Four months pass, and Lady Ellie and Alex have become regular visitors to the estate. Apparently, Mother and Lady Ellie enjoy each other's company so much that they can talk for hours. While they chat, Alex always finds his way to me.
Every time he's here, the same thing happens.
We spar. I lose.
And the annoying bastard always demands the same reward—a kiss on the cheek.
The first couple of times, Theo and Fiona had been around to witness my humiliation. Theo teased me relentlessly, and Fiona gave me her usual pitying look that somehow made it worse. So, I made it a rule: no spectators.
Now, every time Alex challenges me, it's just the two of us on the training grounds.
Today is no different.
I stand across from him, my grip firm on my practice sword. His smirk hasn't changed—still smug, still infuriating.
"Ready to lose again, Vee?" He says, twirling his sword like it's an extension of his arm.
I roll my eyes. "You talk too much. Let's get this over with."
The match begins, and I give it everything I've got. I've been training harder these past months, determined to beat him. My strikes are faster, my blocks more precise, but Alex always seems to anticipate my moves.
He counters every attack with ease, his movements fluid and confident. It's like he's dancing while I'm just trying not to trip over my own feet.
Finally, with a quick flick of his wrist, he disarms me—again.
I glare at him as my practice sword clatters to the ground. He lowers his weapon, his smirk wider than ever.
"Well?" he says, leaning on his sword. "You know the drill."
I cross my arms. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're predictable," he replies, tilting his head. "Come on, Vee. A deal's a deal."
Grumbling, I step closer, my cheeks heating up. "One day, Alex, I swear I'll beat you, and when I do, you're going to regret all of this."
He chuckles. "I'll be waiting. But for now... He taps his cheek with his finger.
Reluctantly, I lean in and plant the lightest, quickest kiss on his cheek. He grins like he's just won the Emperor's crown.
"You know," he says as I pull away, "you're getting better. Maybe next time, you'll actually win."
I pick up my sword and point it at him. "Next time, you're going down."
"We'll see," he says, flashing me one last smug smile before heading off the training grounds.
As I watch him leave, I grit my teeth. One day, I'll wipe that smirk off his face for good. But for now...
I'll just have to survive losing to him. Again.
But what I don't understand is this: in my 190 lives, I've been practicing swordsmanship since my 80th life. That's 120 lives' worth of experience. Hundreds of years of honing my skills, perfecting my technique, battling everything from bandits to master duelists. So how the hell does this 14-year-old punk keep beating me?
It's infuriating. Every time his blade outmaneuvers mine, I replay the match over and over in my head, trying to find where I went wrong. My stance? My timing? My strategy? None of it makes sense.
Alex isn't just good; he's unnaturally good. His moves are too refined, his instincts too sharp for someone his age. It's like he knows what I'm going to do before I do it, and I can't figure out why.
Even more maddening is his smug little grin after every match. Like it's nothing. Like beating me is just a casual pastime for him.
Anyway, I soon get my answer.
One afternoon, after another humiliating defeat at Alex's hands, I overhear Elara and Lady Ellie chatting in the garden. I'm not eavesdropping—at least not on purpose—but their voices drift through the open window of the training ground, catching my attention.
"I heard the Emperor was impressed by Alex's recent match," my mother says.
"Well, that's to be expected," Lady Ellie replies with a proud laugh. "He is his father's son, after all."
Something about the way she says it makes me freeze. His father?
"Elara," Ellie continues, lowering her voice slightly, "it's not just his father's influence. Alex has inherited the Solon bloodline's gift."
My stomach twists. Solon.
That name. I know it too well.
In my last seventy lives, there was always someone I couldn't beat, someone whose skill seemed almost otherworldly. And every single time, they were from the Solon family. A legacy of swordsmen and women whose talent surpassed logic, whose movements were so perfect they felt like an art form.
But eventually, I beat them. It took years, sometimes decades, but I always won in the end. Yet here I am, losing match after match to a 14-year-old boy with that same name.
Why can I not beat him?
Asshole.
In noble society, life is all about debuts. These special events mark important stages in a noble's life, showing the world who they are and where they might go.
