Black Rose is a visual novel praised for combining darker themes with a romantic storyline. It centers around seven brothers, seven princes, all with fascinatingly different personalities.
I. Red Rose
The first prince is a dishonorable bastard, clever and charismatic but entirely dependent on the king's wealth. Prince Arthur spends his days with numerous bottles of wine, indulging in debauchery—a failure, a disappointment to his nation and family.
Outside his world, he's a fan favorite, an eros for his looks and personality, regardless of his known incompetence.
What can I say?
Women love undeserving men.
II. Blue Rose
The second prince couldn't be more different from his older brother. Uptight, no-nonsense, Prince Cyrus is the embodiment of what a prince should be. Surely, the most admirable of the seven, but his hunger for power is singular. There's nothing he's not willing to do to elevate himself.
Manipulative, scheming, egotistical. Another fan favorite. Again, women love troubled men.
III. White Rose
A more subtle presence is the third prince, who spends his days rotting within the palace walls. When he was young, Prince Florian caught all kinds of illnesses that stumped his growth. He's fragile to the bone, escapes his reality by reading through all the books in the royal library, daydreaming of another life where his knees don't wobble after a short stroll.
IV. Pink Rose
The fifth prince is stupid, but at the very least, he tries. He's an endearing presence, resembles a puppy with a tail that never stops wagging. Most don't approach Prince Nikolai, intimidated by his ethereal beauty. If Arthur is Eros, Nikolai is the male equivalent to Aphrodite, blond hair and enchantingly blue eyes.
In the game, he's described as lonely despite being surrounded by admirers—a beautiful tragedy.
V. Yellow Rose
Gruff and rugged, the fifth prince isn't very princely. He spends his days hunting, roaming the countless towns within the kingdom in pursuit of adventure. He's practical, detests the shelthered life he was born into.
When the heroine is jumped by a band of assassins, Prince Hunter is the one who swoops in to save her.
A fan favorite, rightfully so.
VI. Purple Rose
An insignificant character, a passing name that's mentioned once or twice—the sixth prince is Sterling. His presence is barely missed by the game's fans, apart from a few frantic theorists.
Not much is known about him.
VII. Black Rose
If the game's theorists conspire over Sterling, they obsess over Valerius—the black rose that gave the game its reputation. His route is hidden, unlocked only after finishing a number of niche accomplishments.
The reason why he's so beloved?
The seventh prince is deranged. Malicious schemes wait behind his grin, the blood of hundreds drying on his hands. He's a praised military weapon, but once his route starts, he's consumed by his sick devotion to the player—single-minded in his love.
At the beginning of the game, he's married to the general's daughter. Purely transactional, although the poor girl is hinted to want more.
He kills her when she tries to harm the heroine. A cold, merciless monster taking the life of his bride to appease the subject of his twisted love.
That's the fate that awaits me.
There's no reason for me to exist in this world. My memories are a blur, but if anything, I know that I'm supposed to be in the afterlife, the place that follows death.
Not here. Not in Black Rose, dressed in wedding garments, a familiar sigil attached to my sleeve.
I gulp. Out of all the princes, why him? Why Valerius?
"Penelope," A man dressed in uniform enters through the door. His hair is gray, eyes tired. "You look beautiful."
The maids around me bow and leave the room. My mind sobers in an instant, no longer distracted by the fiddling of a dozen hands.
"Father." I utter. The voice is mine, it sounds like mine—unexpected.
As if sensing my nervousness, he places a hand on my shoulder.
"You understand what you have to do, correct?" He asks.
I nod. There's no question—be obedient, marry the prince, then be the perfect wife.
"The entire empire's military power is to be passed down to him." Father states. "This is a good opportunity. Don't waste it, don't let him be swayed by temptation. Men are simple beings. Access his heart and you will have full control over his mind."
The advice is unexpectedly wise for what the story is. It would've been appreciated in any other context, but knowing what's to come, it's meaningless.
Valerius will never want the general's daughter. He will never want Penelope. He wants the heroine, the coveted main character of Black Rose. Penelope's life, my life, stands in the way.
I have no choice but to play along. For now.
"I understand, father."
He smiles, satisfied. "I'm proud of you."
There's an inexplicable sadness that washes over me when I realize that Penelope's never heard those words before.
-
He's handsome, auburn hair and silver eyes. Tall, built, years of combat shown off through his sculpted figure.
The prince's disinterest is obvious throughout the entire ceremony, which is an awkward affair for both me and the guests. The queen is glaring, scrutinizing her son's blatant disrespect.
I'm not even offended, just exhausted as the priest reads out more lines about sacred bonds and eternal love. They're meaningless words. There is no love here.
My eyes narrow as I stare at the prince.
It's kill or be killed. The sooner I formulate his downfall, the better chances I have at surviving.
"Do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" The priest asks.
He's not even looking at me when he answers, "Sure. Yeah."
His audacity is stark, sticking out like a light beam in a dark cathedral. The priest coughs, baffled by the tension in the room.
"And do you take this man to be your husband?"
"I do." My voice remains firm despite the trembling of my hands. Sweat dribbles down my neck as we exchange lies in front of a watchful audience.
The prince is unfocused, uncaring as his eyes study the crowd—is he looking for her already? Has the heroine entered the story?
Probably not. It's too early.
Even then, he doesn't care to look at his wife.
Good.
He won't see it coming when the dagger strikes, when the drop of poison finds itself in his cup. There are no thorns that can discourage a persistent pest, after all. Roses wither and die too.
The ceremony gets excessively slower, making me feel like a sack of meat sluggishly hanging onto a bony structure. Then, the dreaded words arrive,
"You may kiss the bride."
I almost flinch when he approaches to remove the veil. His hands are covered in black gloves, made to match his uniform—even then, I could distinguish their intimidating size.
The kiss is unmotivated, emotionless, as the prince puts his lips to mine.
They're unexpectedly soft. For a moment, I sink into the feeling of tenderness, missing the moments when I didn't fear for my life.
Then, a sharp sensation pulls me from the blissful daze.
The psychopath bit me, my blood decorating his bottom lip. What the hell.
He smirks, knowing that he's elicited the reaction he wanted. His amusement makes me want to suffocate him even more.
If that's how he wants to play, then it's in his best interests to be ready for revenge.
The wedding bells ring against the cathedral's walls. They're beautifully morbid—a song of death.