The moment King Alaric announced his intention to crown Charlotte, his 'fated one,' as Queen, the System declared my mission a failure. Nearly a decade I’d spent trapped in this realm, enduring untold hardships, all to win the hearts of three men. Yet, the Prophesied Maiden merely had to appear, and effortlessly, she shattered every ounce of my effort. The System informed me that despite my failure, meaning no reward awaited me in the real world, it could, however, send me home. And so, with a singular burning desire to return, I embarked on a series of elaborate attempts to end my life. But just as my consciousness began to fray, fading into oblivion, a desperate cry echoed in my ears. 1 The news of King Alaric's impending marriage to Charlotte spread like wildfire, painting the entire Royal Palace with a veneer of joyous anticipation. In stark contrast, my own chambers – not officially a prison, but certainly feeling more desolate than any—the Shadow Wing, became a tomb of profound sorrow. This realm, I knew, was a fractured tapestry, a 'fated world' where the core narrative had utterly unraveled. I, Elara, had been chosen by the System to mend its broken script, to guide three pivotal men and restore the cosmic balance. Succeed, and a hundred million crowns awaited me in the real world. Day after painstaking day, I had toiled, meticulously building their affections. The affection meters were agonizingly close to reaching one hundred percent when Charlotte, the 'Prophesied Maiden' who should never have existed, materialized. For her sake, the three men turned against me, their former devotion twisted into bitter animosity. They confined me to these secluded chambers, leaving me to languish like a forgotten spirit, half-dead, merely existing. Today, as King Alaric proclaimed Charlotte his Queen, the System finally succumbed to despair. “Host,” it sighed, its voice laced with regret, “I regret to inform you that your mission has failed.” “Though the hundred million crowns are lost to you, know this: once your physical form perishes, I can transport you back to your true world.” Though wealth was tempting, the call of life—my true life—was infinitely louder. As I desperately cast about for a means to escape this living death, a cruel realization dawned: there wasn't even a single silken cord for a quick, decisive end! Gazing at the swirling snow outside, I gritted my teeth. Still clad in my thin nightgown, I dragged myself out into the frigid air and lay down in the deepening drifts. To freeze to death might not be a dignified end, but compared to the sweet promise of home, it was a trifle. As my body temperature plummeted, my limbs grew stiff, then rigid. When that strange, deceptive warmth began to spread through me in the icy embrace, I knew death was imminent. But in the final flicker of consciousness, a furious roar shattered the encroaching silence: “Elara—!” A searing heat assaulted me, and I struggled to pry open my eyes. Before I could even make sense of my surroundings, a deluge of scalding water crashed over me. The man standing over me wore robes of deep imperial purple, adorned with shimmering gold embroidery. Rage radiated from him in palpable waves. Lord Corbin—the last of the men I was tasked to 'charm,' and currently the powerful Lord Regent of the Solaran Kingdom. I remembered our first meeting, years ago, on another day of heavy snowfall. Back then, he was merely a junior scribe, unjustly imprisoned in the Royal Dungeons by King Alaric due to the machinations of a jealous colleague. I had knelt for three grueling hours outside King Alaric's throne room, begging for his mercy, until the King finally relented and cleared Corbin's name. I knew Corbin was a man of deep, guarded thoughts. For years, I had been his 'little sun,' slowly melting away the hardened shell around his heart. I had truly believed I would win him over completely one day. But then, a year ago, the Spring Royal Hunt shattered all my illusions. During the hunt, Charlotte's horse bolted, and she fell, seemingly left crippled. Her personal attendant immediately accused me of sabotaging her saddle. King Alaric, without so much as a proper inquiry, banished me to these secluded palace chambers. Master Eldrin, the Grand Seer, whom I had once saved at the risk of my own life, declared me a 'Harbinger of Doom,' condemning me to be paraded through the streets for three days, reviled by the populace. And Lord Corbin? He sent his guards daily to slap me for an entire hour. Seeing my eyes flutter open, Corbin's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. “The Palace has just announced Charlotte's elevation to Queen, and you pull this desperate little play, Elara? Do you truly believe His Majesty will suddenly soften his heart?” “Such cheap theatrics! A common streetwalker's act!” It had been a year since I last saw him. The man who now stood at the pinnacle of power bore no resemblance to the one who once looked at me with tenderness. Now, only contempt filled his gaze. He seemed to relish flinging every vile accusation he could conjure at me. To rouse me, Corbin hadn't bothered with a Royal Physician. He had simply ordered his guards to douse me with buckets of scalding water. “Today is a day of joy for Charlotte. Summoning a physician now would only bring ill omens upon her!” “Besides, your life is worthless, isn't it? And look, you're awake now.” The searing pain in my knees, a constant torment, rendered me speechless. My silence only deepened the oppressive aura around Corbin. Then, with