The first debut happens at 14 years old. It's a grand celebration where young nobles are officially introduced to high society. The event is full of fancy dresses, elegant suits, and formal greetings. This is when people start noticing you, judging your manners, your looks, and how well you fit into noble circles. After this, you start getting invited to other nobles' parties, and that's when the real social games begin. Friendships, rivalries, alliances—they all start here.
The second debut comes at 18. This one is more serious. It's the time when nobles announce their plans for the future. Will they join the Knightage? Get a job in the imperial palace? Start their own business or join the mage tower? This debut sets the course for their careers and begins to show what kind of power or influence they'll have in the world.
Then there's the third debut at 20. This one is all about marriage. By now, nobles are seen as adults ready to settle down and form alliances between families. The event isn't just a party; it's a subtle competition. Parents and matchmakers are busy trying to find the best connections, the strongest families to link with through marriage.
Each debut is a big deal, with so much pressure to impress. For most people, they're once-in-a-lifetime moments. But for me, with memories of 190 lives, I've seen this process play out countless times. I know how important these events are, how they can make or break a noble's standing in society.
Even so, that doesn't mean I enjoy them.
My first 50 lives were in the modern world—skyscrapers, cars, bustling cities, and the hum of technology everywhere. I remember the bright lights of neon signs, the sound of traffic, and the constant rush of people with places to go. It was fast-paced, always moving, and full of conveniences. My days were spent figuring out normal things—school, work, relationships.
But after that? Everything changed.
Starting from my 51st life, I found myself pulled into what felt like a string of historical novels. Castles replaced skyscrapers, carriages took the place of cars, and instead of noisy cities, I woke up in vast estates or small, cobblestone towns. Society followed rigid rules about class and status, and every decision was tied to power, politics, or tradition.
In these lives, things were slower but harsher. Instead of computers and phones, it was letters and messengers. Instead of business suits, people wore flowing gowns, armor, or simple work clothes. Life revolved around titles, family names, and court politics. Wars were fought with swords, and the strong ruled over the weak.
At first, it was overwhelming. It wasn't like the modern world where you could just blend in. Here, you had to understand noble etiquette, alliances, and even how to use a fan as a weapon in conversation. But I learned quickly—there wasn't much of a choice.
Looking back, the shift from one world to the next still feels strange. It's like my first 50 lives were a completely different story. Modern problems now seem so far away, replaced by the constant dance of historical drama.
But honestly, it's fun. This way, killing isn't a big deal. The Emperor's are often stupid and easy to bypass, and if I want to, I can declare war with anyone whenever I want.
A month before my debut at fourteen, my etiquette teacher drones on and on about posture, manners, and all sorts of nonsense. Honestly, I've stopped listening at this point. My head rests on my palm as I stare out the window, pretending to care.
"Milady, sit up straight!" the teacher scolds, tapping the edge of the desk with her ruler. Her sharp voice jolts me back to reality, but only for a second. I sit up just enough to avoid another comment and immediately slump again when her back is turned.
She continues her lecture about how to greet guests, which forks to use, and how to dance gracefully. Haizz. It all feels so pointless. Why does everyone care so much about these ridiculous rules? My debut is just another tiresome event I have to get through, not something I'm looking forward to.
I glance at the clock. Another hour of this? Kill me now.
The teacher notices my glazed-over expression and glares at me. "Lady Vivi, you must take this seriously. Your debut is your first step into high society. You'll be representing your family!"
"Uh-huh," I mutter, not bothering to hide my boredom.
She narrows her eyes. "Your parents expect perfection."
That gets my attention. I sit up straighter, forcing a smile. "Of course, ma'am. I'll do my best."
In reality? I just want to sleep through the whole day and skip the drama altogether. If it weren't for my family insisting I attend, I'd happily spend the day napping or sparring with Theo—or better yet, finding a way to finally beat Alex.
But no, instead I'll be stuffed into a fancy gown, paraded around like a trophy, and forced to smile at strangers who only care about my status.
The thing is, I already know all these etiquette rules. In fact, I've mastered them thanks to my previous lives. I've dined with kings, debated with scholars, and even taught proper manners myself in a few lifetimes. I could probably host this debut blindfolded and still impress everyone.
But can I tell my etiquette teacher this? Of course not. Instead, I have to sit here and endure her torturous lectures as if I'm some clueless child who doesn't know the difference between a salad fork and a dessert fork.
