only to meet her chilling, enraged eyes, and quickly shrank back to his original spot. Mother took a deep, shaky breath, then, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, addressed Lord Chamberlain Thomas. "Thank you for your trouble, Lord Chamberlain. I know your duties keep you busy, so we shan't keep you for a meal." The Lord Chamberlain, perceptive as he was, immediately understood the dismissal. His jovial demeanor vanished, replaced by a steely expression. He let out a barely perceptible snort and turned to leave. I watched Mother, a chilling realization dawning on me. Lord Chamberlain Thomas was the Queen Mother's trusted confidant, a man accorded deference by everyone. Mother's blatant disrespect was clearly an attempt to make my life in the palace unbearable. While Mother was still trying to comfort a distraught Genevieve, I quietly slipped out of the reception hall. "Lord Chamberlain Thomas, please wait." I hurried after him. "Mother's attitude was… regrettable. I hope you'll be magnanimous enough to overlook it." As I spoke, I discreetly pressed the prepared money pouch into his hand. It contained almost all my accumulated savings. Lord Chamberlain Thomas weighed the pouch, and his grim expression softened considerably. "Miss Elara, you possess a keen mind and a kind heart. No wonder the Queen Mother and His Majesty hold you in such high regard." I offered a small smile, leaning in slightly. "Lord Chamberlain, my sister and I bear a striking resemblance. It would be… unfortunate if there were any confusion once I enter the palace. So, I would be deeply grateful if you could inform the Queen Mother and His Majesty of the subtle difference between us..." Lord Chamberlain Thomas bowed respectfully. "Thank you for the thoughtful reminder, young mistress. I shall certainly convey this information to the Queen Mother and His Majesty." After seeing Lord Chamberlain Thomas off, I returned to the reception hall. Before I even entered, I heard Genevieve's tearful wails. "Mother, you promised the crown would be mine! Why is it Elara who's to be Queen? If she ascends the throne, she'll lord over me! I'd rather die! I don't care, I must be Queen! If all else fails, just let me take her place. We look so alike!" Mother knew that attempting to substitute the Queen was an act of treason punishable by death for the entire family. So, she didn't immediately agree to Genevieve's outrageous suggestion. Yet, her expression softened, a hint of temptation in her eyes. Seeing this, Genevieve pressed her advantage. "Mother, do you truly believe Elara's temperament is fit to be Queen? If she brings shame upon the crown in the palace, it's our entire family's reputation that will be ruined! You yourself said I was blessed by the heavens, while Elara was cursed from birth. If she truly enters the palace, she might bring ruin upon our entire lineage! Mother, you always doted on Genevieve! Please, help me!" Mother gently stroked Genevieve's face, her eyes filled with boundless affection. "Genevieve, I told you, no one will stand in your way. I will seek an audience with the Queen Mother first. If... if it truly proves impossible to change the decree, then you shall indeed take Elara's place in the palace. It would be a great sacrifice for my darling Genevieve!" At these words, Genevieve buried her face in Mother's embrace, her tears transforming into a radiant smile. Standing outside the door, I clenched my fists until my knuckles shone white. A sacrifice? To take my place as Queen was considered a sacrifice for Genevieve? I suppressed the bitter ache in my chest, closed my eyes for a moment, then turned and walked back to my rooms. When Mother returned from the palace, her face remained grim. Not long after, frantic shouts from the maids echoed from Genevieve's courtyard. Genevieve had tried to hang herself! But she was far too fond of life to truly take her own. This was merely a calculated act to push Mother to make a final, desperate decision. Sure enough, that very night, two burly women burst into my private chambers. They clapped a hand over my mouth, bound me tightly, and dragged me to the dank storeroom. Mother stood before my disheveled form, her gaze devoid of any warmth. "Elara, if you agree to swap places with Genevieve, I will spare you, for old times' sake. After all, you have no grace, no talent for the arts. You'd only bring shame to the palace. Only a refined lady like Genevieve is fit to be a Queen." My face set, I challenged her. "Mother, I am your daughter too! How can you be so cruel to me?" Without a word, she slapped me again. "Stop your whining. Just tell me, do you agree or not! I should have strangled you at birth, then we wouldn't have this trouble today!" My eyes burned, a glacial anger creeping into their depths as I stared at the ruthless woman before me. Yet, I stubbornly refused to agree. At that moment, Mother suddenly drew a dagger from her sleeve and advanced on me, step by chilling step. "If you don't agree now, I'll carve up your face with this blade!" The cold, sharp steel pressed against my skin, and my skin prickled with dread. The excruciating pain of a blade tearing through flesh, so vividly remembered from my past life, replayed in my mind, making my body tremble. When Genevieve and I had our fifth birthday, an old seer suddenly appeared at the Chancellor's estate. He claimed that one of us was marked for greatness, a destined queen, while the other was a cursed soul, a harbinger of ill fortune. Mother, already biased towards Genevieve, and disappointed that I couldn't excel at the lessons she arranged for me, quickly decided I was the cursed one. From that day forward, my life in the Chancellor's estate became increasingly difficult. But I never believed I had done anything wrong, nor did I believe I was a curse. So, in my previous life, even as my face was marred and I was beaten to death by Mother, I never agreed to swap places with Genevieve. This time, as the blade hovered precariously close to my skin, I cried out, tears streaming down my face. "Mother, I was wrong! I'll agree to swap places with my sister!" Mother finally moved the dagger away from my face. She glared at me, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "Good. You're finally being sensible." She then swept out, taking her maids with her. She was no doubt eager to share the 'good news' with Genevieve. I, meanwhile, was left in the stifling darkness of the storeroom.
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