---
Seven years.
That was the cruel sentence written for the villainess in The Snow Pearl.
A story I once adored — a story that had now become my prison.
I gripped the armrest of the royal throne, the deep crimson velvet crushing beneath my fingers. The court was bustling with endless chatter — nobles vying for attention, whispers slithering across the marble halls like poisonous snakes.
Seven years.
But if the rumors among the court were true, this was already my second winter on the throne.
Meaning I had five years left before my inevitable death.
Unless I changed it.
"Your Majesty, the annual Grand Hunting Festival will be held in a fortnight," my steward announced with a deep bow.
"All three Crown Princes will attend, along with the Countess Elyra's delegation."
My chest tightened at the mention of her — Elyra.
The supposed angel of light.
The supposed "heroine" that the book praised so much.
The same girl I used to weep for — until I opened my eyes.
"Make preparations," I said coldly, my voice echoing in the throne room.
"This time, we'll ensure it's... memorable."
A smirk curled at the edge of my lips, unseen beneath the porcelain mask that hid half my face.
Let them come.
Let the heroine come.
Let them all come.
This time, the villainess would not die so easily.
---
Later that evening, I sat by the long arched windows of my private chambers.
Outside, snow fell silently, coating the palace gardens in a thin sheet of ice.
Lucien Thorne, my most loyal knight — and the first of my so-called "boy toys" — knelt before me.
"Your Majesty, news from the border provinces. Another small rebellion was crushed this morning."
"Good. Tell Commander Ryn to station twice the men there."
Lucien's sharp green eyes flickered with concern.
"And about the matter of the divine beast, my lady?"
I froze.
The divine beast.
In The Snow Pearl, Elyra had bonded with the sacred White Hart during the Grand Hunt — proving her "divinity" and turning public favor entirely against the villainess.
But now that I was here...
Now that I knew the truth behind her mask...
I had no intention of letting history repeat itself.
"Let the Grand Hunt begin," I said quietly.
"If the beast truly seeks a master, it will choose its own."
Lucien bowed deeper, hiding the ghost of a smile.
---
Two days later —
"Your Majesty, news has arrived from the Holy Temple," said Lady Viera, my chief attendant, bursting into my study.
Her face was pale.
"The High Priest Caelan... has agreed to preside over this year's power awakening ceremony."
My quill halted mid-word.
Caelan.
One of the three male leads.
In the story, he had admired Elyra for her "purity" and condemned the villainess for her "sins."
Now, he would lay eyes upon me.
And judge me.
"Summon the court tailors," I said, voice sharp as the snap of a whip.
"If the High Priest wishes to witness power, we shall give him a display he'll never forget."
---
One week later —
The palace transformed overnight for the festival.
Golden banners lined the walls, and the air hummed with excitement. Nobles paraded their wealth like peacocks, draped in velvet and silver embroidery.
But beneath the laughter, I felt the tension thickening.
Whispers.
"Have you heard? Her Majesty has taken another pretty boy into her bedchamber."
"Tsk. Such a disgrace. The empire would be better under Lady Elyra's care."
"I heard the Empress's parents died because of her sins. The gods cursed her bloodline!"
Lies. All lies.
Yet no matter how loudly the truth screamed, rumors always won.
I raised my head high as I walked past them, Lucien trailing silently behind me, sword at his hip, eyes sharp.
Let them talk.
Let them mock.
It would make their downfall all the sweeter.
---
That evening —
As the nobles feasted in the great hall, a cloaked figure approached my throne.
His silver hair glinted under the chandeliers.
"Your Majesty," he said with a deep, mocking bow.
"Crown Prince Damon of the Western Empire, at your service."
Another male lead.
His ocean-blue eyes lingered a fraction too long on my covered face.
"I look forward to hunting with you, Empress," he drawled, flashing a smile that could shatter weaker women.
I returned a cold smile of my own.
"As do I, Prince Damon. Perhaps you'll learn that prey and predator... are often one and the same."
He laughed, genuinely amused.
Good.
Let them think I'm just a beautiful, foolish empress.
Let them underestimate me.
---
That night, alone in my chambers, I peeled off my mask.
The mirror reflected my true face — half-marked with dark sigils of power, the remnants of my so-called "curse."
In the dim candlelight, I whispered to myself:
"Five years."
"Five years to rewrite my fate."
"Five years to uncover the truth behind my parents' deaths."
"Five years to tame the divine beast, defeat Elyra, and survive the hounds at my door."
And maybe… just maybe…
Five years to choose who among these dangerous men was truly mine —
And who would die at my feet.
---
Chapter End.
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