She's back at it again, explaining how to curtsy properly. "Lady Vivi, a proper curtsy must be graceful. The angle of the knees, the placement of the hands—it all matters!"
I give a half-hearted attempt, already knowing it's perfect. "Like this?"
She squints at me critically. "Adequate," she says, though I see her lips twitch in approval.
I want to roll my eyes. Adequate? Please. I've curtsied before emperors without breaking a sweat. But here I am, pretending to care while she repeats the same instructions over and over.
It's not just the curtsies either. Every lesson is the same. How to greet guests, how to pour tea, how to dance, how to exist as a noble lady. It's all stuff I've done countless times before.
Still, I nod along, offering the occasional polite smile, because what else can I do? If I try to argue or show her up, it'll just lead to more unnecessary questions.
One more hour of this. Just one more hour.
I take a deep breath and sit up straight, ready to act like the obedient student I'm supposed to be. On the outside, I look calm and attentive. On the inside, I'm screaming.
One hour later, salvation arrives in the form of Alex strolling into the training ground, looking as smug as ever.
"Vee!" he calls out, his voice full of amusement. "I heard Madame Lectures-a-Lot had you trapped again."
I roll my eyes, already irritated. "Shut up and grab a sword. I need to hit something."
He chuckles, sauntering over to the weapon rack. "Ah, someone's in a mood today. Let me guess—etiquette got the better of you?"
"Just fight me, Solon," I snap, grabbing my own sword.
And so we spar. As always, Alex moves like he has all the time in the world, dodging and countering every strike I make. No matter how much I push, no matter how well I think I'm doing, he remains annoyingly ahead. It's infuriating.
When it's over, I'm panting, my blade lowered in defeat. Meanwhile, Alex stands across from me, completely at ease, not even winded.
"Good effort," he says, that ever-present smirk on his face.
I glare at him, annoyed beyond words. "What do you want this time?" I ask, knowing full well there's always a price for losing.
He leans on his sword, feigning thoughtfulness. "Hmm… I think this time, I'll take a kiss on both cheeks."
I freeze, my eyes narrowing. "Seriously?"
His smirk grows wider. "A deal's a deal, Vee. You lost."
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to throw something at him. Instead, I step forward, my face burning. Quick and mechanical, I kiss one cheek, then the other.
"There. Done," I say, stepping back immediately.
Alex, of course, looks insufferably pleased. "See? That wasn't so hard."
I glare at him, my fingers tightening around my sword. "Don't get used to it, Solon. Next time, I'll win."
He winks, turning to leave. "Looking forward to it, Vee."
As he strolls off, that smug grin still plastered on his face, I mutter under my breath, "One day, Alex. One day."
In the dimly lit room, the air crackles with the force of a dangerous energy. A young man, no older than 18, sits alone at a table, his posture rigid with barely contained frustration. His long silver hair tumbles down his back, the strands shimmering faintly in the dark. His purple eyes glow faintly, almost unnaturally bright in the shadows, as he leans forward, his gaze fixed intently on the magic crystal orb before him.
The orb, pulsing with dark energy, shows the scene unfolding in the training grounds. He watches with a sort of feverish intensity as Vee—his Vee—leans in and kisses Alex on the cheek. The dull look in her red eyes tells him that she's indifferent, but still, she does it. The moment sends a jolt of fury through him. He can't look away, not even as the pain of jealousy twists inside him.
Her eyes—her beautiful eyes—shift from a blood-red to a brighter, almost angry shade of crimson, a clear sign of her frustration. His chest tightens at the sight. She's irritated, he can tell. But it doesn't matter. The fact that she's even giving him—that boy—the time of day makes something inside him snap. His fingers curl into fists, nails digging into his palms as the anger begins to rise.
Why is she with him? Why does she even talk to him? His teeth grit. His magic flickers in response to his emotions, surrounding him with an invisible, crackling aura. He's burning with the need to act, but he knows he has to wait. He always has to wait.
Two years ago, when he first saw Vee, it was like a shock to his entire system. He had been struck by her beauty, her aloofness, her coldness that seemed to match his own dark thoughts. From that moment, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He had been obsessing over her ever since, watching her from the shadows, wanting her to notice him, to belong to him. But she never did.
