"Lillian Rosynne, your status as crown princess is hereby revoked."
Damian, the crown prince, delivered the words with a cold, emotionless stare. That was the moment I knew—he had given up on me entirely.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, my older sister Anthy on his arm. She glanced back at me with a wicked smile, only to quickly replace it with a look of innocence the moment his gaze returned to her.
She truly wants everything I have… even him.
My father, Count Cedric, spoiled Anthy like royalty. She was his shining star. I, on the other hand, his youngest daughter, barely received a glance. He made me work like a maid, fed me scraps, treated me like a burden.
On the night of my debut ball—when I was finally allowed to be seen—I met him.
Damian.
The light in my dark world. He shielded me, cared for me… or so I thought.
Until the day I was accused of poisoning Anthy. Without hesitation, he turned his back on me. Again.
And now… here I am.
No longer a crown princess.
Just a girl in a cold prison, waiting to die.
The day of my execution arrived.
I walked toward the guillotine with heavy steps. Each step echoed with the weight of betrayal, each one haunted by his icy stare. That look had shattered me more than anything else.
"Do you have any last words, Lillian?"
The King's voice was distant, indifferent.
I lifted my head. My voice was soft, but steady.
"I told you… but you never listened."
Gasps rippled through the gathered nobles.
"How dare she—merely a count's daughter—speak like that to His Majesty?"
"Kill her at once!"
Their words stung more than the cold steel around my wrists.
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
If there's a God out there… please. Just end my suffering.
Anthy can have everything. Just let me rest.
The blade fell.
I opened my eyes.
Soft light bathed my face, and I felt the warmth of hands cradling me. I blinked up at the face of a man dressed in pure white robes—his eyes glowed like polished silver. A saint.
Whispers echoed around us.
"The prophecy… it's starting."
"May God bless Gemik."
Gemik?
My heart clenched. That was the enemy empire. The one that had always stood against my homeland.
Where… am I?
"As Saint of the Eternal Flame," the man spoke solemnly, his voice clear and powerful, "I bring forth the prophecy of Gemik."
He raised his hands, revealing two baby girls wrapped in silken cloth.
"One of these princesses—Kiera or Linda—is the Seed of Gemik."
"And the other…"
He paused.
"…is its downfall."
Gasps rippled through the great marble hall.
"Which one is the Seed?"
"And which one brings destruction?"
"We must choose wisely—"
"Silence."
A deep voice cut through the murmurs like a blade.
The crowd fell instantly quiet.
A tall man stepped forward, dressed in rich black robes trimmed in gold. His expression was stern, almost unreadable. But his presence demanded obedience.
I couldn't take my eyes off him.
Is that… my father?
No.
This isn't the world I died in. That man isn't Count Cedric. He's… the Emperor of Gemik.
And I…
I've been reborn as one of the princesses.
But which one?