another cold sneer, he drew the ornate sword from his hip and tossed it carelessly a few feet away. “If you want to die,” he spat, “then do it cleanly. Don't disturb Charlotte or cause her any undue sorrow!” Corbin watched me with a mocking gaze, utterly convinced I wouldn't dare take my own life. But a flicker of hope ignited within me. Before he could react, I dragged my agonizingly painful legs, seized the sword, and aimed it at my throat. Corbin was right. Freezing to death was a slow, miserable end. A blade to the throat? That was swift. As the sharp steel sliced through my skin, a genuine smile touched my lips. Finally, I could go home. See Mom and Dad again… 2 The gruesome sound of flesh being rent echoed in the frigid air, and a sharp, involuntary gasp of pain escaped me. Just as I was about to drive the blade deeper, an unexpected resistance stopped it, preventing it from piercing further. Warm blood splattered onto my face, and I opened my eyes in disbelief. Corbin had seized the blade with his bare hand, blood gushing from his palm like a winding river. I caught a fleeting glimpse of panic in his eyes, but before I could truly register it, he wrenched the sword from my grasp. “Elara, haven't you put on enough of a show?! To burden Charlotte with ill omens, you'd even disregard your own life? You truly are beyond ruthless!” Though Corbin had intervened in time, the blade had still grazed my neck. I clutched my bleeding wound, a bitter sneer lacing my voice. “Ruthless, am I? Then why, Lord Corbin, did you stop me? Why didn't you just let me die?!” At my challenge, Corbin's lips pressed into a tight line, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. But quickly, contempt returned to his gaze. “Your movements were clumsy just now, weren't they? Were you not waiting for me to intervene? If you truly wished to die, Elara, no one could have stopped you!” His words ignited a furious, derisive laugh within me. “Clumsy movements? My knees are shattered, Lord Corbin! And for whom did I shatter them?!” Those three agonizing hours kneeling in the snow had left my knees with an irreversible affliction. Back then, Corbin had stood by my sickbed, promising me, word for word: “My Elara, from this day forward, I will be your legs.” Years had passed, and now, he had clearly forgotten that vow. As if a forgotten memory stirred within him, Corbin's hand clenched into a tight fist. “If you know the agony of crippled legs,” he retorted, his voice strained, “then why did you cripple Charlotte?!” Hearing him still convinced of my guilt, still clinging to the narrative that I was the orchestrator of Charlotte's misfortune, I closed my eyes in weary resignation. Noticing the blood still trickling from my neck, Corbin roughly pulled me into his arms. “Charlotte's coronation is almost upon us. If you die, you'll only bring ill luck upon her celebrations.” He spoke with brutal pragmatism, then, disregarding my struggles, dragged me directly to a grand hall in the southernmost part of the Royal Palace. The path grew increasingly familiar, and a grim realization dawned: Corbin was taking me to Master Eldrin, the Grand Seer of Solara. Inside the Seer's Sanctum, Master Eldrin stood, robed in flowing white, an ethereal figure reminiscent of a celestial being. He was meticulously grinding herbs in a mortar. Hearing footsteps, he assumed it was a palace attendant, and his voice held a gentle, almost tender quality. “Take the balm I've just prepared to Charlotte. Do not tarry.” However, the moment his eyes landed on me, Master Eldrin's gentle expression vanished, replaced by stark fury. “You wretched blight! Who permitted you to escape the Shadow Wing?!” Hearing Master Eldrin repeatedly brand me a 'blight,' my mind drifted back eight years. The Solaran Kingdom was weakened then, and in a bid for peace, they sent their Crown Prince, Alaric, to my homeland, Veridia, as a hostage. With him came Master Eldrin, the sole heir of the renowned Eldrin family, famed throughout the lands for their prophecies and healing arts. Due to Solara's diminished standing, both Alaric and Eldrin had endured harsh lives within the Veridian royal court. Master Eldrin, in particular, was often tormented by other princes for his constant fascination with herbs and poultices. One day, Eldrin was lured into an isolated manor where fierce, exotic beasts were kept. I, heedless of my own safety, had drawn my bow and, without hesitation, shot down the wild wolf just as it was about to tear into him. That day, after I helped him to his feet, Eldrin stared at me blankly for a long moment before finally whispering: “Princess, are you the divine being sent from the heavens just for me?” But with Charlotte's arrival, everything changed. Charlotte, who hailed from the southwestern territories, insisted on keeping venomous insects and serpents within the Seer's Sanctum, leading to numerous attacks on the palace staff. When I suggested eradicating those dangerous creatures, Charlotte's eyes welled up, and Eldrin, his brow furrowed, immediately confronted me on her behalf. “Charlotte merely seeks a sense of home within this vast Solaran Palace,” he had snapped. “Why must you be so relentlessly aggressive?!” Later, when Charlotte framed me, Master Eldrin brazenly fabricated a divination, branding me a 'blight' and leaving me to be scorned by all. Hearing Corbin's accusation that I was attempting suicide, Master Eldrin merely cast a cold glance at the wound on my neck. “You would resort to any means to contend with Charlotte,” he sneered. “A woman like you? How could you ever willingly embrace death?” “Corbin, do not be deceived by her…” But before he could finish, I thrust my hand directly into the cage where he kept his venomous pythons. The moment he registered my action, the pestle in Master Eldrin's hand clattered to the stone floor. 