Why can't she see that I'm the only one who truly understands her?
The young man clenches his fists harder, his purple eyes narrowing in frustration as he watches Vee's indifferent face. Her emotions are clear to him, thanks to the subtle changes in the color of her eyes. Her red eyes soften for a moment, a fleeting sign of sadness, but it quickly shifts back to anger when Alex teases her again.
His heart hammers in his chest as he watches. That's when the words come. Hisssss—they snake out from between his teeth in a venomous whisper. "You should be mine, Vee. You belong to me. Not him. Not anyone else."
The young man's breath hitches, his obsession blinding him. He stares at the crystal orb as if willing it to show him more. His purple eyes, once calm, now seethe with rage. He could feel the magic inside him writhing, clawing at his insides, begging to be released. But he holds it in, his fingers trembling as he tightens his grip on the table.
"I've waited long enough… I'll make you see that I'm the only one for you." His voice drops to a low growl, his words dripping with obsession. "You don't need him. You don't need anyone. Just me."
His mind races. His thoughts spiral with images of her, his hands gripping her, making her realize that she is his. The urge to claim her—to make her his own—pulses in his veins like a wild, uncontrolled fire. He can't help it. He can't stop thinking about her.
The orb shows him another glimpse of her—Vee, her eyes still shifting, caught in the tug-of-war between anger and sadness, as Alex grins arrogantly. The sight only fuels his anger further.
You're mine, Vee. And I'll make sure you understand that.
He stands suddenly, knocking his chair back with a sharp clatter. His mind spins with thoughts of what he could do, what he should do. But he forces himself to take a deep breath, pushing down the urge to act immediately. Patience. He needs patience.
"You'll understand soon enough," he murmurs, his purple eyes glowing even brighter with his obsession. "I won't let anyone take you away from me."
And with that, he steps away from the orb, his presence so suffocating that it feels like the air itself is heavy with his anger. He won't stop until she belongs to him. The obsession is too far gone for him to turn back now.
The sun is just beginning to rise, casting warm golden light through the windows, but the whole house is already in chaos. My debut is today, and it seems like everyone except me is thrilled.
I sit in my chair, arms crossed, as Fiona and Mother swarm around me like hyperactive bees. Fiona pulls out yet another gown, this one a deep purple with intricate black lace.
"This is the one," she declares, practically bouncing on her heels.
Mother smiles as she gently brushes my hair, her touch soft and comforting. "It's beautiful, but let's see how it looks on Vee first."
I groan. "I don't get why we're making such a big deal. It's just a debut."
Fiona gasps like I just insulted the entire empire. "Just a debut? Vee, this is the most important moment of your life so far! Everyone will be watching you! You have to look perfect!"
Mother chuckles softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "It's not just about impressing others, darling. This is your moment to show the world who you are."
With an exaggerated sigh, I let them wrestle me into the dress. Once it's on, I glance in the mirror. I have to admit, it does look nice. The deep purple and black lace suit me, and they make my eyes stand out. Right now, they're a calm green—my default when I'm feeling indifferent.
Fiona clasps her hands together like she's about to cry. "You look amazing!"
Before I can say anything, the door opens, and Izek steps in, his tall frame nearly blocking out the light from the hallway. Behind him is Father, who watches me with his usual serious expression, though his red eyes soften just a bit.
"You look wonderful," Father says simply, his voice steady as ever.
Izek steps closer, holding a small velvet box. "I brought this for you," he says, opening it to reveal a matching set of silver jewelry—a bracelet, earrings, and a delicate ring with amethyst stones.
Father follows, pulling out a small box from his pocket. Inside is a silver necklace. He fastens it around my neck, the metal cool against my skin. "A gift from your father," he says quietly. "To remind you that you are precious to us."
I don't know what to say, so I just nod, my cheeks heating slightly.
Then Theo strolls in, tossing a small leather strap onto the table. "And this," he says with a smirk, "is for emergencies. You can strap it under your dress. Hide a dagger or two."
I can't help but smirk back. "Trust you to think of that."
"Someone has to," he says, ruffling my hair.
By the time the family gives me their birthday gifts, I'm feeling a mix of curiosity and dread.
