The night smelled of iron and smoke.
It clung to her clothes, soaked into her hair, lodged itself in her lungs until every breath felt sharp and heavy. The palace walls loomed ahead—tall, merciless, illuminated by torches that flickered like watching eyes. Beyond them lay the capital gates. Beyond the gates lay freedom.
Or at least, the illusion of it.
"Your High— no, Miss, please… you must hurry."
The maid's voice trembled as she half-dragged, half-supported the woman beside her through the narrow alleyway. Her hands were slick with blood—someone else's, not her own—and her breath came in ragged gasps. Her leg had been injured earlier, an arrow grazing her calf when they escaped the western courtyard.
She bit down hard, refusing to slow.
"We can't stop," she said hoarsely. "If we do, they'll catch us."
They.
She didn't need to say the name.
The Emperor.
Her husband.
The man who had sworn before the ancestral altar to cherish her, protect her family, and rule with benevolence.
The man who had ordered their deaths.
A sharp clang echoed behind them—metal striking stone.
The maid stiffened. "They're close."
"I know."
She tightened her grip on the maid's arm, forcing herself to run despite the pain screaming through her body. Each step sent agony up her leg, but pain was nothing compared to the images burning behind her eyes.
Her father, kneeling in the snow, his back straight even as the executioner raised the blade.
Her elder brother, shackled, shouting her name as he was dragged away.
Her mother, pale and silent, pressing a dagger into her own chest before the guards could touch her.
All because of him.
Because the emperor needed to cleanse the court.
Because her family had outlived their usefulness.
The alley ended abruptly.
A wall.
Her heart sank.
"No…" the maid whispered.
Before they could turn back, torches flared to life behind them. Heavy boots pounded against stone, closing in from both ends. Armored soldiers emerged like shadows given form, their expressions cold and impassive.
At their head stood a familiar figure.
Emperor Li Yuan.
He wore black ceremonial armor trimmed with gold, his crown glinting beneath the torchlight. His face was as handsome as ever, refined and calm, as though he were attending a banquet instead of ordering the death of his fleeing wife.
"Did you truly think you could escape?" he asked mildly.
Her body trembled—not with fear, but fury.
She shoved the maid behind her. "Run," she whispered urgently.
The maid shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I won't leave you."
"You must."
Before she could push her again, soldiers surged forward.
Steel flashed.
The maid screamed.
The sound cut off abruptly.
Warm blood splattered across her cheek.
Time seemed to slow as the maid's body crumpled to the ground, eyes wide, mouth frozen in a silent plea.
"No—!"
She lunged forward, only to be restrained by two soldiers gripping her arms with iron force. She struggled, screamed, kicked—none of it mattered.
Li Yuan walked closer, his boots crunching softly against the ground.
"Your maid was loyal," he said, glancing at the body with mild interest. "A pity."
She spat at his feet.
"If I had known," she hissed, "if I had known what you truly were, I would have strangled you with my own hands the day we married."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"And yet, you didn't. You were very useful, my Empress."
The word tasted like poison.
"You used my family to stabilize your court," she said, her voice shaking with barely restrained rage. "You promised them safety."
"I promised what I needed to promise."
He leaned closer, his voice lowering.
"Did you truly think an emperor could tolerate a powerful in-law clan forever?"
Something inside her snapped.
"I curse you," she said fiercely. "May you never know peace. May every night be haunted by the ghosts of those you murdered. And if there is another life—"
Li Yuan raised his hand.
"Enough."
The sword descended.
Pain exploded through her chest.
Her vision blurred, the world tilting violently as she collapsed to the ground. Cold stone pressed against her cheek. The torches blurred into streaks of light.
As blood pooled beneath her, her consciousness began to fade.
But even as death crept closer, her mind burned with a single, searing thought:
If there is another life…
I will never love you again.
I will never serve you.
I will destroy you.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
—
"Miss… Miss! Wake up!"
She gasped sharply, sucking in air as though she'd been drowning.
Her eyes flew open.
Silk curtains.
Sunlight filtering through carved wooden windows.
The faint scent of sandalwood.
She froze.
This wasn't the alley.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she pushed herself upright, hands shaking. She was alive. Uninjured. No blood. No pain.
Her hands—smooth, unscarred.
She looked around the room, heart pounding violently.
This was her bedchamber.
The one she had occupied before her marriage.
"No…" she whispered.
A familiar maid rushed forward—young, uninjured, very much alive.
"Miss, thank heavens you're awake! You fainted after receiving the decree. We were so worried."
Decree.
Her blood ran cold.
"What… decree?" she asked slowly.
The maid smiled nervously. "The engagement decree, of course. His Majesty has formally confirmed your marriage to the Ninth Prince. The wedding date will be announced soon."
The world tilted.
She clenched the bedsheets so tightly her fingers turned white.
The Ninth Prince.
Engagement.
She had returned.
Returned to the beginning of the nightmare.
Memories flooded her mind—this was the day she had fainted from "joy" upon receiving the decree. The day she had believed herself blessed. The day she had stepped willingly into hell.
Her lips trembled.
This time, she would not.
"Miss?" the maid asked cautiously. "Are you feeling unwell?"
She looked at the maid—alive, breathing, untouched by blood—and something fierce and protective surged through her chest.
"No," she said softly.
She slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes now cold and resolute.
"I'm feeling… very clear."
Outside the palace walls, destiny was already in motion.
And this time—
She would be the one rewriting it.