3 True to its nature, the python's venom was potent. The instant its fangs pierced my wrist, a searing numbness shot through half my arm. Master Eldrin, usually so impassive, for once had a face alight with uncharacteristic panic. He rushed forward, shouting frantically: “Elara, are you mad?! To compete for favor, you'd throw your life away?! Your actions are utterly despicable!” But his curses no longer held any power over me. As breathing became an agonizing struggle, I saw them—Mom and Dad—waiting for me at the end of a long tunnel of pure white light. Seeing my lips turn a deep, ominous purple, Master Eldrin's eyes hardened with a fierce resolve. With a single, swift stroke, he severed the venomous snake that clung to my arm. “Elara, don't imagine that dying will absolve you of your supposed debt to Charlotte!” He then swiftly made an incision on my arm and began to suck out the poisoned blood, spitting it onto the floor. At his urgent command, a palace attendant retrieved the 'Elixir of Nine Revolutions'—a potent draught Eldrin had originally prepared for Charlotte. The ethereal white light receded, and the ornate, carved beams of the Seer's Sanctum slowly sharpened into focus. Bloody hell, the System never told me killing myself would be this hard! Just as I wallowed in the bitter frustration of yet another failed attempt at death, a booming announcement echoed from outside the hall: “His Majesty, the King, approaches—!” King Alaric stormed in, his eyes blazing. But the moment he saw me lying pale and still on the floor, the fury on his face faltered for a brief, almost imperceptible instant. The next moment, however, he seized my throat with brutal disregard, his voice low and menacing as he spat each word: “Where have you hidden Charlotte?! Why was her handkerchief found in the well near the Shadow Wing?!” At the mention of Charlotte's disappearance, both Lord Corbin and Master Eldrin blanched simultaneously. Alaric's grip choked me, and my eyes rolled back, but I refused to utter a single word. If he could truly strangle me to death with his bare hands, I'd be grateful to him for sending me home! Just as the last vestiges of air were squeezed from my lungs, King Alaric abruptly released me, letting me tumble unceremoniously to the floor. His voice was laced with dark malice: “Do you think playing mute will stop me, Elara? If you refuse to speak, I have countless ways to make you suffer!” Gazing at the King, a man consumed by shadows, my mind drifted back to our first meeting, a decade ago. Alaric was the first 'challenge' I faced. Back then, he had no inkling he would one day return to Solara, let alone elevate it to the foremost power among the three kingdoms. I had stayed by his side through four years of his life as a hostage in Veridia, teaching him many skills from my own twenty-first-century world. Later, he brought me with him back to Solara. Within the kingdom, we battled the treacherous court together. Externally, I aided him in countering the other two kingdoms. He had once promised me that both his kingdom and his heart were mine. But then Charlotte appeared, and I was subjected to his suspicion, even imprisonment. After his guards roughly bound me to a wooden cross, King Alaric retrieved a long, slender knife from a nearby rack of torture implements. “The Grim Cells hold three hundred and sixty forms of torment,” he murmured, his voice chillingly calm. “One is known as the Thousand Cuts.” “If you refuse to confess, I will use this blade to slice away your flesh, piece by agonizing piece!” The revelation that King Alaric intended to subject me to the Thousand Cuts made my eyes widen in sheer terror. I wanted to die, yes, but swiftly, cleanly. This was a torture reserved for heinous criminals—no human being could endure such agony! Ultimately, the primal fear in my heart utterly overwhelmed my pride. I turned, pleading, to Lord Corbin and Master Eldrin, who stood impassively nearby. “No, please… save me… I can't bear the Thousand Cuts… Please, save me…” Yet, faced with my desperate plea, neither man moved. Corbin's voice was sharp with impatience: “If you want us to spare you, then tell us where Charlotte is, now!” “I don't know!” I shrieked, my voice cracking. “I don't know, I don't know! Are you deaf?!” Seeing my continued defiance, King Alaric brought the slender knife down, drawing a decisive cut across my skin. As he made cut after cut, my plain white nightgown slowly became saturated with crimson. The excruciating, tearing pain across my body tormented every nerve ending. “Alaric, if you're a man, then kill me…” “I will never tell you… where Charlotte is…” To hear me provoke him even as my breath faltered, barely a whisper, sent King Alaric into a blinding rage. His eyes turned bloodshot. With a furious roar, he plunged the small knife deep into my palm. The agonizing, soul-deep pain sent spasms wracking my entire body. Just before darkness swallowed me completely, I saw Charlotte being wheeled into the hall by a palace maid, a vibrant bouquet of crimson winter roses clutched in her arms, her voice light with delight: “Why is everyone gathered here? Look at the beautiful roses I just picked!”
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