Father goes first, handing me a small box. Inside is the necklace he gave me earlier, now engraved on the back with the words You are my treasure Vee.
Mother follows, pulling out a single rose-shaped earring infused with healing magic. She pins it to my ear carefully, her purple eyes warm. "This will keep you safe," she says softly.
Izek approaches next, his ears slightly red. He hands me a large box, and when I open it, my heart skips a beat. It's full of stuffed toys—a plush black cat, a small dragon, and even a bear. I barely manage to keep my face neutral. Only Izek knows how much I secretly adore these things.
"You didn't have to," I mutter, but I clutch the box tighter.
Theo leans against the wall, casually tossing me a wrapped package. Inside is a sleek black dagger with violet engravings. "Figured you'd want something practical," he says with his usual smirk.
Finally, Fiona bounces forward with a chest filled with dresses. "All in purple and black, just how you like them!" she says brightly.
I glance around at my family, my eyes softening as I feel a faint warmth I don't often let myself indulge. For a moment, they flash pink—affection, even if I'd never admit it aloud.
"Thanks," I say quietly.
They smile at me, and for once, I don't feel like rolling my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, this life isn't so bad after all.
The grand doors of the banquet hall swing open, and I step inside with Father, his presence as imposing as ever beside me. The room hushes instantly, the murmur of voices dying as every pair of eyes turns toward us. My hair, styled into an elegant bun despite its short length, feels oddly heavy with the weight of their gazes.
Their stares are greedy, assessing, and nauseatingly obvious. Lust, envy, calculation—it's all there, painted across their faces like bad artwork. I fight the urge to roll my eyes or stick my tongue out at them. Bleurgh. Nobles.
Father, as stoic as ever, walks with the kind of authority that makes the crowd part like waves. I keep my chin high, matching his steady stride, though every step feels like I'm walking into a pit of snakes.
Then my eyes land on a familiar face—Alex. He's standing near Lady Ellie, who looks radiant in a flowing gown, her long pink hair shimmering under the chandeliers. Beside them, a man with the same waist-length black hair as Alex catches my attention. His sharp features are strikingly similar, but his piercing red eyes are nothing like Alex's teasing green ones. That must be the Archduke Solon.
Alex, of course, grins at me as if he's already won some unspoken battle, his smug expression practically shouting, Look, everyone, she's mine.
I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a look that I'm certain only he and Theo, standing farther behind me, can decipher. It's a silent warning, a mix of irritation and defiance that I know will wipe the smirk off his face later when I get the chance to call him out.
For now, I focus on keeping my face calm and neutral, even as I feel Alex's gaze lingering like an annoying fly. His prideful expression only fuels my resolve. If he thinks he owns me, he has another thing coming.
As Father and I descend the grand staircase, the greedy energy in the air becomes almost suffocating. The moment our feet touch the floor, we're swarmed. Nobles in lavish attire close in on us like vultures, their painted smiles and sugary voices barely hiding their hunger for power, wealth, and connections.
"Duke Alaric," one woman simpers, her jeweled hand touching her chest in mock humility. "What an honor to see you."
"Oh, Lady Vee, you look enchanting tonight!" chirps another man, though his eyes are less on my face and more on the glittering jewelry Father gifted me.
I plaster on a polite smile, nodding here and there as they babble. Their voices blend into a buzzing noise that grates on my nerves. I try not to flinch when a hand lightly brushes mine, some lord trying to catch my attention.
Behind me, I catch a glimpse of Theo and Izek standing tall, forming a protective wall behind Father. Fiona and Mother are fending off a different group of nobles with their usual grace and sharp words.
Enough.
Spotting an opening, I murmur something about air and slip away, dodging the crowd with practiced ease. My feet carry me to a balcony at the far end of the hall, the cool night air promising relief from the chaos inside.
I step onto the balcony, relishing the sudden quiet. The stars twinkle above, and for a brief moment, I allow myself to breathe.
Then I hear it.
"Well, well," comes a familiar, smug voice.
I whip around, and there he is. Alex, leaning casually against the railing, his green eyes sparkling with mischief under the moonlight. His black hair falls perfectly over his shoulders, as if he spent hours making it look that effortless.
"Didn't think you'd run straight to me," he says, his grin widening.
"Of all the places," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Why are you here?"
"Enjoying the view." He gestures lazily to the stars, though it's clear his real interest lies elsewhere. "You seemed eager to escape. Thought I'd keep you company."
I fold my arms, giving him an unimpressed look. "I was escaping you, too, you know."
His grin doesn't falter. If anything, it grows. "And yet, here we are."
I roll my eyes, turning away to avoid his insufferable grin. Alex doesn't seem to take the hint—or, more likely, he chooses to ignore it.
Before I can step past him, his fingers lightly tilt my chin upward. "You know," he says, his voice smooth and teasing, "you could at least pretend to enjoy my company. I am, after all, the one person here who can match you in—"
Thud!
My heel connects sharply with his stomach before he can finish whatever smug remark he had lined up. Alex stumbles back, doubling over with a groan, clutching his midsection.
Since I'm wearing pencil heels, I know it hurt. Good.
"Maybe that'll teach you not to touch me without asking," I say sweetly, brushing imaginary dust off my dress.
He straightens slowly, his face a mix of pain and exasperation. "You could've just said no," he wheezes, glaring at me through narrowed green eyes.
I raise an eyebrow. "Would you have listened?"
He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again, muttering something under his breath.
"That's what I thought." I smirk, stepping closer and leaning in just enough to drive the point home. "Next time, keep your hands to yourself, Mister Solon."
Alex looks like he's torn between being annoyed and impressed, which only makes my grin widen. Maybe now he'll learn.
Cesare, the Duke of the West's son, stands near one of the grand marble pillars in the banquet hall, his long silver hair tied neatly into a ponytail. His pleasant smile is a practiced mask, concealing the storm brewing beneath. Nobles approach him, eager to engage in polite conversation, but his attention is elsewhere.
His violet eyes remain fixed on the balcony, where Vee stands with Alex. The soft moonlight bathes them, highlighting Vee's shoulder-length silver hair and the elegant gown that fits her like a dream. Cesare's grip tightens on the crystal glass in his hand as he watches their interaction.
To the crowd in the hall, Cesare appears the perfect noble—gracious, refined, and approachable. Yet his heart seethes with jealousy and frustration as Alex leans in closer to Vee, his finger tipping her chin.
When Vee's response is a swift kick to Alex's stomach, Cesare's lips twitch in satisfaction. The force of the kick makes Alex double over, laughing as though it's all a joke, while Vee smirks in triumph. But even that exchange, playful and teasing as it is, fuels Cesare's resentment.
"She doesn't belong with him," Cesare thinks, the smile on his face not wavering even as his jaw clenches imperceptibly.
Two years ago, Cesare had first seen Vee. She had been in the training grounds, wielding her sword with unmatched precision, her red eyes blazing with focus. From that moment, something in him had shifted. He had never seen anyone like her before—a powerful yet captivating enigma. And since then, his obsession had only grown.
Now, as he watches her laughing with Alex, that obsession takes a darker turn. Cesare's mind churns. Why should Alex be the one to stand beside her, share her smiles, and earn her attention? What right did Alex have to be near her?
His fingers tighten further around the glass, and the sharp sound of it cracking draws the attention of a nearby noble. Cesare quickly adjusts, offering a charming laugh as he shifts the glass to his other hand. "Ah, I must be gripping it too tightly," he says with a self-deprecating chuckle, his facade never slipping.
But inwardly, his thoughts grow more possessive. He imagines interrupting their conversation, stepping onto the balcony and making it clear to Alex that Vee is not his to toy with. He envisions Vee's red eyes turning toward him—not with indifference or irritation but with acknowledgment, perhaps even admiration.
His violet eyes darken as he murmurs under his breath, "Soon, Vee. You'll see where you truly belong. With me."
The nobles around him continue their chatter, oblivious to the intensity in Cesare's gaze. His focus doesn't waver from the balcony, and the smile on his face becomes colder. His obsession has deepened, his resolve solidified: Vee will be his, no matter what.
Ok so I've been dead for too long. And as compensation, I'll be uploading longer chapters. There might be another chapter today so stay tuned ya'll! If you wanna read my story that is.....
P.S: I've gotten way better at my writing, though Ai sometimes checks my grammar and provides ideas.